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!