One of the things that I wanted to do this year was to ask a question every day. By that I mean, to ask someone about something. No agenda, just an information gathering, learn something kind of thing.
“Hi Helen. What’s the best book you know about fishing?”
“Hey Bernie. What’s the difference between magenta and fuchsia? How do you remember?”
“Eleanor. How have you processed the effects of Alzheimer’s?”
And I’ve not done it because I can’t figure out how to do it. I know, you just ask. You write a name and you write a question that you are curious about. But that’s not my preferred way of gathering information. I read, I search, I study. I do everything I can inside my head to find answers.
Part of it is, I suppose, learning styles. But I was talking to a friend about it recently and I just blurted out, “I never asked my dad for advice because he would give the whole answer and lay out a plan and would help do it.”
I know. He was being helpful. But when I think back, I realize that if I didn’t do it his way, I felt guilty or rebellious. So, I just stopped asking.
It means that in my head, for me to ask questions about what I don’t know give me the feeling of being in a position of insecurity with my dad. Which, I think, affects how I pray, too. For example, if I am believe that I need to figure out plans on my own, that I need to find answers, think about how that might shape my conversations with God. If I avoided asking curiosity questions of my dad, how might that shape my conversation with God?
Make sense? What do you think? 🙂