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)