Tan

Joe and I are reading through Psalms, and while I haven't been as regular with my reading as I should be, I'm about to finish the book on schedule. Today I read in 116 where a half-verse says, "The Lord protects those of childlike faith," and I think it's so interesting how we - who are constantly told be society to be "grown-up" and "mature" - are called on by our Father to be as innocent and trusting as children.

It's easy for me to liken God to a father figure. My dad is one of the wisest men I've had the privilege to know. One of my favorite things to do is ask him questions, because he knows about everything. This comes from spending so much time by himself: he reads constantly - history books, not merely novels to pass the time - and watches the news, documentaries, "how it's made" programs. I love to ask him about World War II: he's an expert on that area and has spurned my own interest in it. The funny thing is, if he doesn't know the answer to one of my questions, I toss out that question, like it's not important to know the answer: if Dad doesn't know it, it's not worth knowing. Example: the other day we were talking about some neutral country's involvement in the Second World War - I don't remember which one it was - and I asked him a question about Peenemunde. He said he wasn't sure, and my brain said, "Ah well, that's not worth knowing."

I love to travel with him. He's been in most of the major cities of the world, and when we go to those places with him he points out this pub and that burger place and this joint that has really good fish and even better beer. He's taught us to navigate airports and subways and bus routes and train stations. Through his experience and his guidance he's made us seasoned travelers, who take every opportunity to see this big, wide, wonderful world. Of all the lessons he's taught us, the constant reminder to maintain a level of curiosity echoes through my childhood, has chased me to western Canada at twelve and England at twenty, has been the ever-present drip in my mind as I embrace the changes that my life will soon - and has already begun to - undergo.

And even at a somewhat-grown-up twenty-two, I feel safest when I get in the backseat of our big grey Yukon with my dad at the wheel. We don't have to do anything: we just have to get in and buckle up.