Clenched fists. Tear-streamed face. Heart-wrenching sobbing. Her 3-year-old frame looked small and fragile as businessmen, students, couples, families, all walked right by, maybe a quick glance before they pretended not to see her. Half hurrying to catch a train, half strolling along to their shopping.
Which way had her parents gone? I glanced around the train station, hoping to spot a frazzled looking parent. I crouch down to her level a few steps away, but being approached by a stranger/foreigner is still enough to instantly transform her tearful fear to terrified silence. (Oops.)
"Are you OK?" (nods affirmative) I try to ease the terror with a small smile, "I bet your mom or dad are close by, right?" My mind is racing: 'should I tell her to come with me to the station office around the corner, or, wait, can I say that in 3-year-old Japanese? yes, but is that going to scare her more...', when her tiny hand points behind me, to a man waiting quietly maybe 30 yards away by the station entrance. "Your Dad?" (nods affirmative)
Lesson #1: looks can be deceiving.
Lesson #2: the best way to get a Japanese toddler having a melt-down in the middle of a station to run to her Dad as fast as her legs can go, is a short conversation with a strange foreigner.
Lesson #3: I continued on my way to church, partly feeling bad (for not spotting the Dad, and terrifying this little kid), partly feeling OK (after all, I did fix the problem! Even if she wasn't lost, and just having a tantrum...and what if she had been lost?), and partly wondering what everybody else in the station was thinking as they walked right by her. But the little girl quickly faded from my mind as a million other thoughts took over, from the music I was playing for the service, to did I remember to send that email, to the meeting happening after worship, to 'wait, what was that Japanese word?', to what to eat for dinner tonight, to housing for the summer interns arriving soon, to raising support in the US this fall and when can I visit ____church, and...well, you get the idea.
Tonight I think back to the girl in the station, and the attitude of my mind/heart recently. No, I'm not having a melt-down; I'm doing great! But what does it mean when the default setting of my mind/heart is planning details (ok, sometimes worrying over details) instead of worshiping?
Sure, I know my Heavenly Dad is near. But do I act like it? Maybe, like my little not-so-lost friend, it's time to spend less time thinking about how I'd like things to go, and more time running to my Heavenly Daddy.
