I was just re-reading my old journal from 2012, and found this little story from my second year as a volunteer in the Philippines.
April 9, 2012
I was at the bus station at 4 pm to get my bus to Cagayan de Oro. Unfortunately, being Easter Monday, the buses were all full, and there were a bunch of people also waiting for the same bus.
Me still being pretty unassertive, and uncomfortable with the idea of pushing myself forward, I hung back as people pressed forward every time a bus stopped. I am also unsure about how Christian it is to get my way at the expense of others.
I stationed myself fairly close to where the bus would stop, but people don’t let a little thing like an Indian girl stop them from getting what they need. They stepped directly in front of me, to the point where they were practically standing on my feet, and I was leaning backward to avoid contact.
After waiting for 45 minutes, with pretty similar results every time, I was getting pretty desperate. I saw one man rushing around trying to get his family on to a bus (and getting in my way to do it). I am not used to having to fend for myself in these kind of situations, even though I have been a volunteer away from my family (in particular my dad and my brothers) for almost two years now.
So I said “Father, I need You to be my Dad who makes sure I get on the bus, and looks after me the way those women are being looked after. I am obviously out of control of this situation.”
It was getting later, every bus had standing place only, and many didn’t even have that. I was not looking forward to standing for the three hour bus ride.
Then a bus pulled in. I was desperate enough that I was willing to stand. I got in after a bunch of guys who of course rushed ahead of me. Chivalry doesn’t exist when people have a bus to catch. But as I stood at the front of the bus, all the guys filed out sadly. Obviously the conductor had told them there was no place.
As people pushed past me to get back out, I was like “Lord, please let me leave on this bus. And I know it is highly unlikely, but it would be awesome if You could get me a seat.”
I decided to ask if I could stand. I hate admitting that I can’t speak Visaya, so I try to use minimum words so people don’t realize I’m a foreigner and totally clueless. I try to read people’s actions and expressions to figure out what is going on and what they are saying. So I asked, and the conductor seemed uncertain.
But then he said something about a seat extension... the little seat that pulls out into the middle of the aisle. And there was one free! I don’t know why those guys didn’t get it. But I guess my Dad was looking out for me.
Re-reading this five years later is a good reminder for someone as forgetful as I am. Journaling has been such a great way to record the patterns and events and insights that have brought me to where I am today, and see the fingerprints of God all over my life. Do you journal?
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