I was desperate! All I could do was cry. Even my devotions this morning didn’t seem to help prepare me for the latest crisis. Just before leaving the house for the Indian Embassy, I found out that my passport holder containing my passport and PIO (15-year visa) card was missing. After several frantic minutes of looking in the house and phoning my friend who drove for me the day I possibly lost my passport, I realized it was really nowhere to be found. It wouldn’t have been so tragic if it were not for the fact that my family and I are due to leave for
I sat in the dining hall and sobbed. I didn’t know whether to be angry or whether to feel sorry for myself for all the stress I have gone through this week, especially since my husband is out of the country on a business trip. I had a series of tension-filled experiences and this was the clincher, I thought.
“Mama,” my little girl called out from the living room. “Mama,” a gentle stroke on my hand accompanied the soft voice. Himig, my three-year old daughter, was trying her best to comfort me. When I looked up, my tears were streaming uncontrollably down my face. I forced a smile and looked at the little inquiring face before me. “Mama, stop crying. Just go!” I felt as though I was slapped on the face! I must have looked awful and distraught that only the simplicity of a child’s faith could transcend the anxieties and fears. My myopic spiritual eyes could only see the tragedy but my daughter’s pure faith enabled her to look at the triumph that lies ahead. I gathered myself and set out to do the needful.
I went to my husband’s office (next door) to check if I had left my passport holder there during “doing-without-thinking” moments. To my dismay, it was not there. I then took a cab and went to the seminary where I teach to check my office in the faculty lounge. It was still nowhere in sight.
Feeling so helpless, I slumped on my office chair, laid my head on my table and sobbed. My heart sank in despair. Things were beyond my control. I surrendered.
I finally prayed. I realized this should have been my first recourse rather than last. But I opted to operate on my own wisdom and strength, beginning with a frantic search. Slowly, hesitantly, in between sobs, I bared my heart to God. Confessing my frustrations over the week’s less than ideal situations, the pressure of facing crisis upon crisis without my husband, the inability to find a solution to problems, I finally admitted that I could not do anything. It was time for God to take over. Not long after I started emptying myself of my load, I felt God lovingly embracing me. In that room, I suddenly felt I was no longer alone. Hope started to fill my heart, washing away the desperation. Peace started to come, easing out the anxieties. Love started to envelope me, casting away fear. It was then that I realized, all throughout the frantic search, God had just been waiting for me to come to Him. He was waiting to speak to me about my situation. I was too preoccupied to even notice. I was too desperate to listen.