Dear Shibecha

Dear Shibecha,

Two years ago today I showed up on a train in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere.  I didn't even know how to drive my car...or know what time work started.  I didn't have any friends and I could hardly communicate with anyone.

And today, I finished my time in Shibecha.  I played softball with the amazing teaching staff of this village.  We traveled and ate and played and laughed together.  While it would've been amazing if we won the All-Hokkaido tournament, I wouldn't have wanted to end my time here any other way.

I came home exhausted, but I needed to walk.  It's one of the last times I'll be able to take a late night walk down to the river.  I sat there with the river in front of me and the stars above me...and I cried.  A lot.  This has become my home.  And I don't want to leave.  I made a life here.  I have friendships that are deep despite the language barrier.  And I'm thankful that I do.  I'm thankful that I am so torn about going back to LA.  I am thankful for friends I don't want to leave.

Thursday night at a going-away party, my friends went around thanking me for teaching them English. I glanced across the table and saw my best friend crying.  I told her she couldn't cry, that I was spending the whole weekend with her.  But after that, I had a hard time holding back tears thanking them for so many wonderful memories over the past 2 years.  Though I did spend yesterday and today with my best friend, there were many moments of silence, neither of us knowing what to say, not wanting time to keep moving.  While she drove, I heard her keep saying, "Six days..." And it's only six days we have left together.

Thank you, tiny village, for changing seasons, for letting me experience my first snowfall.  Thank you for silly winter sports like nagabutsu aisu hokei and speed skating and snow rugby.  Thank you for showing me how shoveling snow is excellent exercise in cold weather.  Thank you for being green, greener than any place I've ever seen.  Thank you for your tall trees that sound like the ocean when a strong wind blows through.  Thank you for your rivers and streams and many lakes.  Thank you for your winding roads through farms and mountains.  Thank you for your clear nights when all the stars in the universe can be seen from my front door.  Thank you for your sunsets that are unlike anything I've ever seen.  Thank you for your tiny schools and extremely flexible teachers.  Thank you for your never-ending schedule of events to attend--from listening to the Sapporo orchestra to running a long-distance relay to watching a school play.  Thank you for these past 2 years of valuable experiences and unforgettable memories.

While I know I have to leave in six days, I know this isn't goodbye--just see you later.

Much love,
Me

Last

List of lasts:

• Eating dinner with my nagabutsu aisu hokei team
• Practicing softball while the sun sets
• Teaching 3 English classes and 3 PE classes in one day
• Coaching basketball early Saturday morning
• Having a oyster explode on the grill
• Laughing with my coworkers over BBQ
• Driving by my favorite lake and lookout point
• Walking to work 
• Getting a ride halfway to work
• Stamping the office car book with my seal
• Driving the no-fun car
• Writing speeches and working past bedtime

There's a last time for everything...and today is my LAST DAY AS AN (official) EMPLOYEE OF SHIBECHA TOWN'S BOARD OF EDUCATION!

Where have 2 years gone?

I'm not counting down the days until I leave this village.  I'm not.  Really.  I know I count down every time I am getting ready to come home, but this time I'm not ready to come home.

I am trying to hang on to every last minute, every last walk to work, every last walk home with my students, every last English class, every last laugh with my friends, every last dinner party.  Today I'll go to my big junior high, the first school I taught at, the school where I coach basketball.  It's fitting that my last day will end with my first school.  And I'll give a speech today up on a stage in a suit thanking the students for always greeting me with "Good morning" (no matter what time it is) and telling me they're hungry.  And I hope not to cry too much in the process.

I lay in bed this morning and thanked God for these 2 years.  2 blessed years.  I never would've imagined.  This is not where I thought I'd be 2 years out of college, and there's no place I'd rather be.  God's ways are higher than mine, and I'm so glad they are.

Cleaning & Packing

I am getting things ready to go.  It's a hectic process to pack up life while working and living in the house you still need to pack.  It's a busy last few weeks, and I have hardly any time to get my things together.  This past weekend was the first real break I had in 26 days.  And it was an amazing 3-day weekend before my last 2 weeks here.

7/17 - Nakachanbetsu Elementary & Junior High.  Basketball practice.  Softball practice.  Dinner with a teacher friend.
7/18 - Nakaosobetsu Elementary.  Basketball practice.
7/19 - Preschool.  Last English conversation class.
7/20 - Office day.  Board of Education goodbye party.
7/21 - Nakachanbetsu goodbye party.
7/22 - Cleaning day.
7/23 - Office day.  Basketball practice.
7/24 - Touro Elementary & Junior High.  Softball practice.
7/25 - Office day.  Basketball practice.
7/26 - PACK & CLEAN & SHIP MY STUFF. English conversation class goodbye party.
7/27-29 - All-Prefecture softball tournament.
7/30 - Clean house.
7/31-8/1 - Go pick up my replacement & bring him back to Shibecha


So I have about 2 days to pack and clean.  I've been slowly making progress packing away souvenirs I've collected, books I've finished reading, and DVDs I never got a chance to watch.  I've also start throwing away stuff in an attempt to clean.  Old newspapers from home, an ESPN magazine, old calendars, and socks with holes in them.

There are things, intangibles, I have to decide to take home with me or throw them away.  I decided to keep a few things--friendships, appreciation for nature, wifey skills, sense of responsibility, thankfulness.  I know I need to throw some things away, some things I can't and shouldn't take back with me to LA--regret, bitterness, fear of what's next.

Last night was my Sabbath, and while it was a holiday, I came home after a day in town shopping and lay on the floor.  I lay on the floor and, instead of packing and cleaning, I lay there quietly.  As if somehow when I opened my eyes, my bags would be packed and my house would be spotless.

Have 2 years really gone by that quickly? 

I remember crying every night for the 2 weeks prior to my departure from LA.  So afraid of the unknown, the wild adventures ahead.  I arrived in the most peaceful and beautiful place I have ever seen filled with the kindest people I have ever met.  Every day has been an adventure--from teaching preschool to coaching basketball to fishing in the river to shoveling the office driveway to my car breaking down.  Every day God has gone before me.  Every day God has walked me home.

And in 18 days, I'll leave this beautiful little dairy farming village I've fallen in love with and called home.  In 25 days, I'll be back in LA surrounded by family and English-speaking friends.  I'll walk by faith with my belongings and life lessons through customs at LAX.  I have to trust God will go before me on the adventure that lies ahead.  I have to trust God will walk me home.

Let Freedom Reign

When asked what nationality I am, I proudly say I'm Japanese American.  If you know me fairly well, you know I more closely identify with being Japanese more than I do being American.  I tend to eat Japanese food more often than American food, and I celebrate Japanese holidays with my family.  One of my friends commented on a picture of a room in my house being decorated with Japanese paraphernalia.  I dreamed of working in Japan, and here I am.

Makeshift indoor BBQ

But now that I'm here, in Japan, I would tell you I'm American.  I'm not Japanese American in Japan.  I'm just American.  Since today is Independence Day, America's birthday, I proudly blasted "Proud to be an American" through every open window in my house.  I turned my fish griller into a makeshift BBQ and grilled up some sausage and corn on the cob and bell peppers.

It's difficult to explain the significance of Independence Day in a country that's never been dependent.  I've never really thought about America's independence too much until today.  I'm grateful to be a citizen of the United States of America where freedom reigns.  While the US of A may not be the perfect country, I am thankful for the education I've received and the services that are available.  Things may be very different than they were in 1776, but the red, white, and blue flag still waves over the amazingly diverse but united states of America.

This morning in my thankful journal I jotted down "freedom."  I am thankful today for my freedom of speech and religion.  I am thankful for my freedom to vote.  I am thankful for the freedom to get an education and find a job.  I am thankful for the men and women who have served in the armed forces to protect America and the freedom it stands for.  I am thankful for my rights as a citizen of the United States of America.

I'm also thankful for my freedom in Christ Jesus through His blood shed on the cross for my sins.  I'm thankful for the freedom from my sin to turn to God the Father and to serve Him with my life.  I'm thankful for Christ's free will, and that in His freedom He willingly came to earth, lived a sinless life, died a sinner's death, and rose from the grave 3 days later for the glory of God.  I am thankful to be free.

"But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life.  For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."  Romans 6:22-23

The Final Countdown

I am coming up on my last month in this village.  Yesterday officially marked the last 1-month marker.  Only 30 days left on my contract before I enter into that strange realm of funemployment.

I am eagerly looking forward to coming home, feasting on BBQ and burritos, speaking English in my "normal" English, and knowing people understand what I'm trying to communicate.  I am looking forward to a big refrigerator and eating at a dining table.  I am looking forward to take-out and dessert.  I am looking forward to being home...home.

But I realized how much I'll miss village life.  Although it's cold for 8 months of the year, it was my first chance experiencing the changing seasons.  I watched an entire village change from vibrant green to burning red to pure white and back to green again.  I wore a Jordan T-shirt, Nike Dunks, and my snapback baseball cap to work today.  I don't think I'll get to wear that uniform back home.  I play basketball 6-7 days a week; I don't know if I'll ever do that again.

I'll miss the toothless cashier at the supermarket who criticizes my unhealthy purchases every time I show up.  I'll miss the look of sheer terror/concern/confusion on the bank teller's face every time I walk in.  I'll miss the post office lady who knows all of my mail goes to America.  I'll miss the lady at the stationary store who gives me oranges.  I'll miss the baker who comes to one of my schools and our conversations about church.

I'll miss the quietness of the village.  I'll miss walking by the river in the moonlight.  I'll miss sitting on Pegleg's porch and staring at the stars.  I'll miss my morning walks to the office and the first deep breath of fresh air.  I'll miss laying on the floor talking to God about my work day, the crazy kids, and the crazier teachers I worked with.  I'll miss date night.

I'm reading a book called Wild Goose Chase, and I'm starting to think that life here became too comfortable.  The job and pay are comfortable, the clothes are comfortable, the people are comfortable, and I can't really say I have things working against me.  I remember in December being torn about my contract.  I thought staying would be easy, nothing would change, and that was fine because I don't like change.  But God asked me to trust Him enough to leave.  So I turned in my papers with a plan, a new game strategy...and then life changed.  I came home in May and seemingly threw my plan out the window.  Or maybe, just maybe, it was God.  Because I like having a plan.  I like having things on my calendar and a routine and a schedule.

But now the only thing on my calendar is "Come home."

Community

As today kicks off a 26-day work period, I am thankful that I spent my weekend in the company of friends.  I woke up around 4:30 on Saturday morning, drove an hour to town, hopped on the train, and arrived at the Huttons’ apartment at 11:30 for a 36-hour break from work and a fantastic 36-hour hangout with friends.

Lots of colorful hair

We spent the weekend watching Yosakoi dance groups including Jessica’s team and Teresa's team.  We watched a lot of other teams with crazy hair and costumes.  We even stopped by Starbucks before we settled into our seats at the main stage.  Drinking Starbucks with friends on a Saturday evening outside at a park in the city watching magnificent dancing—that’s how life should be.

Chitose Homura - Teresa's Team

We grabbed soup curry for the last time together and stayed up late sharing stories and watching Youtube videos.  Over the past 2 years, we’ve shared so much laughter and so many Youtube videos together.  It was only fitting that our last time in that tiny apartment we would be doing the same.

Sunday morning everyone went to church except Matt and me.  We went back to Odori Park to catch the parade.  We grabbed lunch and sat in the park and talked.  It’s been about 4 weeks since I’ve sat down and talked with someone face-to-face.  It was refreshing to sit outdoors, enjoy our rice balls, and share with my brother before we ran to catch more dancing.  After Matt left on the train, I grabbed another Starbucks and watched a few more groups dance their hearts out.

Muroran Keishoumai - Jessica's Team

I told Matt I’m thankful that our goodbyes this weekend are really “see you laters”.  This past weekend was the last time we'll see each other for a while.  Half of us are moving back to our respective countries and half are staying put for another season.  While it may be a while before we see each other face-to-face, I’m thankful for this weekend, for the reminder of God’s faithfulness to provide, and that His provision is not always what I’m expecting.

Natalie & John, Me, and Matt

For first 18 months, I was bitter that God asked me to leave behind my amazing community at USC.  I wanted the same community here—in the middle of nowhere. I begged and pleaded for that same community.  And it never came.  Instead I got a voice-only Skype Bible study once a week. I didn’t want them to replace my college community; they would never come close to my college community.  And I tried to keep them at a distance, but as we dug into the Word together and encouraged and prayed for each other, they slowly crept their way into my heart.  And slowly, ever so slowly, they became my community. 

What we’ve experienced together over the last 2 years will never be experienced by my college community.  I did have community here—it just wasn’t what I was expecting.  And God didn’t go back on His promise—He absolutely provided.  God didn’t ask me to leave behind my college community to be in the middle of nowhere alone (as much as it felt like it at times)—God asked me to be with Him.

This weekend, as I shared my fear of going back to a changed community, I was met with community.  Perhaps it was God’s answer to my prayers for the last few months—calm my anxieties and remind me You provide.  Because I know in 8 weeks, I’ll be back in LA and my college community, the amazing community I’ve tried to hold on to so desperately, will be changed.  We won’t all be living within walking distance, staying up until the wee hours of the morning to talk won’t be feasible, and the 24/7 accountability and encouragement will no longer be a reality.  Things will be different.  Different isn’t bad—it’s just different.  But it’s made me anxious about coming home.  This weekend was a timely reminder that God provides.  He always does. 

Darker Nights

This is an honest post.  An honest post about my heart.  Because, if I were honest, life has been dark.  It’s been a dark 3 months, an aching 3 months, a crying 3 months, a grieving and mourning 3 months.  

For the most part work has kept me busy and distracted, and I’m thankful that it has.  Sports festivals, basketball playoffs, a teachers’ softball tournament, and preparing for my successor, on top of my usual workload, has made June an even busier month than last year’s.  But I know working late and working weekends and bringing work home won’t heal the aches of my heart or calm the anxieties that keep me tossing and turning at night.

I’ve had to be really careful the last 3 months to take care of my heart.  It’s hard.  Because sometimes sitting and wallowing in pain seems better than trying to actually get better because progress usually hurts and, on occasion, fails.  And the easier solution is to stay in my PJs under the covers and wallow with my aching heart, ice cream, and Youtube videos.

Though the past 3 months have been painful, God is increasingly good.  Too good. I got to spend time with my brother in Tokyo and take a trip home to be with family. In 3 months, the snow has melted, the weather has warmed up, and we’ve walked together late at night after work.  Date nights have been amazingly intimate, and it’s easily my favorite night of the week.  

Aside from Monday date nights at home, we went on a spectacular date to Higashimokoto to see the shibazakura flowers and enjoyed the fireworks.  I physically felt the presence of God as I wandered through paths of pink flowers glistening with raindrops.  His voice clearly whispered, “I promised I’d never leave.”

Last Thursday night, I went for a walk after my night class.  I walked down to the river where there are no lights.  It was in the darkness that I realized how brightly the moon shone on the river.  I walked in the dark by the light of the moon.  The moon shines brightest on the darkest nights.  God’s grace shines brightest in my darkest seasons—if only I take the time to look and see it there plainly in front of me.  God’s Word will guide me through my dark days and darker nights.

And it’s hard for me to feel so heavy when I look back on God’s goodness these last 3 months.  But I am.  I feel guilty for still aching and grieving.  But I know that like the long winter finally coming to an end in my tiny village, some times dark seasons never seem like they’ll end.  But spring is here, the grass is green, the flowers are blooming, and it’s warming up.  I know this dark season won’t last forever.

Boxed and Packaged

Last month during my influenza 5-day quarantine, I drove myself crazy with too much time to think.  As I packed my giant rolling duffel bags with winter jackets and snowboard pants to bring home, I thought too much...which is really hard to do when you have the flu.  But I did.


This is what I thought:
I'm moving back to America in 2.5 months.  That's not much time.  
I have no job and no plan.
This is when I'm supposed to pursue my dream.
What's my dream? Do I even have a dream? 
What am I passionate about? 
Writing...fantastic.  That'll get me places.
Helping people.  Another good one.
Writing and people.  And Jesus.  
How does that fit into a career? 
Why don't my dreams and passions have job titles like "wedding planner"?
Why don't my dreams and passions have degree names like "Masters of Family Therapy"?
Why can't I have dreams and passions that are nicely packaged? 


A very dear friend of mine listened to my rant, and then lovingly reminded me that I am an odd-shaped package to start with and I shouldn't expect my dreams and passions to be nicely packaged.


I thought about this because Wednesday I received a very odd-shaped package in a bubble-wrap envelope.  Thursday I received two rectangular cardboard boxes from Amazon.  


I'm coming to grips with my awkwardly packaged dreams and passions.  How boring would the world be if our gifts all came in nicely packaged Amazon boxes.  Regardless of whether everything could fit in an envelope that looks like it'll burst or sits in a nicely packed Amazon box, it should all be to the glory of God.  Whether it's hand delivered to your neighbor or shipped to the far reaches of the earth, it's loving people the way God has individually called us to love to the glory of God.  I got so caught up in trying to figure out WHAT it was that I forgot WHY I had it.  God gave me a passion for writing and helping people and I wanted to know WHAT to do with it instead of remembering WHY I had it in the first place--to give God the glory.


"Our perspective on life is tragically godless.  We miss the one thing worth seeing, the glory of the ever-present God.  When this happens, our lives are not built on the foundation of God's glory, which was intended to give our lives a starting point and a destination, a reason to get up and the strength to go on.  Every aspect of my existence was meant to be filled with the glory of God.  Everything I think, ever decision I make, every word I speak was meant to be shaped by a humble acknowledgment of his claim on my life.  I was created to live for his glory." Paul David Tripp (Instruments in the Redeemer's Hand - 98)

Mount Hermon Mornings

I had a Mount Hermon moment yesterday (Tuesday) morning as I walked from my office to the local elementary school.  I had a Mount Hermon moment and it's not even June.  It wasn't anything in particular.  Perhaps being from LA, I took a big deep breath of clean air slightly damp with morning mist...and that's what brought me back to Mount Hermon.


Mount Hermon is a week-long summer conference in NorCal with all the churches under our "umbrella" group.  It was the week of hanging out with friends from all over the California (and the Pacific Northwest).  Every year I spent a week at Mount Hermon in a cabin with other crazy girls and a cabin leader.  Every year I heard sermons and attended seminars and played ridiculous games (peanut butter elbow relays, capture the flag flour bombs in the rain, and ultimate relay race to name a few) and came up with crazy skits about the camp theme.  This was just junior high, interhigh, high school, and college camps.


I remember even back to Family camp when my dad was the dinner emcee.  Every night he awarded a dinner table with a pot of fresh white rice (only Asians might understand the significance).  During the afternoon free time, we went swimming and creek walking and hiking.  We stayed up late and ate candy and played ping-pong.  It was a week of hanging out with church families and convincing everyone's dad you needed another ice cream cone.


But that's not really what I thought about yesterday morning as I walked to school.  It wasn't some convicting message I heard because I honestly can't remember a single sermon or camp theme in the many years I went to camp.  It wasn't crazy games or sermon illustrations or funny skits or embarrassing moments--all though there are plenty of those.


What came to mind were the men and women who served me at camp all those years.  The cabin leaders of my cabin and the ones next door who prayed over me.  The staffers who took care of me when I was injured and sat next to me on the benches when I couldn't participate in the games.  The older men and women who invested in me for those week-long camp experiences, and the ones who continued to invest even after their obligation finished.


When I was a junior high, interhigh, high school, and college camper, I never would've imagined I'd be serving God in a tiny dairy farming village in the middle of nowhere Japan.  It's not because I didn't love Japan back then, but I was so angry at God.  Though it took years after my last summer as a camper to get things right with God, I'm thankful for those week-long God experiences every summer.  I never had the opportunity in college to serve at Mount Hermon to "pay my dues" but...


Thank you to all the cabin leaders and staffers who served me over the years at Mount Hermon.   Thank you for praying for me even when I could have cared less.  Thank you for trusting God had bigger plans for an angry and rebellious teenager who always seemed to get hurt at camp.  Thank you for having faith God could use a week-long summer camp to change hearts, especially angry teenage ones.  Thank you for loving Jesus and faithfully serving Him so one day I could do the same.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that isset before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." 

Hebrews 12:1-2

Defensive adjustment

When I was in high school, I wasn't afraid of anyone on the court...including a 6'2" center from Inglewood.  I never thought I couldn't take a girl.  I was fearless--which I think surprised most people as a 5'1" Japanese kid.  But I never thought I could get beat on defense.  I thought I could defensively take any girl on the court.

And this week reminded me that I am not in high school anymore.

We are gearing up for the junior high all-area tournament at the end of June.  There are 9 players, so I fill in to play the 10th.  I am not as fast as I used to be, and I have girls half my age driving past me and shooting over me.  We play full-court, game speed, 8-minute games with 2-minute breaks.  My legs are incredibly tired.  Not sore, just tired.  I can barely keep up with my team of junior high girls, and I cherry pick and let them shoot the three.  I'm not lazy...I'm old (as my students verbally reminded me Wednesday at the gym).

I had to adjust my game.  I am no longer on the court with amazingly talented teammates who could anticipate offenses and my reactions.  I can't beat them on the steals and quick cuts, but I can read their eyes and intercept the passing lane and hang back in help in just the right spot.  I know how far to close out without them flying by me, and to let them shoot the three when they're still 3-feet behind the arc.  Always, always, always stretch.

In the same way, I've had to adjust my defense against sin since moving to Japan.  I'm no longer surrounded with amazingly godly women who could anticipate when my stupidity was about to kick in.  I can't run to their apartments or call them for accountability, but I can recall the Scriptures they read to me and the prayers they prayed.  I know how to say 'no', and to remember the cross when I feel weak.  Always, always, always pray.

School disturbance

Monday’s big disturbance was the fact it was Monday and we were getting curry rice for lunch.  Friday is curry rice day, and for some reason things got switched up and there was great confusion and distress.  I heard 3 complaints that they had eaten curry rice for breakfast. 

Yesterday’s big disturbance was the fact it was Tuesday and we were getting bread instead of rice for lunch.  Every other Thursday we get bread instead of rice, and yet again, there was great confusion and distress.  The fish needed to be eaten with rice, not bread. 

Today’s big disturbance is lunchroom seating.  Two other schools are sending their 1^st & 2^nd graders over to play and have lunch.  They won’t fit in the 1^st/2^nd grade classroom.  Perhaps they’ll fit in the art room.  But the art room chairs are too tall.

I’m glad to know that of all things to wreak havoc at work this week have all been related to lunch. 

After lunch, 10 teachers rushed into the copy room to play with the science teacher’s planetarium.  We covered the window on the door and found an outlet.  The teachers laughed when one mentioned how confused the students would be if they came into a deserted teachers room.  We ooed and awed at the stars on the ceiling for about 5 minutes before someone realized they were late for a meeting.  One of the more random things I’ve done at work.

Dear Alfred

I knew I had a few very important things to do this week while I'm back home:
1) Watch my cousin get married
2) Spend time with my dad
3) Visit your parents

Saturday, I watched my cousin marry a beautiful woman, and we welcomed her into our family.  It was the first time my cousins were all together in over 15 years.  We even got Grandma out on the dance floor.  It was nice to see everyone together in one place.  Family will always be family.

Today, I took Dad down to Terranea for lunch.  We sat near the cliffs and shared a burger.  It was the perfect day.  Blue skies, no wind, lots of sunshine, and a clear view of the lighthouse.  I'm thankful that we got to share another lunch together.  It hasn't been an easy 3 weeks, but I'm thankful for that one more lunch today.  I know my time with him is short, especially since I'm only home 1 week this time.  But I'm glad we had lunch today, and some short hangouts and dinners interspersed.

Tonight, I went to see your parents.  I sat in the garage for a while, not sure of what I was going to say when I saw them.  I haven't seen your parents since our high school graduation.  It took a lot of deep breathing to get me to your house.  I still remember the shortcut you showed me years ago.  I listened to your mom play the piano for a long time before I rang the doorbell.  I didn't want to disrupt her.  She was wearing your varsity hoodie: #9.  She took me to your room, and it looked the same as it did back in high school.   You looked good; you always have.  She cried, and I hugged her and cried too.  She showed me stuff from your apartment, including your nerdy calculator.  We shared a couple quiet smiles.  We sat on the edge of your bed and talked--just like you and I used to back in high school when we'd study bio and pre-calc together.  Everything looked the same, and I forgot how much I love your parents.  We sat and talked for almost an hour, and I even got them to crack smiles.

I saw the program sitting on my desk when I came home Thursday night.  I looked through the pictures.  I pulled out my yearbooks and saw all the goofy things you wrote freshman year and the short sentimental note you wrote senior year.  I'm thankful for the memories I have with you--slow dancing in your kitchen, eating pancakes at IHOP, watching stars on your roof, catching sunsets at the cliffs, sitting on your bed making faces at each other for hours, walking together after school or practice, drawing walruses in each other's bio notebooks, serenading me with boy band songs, and all the other memories only you and I will share.  Thank you, thank you for those memories, those good times, those smiles.

I still miss you.  So do your parents and lots of your other friends.  I still can't believe you're gone.  Even though my heart hurts, I have a peace I don't understand.  God is still good.  He is still faithful.  He is still sovereign and omnipotent and omniscient.  He is still who He says He is.  I know where you are, and I know where I'm going.  And while my heart still aches, I know one day I'll see you again.

Late Night Cravings

It's a little past 10:30 on Monday night, I just finished a delightfully warm bowl of homemade peppery chicken soup and warmed olive oil toast. And now I'm in bed blogging while the rain pitter patters on the village.

I am on sick leave until Friday because some cute little kids gave me the flu, which is apparently like the plague. I am not allowed out of my house for 5 days. And I'm certainly okay with that. I slept a grand 14 hours last night.

I don't normally eat after 10. I don't normally eat after 8 because then I can't fall asleep by 10. But Dad always told me never to go to bed hungry. I crawled in bed at 7 with "Julie & Julia" and I finished around 9 craving bruschetta and beef stroganoff. Bad things to crave when you're confined to your house (and live in an isolated rural village in Japan). But I did what Dad would do--make do.

Dad liked to make breakfast for dinner when it was late at night. I'm not sure why we would be up so late--I think those nights were late nights returning home from trips and not much was in the cupboards and fridge. Usually it was pancakes or french toast, sometimes waffles. Late night breakfast dinners. Because we couldn't go to bed hungry.

I haven't eaten much because of this flu mostly because I'm exhausted. For example, it took me an hour to finish a small bowl of miso soup and a small bowl of rice because I dozed off between every bite. Today, it took me about 6 hours to make chicken soup which usually only takes me 30 minutes. I kept falling asleep between chopping vegetables and boiling the chicken and making the stock. But now I have soup, it's in a giant pot on my stove to be eaten late at night.

In my journal I wrote:

A hungry stomach does not rest

Nor does a ravaged soul

We need more than Chinese take-out

And fortune cookie philosophies

And now that my stomach is satisfied, it's time to rest yet again.

Busy mind Busy times

There's been a lot going on recently, and I haven't had a chance to blog. I'm not even sure what to write about. I've had a lot of nights at home with 5,000 thoughts flying through my head at once, and it's rarely a night that I can actually catch one to ponder over.

So instead, I'll write about the mundane part of life: work.

Most people don't know what my normal day looks like--and it's because I don't have a normal day. For example, this week:

Monday 7:30-6:30

Tuesday 7:30-6:30

Wednesday 8:45-6:30

Thursday 8:00-5:00,7:00-9:00

Friday 8:45-6:30

Saturday 9:00-3:00

Sunday 1:00-4:00

My day is supposed to start at 8:45 and end at 4:45 with a 1 hour lunch break. But as you can see, that never really happens except for when I don't have class. Some days I go to school and they tell me I'm only teaching 1st and 6th period, which means I sit for 5 hours in between and pretend to be busy. Some days I teach for 5 straight hours. Some days I don't get back to the office from teaching and meetings until after 5 with more paperwork and prep to do. I try to get out of the office by 5:00 so I can head over to the gym and coach basketball practice. Some days I get there, and some days I don't.

Monday night is my Sabbath--no TV, no computer, no phone--a date night for me and Jesus.

Tuesday night is my study night. Before that meant Japanese, but now it's my night to catch up on sermons.

Wednesday night is Bible study via Skype from 7:30-9:00. Getting home at 6:30 and having Bible study at 7:30 cuts it close, but luckily I don't have to go anywhere. Woot for technology!

Thursday night is English conversation class from 7:00-9:00. I teach a class of 10 (but only 3-4 show up) and we basically talk for 2 hours. It's always an interesting class.

Friday night is buy some dinner, watch TV, draw a bath, and then finish off with Skype.

I'm in the office, but I need to head off to a meeting. Then back to the office with paperwork before I head to the gym for practice. Home tonight with tomorrow's 6-hour practice and Sunday's 3-hour practice to figure out.

Just another week in the village.

A blessed Holy Week

Last weekend, someone told me to have a blessed Holy Week. Right, a blessed Holy Week.

It wasn't a bad week. It was actually a good week. One of my kids from the sorority got engaged. One of my old friends told me he's going to go back to school. I ate strawberries for the first time in a year. I went to the gym every day from 9-12 and then only sat at my desk from 1-5. I came home early, I went to sleep early, I ate well, I relaxed as much as I could. And I tried to have a blessed Holy Week. I tried.

And I cried.

I cried almost every night this week. I didn't sleep through one night, every night waking up to some weird dream or nightmare. I sat on the couch and cried. I crawled in my bed and cried. I sat in the shower and cried. It didn't matter how hard I tried--Holy Week hurt.

Friday night I sat on the couch and cried. As I remembered Jesus' death on Good Friday, I thought of my friend and his life that was seemingly taken too soon. And I let things hurt because in that moment it reminded me that I was still alive. That I feel pain and anguish and sorrow and anger because I am alive. My heart and my soul are still alive and breathing and beating with life.

I told myself I needed to get out of the house yesterday, but I made excuses and found myself at home all day in my PJs. After my Skype dates were finished, my house was quiet and empty and lonely.

Where are You, God? Where are You? You said You'd never leave, but I can't see You. What's going on, God? Don't leave me here in the dark.

Did the apostles see Jesus Saturday night before Easter morning? Because the apostles couldn't see Jesus in the tomb, does that mean He wasn't there? Jesus worked behind the scenes, behind the rock covering the entrance of the tomb, and the apostles couldn't see Him. Just because You can't see me doesn't mean I'm not here, I'm not working behind the scenes.

After a gloomy/snowy Friday and Saturday, I woke up this morning to blue skies and sunshine. I smiled.

And he said to them, "Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him."

Mark 16:6

He is risen, He is risen indeed! Jesus did not stay in the grave, He didn't stay behind the scenes, behind the rock covering the entrance of the tomb. I'm thankful He didn't. I'm thankful for the Friday night and the Saturday that He spent working behind the scenes. I'm thankful He didn't go back on His word, that He indeed rose from the grave Sunday morning. That death could not hold Him, and death has no victory. Death has no victory.

There in the ground His body lay

Light of the world by darkness slain

Then bursting forth in glorious Day

Up from the grave He rose again

And as He stands in victory

Sin's curse has lost its grip on me

For I am His and He is mine

Bought with the precious blood of Christ!

Transition

The space in between. The movement from one state to another. The change from defense to offense...or offense to defense.

And that's where I am...again.

A dear friend asked how I was doing lately. She said I hadn't written a blog post in a while. It's true. I haven't wanted to write a post because I must acknowledge the changing state, but I know at some point I must.

It's spring break, the 3 weeks between one school year and the next. Teachers and staff get switched around and relocated. Sometimes it's a good thing--disagreeable teachers get moved to other schools. Sometimes it's a bad thing--likable teachers get moved to other schools.

Like last year, I'll lose a few friends, a few English speakers, to the move, the transition. I'm losing the basketball coach, the only person who has ever invited me to grab dinner after work. I'm losing the village bacon teacher's wife, the only person who has ever been to LA and could chat with me for hours if we had time.

Perhaps the worst part of the transition this year is knowing my boss is leaving me. He got transferred to a different department, so he'll be moving across the street on Friday. He and his family have become my second family over the past 20 months. No doubt we'll still have dinners and movie nights after his transfer, but it won't be the same not having him sit across from me every day showing me Youtube videos and asking me how to pronounce things. He's a good boss and I'm thankful.

I'm preparing for transition now too. Where life will head next. Post-village life. Post-Japan. And God and I have wrestled and we're still wrestling. But in this season of pre-transition, I'll thank God for where I've been and how He's blessed me and I'll thank God for where I'm going and how He'll bless me still.

Someone has a plan

It’s a good thing I was in Tokyo this week. I spent time with my brother and had a chance to serve his classmates. But I spent a lot of time alone taking care of myself. I slept in late. I spent time with my friends on Skype. I took long walks through parks and took a lot of time to sit and be with Jesus. I ate desserts and anything else I wanted, and Ryan obliged to a night of eating only desserts with me. I cried on the trains and in my bed and in the park, and it was okay. I know I’ll continue to grieve and mourn for a bit longer, but that this season won’t last forever.

I’m writing this sitting in Haneda airport, waiting to board my flight. I’m scared to go back to the village, back to being alone, back to isolation. But I know that God has me where I am for a reason. That the alone time will let me wrestle with the hard questions, the really hard questions.

It’s only 6 weeks before I’m back in LA. 6 weeks until I can see his parents and give them hugs. 6 weeks until Homeboy and I go visit him together. 6 weeks to let God minister to my heart.

There’s a peace that surpasses all understanding—and I get that. People keep telling me that. I think there’s a difference between peace and grief—and you can experience both at the same time. I cried myself to sleep last night because I missed my friend, but I fell asleep cradled in the arms of my Dad. In the midst of tears and heartache, He’s invited me to dance under the moonlight, to remind me to dance in the storm. There is peace in my heart though it is heavy with grief and sadness. There are questions I know won’t be answered until I get to heaven—Why him? Why now? Why like that?—but I know God is still who He says He is. When I get to heaven, those answers to those questions won’t even matter in the presence of His glory. I’ll fall flat on my face in worship, and nothing else will matter.

As much as those why questions plague my soul right now, I have to remind myself there’s a reason—His reason. He has a reason for all of this that I cannot comprehend because I can only see the 6 inches in front of me while He sees the whole picture. There’s comfort in knowing at least Someone knows what’s going on, that Someone has answers, Someone has a plan. That Someone is my Dad, and He loves me.

Sorry I couldn't come back home today. Although I would've cried uncontrollably, and you never liked it when I cried. It seems like everyone and their mom went, and they had nothing but good things to say about you. You were loved by many, and your life affected so many others. I hope with all my heart I'll see you again and we'll be on our faces before the throne of God worshiping Him together. I hope this isn't goodbye, just a see you later.