Putting lessons

Well, it's the day after Christmas, and my family went and played our annual post-Christmas round of golf. It was a lovely 74 degrees today and an all-around fun day with the family. We played decent and had a good number of laughs throughout the day. Ryan and I even shared a high five (woohoo!).

Most people don't know that I lettered all four years of high school in golf, not basketball. My parents got my brother and me started at a young age. We hated it. But now that we're older, we appreciate them forcing us to take lessons and get countless blisters on our hands. As a family, we've played all over the country on family vacations. While we may not have enjoyed it then, we have many fond memories...and decent looking family pictures.

But if you've ever played golf with me, you know I am an awful putter, mostly because I never practiced. I address the ball, look at the hole, and (try to) get a reasonable measurement in mind. As soon as I actually putt, I usually go, "OH NOOOOOOOOOO!" and watch the ball sputter a few inches and roll down a hill or zing past the hole and off the green. Occasionally I get lucky and they go in, and I pretend like I did it on purpose with skill and precision. Or as Ryan says, "Some people call it skill; I call it luck."

Looking back on the past year, I think it's kind of been like my putting. Last year, I was home, ready to get out of the snow and speak English. I went back to the village with unsigned contract papers in hand. And I signed those papers, not really sure what a second year would hold. "OH NOOOOOOOO!" I'm not exactly sure where I was aiming or going towards, but I moved. I moved forward and made progress towards...somewhere, something, someone better. I've grown (a little) over the past 12 months, and while I didn't read all the breaks correctly, I still made progress. I may not have ended up where I was aiming (wherever that may have been), but I am further along as a person than I was this time last year.

So here I am again--home, out of the snow, enjoying sunshine, and speaking English. My unsigned contract papers are sitting in my work desk in my frozen little village. I have not yet decided 100% what I'm going to do, but I know regardless of my decision, I'll move forward, make progress, and (hopefully) be a better person than I am now.

Grace

I'll admit, I'm not a huge fan of saying grace before meals. Probably because I was forced to when I was a kid growing up (rebellious child). I've thought it silly to only thank God for food, especially when I'm here eating dinner alone with Him every night. We just keep the conversation going. So I don't usually ever say grace, unless someone mentions it.

Before I went to school today, I asked God to "give me boldness to share the Gospel and love these people." Direct quote from my journal. See, this week is full of Christmas parties at my schools. But there's no meaning to Christmas here, and so it's a chance for me to share about the REAL reason for Christmas. I figured it was a reasonable prayer to pray going into a day of Christmas parties.

Oh, but I should've learned by now, don't put God in a box.

The teachers at my school today are very...interesting. They like to talk to me and ask me all kinds of crazy cultural questions and random questions about anything. For instance, during break today, I was asked what a "piñata" was. It started with a word I interpreted as "watermelon ball" and then "candy explosion" and a bat gesture. So I told the teacher it was a "piñata" but that it was Spanish. They asked for the English. I had to explain that it was a Spanish word we use in English. Another teacher came over and asked if Spain was to the left or the right of California. Which then led me to explain about Mexico. That's usually how my time is spent at this school with these teachers.

So I went to the elementary school Christmas party expecting some crazy questions. None. Nothing. They kept saying that Christmas had no religious connection in Japan. I kinda thought they'd ask...or something. But nothing. So, off to lunch.

In Japan, before we eat, we say, "Itadakimasu." When I first came to the school, the teachers were fascinated that there's no such custom in America. But one teacher asked about saying grace. Again, that was the end of the conversation.

Today, I came into the lunch room and sat down. Apparently I sat down in the special seat reserved for the "itadakimasu" person. It's his/her job to call everyone to attention and then say, "itadakimasu" with a clap. The teachers told me I was the "itadakimasu" leader, and I would've been perfectly fine saying, "itadakimasu," but they wanted me to say grace...in English. So I did. I thanked God for the food and asked His blessing upon it. Everyone in unison ended with "Amen."

Countdown

I wish I had a countdown this year. But it seems that I'm less than 5 days away from the 24 hour journey back to sunny southern California. So, no countdown this year.

Well, I took the Japanese Language Proficiency Test (JLPT) last weekend (12/4)--not without any hitches of course. I missed the train going out to the city on Saturday (12/3), so I had to wait an hour and a half for the next one. Minor hitch. Had a nice time eating and hanging out with friends and not studying. Awesome. Middle of the night, not so awesome. Seems I caught some 24-hour flu. So I thought studying with a head cold during the week prior was rough. But sitting through a 4-hour test with flu symptoms is by far much worse. I survived the test (passing is a different story) and hopped on the train ride back to the village. I luckily stayed home and rested on Monday (12/5) as per the suggestion of my boss who also brought me lunch, dinner, and breakfast.

On Wednesday (12/7), I got back on the train for another trip to the city. I left my house at 6:30 on Wednesday morning and arrived in the city at 12:15. A long day. But my good friend and fellow Bible study friend in Wakanai (the northernmost part of our island) came in at the same time. We spent the day Christmas shopping and catching up and then met up with some other Bible study friends for dinner at our favorite restaurant--Emmy's. She makes legit Mexican food; not just legit for Hokkaido Mexican food, but real legit Mexican food. Because she learned to cook in LA. Thursday (12/8), we sat in a long boring meeting all day. But Thursday night a bunch of us headed out to the German Christmas Market for some dinner. A tad nippy, but it was nice to be outside and enjoying the city. We even met a girl from Mongolia who tagged along with us. An adventurous night and good fun. Friday (12/9) was another long day of meetings and then running to jump on the train back to the village. Not of course without a stop at Subway and Starbucks. Can't wait to get a real $5 footlong and a pumpkin spice latte.

Yesterday (12/10) our office had our bonenkai which is like an office Christmas party. We had our usual bowling tournament. If you've ever seen me bowl, well, you're one of a privileged few. I am AWFUL at bowling. And last year the office witnessed how awful my bowling was. Some of the other JETs went bowling a few months back. I was glad to not be the only one who couldn't get the ball to hit the pins. But yesterday, I redeemed last year's bowling. I ended the second game with a TURKEY (3 strikes in a row)! I surprised myself too. Our team still ended up getting fourth out of five teams, but we had a good time. The office went and enjoyed a fancy traditional Japanese dinner before heading out to nijikai, or second party. I don't like going to nijikai because it's usually at a hostess bar and I'm one of three women in our office. But the other 2 ladies said they were going, so I tagged along. Definitely not as awkward this year because we had a karaoke room (last year it was just hostesses...in a bar...super awkward). My boss made me sing a song in English (and if you've seen me sing karaoke, you're one of a privileged few), and the hostesses complimented on my English. The office guys had a good laugh. The ladies and I headed back to the hotel where we were put up for the night and headed up to the spa on the roof to check out the lunar eclipse. A relaxing way to end a hectic week.

Now it's Sunday (12/11), and I'm at home baking cookies to share with my office. My house is a disaster from all the packing, unpacking, and repacking that's happened in the past 7 days. My suitcase is sitting in the living room half packed, reminding me I only have 4 more work days until I'm on my way home.

Last year's countdown, I listed things I was looking forward to. This year I'm most looking forward to being with my family, laughing with my friends, and worshipping with my church. Of all the things I miss from home, I miss people. I miss fellowship. I miss having people to sit with in silence and have it totally be okay. I cannot wait to see my parents and my best friends when I step off that plane. I cannot wait to see my aunties and uncles almost as soon as I get home. But I'm most looking forward to walking into church on Sunday morning to worship my Lord Jesus and to hear the Word preached in English. And I have to laugh a little because I would not have said that just a couple of years ago. How God has changed my heart and my life in just a few years!

Thank You, God, for giving me family who wants me home, friends who want to see me, and a church to worship with. But most of all, Lord Jesus, thank You for coming as a baby wrapped up in a manger on a cold winter night for me. Thank You for giving me hope and a new life and a new a heart. I can't wait to see You.

Aunties

It's the last day of November, 4 days before my big test, and I'm sick. I have a head cold, I think. All I know is I don't feel up to par and it's making learning grammar and vocabulary and kanji almost impossible at this point. Last night I thought I'd study until 8 and then hit the hay by 9. Instead I fell asleep eating oatmeal with my textbook open around 7. So I cleaned up and got in bed at 7:45...and grudgingly rolled out of bed at 6:30 this morning. It's not a good time to be sick.

You're probably reading this wondering why the title of this post is "Aunties," because so far everything has been about me being sick.

I got to school this morning and checked my phone...an email from one of my aunties. I smiled-- she read my blog, sent me an email, and reminded me I'll be home in less than 3 weeks for lots of hugs.

My aunties are special, and I'm blessed to have lots of them. My aunties bless me beyond imagination--they're like second moms. And since my mom doesn't use Facebook, they "like" my pictures and statuses. They take pictures and share them, so I know what's going on back home. These are the women who get my random questions about life (What do I do with cooked corn? How do I cook broccoli?) when Mom doesn't hear her cell phone. When my mom isn't on Skype at the right time, they'll call her for me. Now that I'm sick, I'm wishing one of them would show up at my house with hot homemade chicken noodle soup (it happened when I was in high school once--true story). But I'll do what I know Mom and the rest of them would all tell me to do--drink lots of tea, go to bed early, and pray.

To my Aunties-- You are blessings and I'm thankful for you and I can't wait to see you all in a few weeks!

Thanksgiving

Yes, it's Thursday, but Thanksgiving was yesterday for us. It was Labor Thanksgiving Day, so we got the day off and aptly used it to eat some turkey and get together.

We had a baby turkey from France, gravy, some KFC, mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, cornbread stuffing, cranberry sauce, pumpkin brownies, and pumpkin pie. For all being 20-somethings with not much cooking experience, we did pretty well. We had plenty of leftovers for everyone to take home.

I took some leftover pumpkin pie to my boss's house after they all left. He and his family were thoroughly confused as to how I could bake a whole pie and not be able to cook myself dinner. Still a mystery to be solved.

I'm thankful for friends to celebrate Thanksgiving with this year. I'm thankful to know I'm going to LA in less than 3 weeks. I'm thankful for a boss who graciously opens his door any night of the week. I'm thankful for friends back home who still remember I'm here. I'm thankful for my family who sent me Thanksgiving decorations and canned cranberry jelly.

But most of all, I'm thankful for having a reason to be thankful. I'm thankful for a God whose love knows no bounds. I'm thankful that He chose to love me enough to send His only Son Jesus Christ to die for my sins so I could stand before Him as righteous.

White as snow

Yesterday marked the start of the snow season. It's much later than last year, but I'm fine with that. I must have gotten used to the cold weather here. I said I'd wear shorts under my track suit pants until it started snowing--which meant I wore shorts when it was -8C. I survived. My hands were colder than my shins. But now that it's snowing, I've converted to the double-layered long pants. It hasn't been too cold yet--we're still in single-digit negative temperatures on my walk to and from work.

The first snow came in a blizzard. The wind blowing the snow every which direction. The road lost its lines since the snow plows weren't prepared. I sat in the school office and it looked like I was in a snow globe. Snow blew everywhere. It was magical until I had to walk home. But the wind stopped and the snow gently fell as I walked in the dark. I thought of the old church song, "White as Snow."

My snow jacket is black. I've yet to be snowed on so long that it becomes white. I've never stayed outside long enough in a snow storm to let that happen. If I stayed outside in the snow storm long enough, I would become white as snow. I would have to be covered from head to toe. I would probably have to stay very still and wait because if I moved the snow would probably fall off.

I live in a world of microwave dinners and convenience stores and instant messaging. I do everything when I want and nothing takes me very long to do. But what happens to Psalm 46:10? What happens to being still? If I sat still long enough and gazed at Jesus, would I let the grace of God wash me white as snow? If I sat still long enough and gazed at Jesus, would the grace of God penetrate into every crevice of my being?

I don't have the patience to become white as snow. I don't have the patience to sit and soak in the grace of God. It's too easy to shake it off and walk around in my black jacket, my old habits and forget God's grace. I don't want to sit and endure the pain that is sometimes required with the grace of God. I want to live a life that's wholly pleasing to God, but I don't have the patience to let His grace ravage my inner soul. His grace can cover my outside, my outer shell, the stuff everyone else sees when I'm walking around. But to let God's grace ravage my inner soul--the dark places I don't let anyone see? That's a different story.

The snow will be here for a while longer (another 6 months). I know there will be plenty of days sitting at home next to the heater. There will be plenty of chances to sit and soak in the grace of God in the coming months. May they not be wasted on Facebook or wishing for warmer weather. May God's grace ravage my inner soul that I may be white as snow--inside and out.

White as snow, white as snow
Though my sins were as scarlet
Lord, I know, Lord, I know
That I'm clean and forgiven

Through the power of your blood
Through the wonder of your love
Through faith in You
I know that I can be
White as snow

In small ways

Today was a rough day. Well, the morning was rough. I forced myself to get out of bed an hour and a half after my alarm initially went off. It was that kind of morning.

I asked my best friend to pray for me. It's like she can read my mind from across the Pacific Ocean and international date line. I left the house and went to work with my headphones bumping that Jesus music. Even today, in the sunshine, with worship music in my ears, it all seemed far off and distant.

I got to the office and sat at my desk staring into space for about 15 minutes before I realized I was going to be late for my school. I jumped in the car and sped down the hill, past the fields, over the bridge, down another hill, around the lake, up a hill, around another lake, and screeched into the parking lot with 2 minutes to spare (or so I thought).

I walked into the teachers room expecting to be whisked away to teach in 2 seconds. But instead I found the teacher sitting in a desk chair with a foot massager and the principal asked if I wanted to try it out. So we sat and laughed and talked for 10 minutes before I went to teach my class. I expected to have 3rd and 4th period to sit in the teachers room and study (worst activity ever), but the schedule was changed and we spent those two periods outside playing tee ball and building the skate rink. There's something special about seeing the entire school playing tee ball because it's the last day we could play outside before the rink went up. The principal even pulled his back swinging too hard. After lunch, the baker came and set up shop in his trunk for us. He used to come to my church in town, so he asked me how everyone was doing. The other teachers were surprised to hear us talking so casually and about other people they didn't know. But it was a nice conversation to have...and I got me a cheese bagel!

I drove the hour drive up to my meeting on the far north end of the village. I'm not a fan of this school and I dreaded the meeting, but it turns out I did most of the work last year. Everything he asked me to prepare for, I prepared for his class last year. I stayed late to help one of the students prepare for a speech contest, and the teacher thanked me profusely. I sang worship songs the entire drive back to the office.

I did a little bit of work since it was already 5:30 by the time I got back to the office. They told me to put my chair on top of my desk because they're waxing the floors tomorrow. I put mine up and then they asked me to help move the boss's furniture. Not my direct boss, but the superintendent who has his own office. It felt like some weird prank we were pulling. We put his couches in the entryway and his chairs on top of his bookcase and heater. I'm kind of hoping no one moves it back before he comes in on Monday.

I walked to my boss's house (my direct boss) after I got off work to take over some donuts I picked up from the baker's trunk. His wife has been in the hospital for about 3 weeks, so I went over to just take him a snack and offer some help. His mother-in-law was at the house and I looked after the baby while she made dinner. My boss came home and we ate dinner and played with the baby and watched TV. I played with the baby while he ironed the clothes and she washed the dishes. I gave the baby her bottle and rocked her to sleep. Now I'm home on a Friday night blogging and waiting for my laundry to finish.

This morning my best friend prayed for energy, motivation, strength, and joy. For peace and for me to experience the love of God deeply. In the small ways, God answered her prayer for me. In small ways, I can serve the people in my village. In small ways, I see God everywhere. And on days when it's hard to get myself out of bed, I have to remind myself that He's going before me, He'll hold my hand, and I'll see Him if I take the time and look.

Bright Moon on Dark Nights

It's 9:15 and the sun started setting about 5 hours ago. Part of me wants to say it never really came up, but that would be a lie because though the village was the coldest village in Hokkaido at -7.1C (which means we were probably coldest in Japan) it was a beautiful morning. I walked to work in frigid sunshine with all of the grass and leaves and plants and trees frostbitten. Everything glistened. Beautiful.

And now, it's comfortably at 0 outside. I just got home from my weekly English conversation class. While I've dreaded Thursday night classes, I'm starting to look forward to them. I still don't enjoy having class on Thursday nights (I didn't like them as a student and I don't like them as a teacher). But the classes have become more interesting...even on my end as the teacher.

I used to get very stressed out about the class. Thinking it would suddenly fail or disappear with the lack of students if I failed to teach something amazing every week. But I have no textbook, no syllabus, no curriculum, and no guidelines. Basically, it's a group of adults who just want to speak English. So I tried for 15 months to put some amazing lesson together every week...and got burnt out in the process. I started dreading Thursday nights and the preparation that went into each class. But when I came back from my summer vacation, they suggested we have "free talk" which means I have no prep and we talk about...whatever.

Recently, the topic has been about religion, the unending cycle of religion that seems to get nowhere, the hypocrisy of humans, and the like. I didn't pick these topics...they did. This is what has happened. I show up and they talk...and we get into crazy topics like those. And in the past couple of months, they've asked me what I think, what I believe, and why.

Tonight we talked about the superficiality of Japanese and American cultures and why we felt the need to put up a front and cover up who we really are. I got home from my class and looked up at the sky because it seemed lighter than usual. The moon is unusually bright tonight. I could barely make out any stars because the moon was so bright. On the really cold dark nights, the moon shines the brightest.

That is the moon...and the white dot is a star (not a spot on your screen)--the brightest star because you can't see any of the other ones that are usually out there.

God reminded me in that moment that one day in this dark place, this dark country, His light will shine for all to see. Even though it's cold and it's dark, He will shine and He will come. I cannot simply share my opinion; I must share the Gospel. I am called to be a light on a hill, to shine for Jesus. He is coming back, and we will all stand before the judgment seat of Christ. I don't want to waste my time sharing my opinion. My opinion doesn't matter; the Truth does. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Do you know Him?

Not much of anything

Well, nothing has been happening in the village. October finished and I'm still slowly recovering. Tom's parents came to visit and our group went out and had a nice dinner with them. November has been slow with a long anticipation for cold weather (which hit yesterday) and snow (which hasn't quite hit yet). I finally broke out and wore gloves to work today. However, I still am wearing basketball shorts under my track suit. When it starts snowing, I'll start wearing 2 pairs of long pants, but I'm going to wear my basketball shorts as long as possible.

Last Thursday was "Culture Day," and I spent most of it inside studying. I took a couple hour break and went to the community center for the village music festival. I watched old ladies sing karaoke enka (think opera...karaoke Japanese opera sung by old ladies). And after about 2 hours, that was enough culture for me.

The Japanese Language Proficiency Test (JLPT) is coming up in December and so is the Mid-Year Conference. It's the craziest week of the year making the 6-hour trip to Sapporo twice in 4 days, but after it's all done, I get to go back to LA. I'm frantically studying every day with the test as the goal, but more eagerly looking forward to jumping on that plane for 10 hours and getting hugs and eating burritos.

I'm...exhausted. I don't really have a reason to be, especially this week. Not much is going on, and my class load is relatively light. I only have 10 classes to teach this week (next week I have 14). Now that it's November, basketball ends at 5:30 instead of 6, and those extra 30 minutes are precious. Perhaps it's just that season when my body is adjusting to the lack of sunshine and warm weather. It's just a season. They come and they go, just like the leaves on the trees lining my walk to work.

Mattering

Today (Monday), I planned to get up, have my quiet time, "go to church," and then go shopping--it's my day off AND my Sabbath, my day to enjoy and hangout with Jesus. But I automatically woke up at 6:30. I lay in bed with my phone and IMed with my kids. They told me all about their weekend up at Pismo for the annual flag football tournament.

At 9:00, I got out of bed and got ready for church. Crossroads Christian Church in Corona, CA, has an awesome live online campus. So I hopped on the computer at 9:30 and "went" to church. It's awesome to worship in English. There were about 55 other people online during the service, but when Pastor Chuck got up on stage, he gave me a personal shoutout. Someone noticed I was at church; I mattered. After church was over, I got in the car and drove an hour north to go shopping.

It was about lunch time so I decided to eat lunch before I started shopping. This lunch set was advertised on the door, so I ordered it.

I haven't had a sandwich in months. The bread was soft on the inside and crispy on the outside. The coffee was just right. AND it was cheap. I sat there on my lunch date with Jesus and smiled as I finished lunch. Then I started to wander around the store.

Lo and behold, a giant Costco size bag of pretzels. The same enormous bag of pretzels I consumed during my pledge semester 3.5 years ago. Every day while I was pledging, I would come over to the sorority house and on the "public" shelf there was this giant bag of pretzels. So I would take a handful every day and snack on it as a hung out at the sorority house until I eventually finished the bag (I'm pretty sure no one else ate those pretzels because they were pretty stale). I laughed inside thinking of all the memories that happened in that house during that semester--the sleepovers, the TP pranks, the face mask nights, the afternoons on the lawn, the Mario Kart tournaments, the arm wrestling contests on the living room floor--the laughter and joy I found in that house, in those girls.

And then I stumbled upon a mini bottle of Martinelli's and a jar of salsa. My pledgesisters enjoyed Martinelli's together when we were at SC. We were very classy and drank it straight from the bottle. I saw this tiny bottle at the store and I laughed thinking about them, my sisters, and all the memories we shared together. And, I mean, who can wrong with a jar of salsa? So I bought them. And I also bought a head(?) of broccoli which was on sale.

I grabbed a green tea latte and dessert for tonight before I headed back home.

Monday is my Sabbath. I shouldn't be on my computer right now writing this blog. But I felt like I needed to.

I made some rice and cooked some chicken and steamed my broccoli. I ate my dinner while listening to hymns. And my dinner was delicious. I try and cook something that's going to taste good on Mondays. I want to praise God for taste buds on Mondays because most other days of the week I can't. My kitchen is a disaster--there are plates and cups and pans and utensils that need to be washed. But I decided to eat dessert before it got too late.

That is a kabocha (pumpkin) tart I bought from the place I got my sandwich. I saw it when I ordered my lunch. I thought it'd be the perfect dessert for my Sabbath. For some reason, I also bought allspice today. I sprinkled a little bit of allspice and cinnamon on top, and it tasted like real pumpkin pie. I got about halfway through my pumpkin tart before I broke down crying.

Why?

Because God loves me.

He woke me up early to talk to my kids, to have them encourage me.

He let me worship Him in English and made me feel loved at church.

He reminded me that I mattered somewhere.

He made the perfect sandwich/coffee lunch set.

He showed me giant bags of pretzels, mini bottles of sparkling apple cider, and jars of salsa to remind me of His goodness.

He marked down broccoli.

He wrote allspice on my mental shopping list.

He baked me a pumpkin pie, my favorite dessert.

Why?

Because God loves me enough to put together the little things in life to remind me that I matter to Him. My God, the Creator of the Universe, the Shaper of the stars, the sovereign reigning King of Kings, knows me and pursues me and loves me. I matter to Him.

"O Lord, you have searched me and known me!

You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.

You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways."

"I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."

"How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!

If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you."

Psalm 139:1-3, 14, 17-18

October Orchestra

October has been a hectic month. October and June get the award for busiest months. Work isn't especially busy, but I have work on the weekends. Tonight finally ended my hectic October month...and in perfect timing.

10/1 - Nakachanbetsu Agricultural Day Eve Festival

10/2 - Shibecha JH Cultural festival

10/3-7 - Work

10/8-11 - Tokyo to visit friends & family! Much needed break.

10/12-14 - Work

10/15 - REST DAY

10/16 - Nakachanbetsu ES & JH Cultural festival

10/17-21 - Work

10/22 - Numahoro ES Cultural festival

10/23 - Shibecha ES Cultural festival

10/24 - REST DAY

While I should have work tomorrow (10/23), the forecast says "heavy rain" and the festival is outside. I don't know where it will be if it's not outside, and I'm not going to wander around in the rain to find out. So tomorrow, I will rest.

I went to work at 7:15 this morning and got home around 2. I was exhausted. My eyes burned. I couldn't take a nap. I forced myself to stay awake and study. I had a concert to go to at 6:30. I didn't know what kind of concert it was, but after working 7 straight days (5 of those being 10+ hours) the last thing I wanted to do was go to a concert. I didn't even know what kind of concert it was. All I knew was that my entire office was going to be there. So I dragged myself down the street to the training center for the concert.

Classical music. I wasn't super thrilled when I walked in and saw lots of tuxedos and looked at the program to find all classical music. But when the conductor got up there and started frantically but gracefully waving his arms and the orchestra began to play, I perked up. I forgot how absolutely beautiful and amazing an orchestra sounds. I've been listening to elementary school kids play classical music on their recorders and pianicas and I was so not ready to be hit in the face with an orchestra playing Beethoven.

I forgot how much I enjoy listening to the orchestra. I'm not particularly a fan of classical music and I sure can't tell you much about it. I went to a fair share of orchestra concerts at SC to watch friends perform. It's amazing to watch so many people play so many different instruments and different notes and it still comes out beautifully. It boggles my mind. Recorders and pianicas don't do much for me, but the sound of an orchestra is engulfing. It fills the room; you can feel it. It's powerful and moving. For not being excited to go to a concert, and being less excited once I found out it was classical music, I was extremely blessed to end my hectic work week with a beautiful concert.

In honor of the SC game tomorrow, please enjoy this orchestral masterpiece.

I think God is like this crazy conductor. We're all just part of the orchestra. We play our part, our instrument, and together it creates something beautiful. I always think about the poor cymbals guy who only is heard once during a piece. But his part is no less important than the 1st chair violin soloist or the timpani guy. Yeah, the violin soloist might get more recognition and have a better seat, but the piece isn't complete with out the big clang of the cymbal. Our part no matter how big or small are all a piece of something bigger, something more beautiful than we could imagine. Because you might sound pretty good by yourself, but it's epic when God is conducting and guiding and leading us all together, all in tune to create something unique and beautiful.

Oh sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things! His right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him.

The Lord has made known his salvation; he has revealed his righteousness in the sight of the nations.

He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel. All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises!

Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody!

With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord!

Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who dwell in it!

Let the rivers clap their hands; let the hills sing for joy together

before the Lord, for he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.

Psalm 98

Grapefruit and Irrational Fear

I'm not afraid to eat many things. I'll try things once to say I tried it. I've had my fair share of weird stuff since I came here--grilled sea snails, grilled oysters, grilled intestine chunks. I wouldn't eat them again if I didn't have to.

But I'm afraid of eating grapefruit in Japan. Like that's dumb. I eat grapefruits in LA. Grapefruits don't look weird. They don't have to be cooked. Just peel and eat and delicious citrus vitamin C!

And I'm absolutely terrified of eating them here.

When I was here in high school, I walked home from the train station every day after school past an elementary school. I was really homesick and lonely. So I saved some money and bought a grapefruit. The grapefruits (or fruits in general here) aren't cheap; it was about $4 for that grapefruit. So as I walked home from the station, I peeled my expensive grapefruit. I put one segment in my mouth and it was so sour that I cried. I cried because I was lonely and homesick, I wasted $4 on a sour grapefruit, and in that moment, everything collapsed. I climbed up to the top of the jungle gym at the elementary school, crying uncontrollably, eating an expensive sour grapefruit.

Sad story, right?

It's scarred me. I couldn't get myself to eat another grapefruit for fear that I would end up sobbing uncontrollably on top of a jungle gym. Like grapefruits have some weird teleportation powers.

But I bought one last week. They were on sale. So I bought one. I hesitated to eat it. I stared at it for a long time on my counter before I started peeling it. Before I put the first piece in my mouth, I reminded myself:

Things are different now. I won't end up on that jungle gym.

And it was good. It was a good stinkin' grapefruit. And I enjoyed it.

At least for me, on a bigger scale, there are things that I fear because of something in my past. I'm afraid of revisiting those places because, well, I don't want to end up on that jungle gym. And I think it prevents me from enjoying life and experiencing life because I hold onto this fear that the grapefruit is going to be sour and it's going to make me cry and be homesick and lonely. That fear is irrational. I'm older and wiser (maybe). My emotions are stabler and my heart is set on a firm foundation. I won't end up on that jungle gym again.

Ugly Corn

I have a very close friend who used to be afraid of ugly corn. I once chased her with an ugly ear of corn which in hindsight I suppose makes me a bad friend. If your friend tells you he/she is afraid of something strange like ugly corn, do not taunt him/her. It's just not nice.

I received an ear of corn as a gift for driving someone home the other night. It was well past midnight when I dropped him off at his house and he ran into his garden and pulled off an ear of corn as an appreciative gift. I finally got around to cooking it tonight.

Apparently I don't know how to cook corn because it's now the second time I'm boiling it. I really miss BBQ'd corn on the cob.

When I peeled away the husk and silks, I realized...this is an ugly ear of corn. If my friend didn't read my blog, I would post a picture of it. But for her sake (and everyone else who is afraid of ugly corn), I will refrain.

Ugly corn isn't really what it sounds like. It's not like bent over crooked and discolored. But the kernels aren't straight. They aren't in perfect rows. They are...janky (in contemporary terms). There is no pattern, there is no consistency. They are yellow, bulbous, unaligned, randomly placed kernels on a cob. That is ugly corn. This one is particularly ugly because there are weird spots missing kernels.

But ugly corn is still corn. Ugly corn still does its job...which is to grow up and make fat kernels and be consumed. It's not like the ugly corn chose to grow its kernels in crooked rows and lose a few along the way. And it's not like the guy who grew the corn decided only to grow ugly corns this year. He tilled the soil, planted the kernels, weeded the soil, watered the kernels. He waited patiently for them all to grow. Then when the time was right, he plucked those ears of corn. I am a blessed recipient of his hard work and harvest.

(I'm eating my ugly ear of corn as I write this blog...and it's finally cooked and delicious!)

Life can sometimes feel like ugly corn. I feel like ugly corn some days. I got friends with all their kernels in a row--they got a job and a house and a car and a relationship and a church and they're good looking and fashionable and everyone likes them and everything is going great. When I look at them, I feel pretty ugly. My kernels aren't lined up and I got holes where kernels should be.

But regardless of how I look to myself or to others, I am still His creation. I have been given a purpose by God. Because He chose me. He knew me before I ever came to being. He knew I would feel like an ugly ear of corn and that others would tell me I'm an ugly ear of corn and my life isn't where it should be. But I am His. He carefully placed people in my life to till the soil of my heart and plant a seed. He let circumstances pull out the weeds. He surrounded me with people who showered encouragement on me. I am His creation. I am not here by accident. And my life, ugly or not, will not be wasted.

If you read this blog, whoever you are and wherever you are, if you feel like ugly corn, remember you're still corn...and Someone loves you just the way you are.

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them. How precious to me are your thoughts, OGod! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you."

Psalm 139:13-18

Scars

We all have them. Some of us more than others. Some are unnoticeable. Some are eyesores. Some are cool designs and we've tried to replicate them so we're symmetrical (what?! who's done that?!). Some we forget about until someone points them out, but usually we remember. We remember what happened, where it happened, who pushed you down the stairs, and why you were fighting next to the stairs in the first place.

I have a ton of scars--mostly because I'm semi-accident prone and played too many sports. But I remember what my scars are from. Left elbow--Chibi-K race when I was maybe 5 years old and I tripped out of the starting line and all the kids behind me ran over me (there's a video to prove it). Right pinky knuckle--bike ride with Mom before school and I hit a garden hose and ate it in a housing development driveway. Strange webbing between left thumb and left pointer finger--palm fraun (frawn?) accident in 4th grade (don't ask).

I recently had an accident...in my shower. And by recently, I mean it's been 3.5 weeks. I managed to gouge out a chunk of my left pinky knuckle one Wednesday night while showering. It bled...a lot. It was deep. It hurt. I taped more wads of tissue paper to the back of my left hand than I have in the year that I've lived here. It bled for a couple days. I lathered it in Neosporin and slapped a Bandaid on before I went to work every morning. My Bible study prayed over my wound. Finally after a week, a scab formed.

I'm a scab picker. I don't know why, but I do. I know most people think it's gross, and it is, and it probably is the reason why I have so many scars to begin with. But I knew this wound was deep. In fact, for 10 days, every time I took the bandage off to take a shower it would bleed, like it knew that's where it had been ripped apart. I decided to be patient and let it heal. I was careful not to snag it on shirts and jackets. I always put a bandage on it before I put my work gloves on to help Pegleg with the gardening. But it still hurt and was still tender, and I noticed it all the time.

The scab finally fell off though. I looked at the scab this morning at church wondering when it would fall off. I pushed on the top of the scab and the wound was still tender. I let it be. While I was sitting on my couch reading my Kindle after a long Sunday, I looked down and noticed the scab was gone. I didn't notice it fell off, but my wound is finally healed.

I have wounds on my heart. We all do. Some have taken longer to heal than others. Some are still quite fresh, painful, and fleshy. Some are scabbing over, and we're doing everything we possibly can to keep the scab from being ripped off. Some are infected, and bitterness and anger and despair have surfaced. Some are scars--reminding us the wound happened and sometimes it still hurts but usually reminds us to not be so careless next time.

I think wounds on the heart, like the one on my hand from my freak shower accident, take time to heal. Heart wounds take time and patience. They take prayer. They take bandaids in the forms of hugs from your closest friends and shoulders to cry on so hard that sometimes you get your snot all over their shoulder and new jacket. They take begging Jesus to take away the infection and to erase the memories of the wound and the pain and everything associated with it. They often take many nights of tear-soaked pillows wondering when or if it'll ever stop hurting.

But wounds heal. They do. Not because I forced my left hand to form a scab and send little white blood cells and other biological things to mend the flesh. I never told my hand to stop bleeding after 3 days. It healed on its own because that's what wounds do.

I have heart wounds that are still healing. And this week, I know that one wound in particular is pretty sensitive. I am reminded this week that wound happened and it still hurts, but healing will come. I know healing is coming and it's happening, but the wound still hurts years later. I am aware there will be lots of tears this week and nights curled up in a ball begging Jesus to make it all go away. I know my heart is healing and I'm in a much better place now than I was when I first allowed Jesus to begin healing my heart. 1 Peter 2:24 says, "By His wounds you have been healed." Present perfect progressive tense (have been healed) describes an action (healing) that began in the past, continues in the present, and may continue into the future. I know healing will come because healing started and continues today and will continue tomorrow. And this heart wound will one day be a scar, and I will remember how my Healer healed my heart.

"Scars also remind us that healing is possible, healing happened, and healing is freely given."--a sister's comment on my Facebook status

Stained & Secured

It's harvest season again and I've been getting loads of veggies from Pegleg--particularly tomatoes. I decided I would make some pasta sauce and freeze it for later because Ragu doesn't exist.

I know putting spaghetti sauce stains Tupperware. I did it plenty times before. So I decided I would freeze my pasta sauce in an ice cube tray. I would have little bricks of pasta sauce and I could defrost just as much as I needed.

Monday is my Sabbath. This was my Sabbath project--skinning & boiling tomatoes down to a sauce. I pulled out my ice cube tray from the cabinet and started pouring red tomato sauce into the little molds. I put the tray in the freeze and went to bed.

I couldn't sleep. HOW STUPID AM I?! I just put RED tomato sauce into my ice cube tray! I was going to have a reddish/pink stained ice cube tray in the morning! I rolled around trying to think of some remedy for my disastrous idea(stupid thing to lose sleep over, isn't it?) . I got none.

A reddish/pink stained ice cube tray is still an ice cube tray. It will still do what it was created to do--make ice cubes--white plastic or reddish/pink stained plastic. The tomato sauce stains on the ice cube tray don't define the ice cube tray.

I often look at myself as a tomato sauce stained ice cube tray. Words said to me, visions ingrained in me, sins done against me--all sitting inside leaving their red stains in and on my life. There's bitterness, anger, shame, guilt, and whole array of stains and residue in my life because of what I let in. But my stains don't define me. I am a child of God. I am a fellow heir with Christ.

And I fell asleep to that. My identity secured in Christ--not my past, present, or future. Tuesday when I got home from work, I popped the frozen bricks of pasta sauce out of the tray into a plastic bag. When I looked at the tray, there were no stains at all.

"But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God." 1 Corinthians 6:11

Bittersweet

After a long week, I stay up late Friday nights to chat on Skype with two of my best friends. In college, we'd walk to class together, eat lunch together, take classes together, study together, sit next to each other in the library and not study together, go to football games together, go on road trips together, travel across the country together, and of course stay up late talking together. But now, we're separated by crazy time zones and, well, life. So every Friday morning they wake up and I stay up late and we Skype. It's not every day, but it's every week, and it's consistent and steady. Even though by Friday night I'm ready to pass out as soon as I walk in the door, I look forward to my late night Skype dates and the laughter and smiles and goofy faces.

As I waited for my friend to come on Skype, I sat on the couch and busted out my Kindle. I'm reading an amazing book right now called, "Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way" by Shauna Niequist (She wrote another book called "Cold Tangerines" which I highly recommend.). The chapter I read tonight was about the author's three-day getaway with her four college girlfriends in a two-bedroom house.

"[B]ecause there are things you can't know, and questions you can't ask, and memories you can't recover via email and voicemail. It was about the being there, about being there to really see what's exactly the same and what's totally different about each one of us." (pg63)

"If you're lucky enough to have your Monica and your Sara and your Kirsten all right in your very own town, I hope you soak it up, and that you lie around in each other's backyards every Saturday afternoon or stay up late on one another's porches three nights a week. But if you're like me, and if those faces are far away, get a weekend on the calendar and get there.

Share your life with the people you love, even if it means saving up for a ticket and going without a few things for a while to make it work. There are enough long lonely days of the same old thing, and if you let enough years pass, and if you let the routine steamroll your life, you'll wake up one day, isolated and weary, and wonder what happened to all those old friends. You'll wonder why all you share is Christmas cards, and why life feels lonely and bone-dry....

So walk across the street, or drive across town, or fly across the country, but don't let really loving friendships become the last item on a long to-do list. Good friendships are like breakfast. You think you're too busy to eat breakfast, but then you find yourself exhausted and cranky halfway through the day, and discover that your attempt to save time totally backfired. In the same way, you can try to go it alone because you don't have time or because your house is too messy to have people over, or because making new friends is like the very worst parts of dating. But halfway through a hard day or a hard week, you'll realize in a flash that you're breathtakingly lonely, and that the Christmas cards aren't much company. Get up, make a phone call, buy a cheap ticket, open your front door.

Because there really is nothing like good friends, like the sounds of their laughter and the tones of their voices and the things they teach us in the quietest, smallest moments." (pg65-66)

I miss my old friends, the ones I left to come here. I miss the constant companionship and ease of friendship. But now, it's an hour, sometimes an hour and a half, once a week. I wish I could buy a cheap ticket and visit every time I felt lonely out here or they needed someone to sit with in the silence. I wish I could. But I can't. But in the late night hours on Friday night, there really is nothing like the sound of their laughter and the tones of their voices. There really is nothing like good friends.

Salt & Pepper

Since I came back to Japan 3 weeks ago, I started cooking. It's Thursday night and I can honestly say I've cooked 4 dinners this week. And I made bread on Sunday to eat for breakfast. Like legit wait-3-hours-to-let-yeast-rise bread. And no, I did not cook ramen. I went and BOUGHT FOOD. Real food. Like chicken and pork chops and fruits and tomatoes.

But I'm lazy. I lucked out that this week is miserably hot/humid (due to the typhoon hitting this weekend...or so I've been told) and it's test week so we have no basketball practice. I come home, go running, and then decide what to do for dinner. It's so hot that ramen isn't appealing...at all.

But I'm lazy. And I have limited spices. I checked. Every time I go to town where I can buy spices I forget which ones I needed for my recipe. But I have the basics: salt, pepper, garlic powder, garlic salt, mesquite seasoning, and cumin.

This week has been SALT & PEPPER. Simple & basic. Olive oil the chicken, salt & pepper both sides, throw it in the toaster oven for 10 minutes, and VOILA! dinner. Olive oil the pan, salt & pepper the pork chop, throw it in the pan for 10 minutes, and VOILA! dinner. It's simple & basic and that's how I like things.

Lately, I wish life were like my cooking--simple & basic, salt & pepper. But it hasn't been. When I left LA 3 weeks ago, relationships were changing...and I left with no guarantee I'd come back to them the way I left them. I came back home and my friends here were replaced by strangers and routines with my closest companions here changed. I've been waking up and it seems like life is a complicated recipe with 15 different ingredients and lots of stirring and mixing and mashing and chopping and dicing. And it's daunting. It feels like I'll never get it just right--I'll say the wrong thing, not be on Skype at the right time, forget birthdays, lag at replying to Facebook posts. Something will go awry and that's the end of my "recipe". It's complicated, and it's been killing me.

Life got complicated, and I got mad at God. So I ran.

I've been running but only about 15-20 minutes. I ran for 45 minutes Tuesday night after work. I ran until I ran out of lit places to run. I ran because I didn't want to sit at my computer and look at the emails and Facebook posts I never responded to. I didn't want my cell phone or anything. I needed to be alone...which is a strange feeling when you live alone in one of the most isolated parts of a country. I didn't want to come inside, so I sat in the dark on Pegleg's porch (I don't have my own porch otherwise I would've sat there). I sat there in the dark outside...waiting.

Life isn't complicated. Well, it's not supposed to be at least. I make it complicated when I try to get creative, when I try to skip steps and cut corners, when I try to do things my own way, when I don't trust things will turn out alright with only salt & pepper. I make life complicated when I start comparing myself with my old classmates--and feel like I'm not successful or good enough. I make life complicated when I get jealous of my dating and married friends--and wonder how much longer I'll have to wait. I make life complicated when I throw pity parties for myself--and convince myself that the world has forgotten me. I make my own life complicated because I choose not to trust God; I choose to trust myself.

Out on Pegleg's porch, He asked me why I liked to make life complicated for myself. I didn't have an answer. Life could be simple & basic again if I only trusted Him. Every time I start reaching for that jar of jealousy or can of insecurity, I have to give it back to Him--I have to give it back knowing what He has for me is better than what I'm holding onto.

Love & grace.

Salt & pepper.

Simple & basic.

"He's God. I'm me. When I remember that simple arrangement, life goes so much better." - John Acuff

Dog Tags

Two years ago, I was about to start my senior year of college. I was also about to begin one of the craziest (and blessed) semesters I experienced at USC. Fall semester of my senior year, I had the honor of being the pledge mom for the Theta class of my sorority. I started prepping for them in April without ever meeting them until September. I prayed for them day after day after day. And I never expected this:

Eight awkward, goofy, talented, always hungry kids who like bedtime stories and giggles and frolicking through fields. But they were (and still are) mine. I had so many things I wanted to them learn so many things through their pledge semester (and I hope they have). But little did I know how much I was going to learn from them.

One early morning, I took them to breakfast. It was 6am on Saturday--that's early for anyone but especially for college students. While we ate, I gave them each a set of dog tags (as you can see some of them wearing in the above picture). They were things I wanted them to keep close to their hearts.

I AM REDEEMED

I AM FORGIVEN

I AM BEAUTIFUL

I AM LOVED

DON'T PUT GOD IN A BOX

PRAYING ALWAYS, THUG MOMMA

I didn't want them to forget their identity. I didn't want them to limit God. I didn't want them to think no one was praying for them. I wanted them to keep these things close to their hearts.

And for the past couple of weeks, I've been in a funk. Maybe it was knowing I was coming back to Japan again. Maybe it was leaving everything at the security gate once more. Either way, it's been pretty lame. And I've been ignoring God (check my last post).

Friday was great (or so I thought). I got out of an appointment at the hospital, taught only 2 classes, got someone's phone number (that should've done it for me), received a package from Amazon AND a letter from home, wore my new Jordan IIIs, and had dinner in town with friends. But at the end of the night, I came home and felt...alone--the same feeling I've had for the past couple of weeks.

Yesterday (Saturday) I got up early (like before 7:30) and went for a run. I got kind of sad/depressed/lethargic/hopeless. Skyped with Mom and my best friend. Still alone. I sat and watched 4 hours of DVDs. I decided I needed to go to the store and buy food. I went to my bedroom to get socks and sat on the edge of the bed. I just sat in the dark on the edge of my bed for 45 minutes. God and I got real honest. I went to the store, came home, baked some bread, and finally sat down with my journal.

I feel alone. I don't want to worship. I know I need to, but it almost feels wrong. But it's the only thing that makes me feel remotely better. Baking, Skyping, reading, running, watching TV/movies--none of it felt right today. Maybe again tomorrow. Maybe. I will not stop trusting Your plan or Your love. I know You called me here for a reason. And I know You still love me even when I'm in a weird mood. I know You are still God and You deserve every ounce of worship I can muster out of me. You are God. You are Lord. You are King. You are Master over my life. You are Dad. You love me. And I can't ever repay You for what You've done.

I couldn't get myself to sing, so I opened my Bible. I read Psalms 27-33 out loud.

"Many are the sorrows of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the Lord."

Psalm 32:10

I crawled into bed feeling a little bit more at peace. I lay there in the dark not able to think of anything else to say. I heard Him whisper.

You are redeemed.

You are forgiven.

You are beautiful.

You are loved.

Don't put me in a box.

Love always, Dad

Wait, seriously?

When I was in college, I loathed Mondays and Wednesdays in the mornings. Monday meant the weekend was over, and Wednesday meant the week was only half over. That's all I could focus on when my alarm clock woke me up.

But I loved Monday and Wednesday nights in college. Monday nights we had our weekly sorority meeting. While I didn't enjoy wearing girly clothes or the business stuff, I loved sitting in the living room of our sorority house worshipping God together and then praying on the front porch with my sisters. Seriously, Monday nights were awesome. Wednesday nights I played basketball with my dad. While we didn't keep score, we sure had a lot of laughs with the other guys. I loved being able to go out and run around and play ball with my Dad. And afterwards, he'd take me out to eat. Wednesday nights were awesome.

But I'm not in college anymore and I have a job and I live in the middle of nowhere. What could be so great about Mondays and Wednesdays?

I'll start with Wednesday. Wednesday is Bible study night. Every week, I hope on Skype with my Bible and hang out with 6 other English teachers in Japan. We hang out, we talk, we pray, we study, we laugh. It's good times. It is fellowship in the strangest but simplest way possible. And I love Wednesdays because I get to fellowship with other believers. And it's pretty sweet.

So Mondays. Monday is my Sabbath. I know, the Sabbath is usually Sunday, or if you're Jewish, it's Saturday. But I found having my Sabbath on Sunday doesn't work. Mostly because I have an hour drive to town to go to church and an hour drive back home. Since I'm in town, I go to the store and get my groceries and shopping done. Usually I grab dinner with the other English teachers, and I get home and need to get things ready for the week. Sunday is not an ideal Sabbath. So I decided my Sabbath would be on Monday. When I get home from work on Monday, there is no TV, no Internet, and no cell phone. It's a chance for God and I to hang out without any distractions. I look at my Sabbath like a date night with God. A night devoted to our relationship. A night to enjoy God. Usually I read and journal. Once in a while I bust out the markers and colored pencils and doodle all night. Rarely I bring out the guitar. But most weeks, it's just my Kindle and my journal.

So, I'll be honest. Last night, I spent most of the evening ignoring God. I sat in my house eating dinner ignoring God. I washed the dishes ignoring God. I jumped in the shower ignoring God. I even made an oatmeal face scrub so I could have another reason to ignore God. I sat on my couch with oatmeal stuck to my face ignoring God. Finally I ran out of things to do.

So I sat on the couch with my closed Bible and journal.

Wait, seriously?

What?

It's our date night, and you've tried so hard to ignore Me.

I don't trust You. If we're honest, we both know I don't.

Why are you afraid to trust Me?

I trust You for my salvation but not tomorrow.

Wait, seriously?

I'm afraid of what You'll ask me to give up next.

Wait, seriously?

It's been a over a year since I left LA. I'm still single. I still have no career path. I still don't have a goal. And I'm still in the middle of nowhere.

Wait, seriously?

God, I think a lot of times I'm afraid to take You seriously.

Wait, seriously?

Because taking You seriously means my life must change.

He got me. If I seriously take God at His Word, I would have no problem trusting Him with tomorrow. Right now, my life is comfortable; I don't need to trust God. But I know life as I know it could change in the blink of an eye. I know that God is the only One who will not change...ever. But my eyes are so focused on ME that I can't see Him, and when I can't see Him I act as if He's not there. And if I really take God seriously, my life needs serious change.

Do you take God seriously?

24 hours later...

Well, 24 hours after I left my parents' house in PV, I made it to my house in the village. I stayed awake and watched 2 movies on the flight, and then realized how horrible of an idea that was. I sat at Haneda Airport in Tokyo for about 4.5 hours before boarding another plane to my island. As I sat IN the airport in Tokyo, I could feel the heat & humidity--GROSS. I kept hoping that it wouldn't be miserable weather in the village.

I fell asleep before the plane even took off. I woke up halfway through the flight and opened my window. I thought we were flying over Hawai'i. Teal blue water. Not a cloud in the sky. Everything was lush and green. It was BREATHTAKING. I got off the plane to PERFECT WEATHER. Sunny with a slight breeze. Rode the train with the window open flying through the wetlands and breathing clean, fresh air again. I sat there and thanked God for letting me live in such a beautiful place. When I came back after Christmas, I thanked God for the same thing. Maybe it's His reminder that He's still going to take care of me.

So now I've been home for about an hour. My house is dusty, but everything is where I left it and the fridge still has no food (shocking). The clothes are put away and I'm slowly unpacking the rest of it. I came home with an enormous empty suitcase. I managed to fill the entire thing AND still needed a knap sack and backpack. I made it through with 19.9 kg in Tokyo. I started pulling things out that I bought over the last 3 weeks in LA.

• Cream of wheat
• Dried tortellini
• Arm & Hammer baking soda
• Pyrex measuring cup
• Meat thermometer
• Spice grater
• Pillow cases
• Children's books
• Teacher posters
• A bag of snack size Twix bars
• Gallon size Ziploc bags
• Big Ziploc containers

Odd things. They add up over 3 weeks. Just throwing in a little here and a little there. Then you realize you're overweight. Not only that, it's impossible to carry a backpack, knap sack, and extremely overweight duffel bag up and down stairs. I wanted someone else to carry it for me, but no one was going to lug my enormous, obviously heavy duffel bag up the stairs.

But I think that's like life. Little things here and there add up. Parking ticket. Unexpected change of plans. Fight with a friend. Fight with a parent. Fight with a sibling. Rejection. Failure. They add up. And we keep throwing them into our duffel bag. No one else wants to carry your baggage--everyone has their own to carry. Everyone but Jesus. But how stupid would it be if I held on to my bag while Jesus tried to carry it for me? It defeats the purpose of having Him carry it if I'm still holding on, trying to carry it for myself. Maybe it's about time to let go.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." JESUS (Matthew 11: 28-30 ESV)

What happened?

Well, I've been home for a couple of days now and I'm still suffering from jetlag. I'm going to blame it on my best friends who have slept over the last couple of nights and kept me up late with giggles and pillow talk. How I've missed home.

It's been exactly a year since I left LA for Japan. Crazy to think that an entire 365 days has passed since then. It doesn't seem that long ago.

Let's see what happened in a year...

July: Tokyo orientation. Made friends for 4 days and then got sent to our final destinations with no way to communicate and keep in touch other than Facebook and e-mail. I finally met my boss and make it to my village...after an hour and a half plane ride from Tokyo, 2 train rides, and a lift from the mayor. Quiet, beautiful, and kind--nothing what I expected.

August: Explore. Where the heck do I live and what can I do? Discovered morning bazooka blasts and the 5:00 "A Whole New World" chime. Started teaching my adult night class. No internet and nothing to do at home every night. Emotion explosions.

September: Classes. Holy smokes, I never knew I'd be so busy. At first it wasn't too bad, but I soon discovered I had good classes/teachers and bad classes/teachers. My uncle cameto visit--first visitor! I started running every day to prepare for the Ekidentaikai.

October: Fall. I hiked with the bicycle riding club. Saw leaves change color for the first time. Practiced piano every night to play for a school festival. The temperatures started dropping below zero. October 26--first snow fall. Ran Ekidentaikai and almost froze to death.

November: Sick. My first cold--caught from watching TV in the cold room. I should've heeded everyone's warning. Crammed for the JLPT while attempting to write a novel. Poor choice.

December: HECTIC. Crammed for JLPT. Went to Sapporo, took the test, came back at midnight, got up at 5:30 and drove back to the village and went straight to work, worked 3 days, went back to Sapporo for conference, came back to the village immediately after conference finished, went to office end of the year party, worked 5 days, got on a plane and flew home.

January: Cold. Came back to the village at -23C. Started playing nagabutsu aisu hokei. Wrestled with contract papers. Started baking to pass the time and develop some good wife skills.

February: FRIENDS. Trekked up to Abashiri to watch drift ice. Drove out to Sapporo for the Snow Festival and Otaru for the Snow Candle Festival. Took a bus out to Tomamu for a weekend of perfect snowboarding. Homesick but grateful for new friends.

March: Chaos. Teachers got their transfer notices. School was winding down. Spiritually dead Gospel concert. Earthquake. Chaos. Absolute chaos. Uneasiness, sadness, grief. Hope, relief, patience. Solemn graduation ceremonies. Spring break trip to South Korea.

April: New. New teachers. New school year. No sign of spring yet. Snow kept falling. Attempting to clean up the house and make my house feel like home.

May: Golden. Golden Week trip around Japan. Old friends and family. Spring finally came...and that only means the snow stopped.

June: BUSY. Usually worked 10+ hours a day and undoukai (sports day) festivals on the weekends. Exhausted and on the verge of burning out. Planned vacation with Mom and Dad. Trekked out to Sapporo for the Yosakoi festival.

July: Kept my eye on the prize--summer vacation. Gritted my teeth, bit the bullet, worked long hours, and made it. Drove to Sapporo alone, visited Costco, picked up Mom and Dad, drove around Hokkaido, crashed my village, flew to Tokyo, and landed in LA.

One year. 365 days. Every one of them showing me how much more I need Jesus. I remember the first month sitting at home with no work and no friends and no internet at home. I remember asking God why He would send me there...to the middle of nowhere. I remember starting to get honest with God about everything--frustrations with language, loneliness, anger, past hurts and bitterness. I remember asking God to reveal Himself...and starting to see Him everywhere and in everything. I remember asking God if we could be best friends. I remember the nights I cried because I ached and longed for home...and how He wrapped me in His arms and held me tight. Every day--the good ones and the bad ones, the warm ones and the cold ones--I need Jesus. I need Jesus not because I'm alone and can't quite understand the language and my house is old and I don't have many friends. I don't need Jesus because of that. I need Jesus because I'm me. I could have all the friends in the world, the nicest, warmest, biggest house, and the best dictionary/personal translator, and I would still need Jesus because I am me. I am in need of His grace and mercy and love every single day to survive...anywhere. After a year, I'm finally figuring that out.

It's almost been a year

Well I'm back in Tokyo almost a year after I arrived.  But this time I'm headed back to LA for a nice summer holiday--to get my fill of burritos and vitamin D to last me until December.

It doesn't feel like a year has gone by.  It has gone by in a flash.  I'll write more about my first year once I'm back in LA...maybe out by the pool with an ice cold Diet Pepsi and a burrito and lots of sunshine.  But for now, I know this is where God wanted me.  And even though there are lonely days and cold days, I know He hasn't forgotten about me.  And I'm glad I'm staying another year to experience more of my Jesus.

Neglected

My blog has been neglected. Mom and Dad are here in the village and we've been busy exploring the great island of Hokkaido.  It's been nice having people around, but to be honest, it's tough too.  I'm used to having my life a certain way out here.  I get up when I feel like it (or when my alarm screams at me for the 7th time).  I eat what I want when I want.  I let my dishes pile up for the day....and I never bother drying them.  But now I can't do that.  I have guests.  Things I left neglected (like cleaning the house and fixing loose windows) are no longer neglected.  They can't be. 

But there are things that have been neglected now that my parents are here.  I had a routine.  My breakfast dates with Jesus have been neglected. My Monday night Sabbaths have been neglected. My poor garden has been neglected (and now all my flowers are dead). 

Good things (like cleaning and fixing) and not so good things (like dead flowers and no Jesus dates) are results of change. I recognize that this happens...and I need to adapt. I can't forever neglect my Sabbath and I should probably start using the Swiffer more often.  Change isn't bad...it's just different.

What else in my life needs to not be neglected? What about yours?

SUMMER! (almost)

Well, almost. Two 6th grade classes to teach Thursday, one adult conversation class to teach Thursday night, three junior high English exams and two PE classes to teach on Friday. Then it will be summer. Glorious, glorious 5 weeks of vacation.

5 weeks? 5 weeks is a long time. You're right. It is. In May, I worked until 6:30 every day after work. In June, I worked most Saturdays AND Sundays. And until 6:30 every day. I'm...exhausted. And now, it's hot. But vacation is on the horizon and I'm so ready for this week to be over!

Mom and Dad are coming to visit starting this weekend. I've been busy trying to get my house ready. And by ready, I mean cleaned. If you've ever been to my parents' house, you know how clean it is. I however live by myself in a house with too many rooms and no time/energy to clean it. I went to town, bought Mr. Bubbles, Swiffer sheets, glass cleaner, scrubby brushes, all-purpose cleaner, vacuum bags, and paper towels. I cleaned my shower room and wash room, vacuumed the floor, swiffered behind the bed, cleaned the windows, and attempted to throw things out/put things away. I finally finished the pathway in front of my house, although my flowers died because the recent rain demolished them. Things are making progress, and I'm excited for them to come and see my place!

It's hot. And by hot, I mean mid-70s. But it's muggy. I'm used to dry LA summer heat. But it's mid-70s and my arms are sticking to the plastic desk pad as I type. It's gross. Although, I remember coming to Japan in high school, to Saitama, for 6 weeks, during a heat spell. It was over 40C in the shade...and like 98% humidity every day. That was miserable. I should say I'm blessed to be up here, surrounded by beautiful nature and temperate weather.

I came back to the office yesterday after a long hot day of teaching and sitting through a meeting I couldn't understand. I came back and the office lady whispers, "Soft cream--kitchen." I put my stuff down, walk to the kitchen, and open the fridge looking around. There's no soft cream. Obviously. You don't keep soft cream in the fridge. Long day. I pull open the freezer and there's a cone of soft cream waiting for me. It's summer again. And it's great!

Butterfly Effect

Yesterday I watched the news...in Japanese. It's an interesting time right now for Japan. It's been 3+ months since the earthquake struck (although we are still having huge earthquakes). The Prime Minister is set to step down because people are upset. The nuclear meltdown has...melted. People are still living in shelters. Aid still hasn't been received. The economy keeps heading south. It's a weird time for Japan considering it's an industrialized nation.

But the news yesterday said that electricity and gas will go up 5-8%. Rice and flour will also go up 5-8%. That is BAD NEWS. My gasoline right now is 149JPY per liter, which means my gas is running at $6.99 per gallon; good thing I only drive on the weekends. In a country where the economy is already doing poorly, it's a bad time for commodities to start skyrocketing. But what can you do?

For all the economics classes I slept through, I mean, studied hard in, I learned there's a law of supply and demand. No nuclear power means all of our electricity prices will go up. Government is using gas to fuel relief vehicles, which means civilian gas prices will go up. Tsunami water wiped out fields and fields and fields of rice and wheat, which means rice and flour prices will go up. Milk prices have gone up due to fears of radiation, and it's spread up here to the dairy farms in my village. People aren't buying milk from the village (I don't know why because we're not even close to radiation...or anything for that matter). But it's affecting my students' families. It's a giant ripple effect, butterfly effect this country is going to feel for a very long time.

Universal Language

I didn't forget about my blog. I haven't had anything interesting to write until this week. And this week has been crazy. The last two weeks have been crazy. I thought busy season was in March...and it was. I thought April was busy season...and it was. May was busy. And so is June. They keep telling me it will slow down, but I doubt it will. Luckily, my vacation starts next Friday (WOOHOO!).

Most of you know I help coach the junior high basketball team. Yesterday I taught them "I'm sweaty" and "You are stinky"...very practical English on a hot day. So we've been practicing until about 6, which means I get home around 6:30. But this Sunday is chutairen. I'm not sure what it means, but it's the last tournament my 3rd grade players can play. I'm sad and glad at the same time. My 3rd grade students are finally warming up to me, and I'm sad I won't be able to play with them every day after this weekend. Also because my team of 8 will be down to 4. But once this tournament is over, we'll go back to finishing around 5:30, which means I'll get home around 6. It's a little bittersweet.

Most days I go to more PE classes than English classes. Today was no exception. I've played sports I didn't even know were sports...like indoor curling and indoor field hockey. Most days I don't know I'm going to PE class. Some schools schedule their classes for the day, so I can join all the English and PE classes. Days like today. I taught all my junior high students English during 2nd period, taught the junior high PE class 4th period, and joined PE baseball during 5th period with the elementary school.

While I complain about getting home late and falling asleep at 7:30 while I eat dinner, I can't complain. I'm exercising every day. I get to do what I love--play sports. They told me in accounting that numbers are the universal language. And sure, I can help my students when I sit in on their math classes. 2 + 2 = 4 in every country...usually. But numbers don't have any emotion. Numbers don't care. My students (finally) learned high-fives and a big smile are my way of saying "Good job" after they slug a double during baseball or make a 3-pointer at the buzzer or get the principal out during dodgeball. Sports cross over the language barrier and suddenly I'm not the English-teacher-who-looks-like-everyone-else-but-speaks-really-bad-Japanese; I'm part of the team. They aren't my students-who-look-like-my-cousins-but-can't-understand-anything-they-say; they're teammates. Man, have I got it good.

City Life

I wrote this...and then I lost it. And now it's been found!

I spent four years living in the city. I battled freeway traffic every Dodger and Laker game. Forget that, I battled freeway traffic every day. I fell asleep to wailing sirens every night. I grabbed Starbucks coffee every morning because 1) Corporate America brainwashed me and 2) there was one on every corner. I ate out more than I ate in my apartment because, well, I could. I locked the door when I left the apartment and when I came home. I locked my car as soon as I got in and as soon as I got out. No one ever stole my entire bike, just the wheels (one more than occasion).

But now I’ve spent 10 months in the countryside. I battle hay trucks down the one-lane, winding mountain roads. I fall asleep to rain dancing on my roof. I breathe fresh air every single morning (except when it’s windy and it smells like cow). I lock the door when I leave and when I come home, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worth it since I have to put my shoes on every time I need to open my door for someone. I lock my car when I run into the store to grab dinner, but the people next to me often leave their keys in the ignition and engine running. I’ve been given more food, more rides, more vegetables than I can imagine.

Last Friday (6/10), I made the 6-hour journey after work to head to the city. 2 trains and a subway ride later, I stood in my friends’ apartment filled with English and laughter. It’s a long trip, an expensive trip, but the smiles, the laughter, the Mexican food (really legit Mexican food), the late nights talking, the breakfast conversations, and friends make it totally worth it.

Mom, look! I have friends!

Kimi came up to Sapporo to dance! Super legit! Check the videos on Youtube!

And yes, we're both Americans.

No, those are not peace signs...we're Trojans.

Emmy's...quite possibly the best restaurant in all of Hokkaido.

Of course she learned to make Mexican food in LA.

What 6-hour trip to the city is complete without Starbucks?

I hopped on the usual 2:20 train to come home on Sunday afternoon. In Japan, everything is on time. I get there at 2:15, and my train isn’t on the board. They keep making some announcement but I can’t understand it. I go through the gate, head up to the platform where my train should be, and there’s no train. No one is there. I walk over to an attendant who starts talking to me really quickly and then starts running. Run down the stairs, through the station, to the other side of the station, and up the stairs to an incredibly crowded platform of unhappy people. It’s 2:25 and a train comes. It’s not my train but everyone seems to be getting on. I ask another attendant. Take it to another station and wait there for your train. Too bad the train was made for reserved ticket holders and not us. We waited in between seats, in between aisles, in between cars, swaying back and forth with all our stuff for a good 30 minutes. Finally I get to the new station. I get off. I wait.

“English teacher.”

I turn around. Someone old man is pointing at me.

“You’re the Shibecha English teacher, right?”

It was a little creepy he knew that. He asked why I was in the city and how I was getting back to the village from town. I told him the train. He said since our long train would be late to town that I’d probably miss the train to the village. I didn’t think about that. He said if the train to the village wasn’t there, he would drive me home. He also knew I was Pegleg’s neighbor. I still had no clue who he was. So I got a ride home from town from a semi-stranger. Only in Japan is it semi-okay to get a ride home from a semi-stranger.

I found out at work he was the old superintendent…and I had met him before.