Papa

I have four nieces and a (niece or nephew) on the way. One of the youngest of my nieces, Rosie, is 16 months old, and she is quite the adventurer.

For a while, "Papa" was the only word she could say. She would say this constantly, if she was ever afraid of lonely or bored or who knows what, she would ask for "Papa."

"Wow," my sister thought, "This girl really loves her Papa."

Recently she discovered, as Rosie held her arms out to her mother and said, "Papa!" That to her, "Papa" meant both Mama and Papa.

It should be no surprise to my consistent readers that this suggested a parable to me.

I realized that often in my life, if things get hard, if I'm feeling lonely or scared or overwhelmed or "who knows what," it isn't difficult for me to cry out to God, to my "Papa." I cry out to Him a lot, I think that because I turn to Him and His name is the first one I call that I am doing the right thing, but I think sometimes to me, "Papa" just means whatever it is that will bring relief to me.

“Blessed be the Lord, for he has wondrously shown his steadfast love to me when I was in a besieged city.” (Psalms‬ ‭31:21‬)

Just like Rosie asked for Papa, but was perfectly content when Mama came, so I cry out for God, and stop crying out as soon as relief comes.

The problem with this is it causes me to see God as someone I can call for and He'll help me when I need it, but the rest of the time I'm fine. When I am content with less than Him I never get to know Him deeper, which really is the only thing that will satisfy my longing.

Probably more than 50% of the time, Rosie didn't actually want "Papa." She wanted comfort, but to her 16 month old mind, that's what "Papa" meant.

Unfortunately, I think a lot of the time we are the exact same way. We think we want God, we call out to God, but we don't really know what it means for Him to come to us. To be Himself the answer to our prayer, not just to lend us a hand. A lot of the time, we just want comfort, but in our minds, that is what "Papa" means.

“This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me;” (Matthew‬ ‭15:8‬)

What if we really just wanted God?

What if He really answered that prayer?

Would I be content if Jesus was the ONLY thing I could lay claim to in my life?

When every comfort and every pretence is laid away, would we really be content with "Papa?"

“One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple.” (Psalms‬ ‭27:4‬)

It is challenging for me to think this way, because I have never known what it's like to be without everything else. Honestly, I think I'm more dependant on the comforts of my life than I realize, but I pray that God would change me, call me closer, and show me in that moment when I move a little bit closer to Him, that I haven't reached Him yet. I need to keep going.

“You have said, "Seek my face." My heart says to you, "Your face, Lord, do I seek." (Psalms‬ ‭27:8‬)

But as you ask the question, "Would I really be content with NOTHING but Him?" (Which you should ask yourself, because it shows you how much you love Him vs how much you love what He gives you) And you realize that at the root of that question is, "Is He worth it?" Realize that when He asked the question, "Are you worth it?" His answer was yes, and He DID give up everything just to be close to you, just to know you.

“For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans‬ ‭5:6-8)

Buses and Pie

"Am I waiting for a bus that's never coming?" I sang the echo of the last line of the song I had just made up, as I watched the bus go sailing past me.

The answer to my song was "Yes. You are an idiot."

Before anyone gets alarmed at me speaking of myself in such a harsh manner, calm down! I'm just kidding! I'm not really upset with myself, nor am I questioning my own intellect. I may be questioning my ability to read bus schedules, but at the same time I may also be judging whoever wrote the bus schedule, so it all evens out.

Last week I wrote to you about how my life was pretty quiet. Well this week I am writing about "Fort Erie: The Most Adventurous Time of My Life."

I have never taken a bus before Monday, so I really didn't know what to expect, and was quite nervous, but by the end of the day, I was confident. I still didn't understand the bus schedule, (because it's basically an encrypted treasure map written in Greek) but I knew where my stops were, and what time to get on and off.

The next day my work schedule was off just a little bit. Instead of working 12:30-5, I was working 1-4. So, with my superior knowledge and experience, I sat at the bus stop the next day, and watched as my bus came around the corner, and drove on by. Another lady with me and I stood staring in disbelief, we had been waiting at the wrong stop.

Thankfully my heroic cousin was able to drive me to work, but that still left me uneasy about getting home. Shortly before the end of my shift, I asked one of my managers, (who was the primary reason I got anywhere on Monday) and she said I was right with what I had figured out to get home. So confidently I strode down the street with my coffee and my shoulder bag and waited.

When at long last the time arrived, I watched dismally as it came on the opposite side of the street, and passed me by. Well. Thanks Google.

However, I was not to be beaten! We will just pretend that my texts for help never happened, and I immediately knew the solution. I remembered that yesterday's bus had come at 5:13, and would be coming again, so I waited an hour for that one and took it home. (In reality, Google reminded me about the 5:13 bus. Thanks Google.)

So this morning I decided I would NOT be on the wrong side of the street, I remembered where it had passed me by, and this time it would pass with me on it. As I strode down the street, almost at my stop a full ten minutes before it had come yesterday, I watched it smoothly glide in and out of my view. Really?? Really?

This time my sister drove me to work, with another passenger because a sweet old lady also couldn't read Arabic, and needed to get to Walmart.

Tonight I googled my route again and I feel pretty confident about it. However, I am starting to lose confidence in my confidence. I called the Bus Line, tempted to greet the lady on the phone with, "Hi, it's me again! I still have no idea what I'm doing!" But I decided better of it, and then it turned out to be a wasted temptation anyway, because their business hours end at 5. Go figure.

So tomorrow is a new adventure! But I must say I'm not too worried about it. I have had a surprising lack of anxiety through all of this drama. If you're going to pray for me, don't pray that I would have peace or anything like that, just pray that I get to work on time and learn to read Cantonese.

Update:

I liked the way I ended that post, but I wrote it on Wednesday, so I may as well give you the update now. My bus-riding the next day was indeed successful, and since then, it has gone very well. I now have budding friendships with all of the bus drivers, and the only route I am still guessing on is on Tuesday, but I'm not worried about it. I'm 98.9% sure I know what I'm doing.

Also yes, pie was clickbait again. Hehe. But you may take it as an invitation to bring me some if you want! Maybe some Thanksgiving Pumpkin Pie with Whipped Cream. :)