On Sunday, we returned home from a remarkable trip to Bolivia. My husband, his sister and their mother were all born there. Much of my husband’s childhood was spent there and this was a once in a lifetime trip, where 10 of us were able to travel together to see part of our family’s history and heritage. In the group was our family of four, my sister-in-law and her family of four, along with my in-laws.
The 10 of us and our 19 pieces of luggage left Albuquerque mid-January and spent two weeks in the middle of South America. It was an amazing experience. The sights, the smells and the sounds were all foreign to me. I ate and drank things I never would have imaged (sheep heart and a corn beverage). I often found myself sardined into a “Mini Bus”, a van with extra seats added, transporting as many as 17 passengers at a time!
The crowds of people were often overwhelming. The vibrant colors of the fabrics provided a strange frame to the faces of the many impoverished beggars that lined the streets. Indian women carried their babies on their backs and hunched men struggled up hills, hauling the goods that they would sell from their roadside stands.
It was a good trip, but it was also a hard trip. All four of the children got sick–everything from fevers and coughs to intestinal infections. My embarrassing ignorance of the Spanish language often left me sitting in the middle of conversations, guessing at the subject matter based on facial expressions, hand gestures and the occasional word I recognized.
By the time we left, I had gotten sick as well. The 2 day journey home was full of delays and frustrations. It was at the Miami International Airport that we realized one of our suitcases was missing.
Hours of phone calls and attempts to track the bag have thus far proved unfruitful. Aside from the many items of clothing that are missing, my youngest daughter also lost all of the special items that she bought as gifts for friends. We have prayed often for the return of the lost bag, but as each new day passes, the chances of us retrieving it become more doubtful.
In the first 48 hours, I had every expectation that God was going to do something wonderfully miraculous and reunite us with the bag. I figured that He’s surely want to boost my daughter’s faith by answering this simple request.
It was this morning, in a time of quite prayer and reflection, that I had to concede that His answer might be “no”. The bag may never be returned and those special items will be lost to us. Does that mean God is mean or unfeeling? Knowing His character, I had to admit that though I don’t understand, His “no” is for our good.
This simple and relatively pain-free lesson (on the scale of life’s woes) reminded me again that I need to be careful not to view God as a magic genie. It’s not a question of asking for something and “poof”–request granted. I can ask my Abba Father for something, but if, in His wisdom he says “wait” or “no”, those are still good answers. My selfish heart longs for what I want, when I want it. Yet, my desire to grow in my faith will undoubtedly require me to receive many answers that are contrary to what I want, and more importantly, in line with what I need. I am thankful that the prayers of safe travel were all answered in the affirmative. We are home and I am grateful for the many blessings that we take for granted here in America.
