Look at the title of today’s post. How much difference a little variance in punctuation makes. Today’s post is going to be cryptic, and for that I apologize. I always apologize, because I mean it.
The 1st variant, "Riddle-me-not", tells of how I’d prefer if the world around me weren’t so much of a riddle. If only ‘1+1 = 2′ and ‘Pi R Squared’ really gave you the area of a circle. No, all the mathematical formulae in the world just won’t cut it. I’d think I’m a very logical person. I try to understand things with logic. But does that mean that certain acts committed by certain people are illogical, irrational? I don’t think so. It’s just that I don’t have enough information, or can’t see from those persons’ perspectives to be able to comprehend it. Then, does that mean that there’s nothing that is illogical? Perhaps so.
Day after day I scour with whatever resources I have, whatever senses, abilities I have to sieve through all the data to produce information. Will information suffice? No, it won’t. Now I finally see what has been going wrong. It was all about me, my abilities, I, me, me, me. What about God? I think we do need to be conscious of whatever discipline we have been schooled in. I’ve been schooled in the ways of technology; systems and such. Information is very much prized in those disciplines. But no, one must learn not to be governed by them. They are not absolute. What’s really absolute is the word of God. What’s absolute is God’s will. I need to shed all the false directives that have been governing me(correction, I need help in doing that, definitely impossible by my own might). I need to be transformed.
The tagline for one of my favourite childhood cartoons goes like this: Transformers, Robots in Disguise. But no, humans, people are not automatons. Nor playthings to be manipulated or engineered to one’s liking. I do know what repair work is to be done, but that’s not my work. It’s Daddy’s work. We are to allow ourselves to be like clay, to be shaped and moulded by the Potter’s hand. Easier said than done 
The allowing part that is. But the key thing is that we do not resent. We need to have hope in allowing the great Healer to do His restorative work.
Finally I come to the 2nd variant; "Riddle? Me? Not.". This is in line with the always seemingly cryptic me. I think I’m a riddle to most out there. "Who is this weird guy who doesn’t act his age?", "Look at him, he’s always so antisocial". It would be so much easier if I could mouth my thoughts and narrate the day’s events just like the gazillion blogs out there in cyberspace. But no, I can’t. To have so many things to say and not be able to, how difficult that is. Why don’t I just blub out everything? Because I’m not sure whether I can say certain things, I have to be sensitive. It’s better not to say, if one knows not if it’s appropriate. Once again I become aware. Aware of what I’ve been doing wrongly. I’ve been trying to carry all that burden by myself. I’ve got to submit and commit all that unto Daddy.
This is me. This is who I am. A child of God. A grandson. A son. A nephew. An uncle. A brother. A friend. A teacher. A leader. Only human. It isn’t easy being me.
The chocolate confectionary, Smarties, doesn’t really have all the answers as the commercial of yesteryear portrays. Only Daddy dearest has. Him, I seek.