February 16, 2025 
By M. Regina Cram
It was a stupid idea. What was I thinking?
Something had been bugging me for months. I knew God wanted me to take my faith to a deeper level, and I was pretty sure it had something to do with humility. I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect.
It was months before I finally acknowledged His gentle shoves. And so, on a chilly Tuesday in April, I began to pray an extremely dangerous prayer. I asked God to strip me of pride and teach me humility, whatever the cost.
I do not recommend this prayer unless you have nerves of steel or a touch of insanity. Praying for humility is like praying for patience: it only comes through hardship. I knew the risks, but I did it anyway. “Please, God,” I prayed daily, “strip me of pride and teach me humility, whatever the cost.”
Almost immediately, things began to go wrong.
I developed excruciating arthritis. I bought a cane to help me walk and got a handicapped tag for my car. It was clear that if I couldn’t find a treatment, I was headed for a wheelchair.
At the same time, a skin disease erupted over 70% of my body. As I stepped into a pool to swim laps one day, several moms saw me and pulled their kids out of the water. I looked that frightening.
The arthritis became so severe that I couldn’t write my name, send a text, or tie a shoe. I was in my 40s.
It didn’t stop there. Thyroid disease. Neurological impairment. Crushing fatigue.
The roof began to leak. My car transmission died.
Then, the worst affliction hit: I developed bipolar disorder. Nothing humbles you like a mental illness.
Medications to manage these ailments caused side effects, including near-complete insomnia, trouble swallowing, mental fogginess, and intense thirst. The only medication that successfully managed the bipolar symptoms packed 60 lbs. on me. I developed a tremor. Putting on mascara was a dangerous mission.
Yet I continued to grit my teeth and ask God to strip me of pride and teach me humility. If the hardships assailing me were any indication, God was taking my prayer seriously.
I realized that becoming humble is not a one-time thing, like getting a Social Security number. It’s more like brushing my teeth; no matter how well I brush on Thursday, I’ll have to do it again on Friday. This means that I will never arrive. I will spend my entire life on the journey.
Despite this truth, I added a second prayer. I asked God to make me holy, whatever the cost. Talk about a stupid prayer.
With the addition of this second prayer, I expect to be assailed by plagues of scorpions and hail the size of toasters. If you don’t hear from me for a while, there’s a good chance I’ll be buried under a mound of locusts.
But hey, at least I’ll be humble.
M. Regina Cram is a published author and parishioner of SS. Isidore and Maria Parish.
