I was left with an unpleasant feeling for the next hour. You never want to fight with your spouse just minutes before parting on a sour note. I don't want to do that either with my (nearly) three-year-old. I questioned G when he came home. Was A upset? She was quiet on the way to school. Was she still quiet when you got to school? No, she began smiling and talking. She was happy.
Then I burst into tears (thanks, pregnancy hormones). I regretted disciplining her just minutes before parting with her, even though I'd tried reconciling and parting on a better note. What a bad way to say goodbye and to start your day! I had to fight the urge to rush and pull her out of preschool and just smother her with love all day.
So, this may be bad parenting but I resolved never to discipline just before parting for the day. I can still be firm but swatting her bottom could've waited. If I must discipline, I would keep A home longer from school to take the time to reconcile, soothe, talk to her, and reestablish peace. It's essential to me that A can leave her mommy feeling secure and confident in her mommy's love.
I tried to have my quiet time but it was useless. I was too emotional to concentrate and could only pr'y for her. I showered and got dressed to go to language tutoring, feeling the energy slowly drain from me. I was so tired. I got my bag ready with my camera, my wallet, my lunch, my language work, etc.
I got on a minibus to go to my language teacher's home. A minibus looks something like this:
In my area, they're usually a sky blue color and the model is usually closer to the green one above. Each minibus is independently owned. They're not owned by government or by a company. A minibus will have a sign with the origin and destination and you can flag one down like a taxi at any point along the road and they will deposit you wherever you want to get off on that route. A minibus will start at the origin (a bus depot) and run a route all the way to its destination (another bus depot). Then the driver will relax, drink tea, eat a meal, and start the same route in reverse. A single route will have several minibuses running it so you will continually see minibuses with the same destination coming along the road every few minutes.
Back to my story. I got on a minibus, paid my fare (usually equivalent of a dollar or slightly less depending on how far you go), and settled in a seat. I had my bag slung across my chest and removed the strap to leave the bag resting between me and the interior wall. It's not a comfortable ride with lousy springs on a bumpy road, stop-and-go traffic, and the bus also stopping and going continually to pick up and drop off passengers. I drowsed a bit along the 30-min ride. I was so tired.
As soon as I saw my stop, I hopped off with another passenger and crossed the road to start walking three or four blocks to my language teacher's house. I spied something that I need for a language project which requires a photo. I reached for my bag. A sickening feeling flooded over me...I left my bag on the minibus. My bag, that I normally left slung across my chest while riding any kind of public transportation, had my wallet and my camera in it.
I froze for a few seconds. I had my cell phone, a fare for another minibus ride, my house keys, and my public transportation pass in my coat pockets. I debated for a second - should I try chasing it down or just give it up? It may be long gone and even if I could catch up with the minibus, it may already be stolen.
Something tenacious and optimistic rose up in me. I knew the Father above could do wonderful things. I couldn't just give it up without trying. I started sprinting down the crowded, busy road after the minibus but it was too far away. Knowing the minibus would eventually reach the depot, I figured I'd hop on another minibus headed to the same depot and search for it at the depot. I sprinted another block before I spotted a minibus. I know I looked strange with my coat flapping open in the breeze and my round belly sticking out as I ran.
I got on the minibus, paid my fare, and was so overwhelmed with emotion that I started asking if anyone on the bus spoke English. No one, of course. I pulled my phone out and texted an American friend who could speak the language. I sent off a nearly incoherent message to her explaining what'd happened and would she talk to the driver for me? She called my phone and I handed it to the driver. He promised to help. I couldn't help myself and I burst into tears - for the second time this morning. The driver gave me a pained look, jabbered at me, and I continued to cry, in spite of all the passengers looking at me. The little old ladies clucked at me and did reassuring motions at me. The driver handed me a couple of tissues and tried to assure me.
On the long ride to the depot, after a session of kicking myself for being so careless, I calmed down and while hoping against hope that someone was trustworthy and turned in my bag, I began to think about the possibility of not recovering my bag and how to get home. I was going to an area that I'd never been to before. I wasn't worried about finding my way back home - we were riding along train tracks (which also runs a block from my home) so I knew I could get on a train. I was seeing city buses go by with the number that I knew came through my neighborhood so I had a second option.
When we finally arrived at the busy depot, I began searching each minibus with no luck. My strange behavior was attracting attention from the other drivers and passengers who were disembarking and embarking. The drivers began asking me questions and were flustered when I couldn't speak the language. Other drivers opened their minibuses to let me search them. They clustered around me and it became a long blur of mad texting to my friend, a series of phone calls between her, a driver who took an interest in my plight, and a policeman on my phone, and many conversations swirling around me, at me. The driver made calls on his phone to other drivers with no result. No one had my bag.
I was done and ready to go home. The kind driver who was acting on my behalf put me on his minibus free of charge and started the same route back to my neighborhood. He mimed that we would look for the bag along the way (or at least I think that was what he said) but I knew it wasn't going to happen.
On the way, he stopped at a police car, spoke to a policeman, and motioned me off the minibus. My meeting with the policemen is of no importance with no results and I am only mentioning this because when it was all said and done, the policeman put me on a minibus and paid my fare.
When I got home, it'd been four hours since I first left for my language lesson. I was hungry and my exhaustion, which had disappeared under the adrenaline during the entire
Since then, A has come home and our relationship was restored as if this morning never happened. She's happy, sparkling, chattering away a mile a minute. I'm thankful.
And now here I am, chronicling this for posterity so that, while I cringe now at having lost my wallet and camera out of carelessness, I will read this and smile later on. Though someone probably stole my bag, I saw acts of kindness. I am satisfied that I tried my best to get my bag back despite language barriers, instead of wondering whether I could've successfully retrieved my bag and living with regret. I'm thankful for the tenacity and optimism deep down inside, born of hope and belief in the Sovereign One who can do miracles.
(Yes, we've already canceled all debit and credit cards and have taken care of everything. No worries, parents!)
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