Search for the Golden Ticket

Every Friday and Saturday night, the older kids get to watch a movie.  If I can stay up this late, I really enjoy spending this time with the kids.  I drag out a cushion to sit on and plop down on the tile floor next to the kids.  Within seconds, a flock of kids worm their way over to snuggle.  It’s not unusual to have four or five kids leaning against me.  After about an hour, most of the kids have fallen asleep except the oldest kids (grades 4-8).  I enjoy this time because the kids are calm and content to just be in the same space with me.  They do not demand anything from me or bombard me with questions like, “Where are you going?... Can I have that?... What is that for?... Kari… Kari…Kari…Kari” (Have I mentioned I might change my name?  They all know it here…).  It’s peaceful and a nice way to unwind from the week.

 

Last night (Saturday) we watched “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”—the old one.  As we were engaging in this fictional world of a poor family struggling to make ends meet and the rich dream of escaping from their reality through a tour of Wonka’s mysterious factory, I began to equate myself to Charlie.  This boy has a good heart and works hard, but he’s waiting for something big, something that will change his life forever.  It’s a dream of finding a golden ticket and winning a life’s supply of chocolate.  Seemingly, this is a child’s dream, and Charlie is a child, but this dream is so much more.  Finding that ticket means a change in circumstance; it represents a new purpose.  Isn’t that what most of us are looking for to some extent?  Yet Charlie isn’t like the other children who find the tickets; he just patiently waits for good fortune to find him.  The other kids exhaust all resources (or at least their parents’ resources) to find the tickets—they are actively searching.  Charlie doesn’t have the resources to be like the other kids.  Sure, his family (his grandpa) helps by purchasing a few chocolate bars, but Charlie just waits, and then gives up hope.  Just when all glimpses of Charlie’s dream fade, he buys one last chocolate bar, and low and behold, that shimmering ticket gleams from the wrapper.  And for those of you who have not seen this movie, if you want the ending to be a surprise, don’t read this next part.  Not only does Charlie get to go to the factory, Wonka give him the entire factory—Charlie goes from rags to riches in a single day because of his good heart and passive nature. 

I feel like Charlie right now.  I’m waiting for God to offer me a golden ticket that will change my unknown circumstances and offer a new purpose.  I don’t have a lot of resources, and I don’t know how to actively pursue this dream—I don’t even know what the dream is.  Am I supposed to live in Kenya on a more permanent basis?  Am I supposed to be a worship director at a church?  Am I supposed to return to teaching somewhere?  If I can just get my hands on that ticket, everything else will fall into place. 

Is this the right attitude to have?  I don’t know.  Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off being like Veruca—demanding to get what I want; this is what the world tells me I should do.  Despite getting everything she wants, Veruca is not content.  Charlie, who has nothing, appears content although he has a bigger dream.

In that sense, I do want to be like Charlie—content and with a bigger dream.  My realistic self tells me that finding this ticket will not solve all of my problems even if I think it will.  Being content with where I am, even if I think I’m lost, that’s where I need to be.  I don’t know my future, but God does.  And according to Jeremiah 29:11, God’s plan is so much greater than bequeathing me a Chocolate Factory and Oompa Loompas (although those things are pretty great!).  For now, I will be patient and wait.  I have another month and a half here in Kenya, and I want to remain present here instead of worrying about my future. 

Oh, but if I do find that ticket, I’ll share my chocolate with you!