but that’s the beauty of it all – we are all lost.
today, a dear friend lost her id, and – wow, it totally reminded me of the parable of the lost coin for a while. she searched and searched and searched (and i with her), until i was like, “oh, i’ll go up. i give up.” that friend, never the quitter (as i knew her to be), decided to go to the administrative offices and ask (despite the fact that it’s a bit past office hours, and i said, “are you sure that it’s there?” – she didn’t relent, nonetheless). when i met her again a few minutes later, she smiled triumphant, identification card in hand. the thing is – she managed to do what i didn’t do: ask when i need to.
there is this certain humility required in asking questions. i remember several family road trips to provinces unheard of (we’re fond of adventure), and no one in the family is all that good with directions (except me, but – let’s save that for some other time?). my father often refuses to ask for directions and insists that we follow the map, or insists that we follow his phone’s built-in gps. my mom, not trusting of my dad’s map-reading skills, often insists that we ask for directions from the locals. “alam naman nila ang lugar eh,” she would often say, “dito sila nakatira, diba?”
when we follow dad, we end up getting to the place at least forty-five minutes later. when we follow mom, we end up getting to the place either on time, or earlier.
when we asked dad why he refused to ask the locals, he’d say one word:
there is a certain humility required in asking questions. it calls on us to say “i cannot,” and assume that whoever we ask “can.” it’s the same with prayer, isn’t it? when we’re down on bent knees and tears and open hearts, we say ” we cannot” and say that whoever the higher power is “can.” of course – not everyone believes. they turn to the wisdom of philosophy or science or anything that is not them because they acknowledge that humanity is flawed – or rather, one’s own is flawed.
maybe that’s how we are all lost.