Mei ban fa.

"Mei ban fa" (May bahn fa)

There is nothing to be done.

One can't do anything about it.

By far one of the most frustrating yet freeing phrases I'm still trying to learn how to breathe through.  The phrase that can make the most sensible person come emotionally undone.  No one wants to hear there is nothing...you...can...do.  

We don't like to hear it because most of us were raised with the inner dignity of taking things into our own hands and letting hard earned perseverance work it's magic.  We pride ourselves in figuring things out and going against the odds.  Yay!  We did something that we were told could not be done!  Living in a culture where customer service is not their publicized forte, I have experienced many a moments where I received a "mei ban fa" only to figure it out myself and prove them wrong.  Where there's a will, there's a way, right?  

But what about the other times in life when you're not trying to convince a new taxi driver that a particular road does in fact lead to your house?  What about the times when you're not persuading the store owner that all of your groceries will fit into your shopping bag?  

The "mei ban fa" moments of life when...

-flights are canceled

-babies refuse to sleep

-luggage gets lost

-children get sick

-countries hold tight to new policies 

-you're at the mercy of corruption

-babies still refuse to sleep

-pollution surrounds you

-important paperwork processes slowly

What about THESE things?  Will our perseverance and savvy ideas make a child sleep?  Maybe.  But it definitely won't bring a flight back, or clean the air, or make luggage magically reappear.

I just recently saw a handwritten doodle from a friend that said "And if not, he is still good".  My seeing that could not have come at a better time since I was so consumed with all of these nothing to be done  moments.  This couldn't have been a sweeter tail end for me.

The next time I feel hopeless as I hold my feverish child for the 5th day...He is still good.

When my dear friend has luggage lost in airline abyss...He is still good.

In the moments where hope for reconciliation seems lost...He is still good.

Not sure really how to close this out.  Cause how do you follow the words "He is still good"?  It kind of trumps everything I could ever want to say.

... 

His Poeima

If right at this moment someone asked me my greatest wish, it would be to get inside of her little mind and see what she's been pondering about.  

At 11 months, she takes in the world with wonder, silence, stares, and caution.  She's not the type to fling herself at new people or new experiences with wild abandon, but instead prefers to watch and tiptoe her way into the world.  When she is crawling and meets a new surface, she taps on it for a little while before proceeding.  As she takes bites from an unrecognizable food, she holds it in her fingers and nibbles it before letting the whole piece in.  When she picks up something and hears a "No", she practically flings it across the room and then wants a hug.  Gentle, dainty, and quiet.  

   

 Every day feels like an opportunity to uncover who she is.  The more I know her, the better I feel I can love her well.  I want to grasp now that Nora will never be a duplicate me, or a duplicate of one of her future siblings.  Even with her life only 11 months long, I must daily awaken myself to the truth that she is His handiwork. Sure...my body carried her those long 9 months, but I had nothing to do with knitting together her personality, inner desires or quirks.  I'm not nearly as creative.

 Lately I've been reading this book  called "A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art you were made to Live" by Emily Freeman.  She talks about how the words workmanship or masterpiece used in the Ephesians passage "For we are His workmanship..." are translations from the Greek word poiema (poem).  

"God calls you his workmanship, his poiema.  What happens when God write poetry?

We do.  We happen.

We are walking poetry, the kind that moves, the kind who has hands and feet, 

the kind with mind and will and emotion.  

We are what happens when God expresses himself."

My precious almost one year old was created first as a poem to display the glory of God.  And He does it through everyone else by their diverse personalities in a million little ways.  I feel blessed to see His glory through her personality so untainted and pure.  Full of wonder, slow speed and observation. She is His perfect poem when she is completely herself.  So be shy Nora, stay cautious, and continue letting people know when you've "had enough" of being held.  Cause that's you.