Pope Francis has communicated his humility so effectively to the world through the simplest of gestures – calling to cancel a dentist appointment, choosing a guest room over the papal apartment, washing the feet of prisoners. I’m reminded, in an odd way, of Flannery O’Connor:

When you can assume that your audience holds the same beliefs you do, you can relax a little and use more normal ways of talking to it; when you have to assume that it does not, then you have to make your vision apparent by shock — to the hard of hearing you shout, and for the blind you draw large and startling figures.

For O’Connor, this meant using the grotesque to show the workings of grace despite our twisted humanity. For Francis, it means taking actions that have huge symbolic value for a worldwide audience. And I don’t think he’s doing these things for show —not at all—but I think he understands how they come across to the general public.

Here is how I would react to these events, were I the Pope Emeritus:

• Google self
• Google successor
• Google “pope benedict francis humility” and 20 variations on the theme
• Search Twitter for successor’s name
• Email ten trusted friends asking them to subtly remind the public that I, too, did many humble things, like, oh, RESIGN THE PAPACY. Suggest hashtag, memes.
• Hiss “sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry” at God for my vicious pride, right before checking Facebook one more time and rolling eyes at how successor is heralded by everyone. It’s like they forgot all about me.

And this is why I should never be pope. Among other reasons.

Sometimes I think the main reason I don’t make time to find a spiritual director is that I don’t want anyone to call me out on my BS rationalizations of all behavior, including a malignant concern about other people’s opinions of me.

Meanwhile, Benedict has retreated from the scene, without having left Francis a USB drive of “helpful things that might be useful, you know, to save you some time, just things that worked for me, you can use it if you want to, just whatever, let me know if you have any questions.” He isn’t starting a blog in retirement to muse obliquely about his legacy, or partnering with a foundation to put his stamp upon a favored cause. He’s ushering his successor into the chair that was once his own and declining photo ops in favor of remaining “hidden from the world“.

I’ve been so pained by the various comments contrasting the styles of these two men, suggesting that “finally” we have a leader who loves the poor, who rejects the trappings, etc. And I think it’s not only because I have such a deep affection for Pope Emeritus Benedict and hate to see him misunderstood so grievously. It’s because I truly believe he doesn’t mind these things one bit. If he has regrets about reforms that were not completed, it’s not because he wanted the credit – it’s due to his love of the Church.

It’s rather terrifying to me to consider that the various grand plans I have for success in all areas of life—even, someday, the fitness journey—might never come to be. I’m great at redoubling my efforts when something doesn’t go as planned, but it’s because I generally believe it’s all going to come together eventually and be amazing, whatever “it” may be. Surely that’s the trajectory my life will take.

Having been a not-the-world’s-worst-but-needs-lotsa-improvement teacher, I understand that sometimes you’re just there to plant the seeds that others will care for, but damn if it isn’t difficult to keep walking and trust that it’s all—every bit of it—outside my control.

And so here I am, learning once more from my trusted professor.

I’m so glad that Jennifer is doing Seven Quick Takes this week because I have been so worried about her. She is still in my prayers, as are the Poppe family, Kelly from The Careless Catholic, and several of my close friends who have experienced terrible loss and suffering recently.

And now, uh,  here’s my flippant blog post. It’s what I do.

1. Announcing: the nominees for Word of the Year.

Well…actually, I got nothin’.

Or, rather, I HAD nothin’. I kept reading all the cool kids, with their blogs, and their words, and all I felt was envy. I don’t NEED some stupid WORD I have lots of WORDS already and I have too many THINGS to be thinking about ANYWAY.

And then, because I am oblivious to the puns around me, I had an epiphany.

Yes. Limits. What a felicitous happening, that this word should spring into my brain just as I was beginning to give up hope. I mean, I could always make up another word for this year, but – no. This word felt right.

Then I did an image search on Morguefile for “limits” and realized: Oh. That is why it seemed so perfect.

Yes, I get it now.

2. Okay, so: fine. Sometimes I forget what my last name is. Maybe I’ll just continue this theme and choose “of light” or “skating” or “bump” as my word next year. But in the meantime, here are five reasons I like this word.

3. Overcommitments. It’s a congenital problem with me. I’ll never fully recover, but perhaps I can treat the symptoms. I can stop. raising. my. hand. to. volunteer. I think part of what’s happened is that there are a couple of activities in which my children participate that I really am not involved in at all – most notably, the arts immersion program they attend once a week, in another town (where my husband works, so he’s the one who knows the staff and the other kids). And I feel like all those people must think I’m a slacker, never showing up to help out unless I’m specifically asked to do so. I can’t be seen as a slacker mom.

Or maybe…it’s fine, really, and everyone is getting along just fine without my leadership, and I should enjoy my day “semi-off” with just my youngest. There are limits to how much outside stuff I can take on.

4. Time management. Totally related, this is a serious problem for me and I’m kind of getting fed up with myself. I’m always running late, mostly because I’m terrible at estimating how long it will take me to do something. “Limits” is like a brick wall standing in the way of me doing just-one-more-thing-before-we-head-out-the-door.

5. Goals. How I love goals. “Limits” here translates to “you cannot reasonably expect to achieve X if you do not stop doing Y.” Y usually means “staying up way too late working because I was so tired during the day I couldn’t really concentrate.” I mean, it’s not rocket science to figure out why that might be counterproductive. But just acknowledging – there are circumstances of my own creation in which I cannot do what it is that I want to do – this is a big thing for me. I’ve always been a “I don’t care what other people say, I can get this done if I put my mind to it” kind of person, which has definite benefits, but is becoming more self-destructive now that I’m not super young and really can’t do the all-nighter thing, at all.

Photo credit: photojock from morguefile.com

6. Thunderstorms. There are limits to my moodiness. Sometimes – usually when tired and overcommited – I just get in such a funk. I get really mad at imaginary versions of people and  inanimate objects that have wronged me (in semi-reality or possible futures), or I get really down, and I start thinking “this is how it will be now, for the rest of my life, this frustration.” Kind of like how I always assume a newborn who gets a runny nose must think, “dang, I guess this is going to be how my nose works for the rest of my life now. And things were going so well.” But then I get a dollop of grace plonked onto my head and I just feel – better. The hard times have their limits.

7. Calculus. I might have a kid taking this class in seven years or so, and I will need to brush up.

No, just kidding – threw that one in for my vast engineer readership.

I would love to know if you have a word for the year, especially if it involves a pun. And please head over to Jennifer Fulwiler’s to catch up on more quick takes!