Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Two Years After the Tsunami
April 23, 2013
I found myself heading again towards Ishinomaki, one of the hardest hit areas of the March 2011 Japan tsunami, for the first time in almost exactly two years. My first visit to Ishinomaki was 2 weeks after the tsunami when I went with the Millard brothers' house church on a mission to deliver supplies to Minato Elementary School. The school had been turned into an evacuation center, and had requested the truckload of supplies we were bringing, which included kerosene heaters, as it was still winter, and food, in addition to other supplies.
The road to Minato Elementary took us past piles of debris along the coast. It was as if whole neighbors had been put into a blender, and then poured out into a giant heap of rubble. Cars wrapped themselves around telephone poles like pieces of fabric, and sat half emerging from the houses and storefronts they had been thrust into by the raging sea. The road had barely been opened, and we drove through lakes of seawater that lingered in the lower lying areas. We also drove past boats in the middle of the road in completely dry areas far from the shoreline. We drove over a bridge, which gave a view of the surrounding area, including the riverbank piled with ruined boats and rubble that used to be homes and businesses.
Minato Elementary was in quite a state itself. The lower levels had been totally wiped out by the tsunami, but people were living in the upper levels. The gymnasium had been cleared of debris and was being used as a staging area for supplies and meal preparation. The school sat nestled up against a cliff, with just enough space for a graveyard in between. The graveyard was piled with overturned cars that had been smashed into the gravestones when the waters rose. The Japan Self Defense Force had parked a few of their vehicles outside, and the men were busily preparing a meal for the tsunami survivors. A dog who had also survived wagged his tail and sat near the entrance to the gym. An elderly woman was helped across the muddy puddle that blocked the entrance to the parking lot.
We unloaded our supplies, and were welcomed by an elementary aged boy and girl who were living in the school. They were eager to help, and had stepped up to the challenges around them with an air of bravery and adventure that can only be expected from those in their age group. I will never forget the few hours I spent at Minato Elementary that day in March.
Today, I found myself on a bus from Sendai. Destination: Ishinomaki. Destination: unknown. All cities change over time, but I could only guess at the changes I would see today.
My friend Alea and I arrived at Ishinomaki Station, where my friend Danielle, an American missionary married to my German missionary friend Matthias, was waiting for us. We jumped in her car and headed across town towards her apartment. As I would only have one day in Inshinomaki, she asked what I wanted to see. I told her that I just really wanted to drive around town and go visit Minato Elementary. Right as I said that, I saw the school approaching on the left. "There it is!!!" I shouted, and Danielle pulled over.
As I stepped out of the car, I heard the door clang shut behind me. It was silent. Gone were the Self Defense cars, engines idling in the background. Gone were the evacuees exchanging greetings and offering to carry supplies. The place where the black dog sat was empty. The puddle that the elderly woman crossed was dried up. The debris was gone, making the parking lot much larger than it was before. The white car almost floating atop a pile of rubble was gone. The fire engine smashed into the pedestrian overpass was gone. The cars in the cemetery were gone. The broken out windows and doors on the first story were boarded up. The school that was once the safest place to be was now closed off as an unsafe place, a testament to state of the surrounding area two years ago versus now. The school hadn't changed much, but Ishinomaki had. I walked around the grounds, alone and in silence, conversations from two years past lingering thick in the air. Where were they now? Only God knows.
I got back into the car and we drove towards Matthias and Danielle's apartment, driving over the same bridge I had driven across two years ago. We picked up Matthias and headed to the shore. The ocean was beautiful, and there was a lone windsurfer taking advantage of the sun and wind. The debris that had consumed the area was gone, and the sand glistened in the sunlight.
We drove around town. Here, a junk yard full of cars that were destroyed by the tsunami, there, a destroyed building, but in between, there was very little evidence of the destruction that was so recent in Ishinomaki's history. Very little evidence for the outsider, that is. Areas that once contained whole communities were reduced to rubble on that fateful day. Now that rubble has been cleared. Instead of rubble piles are empty fields. Those that call Ishinomaki home know that those fields were not always empty.
We stopped by another elementary school that was left in the same condition as after the tsunami. The clock had stopped during the earthquake, and the needles still pointed to the same numbers. The school had lit on fire as cars were smashed into in and exploded, leaving the school ravaged by both water and fire.
There were a handful of people walking around the school grounds, looking at the building. Some were clearly from out of town. A makeshift memorial stood to the right of the main entrance. Various things recovered from the school had been stacked there, including a concrete statue of a student on the way to school whose head had been broken off, and a large piece of granite engraved with the school song that was missing the left side. A man stood next to the memorial with his pet dachshund. I don't remember who started the conversation, but pretty soon the man told me that this was the elementary school that he had attended as a child. He turned around and pointed at the empty field that stretched from where we were to the water’s edge and explained that that used to be his neighborhood. His house, his grandparents’ house, his friends’ and classmates’ houses, all gone. He told me his family's story. His parents had evacuated to the school, and then hearing that the school was unsafe, fled to the mountains just in time to escape the tsunami and ensuing fire. His dachshund was 11 years old, and had evacuated with his family. He lived at Sendai at the time, but was soon running supplies up to places that the Japan Self Defense Force had not even reached yet.
We faced the school again, and he began to point. "That was the teachers’ room. I was in class 1-1 in first grade, which was all the way down the hall on the first floor. My third grade class was up there..." He grew silent for a moment, memories obviously flooding back. I looked at the broken black stone engraved with the school song that stood in front of us. I smiled at him and asked him if he would mind singing the song. Immediately, he began singing. His voice was matured by time and conditioned by loss, full of memories of singing with his classmates in a time where tsunamis were not thought of. Ironically, some of the song’s lyrics told of the beautiful sparkle of the ocean. The song's lyrics were missing after the middle of the third verse, where the granite slab had been split in half. His voice trailed off right where the words disappeared from the stone. "I always forgot the lyrics right about there when I was student too," he said with a small chuckle, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
As suddenly as our conversation had begun, it was over, and I walked back towards the car. A Japanese man in his 30s approached me and said "HELLO!!!" in English. I would later find out that he was the Japanese celebrity "DJ Ketchup." We had just received a call that the Nozomi Project would be opened for us despite the fact that it was a national holiday. We invited DJ Ketchup and his friends to come with us, and they accepted the offer. DJ Ketchup was so fun to be with! The way he laughed and talked made me feel like I was on a Japanese TV show!
The Nozomi Project is an employment project where women in Ishinomaki make incredible jewelry out of shards of broken pottery left from the tsunami. Nozomi means hope. The jewelry is hope tangible, and brokenness is turned into beauty. DJ Ketchup and the rest of us looked through the jewelry and picked out pieces we wanted to be our own.
We were rushed out of the Nozomi Project and over to Be One house church for the baptism of Ayumi, a high school girl who had decided to put her faith in Jesus. Through her experiences in Ishinomaki surviving the tsunami, a short term relief program which took her to Texas, and her encounter with local Christians and missionaries brought her to the realization that real hope and real life is found in Christ alone. She shone today as she was submerged into water, representing death to her old life--an even more poignant symbol in Ishinomaki--and raised up representing her new life as God's daughter.
May God continue to have mercy on Ishinomaki. May the faith and healing seen today continue to put down roots, because of and in spite of the saltiness of the soil.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Lessons I Learned at Elementary School
About a month and a half ago I transferred to three new schools, including Shimono Elementary School.
My first day at the school, I spent a few minutes loitering in the entryway looking at the children’s artwork that was hanging on the wall. The right side of the entry way housed a large mural titled “Rainbow of Dreams.” Each student had been given a small colored tile to write his or her dream on. These tiles were then made into a mosaic of a rainbow.
Some of the tiles were comprised of the cute illegible scribbles of the first graders, but the rest were short phrases expressing the students dreams. Some of these dreams were what I though to be “typical” elementary school student dreams; “I want to open a ramen shop,” “I want to be a hair stylist,” “I want to be a baseball player.” Intermingled among these dreams were tiles that spoke deeply of the old-fashioned Japanese country-side culture that seemed to be alive and well amongst the pupils in my school; “I want to live a normal life,” “I want to stay healthy,” and even, “I want to get married off early.” These tiles surprised me because many of them seemed more like wishes to avoid ill fortune than desires for good things. As I stood there reflecting on the cultural implications of these tiles in regards to my role as a teacher, my eyes ran across one tile that left me in shock.
神様になりたいです。
I want to be God.
My gut reaction was something along the lines of “BLASPHEMY! How dare he write that!?!”
However, as I have observed the way that I have lived my life since I read the rainbow, I have noticed that this elementary school boy has only put to words what I have made a lifestyle: “I want to be God.”
What does wanting to be God look like? Pride. Haughty, self-centered, nasty pride.
I want to be the best teacher. I want to be the most beautiful. I want to be the best Japanese speaker. “I'm a good teacher. I’m beautiful. I’m better at Japanese than so and so. I am better than them. I am more capable than her…” And you are going to know it. You are going to know it from the stories I tell, from the way I walk, from the way I act in the classroom.
Seeing the condition of my heart, as it really is, is enough to make me want to throw up.
Pride is nasty. It refuses to attribute glory where it is due, but instead hoards it for itself. It’s like the postman taking credit for the Christmas presents that he delivers, and asking for a thank you card for the presents. It’s absolutely absurd because the gratitude for the present is due the one who shopped for it, purchased it, wrapped it, and sent it. In the same way (although I am far from being the best teacher, or the most beautiful) any teaching ability or beauty I possess is something that has been given to me. Desire for the glory and appreciation to focus on me rather than being passed on to the Creator and Sustainer of all things is like the post man standing at the door long after he has delivered the presents, declaring that the children’s Christmas joy is do to his greatness and benevolence. It’s utter ludicrous.
I also find myself being relentlessly self-critical. I want to be God, but I am not…I want people to love me… so I try to earn it with my competencies and abilities, rather than being open to being loved in my failures and weaknesses. I put on my goddess-mask each morning and ask those around me to love me because I am great.
The problem is that I am not great. I am self-absorbed, and trying to take the glory that is due to the one true God, the creator and sustainer of the universe, for myself. He, and He alone, is the provider of every good thing, and the true lover of my soul, even on those days when I forget my goddess-mask on the bed stand.
It is natural for God to be the recipient of glory, and zealous for his own glory, because there is no one greater than him to give it to, because he is the originator of all things. And yet we find that God, the one being who need not be, is humble.
In Philippians 2:3-8 we are admonished to
“do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
If the God of the universe humbled himself, became a servant, and shed his own blood in a shameful, painful, public execution, all for the sake of us rebels, how much more should I humbled myself before my God and before my neighbors!
What does wanting to be God look like? It looks like trying to be the savior of the world.
In my desire to “be God” I have also developed a bit of a “Messiah complex.” I really really love those around me, and want to demonstrate this love in whatever way I can. I have a burden for my friends, my family, my students, my coworkers, my nation (America and Japan), my church, Tohoku and just about everything else.
This “messiah complex” can be seen clearly in my schedule book. I have something on the schedule starting at 6am and going through 10pm almost everyday of the week (which is the reason why it has taken me a month and a half to write this blog). And in the midst of my attempts to love those around me to the best of my ability, I have often found myself in tears. “I couldn’t call my friend today who I know needs encouragement… I promised that person I would pray for them, but I haven’t had the time… I haven’t slept more than a few hours the last few nights, but if I cancel my plans tonight, who will love on my friend…?” Over the past month
I have been brutally aware of my own limitedness, and the needs of those around me.
How ridiculous it is for me to think that I am the one who can meet the needs of those around me! I’m living as if God did not exist and I was the savior. I am not the savior. There is a Savior, and his name is Jesus. He was in Japan long before I arrived, and he knew all of my friend’s names before he laid the foundation of the world. The love he has for those around me compared to the love I have for them is like comparing the ocean to a thimble-full of water.
I am not God. I cannot do everything. I cannot take care of all of the people around me. Even if I never slept another second, the world would still have needs that I cannot meet. Realizing this makes me feel like I am going to cry, which just shows how deep I’ve fallen into this particular form of idolatry, wanting to be God.
I think that Jesus, once again, models what this aspect of our lives should look like.
“Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Simon and his companions went to look for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: ‘Everyone is looking for you!’” (Mark 1:35-37).
Although everyone is looking for Jesus, wanting to be healed and delivered from oppression, he runs off to be alone with God. If the Bible says anything, it says that God is the great lover, relentlessly pursuing each of his lost children. He will not forget a single one, nor neglect to see a single tear. The burden of the world is not on my shoulders, it is one the shoulders of the one named Jesus.
I am not God. And I do not want to be.
My first day at the school, I spent a few minutes loitering in the entryway looking at the children’s artwork that was hanging on the wall. The right side of the entry way housed a large mural titled “Rainbow of Dreams.” Each student had been given a small colored tile to write his or her dream on. These tiles were then made into a mosaic of a rainbow.
Some of the tiles were comprised of the cute illegible scribbles of the first graders, but the rest were short phrases expressing the students dreams. Some of these dreams were what I though to be “typical” elementary school student dreams; “I want to open a ramen shop,” “I want to be a hair stylist,” “I want to be a baseball player.” Intermingled among these dreams were tiles that spoke deeply of the old-fashioned Japanese country-side culture that seemed to be alive and well amongst the pupils in my school; “I want to live a normal life,” “I want to stay healthy,” and even, “I want to get married off early.” These tiles surprised me because many of them seemed more like wishes to avoid ill fortune than desires for good things. As I stood there reflecting on the cultural implications of these tiles in regards to my role as a teacher, my eyes ran across one tile that left me in shock.
神様になりたいです。
I want to be God.
My gut reaction was something along the lines of “BLASPHEMY! How dare he write that!?!”
However, as I have observed the way that I have lived my life since I read the rainbow, I have noticed that this elementary school boy has only put to words what I have made a lifestyle: “I want to be God.”
What does wanting to be God look like? Pride. Haughty, self-centered, nasty pride.
I want to be the best teacher. I want to be the most beautiful. I want to be the best Japanese speaker. “I'm a good teacher. I’m beautiful. I’m better at Japanese than so and so. I am better than them. I am more capable than her…” And you are going to know it. You are going to know it from the stories I tell, from the way I walk, from the way I act in the classroom.
Seeing the condition of my heart, as it really is, is enough to make me want to throw up.
Pride is nasty. It refuses to attribute glory where it is due, but instead hoards it for itself. It’s like the postman taking credit for the Christmas presents that he delivers, and asking for a thank you card for the presents. It’s absolutely absurd because the gratitude for the present is due the one who shopped for it, purchased it, wrapped it, and sent it. In the same way (although I am far from being the best teacher, or the most beautiful) any teaching ability or beauty I possess is something that has been given to me. Desire for the glory and appreciation to focus on me rather than being passed on to the Creator and Sustainer of all things is like the post man standing at the door long after he has delivered the presents, declaring that the children’s Christmas joy is do to his greatness and benevolence. It’s utter ludicrous.
I also find myself being relentlessly self-critical. I want to be God, but I am not…I want people to love me… so I try to earn it with my competencies and abilities, rather than being open to being loved in my failures and weaknesses. I put on my goddess-mask each morning and ask those around me to love me because I am great.
The problem is that I am not great. I am self-absorbed, and trying to take the glory that is due to the one true God, the creator and sustainer of the universe, for myself. He, and He alone, is the provider of every good thing, and the true lover of my soul, even on those days when I forget my goddess-mask on the bed stand.
It is natural for God to be the recipient of glory, and zealous for his own glory, because there is no one greater than him to give it to, because he is the originator of all things. And yet we find that God, the one being who need not be, is humble.
In Philippians 2:3-8 we are admonished to
“do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
If the God of the universe humbled himself, became a servant, and shed his own blood in a shameful, painful, public execution, all for the sake of us rebels, how much more should I humbled myself before my God and before my neighbors!
What does wanting to be God look like? It looks like trying to be the savior of the world.
In my desire to “be God” I have also developed a bit of a “Messiah complex.” I really really love those around me, and want to demonstrate this love in whatever way I can. I have a burden for my friends, my family, my students, my coworkers, my nation (America and Japan), my church, Tohoku and just about everything else.
This “messiah complex” can be seen clearly in my schedule book. I have something on the schedule starting at 6am and going through 10pm almost everyday of the week (which is the reason why it has taken me a month and a half to write this blog). And in the midst of my attempts to love those around me to the best of my ability, I have often found myself in tears. “I couldn’t call my friend today who I know needs encouragement… I promised that person I would pray for them, but I haven’t had the time… I haven’t slept more than a few hours the last few nights, but if I cancel my plans tonight, who will love on my friend…?” Over the past month
I have been brutally aware of my own limitedness, and the needs of those around me.
How ridiculous it is for me to think that I am the one who can meet the needs of those around me! I’m living as if God did not exist and I was the savior. I am not the savior. There is a Savior, and his name is Jesus. He was in Japan long before I arrived, and he knew all of my friend’s names before he laid the foundation of the world. The love he has for those around me compared to the love I have for them is like comparing the ocean to a thimble-full of water.
I am not God. I cannot do everything. I cannot take care of all of the people around me. Even if I never slept another second, the world would still have needs that I cannot meet. Realizing this makes me feel like I am going to cry, which just shows how deep I’ve fallen into this particular form of idolatry, wanting to be God.
I think that Jesus, once again, models what this aspect of our lives should look like.
“Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Simon and his companions went to look for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: ‘Everyone is looking for you!’” (Mark 1:35-37).
Although everyone is looking for Jesus, wanting to be healed and delivered from oppression, he runs off to be alone with God. If the Bible says anything, it says that God is the great lover, relentlessly pursuing each of his lost children. He will not forget a single one, nor neglect to see a single tear. The burden of the world is not on my shoulders, it is one the shoulders of the one named Jesus.
I am not God. And I do not want to be.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Typhoons, Transistions and Spiders
I realized that I haven't written in a while, and a lot has changed in my life. I changed churches, and have three new schools. Life has been unbelievably sweet and unbelievably busy lately. I just wrote an email to a friend that I used to work with who has moved to Tohoku, and I'm gonna post chunks of it to fill you all in about my life. <3
Dear ______ Sensei!
...
It's really exciting that the elementary school has sumo! I would love to come watch a match! If you take any pictures of Shunya playing sumo, please send them to me. 見たいね！ I'm starting to get used to Shimono-sho, but I really miss Tokiwa and I miss you!!! Some of my new 5th and 6th grade boys are really mean! One of them told me that my gums were really wide and I looked like an orangutang! ショック！！！(shock!!) Kids always say whatever they think, so I'm not too surprised. Most of the students are really nice though. Did I tell you there was a mamushi (Japanese cobra) in the genkan (entry way) the first time I went to the school??? 田舎だよ！(it's sooooo countryside!)
Thank you for reading my journals!!! I really enjoyed writing them, so I am glad you enjoyed reading them. To be honest, I really miss my grandpa, especially today for some reason, so I think it is good for me to keep remembering him through things like mountain climbs and journals.
One of the teachers at Sakura Junior High is volunteering to help some people who evacuated from Tohoku to Yokkaichi, so even though I can't go to Tohoku because of work, maybe I can get involved with helping the people from Tohoku here? I'm not sure what I can do really, but I know that God loves those people very much, and He cares about their suffering, so if I can do anything to help I really want to. Another of the teacher's from Sakura JHS went to Ishinomaki to volunteer this weekend. The man whose farm I worked on in Sendai was recently interviewed by Fox News. Here is a link to the article if you are interested.
http://world.foxnews.mobi/quickPage.html?page=26264&content=56647028&pageNum=-1
My friend who lives in Miyagi said there have been a lot of big earthquakes lately. Are you guys doing ok? Is shunya scared? How is the weather there? I think its finally fall here!! YAY!!!!
This past weekend I went to camp in the mountains in Gifu with the young adults group (青年会）from my church. It was so much fun! I was really happy to get to be in nature with a bunch of my friends. I went hiking to a really beautiful waterfall, and played a lot of games, and studied the Bible a lot with everyone. For breakfast we had "夕森サンド."(Camp Yumori Sandwitch). First you made a sandwitch. second you wrap in in tin foil. Third, you put it inside an empty milk carton. Fourth, you light the milk carton on fire (using the camp fire). When the milk carton is all burned up, it means you sandwitch is done! The bread is toasted, and its warm, and the cheese is melted. It was really good and really fun to make! You should try it with your boys sometime! :)
I also had a really memorable experience in the ofuro (bath)... I looked over towards the girl sitting next to me, my friend Atsumi, and there was a GIANT spider on her leg... it was at least 5 centimeters across!!!! I screamed and tried to wash it off of her with the shower (hand held shower hose style), but the water was barely dripping out (there was no water pressure) so I just got the spider wet and it started running up her back and on to her neck!!! GYAAAAA!!! We were both screaming and panicking, and then I hit it off of her with my hand. I have never touched a spider that big before. I'm a little bit proud of myself for being brave enough to touch it, and a little bit dissapointed in myself I didn't touch it sooner. Poor ________!!! Anyways, I'm really thankful it wasn't me!
How have the recent typhoons been in Yamanashi? School was closed in Yokkaichi last Wednesday because of the typhoon, but I still had to go to Sakura JHS. It was pouring rain, all of the rivers were swollen, there were puddles everywhere, and flooding in some parts of Yokkaichi. It's about a 15 minute walk from the bus stop to the school, so I was soaked when I arrived. The principal asked me how I got there, and I smiled and said "水上バイク" (jet ski). The principals reaction was priceless! (笑!) School without students was a lot more fun than I had anticipated. I was able to get to know a lot of the teachers a lot better, and group of us even played volleyball in the gym in the afternoon!
I miss my old schools, but I really like my new ones too. All of the teacher's are really nice, and so are the students. I went to Oike JHS's sports day uchiage (teacher's after party), so I got to see all of my old teachers still. There is an old English song that goes..."Make new friends, keep the old. One is silver and the other gold." I think its true. I am really thankful for all of my friends here in Yokkaichi, and for my friend in Yamanashi!! I hope I can go visit sometime!
I'm looking forward to hearing from you!! Enjoy the beginning of fall!
Love,
Michelle
Dear ______ Sensei!
...
It's really exciting that the elementary school has sumo! I would love to come watch a match! If you take any pictures of Shunya playing sumo, please send them to me. 見たいね！ I'm starting to get used to Shimono-sho, but I really miss Tokiwa and I miss you!!! Some of my new 5th and 6th grade boys are really mean! One of them told me that my gums were really wide and I looked like an orangutang! ショック！！！(shock!!) Kids always say whatever they think, so I'm not too surprised. Most of the students are really nice though. Did I tell you there was a mamushi (Japanese cobra) in the genkan (entry way) the first time I went to the school??? 田舎だよ！(it's sooooo countryside!)
Thank you for reading my journals!!! I really enjoyed writing them, so I am glad you enjoyed reading them. To be honest, I really miss my grandpa, especially today for some reason, so I think it is good for me to keep remembering him through things like mountain climbs and journals.
One of the teachers at Sakura Junior High is volunteering to help some people who evacuated from Tohoku to Yokkaichi, so even though I can't go to Tohoku because of work, maybe I can get involved with helping the people from Tohoku here? I'm not sure what I can do really, but I know that God loves those people very much, and He cares about their suffering, so if I can do anything to help I really want to. Another of the teacher's from Sakura JHS went to Ishinomaki to volunteer this weekend. The man whose farm I worked on in Sendai was recently interviewed by Fox News. Here is a link to the article if you are interested.
http://world.foxnews.mobi/quickPage.html?page=26264&content=56647028&pageNum=-1
My friend who lives in Miyagi said there have been a lot of big earthquakes lately. Are you guys doing ok? Is shunya scared? How is the weather there? I think its finally fall here!! YAY!!!!
This past weekend I went to camp in the mountains in Gifu with the young adults group (青年会）from my church. It was so much fun! I was really happy to get to be in nature with a bunch of my friends. I went hiking to a really beautiful waterfall, and played a lot of games, and studied the Bible a lot with everyone. For breakfast we had "夕森サンド."(Camp Yumori Sandwitch). First you made a sandwitch. second you wrap in in tin foil. Third, you put it inside an empty milk carton. Fourth, you light the milk carton on fire (using the camp fire). When the milk carton is all burned up, it means you sandwitch is done! The bread is toasted, and its warm, and the cheese is melted. It was really good and really fun to make! You should try it with your boys sometime! :)
I also had a really memorable experience in the ofuro (bath)... I looked over towards the girl sitting next to me, my friend Atsumi, and there was a GIANT spider on her leg... it was at least 5 centimeters across!!!! I screamed and tried to wash it off of her with the shower (hand held shower hose style), but the water was barely dripping out (there was no water pressure) so I just got the spider wet and it started running up her back and on to her neck!!! GYAAAAA!!! We were both screaming and panicking, and then I hit it off of her with my hand. I have never touched a spider that big before. I'm a little bit proud of myself for being brave enough to touch it, and a little bit dissapointed in myself I didn't touch it sooner. Poor ________!!! Anyways, I'm really thankful it wasn't me!
How have the recent typhoons been in Yamanashi? School was closed in Yokkaichi last Wednesday because of the typhoon, but I still had to go to Sakura JHS. It was pouring rain, all of the rivers were swollen, there were puddles everywhere, and flooding in some parts of Yokkaichi. It's about a 15 minute walk from the bus stop to the school, so I was soaked when I arrived. The principal asked me how I got there, and I smiled and said "水上バイク" (jet ski). The principals reaction was priceless! (笑!) School without students was a lot more fun than I had anticipated. I was able to get to know a lot of the teachers a lot better, and group of us even played volleyball in the gym in the afternoon!
I miss my old schools, but I really like my new ones too. All of the teacher's are really nice, and so are the students. I went to Oike JHS's sports day uchiage (teacher's after party), so I got to see all of my old teachers still. There is an old English song that goes..."Make new friends, keep the old. One is silver and the other gold." I think its true. I am really thankful for all of my friends here in Yokkaichi, and for my friend in Yamanashi!! I hope I can go visit sometime!
I'm looking forward to hearing from you!! Enjoy the beginning of fall!
Love,
Michelle
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Tohoku Twice
I finally finished reflecting on my second trip to Tohoku. The events in this blog are from July 14-26. Sorry its out of order!
I spent the night before Fuji at my friend Yoshiaki’s apartment. Yoshiaki had moved since I visited last. I arrived at Kamiyacho station with my backpacker’s backpack on, looking completely like a tourist. A Japanese person in the station asked me if I was going to see Tokyo Tower. I thought to myself, “Just because I have a backpack doesn’t mean I am the stereotypical Tokyo tourist going to see Tokyo Tower!” I smiled at the man and I proudly responded, “NO! I’m going to climb Mt. Fuji.” When I walked out of the station, Tokyo Tower nearly smacked me in the face…and I realized how ridiculous I sounded, hours away from Mount Fuji, insisting that I was NOT going to see Tokyo Tower. The following morning, I picked up my cousin Sarah from Haneda International Airport, picked up her friend Ed in Shinjuku Station, and set off to conquer Fuji. We spent the two days after Fuji running around Tokyo with my Japanese friends, hitting all the main sightseeing spots and local hangouts; the Asahi beer building (which is shaped like a giant mug of beer), the great golden poop (if you want to know, you’ll have to come to Japan), the Edo Tokyo Museum, Imperial Palace, Asakusa, and a maid café in Akihabara. We had an amazing time both days. We had a 4.0 quake our first night in Tokyo, which we would fond to be only a precursor to the quakes we would experience in the week to come.
A few tears made their way down my cheek as I gazed at Minato Elementary School out of the car window. I could hardly believe that this was the same place I brought relief supplies to in March, less than 2 weeks after the 9.0 earthquake and tsunami. The cars wrapped around telephone phones like fabric, knee high mud and water, endless rubble, and the assortment of rotting fish scattered about were no where to be seen. I cried for the progress made.
I also cried for the progress yet to be made. A closer look revealed the still visible water line on second floor of the buildings. Although the rubble had been removed from the street and sidewalks, many of the buildings were still completely destroyed and unusable. Along with the people and things most dear to them, those in Tohoku lost all sense of normalcy and security to the flood of water that overtook their land on March 11th. The initial quake has been followed by weekly aftershocks that shake hearts as much as they shake buildings. The majority of the people in Tohoku have PTSD, and every little shake makes them fear; fear that the building will collapse, fear that the ocean will once again surge towards them, fear that March 11th will happen again. I cried because it is the hearts of those in Tohoku that are in need of restoration, and this restoration will not take place with shovels and tractors.
I had the opportunity to spend a week with my cousin Sarah, and our friends Alea and Ed from San Diego, volunteering in Sendai and Ishinomaki. We stayed at a summer camp in the mountains that had been converted into CRASH’s (Christian Relief and Service + Hope) Sendai Base. Each day we would travel to a different work site, along with Wataru. Wataru is a 24 year old seminary student who was interning at CRASH during the summer. The week before we arrived, he confided to those at the base that although he was in training to be a pastor, he didn’t really like people, and that he had been having a hard time with his classmates at school. He was a bit quiet the first day, but by the second day we had given him a nickname, “ManJack,” and completely broken him out of his shell. The five of us and ManJack became a close knit team almost immediately, despite the language barrier, much thanks to the crazy spunkiness of Sarah, Alea and Ed. Each day we would head out to a work site with ManJack and some of the other teams at the Sendai base from around Japan, Singapore, and the US. ManJack would faithfully pack a lunch and water for each of us, even though it was each of our responsibility to pack our own. Each day was packed full of conversation, laughter, and craziness, along with a solemn respect and love for those in Tohoku. I’ve talked to those at the base after we left, and they have said that ManJack has been a different person since the San Diego team left. What we were able to do in Tohoku in that brief amount of time was very limited, but at least we were able to love on someone who is going to be a future leader in the Japanese church. ManJack is an amazing person, and I am very thankful we got to be a part of letting him know its ok for him to be himself, it all of its amazing craziness.
ManJack wasn’t the only one who was given a nickname. For example, the night Alea arrived at the base, Ed had cut all of the grass along the side of the road to camp with a weed-whacker. Although we were high in the mountains, when Alea drove in she asked if all of the cut grass was damage from the TSUNAMI!!! From then on, one of Ed’s new nick names was Ed-nami. After each day of work, all of the teams would come back to the base and have a time of debriefing before dinner. I had the opportunity to translate for these sessions, which was the perfect opportunity for me to reinforce everyone’s nicknames. When someone would say “Wataru blah blah blah,” I would translate “ManJack blah blah blah.” At one of these meetings, there was a young man sitting silent in the back corner of the room, almost like Aaragorn in the Prancing Pony, long hair and all. Our team shared in the debriefing that we had removed all of the rubble from a field that day. However, there was an enormous tree in the middle of the field that had been washed over from the coastline, which was about 2 miles away, preventing the field from being tilled and planted. The mysterious man in the corner, whose name was Sou, said, “Hey, I have a chainsaw.” The comment instantly became a nickname, and whenever someone would say “Sou blah blah blah,” I translated it “Chainsaw blah blah blah.”
It was with these crazy people that we worked on Mr. Ouchi’s farm in Wakabayashi, took the water damaged dry wall out of a house in Tona, and organized a donation warehouse and played with kids living in the temporary housing in Ishinomaki.
Mr. Ouchi is a farmer, and lives on a large plot of land close to the ocean. His family has been farming as far back as they can trace their history. As soon as we walked onto the property, Sarah and I both had the feeling that we were back home on our grandfather’s farm. I am sure my grandfather and Mr. Ouchi would have been friends. I could imagine my grandfather there, standing next to Mr. Ouchi in his green John Dear jumper, taking in the ocean air, soil and potting tools in hand. Sarah and my trip was in memory of my grandfather and the part of his life he spent in Japan, so it was fitting that our first day of volunteer work would be on a farm, the place closest to my grandfather’s heart.
Mr. Ouchi is part of the firefighter’s emergency response team, and spent the few minutes between the earthquake and tsunami running from door to door, telling all of his neighbors to get upstarts. His daughters attend the junior high school that is visible from the front porch. In complete compliance with the incredibly idiotic evacuation procedures that the Japanese school system enforces, all the students evacuated to the gymnasium following the earthquake. When they found out there was a tsunami coming, they all fled upstairs, barely making it to the third story as the raging water hit the building. Mr. Ouchi made it to the second story of his house in time, but didn’t have time to grab the family dog, Rui, as the waters rose. Luckily, Mr. Ouchi was able to grab Rui from the balcony as he floated by. Although Rui escaped with his life, he has a really bad case of PTSD. The cute shiba-inu whines for you to come pet him, but as soon as you get close, he gets scared and starts to snap. After the waters receded, Mr. Ouchi worked with the firefighters to recover bodies. Like Rui, Mr. Ouchi was also effected by what he experienced. When CRASH started working with Mr. Ouchi, he was very depressed. However, as hundreds of volunteers from all over Japan and the world came to his home month after month to work on his home and his fields, he began to regain hope. Alea, who has been working at the Sendai base all summer, said that Mr. Ouchi has been beginning to experience grace. He has been asking “Who am I, that I should be the one receiving all this help? What have I done, that people would fly from across the world to help me?” This is the same question asked by every Christian who experiences grace; completely unearned love and favor. “Who am I, that God should love me? What have I done, that Jesus would die for me?” We know that the human heart cannot be restored with a shovel, but as Mr. Ouchi has shown, hearts can be restored by grace and love, wielded by those who carry the shovel.
Sarah and I spent one day in Tona, working on the home of the Watanabe family. Mrs. Watanabe passed away in the tsunami. All of the houses left standing after the tsunami need to have the drywall and floorboards removed and replaced, and all of the mud and rubble taken out from under the house. Eighteen of us from Japan, American and Singapore worked all day on the Watanabe house to remove the drywall from the first floor and the weeds from the yard. Eighteen people, in one whole day, were only able to tackle the drywall and weeks from a single house. The road to recovery is long, and will be tread very slowly.
That night back at the base we met a lady named Judy, who is the head of the Dallas/Sendai sister city association. The Dallas Sister City Association gave a large amount of funding to build something in Sendai. Judy informed us that unlike the area north of Sendai that was completely devastated by the tsunami, only 5% of Sendai was effected by the Tsunami. She explained that Sendai’s biggest need at the moment is tourism, because Tohoku’s economy has been devastated, so there is a need for money to flow in from outside the region. Judy’s idea was to use the funding to make a community center with a foot bath and a 55 inch flat screen TV. Sarah quickly let her know that she was dreaming too small, and sold her the idea of building an outdoor amphitheatre that could be used for theater and music, drawing crowds to bring back tourism. Sarah also pitched the idea of having a benefit concert in SoCal to raise funding to throw a bigger benefit concert in Sendai next March, one year from the tragedy. As Sarah was brainstorming all of her perfecting fitting ideas, Judy said something about Tohoku (the region of Northeastern Japan hit by the tsunami). Sarah looked at her and asked, “What’s Tohoku?” !!! All of Sarah’s suggested plans are currently in motion. It was amazing to watch God use someone with little to no knowledge of Japan as such a powerful tool of healing in this country.
There are three famous views in Japan; the Miyajima Shrine in Hiroshima, the Amanohashidate bridge in Kyoto, and the coastline of Matsushima in...in where? I had heard of Matsushima many times, but I never knew where it was located. The Japanese team we worked together with one day decided to take us to an onesn (bath house style hot spring) on our way back to the base. When we pulled off of the highway, I saw a sign, “Welcome to Matsushima.” MATSUSHIMA!!!! This seems to be a common occurrence in my life. I sign up to volunteer somewhere, and end up spending time in the most beautiful places in the world. The Dead Sea, Petra, London, and now Matsushima. God sure does know how to take care of his children! A few days later, we decided to go back to Matsushima and relax our sore muscles. Sarah, Alea, and I jumped into the hot pools of water and gazed out the window at the amazing view of the ocean, dotted with islands. When we walked back into the changing room, there were four older women in the room also. One of them, a rather tall Japanese woman, maybe in her late 60’s, was weighing herself on the scale. The scale read 15 kilograms (33 lbs.). She said to her friends in Japanese, “I think this scale is broken!!! It’s saying I only weighing 15 kilos!!!” I smiled at her and chimed in “It’s not broken! You’re just skinny!!!” All of the women laughed and started talking to me, asking why my two white friends and I were at Matsushima. When I told them we were there to do volunteer work, they began to tell us their stories. All four of them were neighbors, and barely escaped the tsunami alive. When the warning was sounded, they jumped into their cars and drove as fast as they could away from the shore. They couldn’t drive fast enough. The tsunami overtook their cars, but they were able to survive by breaking out the window, climbing onto the roof of the now floating car, climbing onto a building, and later getting picked up by a helicopter. Three of the ladies are living in different temporary housing complexes, and one of them is still living at an evacuation center in an elementary school. They came to Matsushima in order to be together, and try to soak the stress of their current life away in the therapeutic waters. However, they told me that they couldn’t relax at Matsushima. The onsen overlooks the ocean, and just looking at the ocean brings back fear, and memories of the tsunami. They were afraid that one of the daily quakes would make the ocean surge beyond its borders, reaching up to swallow them. The four Japanese ladies, Sarah, Alea and I stood in a circle in the center of the changing room for quite some time, hearing their stories and encouraging them as best we could. I had this strong impression that I needed to pray for these ladies. I told them that we were Christians, and asked them if it would be alright if we prayed for them. We all bowed our heads, and I prayed for blessing on these women in Jesus’ name, that they would find comfort and release from fear, that they would find time to be together as friends, that they would soon be able to move to a more stable location, and that they would know how deeply they are loved by God, in the midst of their sufferings. Alea peaked while I was praying, and said that one of the ladies kept looking up and smiling. When we raised our heads and opened our eyes, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from the room. I looked across our little huddle to see all four of the women smiling, and looking quite a bit more settled than they had a few minutes before. They thanked us profusely and walked away bowing, smiling, and looking back over their shoulders at us. Although CRASH coordinated a lot of incredible volunteer work for us to do, it was this meeting, coordinated by God himself, that left the strongest impression on me.
Sunday’s and Monday’s are days of rest at CRASH, so we headed to Alea’s apartment. Our original plan was to sightsee, but the 101 degree fever I had changed our plans to sleeping, watching movies, and letting our bodies recover. When we arrived at Alea’s, she told us that her apartment was pretty flimsy, so if we had any decent sized quakes it was going to feel like we were on a boat in stormy seas. That night we were in the center of a 6.0 quake. The flimsy apartment started shaking violently as the power poles outside swayed about 40 degrees back and forth. I sat up calmly, and started doing a Lonely Island impression, throwing my hand down in traditional rap style and singing, “I’m on a boat!!!” Sarah and Alea sat up and joined in, “I’m on a boat!” The building stopped shaking, and the three of us laid back down and went right back to sleep, proving that none of us have PSTD, and a reminding me of how valuable it is for those of us who have not experienced the trauma of March 11th to spend time with those in Tohoku. I would have liked to stay, but Sarah had a flight to catch from Haneda International to take her to Costa Rica for a friend’s wedding, and I had to go back to work in Yokkaichi. I spent the bus ride back to Tokyo praying for those we met and dreaming of the day when I will return to Tohoku, hopefully to try a fresh vegetable from Mr. Ouchi’s farm.
I spent the night before Fuji at my friend Yoshiaki’s apartment. Yoshiaki had moved since I visited last. I arrived at Kamiyacho station with my backpacker’s backpack on, looking completely like a tourist. A Japanese person in the station asked me if I was going to see Tokyo Tower. I thought to myself, “Just because I have a backpack doesn’t mean I am the stereotypical Tokyo tourist going to see Tokyo Tower!” I smiled at the man and I proudly responded, “NO! I’m going to climb Mt. Fuji.” When I walked out of the station, Tokyo Tower nearly smacked me in the face…and I realized how ridiculous I sounded, hours away from Mount Fuji, insisting that I was NOT going to see Tokyo Tower. The following morning, I picked up my cousin Sarah from Haneda International Airport, picked up her friend Ed in Shinjuku Station, and set off to conquer Fuji. We spent the two days after Fuji running around Tokyo with my Japanese friends, hitting all the main sightseeing spots and local hangouts; the Asahi beer building (which is shaped like a giant mug of beer), the great golden poop (if you want to know, you’ll have to come to Japan), the Edo Tokyo Museum, Imperial Palace, Asakusa, and a maid café in Akihabara. We had an amazing time both days. We had a 4.0 quake our first night in Tokyo, which we would fond to be only a precursor to the quakes we would experience in the week to come.
A few tears made their way down my cheek as I gazed at Minato Elementary School out of the car window. I could hardly believe that this was the same place I brought relief supplies to in March, less than 2 weeks after the 9.0 earthquake and tsunami. The cars wrapped around telephone phones like fabric, knee high mud and water, endless rubble, and the assortment of rotting fish scattered about were no where to be seen. I cried for the progress made.
I also cried for the progress yet to be made. A closer look revealed the still visible water line on second floor of the buildings. Although the rubble had been removed from the street and sidewalks, many of the buildings were still completely destroyed and unusable. Along with the people and things most dear to them, those in Tohoku lost all sense of normalcy and security to the flood of water that overtook their land on March 11th. The initial quake has been followed by weekly aftershocks that shake hearts as much as they shake buildings. The majority of the people in Tohoku have PTSD, and every little shake makes them fear; fear that the building will collapse, fear that the ocean will once again surge towards them, fear that March 11th will happen again. I cried because it is the hearts of those in Tohoku that are in need of restoration, and this restoration will not take place with shovels and tractors.
I had the opportunity to spend a week with my cousin Sarah, and our friends Alea and Ed from San Diego, volunteering in Sendai and Ishinomaki. We stayed at a summer camp in the mountains that had been converted into CRASH’s (Christian Relief and Service + Hope) Sendai Base. Each day we would travel to a different work site, along with Wataru. Wataru is a 24 year old seminary student who was interning at CRASH during the summer. The week before we arrived, he confided to those at the base that although he was in training to be a pastor, he didn’t really like people, and that he had been having a hard time with his classmates at school. He was a bit quiet the first day, but by the second day we had given him a nickname, “ManJack,” and completely broken him out of his shell. The five of us and ManJack became a close knit team almost immediately, despite the language barrier, much thanks to the crazy spunkiness of Sarah, Alea and Ed. Each day we would head out to a work site with ManJack and some of the other teams at the Sendai base from around Japan, Singapore, and the US. ManJack would faithfully pack a lunch and water for each of us, even though it was each of our responsibility to pack our own. Each day was packed full of conversation, laughter, and craziness, along with a solemn respect and love for those in Tohoku. I’ve talked to those at the base after we left, and they have said that ManJack has been a different person since the San Diego team left. What we were able to do in Tohoku in that brief amount of time was very limited, but at least we were able to love on someone who is going to be a future leader in the Japanese church. ManJack is an amazing person, and I am very thankful we got to be a part of letting him know its ok for him to be himself, it all of its amazing craziness.
ManJack wasn’t the only one who was given a nickname. For example, the night Alea arrived at the base, Ed had cut all of the grass along the side of the road to camp with a weed-whacker. Although we were high in the mountains, when Alea drove in she asked if all of the cut grass was damage from the TSUNAMI!!! From then on, one of Ed’s new nick names was Ed-nami. After each day of work, all of the teams would come back to the base and have a time of debriefing before dinner. I had the opportunity to translate for these sessions, which was the perfect opportunity for me to reinforce everyone’s nicknames. When someone would say “Wataru blah blah blah,” I would translate “ManJack blah blah blah.” At one of these meetings, there was a young man sitting silent in the back corner of the room, almost like Aaragorn in the Prancing Pony, long hair and all. Our team shared in the debriefing that we had removed all of the rubble from a field that day. However, there was an enormous tree in the middle of the field that had been washed over from the coastline, which was about 2 miles away, preventing the field from being tilled and planted. The mysterious man in the corner, whose name was Sou, said, “Hey, I have a chainsaw.” The comment instantly became a nickname, and whenever someone would say “Sou blah blah blah,” I translated it “Chainsaw blah blah blah.”
It was with these crazy people that we worked on Mr. Ouchi’s farm in Wakabayashi, took the water damaged dry wall out of a house in Tona, and organized a donation warehouse and played with kids living in the temporary housing in Ishinomaki.
Mr. Ouchi is a farmer, and lives on a large plot of land close to the ocean. His family has been farming as far back as they can trace their history. As soon as we walked onto the property, Sarah and I both had the feeling that we were back home on our grandfather’s farm. I am sure my grandfather and Mr. Ouchi would have been friends. I could imagine my grandfather there, standing next to Mr. Ouchi in his green John Dear jumper, taking in the ocean air, soil and potting tools in hand. Sarah and my trip was in memory of my grandfather and the part of his life he spent in Japan, so it was fitting that our first day of volunteer work would be on a farm, the place closest to my grandfather’s heart.
Mr. Ouchi is part of the firefighter’s emergency response team, and spent the few minutes between the earthquake and tsunami running from door to door, telling all of his neighbors to get upstarts. His daughters attend the junior high school that is visible from the front porch. In complete compliance with the incredibly idiotic evacuation procedures that the Japanese school system enforces, all the students evacuated to the gymnasium following the earthquake. When they found out there was a tsunami coming, they all fled upstairs, barely making it to the third story as the raging water hit the building. Mr. Ouchi made it to the second story of his house in time, but didn’t have time to grab the family dog, Rui, as the waters rose. Luckily, Mr. Ouchi was able to grab Rui from the balcony as he floated by. Although Rui escaped with his life, he has a really bad case of PTSD. The cute shiba-inu whines for you to come pet him, but as soon as you get close, he gets scared and starts to snap. After the waters receded, Mr. Ouchi worked with the firefighters to recover bodies. Like Rui, Mr. Ouchi was also effected by what he experienced. When CRASH started working with Mr. Ouchi, he was very depressed. However, as hundreds of volunteers from all over Japan and the world came to his home month after month to work on his home and his fields, he began to regain hope. Alea, who has been working at the Sendai base all summer, said that Mr. Ouchi has been beginning to experience grace. He has been asking “Who am I, that I should be the one receiving all this help? What have I done, that people would fly from across the world to help me?” This is the same question asked by every Christian who experiences grace; completely unearned love and favor. “Who am I, that God should love me? What have I done, that Jesus would die for me?” We know that the human heart cannot be restored with a shovel, but as Mr. Ouchi has shown, hearts can be restored by grace and love, wielded by those who carry the shovel.
Sarah and I spent one day in Tona, working on the home of the Watanabe family. Mrs. Watanabe passed away in the tsunami. All of the houses left standing after the tsunami need to have the drywall and floorboards removed and replaced, and all of the mud and rubble taken out from under the house. Eighteen of us from Japan, American and Singapore worked all day on the Watanabe house to remove the drywall from the first floor and the weeds from the yard. Eighteen people, in one whole day, were only able to tackle the drywall and weeks from a single house. The road to recovery is long, and will be tread very slowly.
That night back at the base we met a lady named Judy, who is the head of the Dallas/Sendai sister city association. The Dallas Sister City Association gave a large amount of funding to build something in Sendai. Judy informed us that unlike the area north of Sendai that was completely devastated by the tsunami, only 5% of Sendai was effected by the Tsunami. She explained that Sendai’s biggest need at the moment is tourism, because Tohoku’s economy has been devastated, so there is a need for money to flow in from outside the region. Judy’s idea was to use the funding to make a community center with a foot bath and a 55 inch flat screen TV. Sarah quickly let her know that she was dreaming too small, and sold her the idea of building an outdoor amphitheatre that could be used for theater and music, drawing crowds to bring back tourism. Sarah also pitched the idea of having a benefit concert in SoCal to raise funding to throw a bigger benefit concert in Sendai next March, one year from the tragedy. As Sarah was brainstorming all of her perfecting fitting ideas, Judy said something about Tohoku (the region of Northeastern Japan hit by the tsunami). Sarah looked at her and asked, “What’s Tohoku?” !!! All of Sarah’s suggested plans are currently in motion. It was amazing to watch God use someone with little to no knowledge of Japan as such a powerful tool of healing in this country.
There are three famous views in Japan; the Miyajima Shrine in Hiroshima, the Amanohashidate bridge in Kyoto, and the coastline of Matsushima in...in where? I had heard of Matsushima many times, but I never knew where it was located. The Japanese team we worked together with one day decided to take us to an onesn (bath house style hot spring) on our way back to the base. When we pulled off of the highway, I saw a sign, “Welcome to Matsushima.” MATSUSHIMA!!!! This seems to be a common occurrence in my life. I sign up to volunteer somewhere, and end up spending time in the most beautiful places in the world. The Dead Sea, Petra, London, and now Matsushima. God sure does know how to take care of his children! A few days later, we decided to go back to Matsushima and relax our sore muscles. Sarah, Alea, and I jumped into the hot pools of water and gazed out the window at the amazing view of the ocean, dotted with islands. When we walked back into the changing room, there were four older women in the room also. One of them, a rather tall Japanese woman, maybe in her late 60’s, was weighing herself on the scale. The scale read 15 kilograms (33 lbs.). She said to her friends in Japanese, “I think this scale is broken!!! It’s saying I only weighing 15 kilos!!!” I smiled at her and chimed in “It’s not broken! You’re just skinny!!!” All of the women laughed and started talking to me, asking why my two white friends and I were at Matsushima. When I told them we were there to do volunteer work, they began to tell us their stories. All four of them were neighbors, and barely escaped the tsunami alive. When the warning was sounded, they jumped into their cars and drove as fast as they could away from the shore. They couldn’t drive fast enough. The tsunami overtook their cars, but they were able to survive by breaking out the window, climbing onto the roof of the now floating car, climbing onto a building, and later getting picked up by a helicopter. Three of the ladies are living in different temporary housing complexes, and one of them is still living at an evacuation center in an elementary school. They came to Matsushima in order to be together, and try to soak the stress of their current life away in the therapeutic waters. However, they told me that they couldn’t relax at Matsushima. The onsen overlooks the ocean, and just looking at the ocean brings back fear, and memories of the tsunami. They were afraid that one of the daily quakes would make the ocean surge beyond its borders, reaching up to swallow them. The four Japanese ladies, Sarah, Alea and I stood in a circle in the center of the changing room for quite some time, hearing their stories and encouraging them as best we could. I had this strong impression that I needed to pray for these ladies. I told them that we were Christians, and asked them if it would be alright if we prayed for them. We all bowed our heads, and I prayed for blessing on these women in Jesus’ name, that they would find comfort and release from fear, that they would find time to be together as friends, that they would soon be able to move to a more stable location, and that they would know how deeply they are loved by God, in the midst of their sufferings. Alea peaked while I was praying, and said that one of the ladies kept looking up and smiling. When we raised our heads and opened our eyes, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from the room. I looked across our little huddle to see all four of the women smiling, and looking quite a bit more settled than they had a few minutes before. They thanked us profusely and walked away bowing, smiling, and looking back over their shoulders at us. Although CRASH coordinated a lot of incredible volunteer work for us to do, it was this meeting, coordinated by God himself, that left the strongest impression on me.
Sunday’s and Monday’s are days of rest at CRASH, so we headed to Alea’s apartment. Our original plan was to sightsee, but the 101 degree fever I had changed our plans to sleeping, watching movies, and letting our bodies recover. When we arrived at Alea’s, she told us that her apartment was pretty flimsy, so if we had any decent sized quakes it was going to feel like we were on a boat in stormy seas. That night we were in the center of a 6.0 quake. The flimsy apartment started shaking violently as the power poles outside swayed about 40 degrees back and forth. I sat up calmly, and started doing a Lonely Island impression, throwing my hand down in traditional rap style and singing, “I’m on a boat!!!” Sarah and Alea sat up and joined in, “I’m on a boat!” The building stopped shaking, and the three of us laid back down and went right back to sleep, proving that none of us have PSTD, and a reminding me of how valuable it is for those of us who have not experienced the trauma of March 11th to spend time with those in Tohoku. I would have liked to stay, but Sarah had a flight to catch from Haneda International to take her to Costa Rica for a friend’s wedding, and I had to go back to work in Yokkaichi. I spent the bus ride back to Tokyo praying for those we met and dreaming of the day when I will return to Tohoku, hopefully to try a fresh vegetable from Mr. Ouchi’s farm.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Reinstatement
No matter how long I am in this country, and how much I think I have this culture, and these people understood, I continue to find myself blundering about, like a man in the dark, like a person who thinks they are winning at cards, only to discover that they misunderstood the rules and are actually in last place.
Last February I made plans to spend my spring break with one of my host families, in Yokohama. Right before the trip, Japan was hit with a 9.0 earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. My family advised me against going to Tokyo because of the instability of the nuclear situation in Fukushima, and Tokyo’s proximity to the disaster. I told the Otsuki that I would not be able to go. I knew that Japanese people don’t like it when plans are changed, but my American way of thinking assured me that natural disasters trumped cultural rules about sticking to the original plans.
After I canceled on my host family, I was asked to go to the disaster area with CRASH Japan. I worked in the office in Saitama (just north of Tokyo) for two weeks, and made a supply run to Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture. I figured that because I was already near Tokyo, I might as well try to see my host family. I messaged them asking if I could come. They said yes, but when I arrived, I was greeted with an incredibly cold reception, and scolded “you should really think about how other people feel!”
I spent the next two days trying to put together the pieces to figure out what I had done wrong, and how to fix it. During the next month I tried to win myself back into the good graces of the family by apologizing profusely and sending cards and presents (which is very appropriate in a reciprocity culture such as this). During this period, my host grandmother, Kazuko, passed away from stomach cancer.
In Japan there is a saying, “You are born Shinto, married Christian, and buried Buddhist.” Syncretism is a way of life. Where Western cognition would say either/or, Japanese cognition would say both/and. Being a Christian in the presence of the death of a loved one is an incredibly difficult situation in Japan, regardless of if you are a Japanese national or foreigner. There is no traditional category for exclusion devotion to one set of beliefs, so the Christian who refuses to partake in ancestor worship or Buddhist rights in seen as cold, rude, disrespectful, and uncaring.
I was invited to spend this past weekend with the Otsuki family, directly after Obon (a Buddhist week long celebration when the spirits of the deceased family are thought to return to the home). It was my first time to visit since grandma passed, and I was unsure of where I stood with the family. I had a feeling I was going to be put in some very compromising situations, amidst my own grief.
Michelle vs. Incense: Round One. I walked into the house, flowers and gifts in hand (as is appropriate when you visit any Japanese home), and was greeted with a long hug. I had intended the flowers for the dining room table or living room, but my host mother graciously received them from me, took me by the hand, and headed for the Buddhist altar that had been erected in the tatami room, complete with a large picture of grandma. My host father’s voice carried from the other room, “Michelle, go burn grandma some incense.” My heart started to pound a bit, I loved my grandmother dearly, and loved the family dearly, but was not about to compromise my faith… how was I graciously going to duck out of this one? Luckily for me, dinner was waiting on the table, and Naoko set the flowers down on the alter, and said, “let’s go eat.” Round one: cleared.
The dinner table overflowed with amazing food, drink, and stories from the past four months we had been apart. Everyone was happy to be together. My adorable 92 year old host grandpa wouldn’t stop doting on me, telling me how beautiful I looked, how happy he was that I came, and about all the presents he had made and bought for me. He asked me if I would stay in Japan for the rest of his life, to which I enthusiastically answered, “yes!” and he threw his hands into the air and cried “bonsai!” Things seemed to be just like normal.
Michelle vs. Incense: Round Two. Somehow I ended up in front of the altar again, with my host mother. Naoko lit and incense and placed it on the altar, and asked me to do the same. I told her I was very sorry, but I couldn’t, because I was a Christian. She replied by saying, “It’s ok, go ahead, Buddhism isn’t strict…” As I sat there, unmoving, looking at grandma’s picture, we both started sharing stories of grandma and crying a bit. Then I remembered that we had left water boiling on the stove… Round Two: Cleared.
That night, they took me out to an incredible Korean BBQ restaurant for dinner (I’ve pretty sure my meal was well over $70 US). Half way through the dinner, Naoko reached into her purse and pulled out a beautiful pearl bracelet, with a heart clasp, and handed it to me. The bracelet had been a gift from my host father Kousuke’s mother, and like the handmade yukata that my deceased grandmother had made for Naoko that was now in my care, Naoko wanted me to have this bracelet as well. As I stared at the beauty of my first string of real pearls, I felt a bit like the prodigal son, or Peter on the beach with Jesus, being reinstated into the family. It was clear that whatever horrible blunders I had made over the past months were forgiven, and I was family again.
Michelle vs. Incense: Round Three. It was in light of all of this, that I was faced with the biggest challenge. The next afternoon, I was sitting in the living room talking with grandpa, who loves whiskey and horse races just like my late grandpa Dave, when Naoko came in to announce that her older sister and niece would be coming over shortly to burn incense. “AGGGHHHHHH!!!!! How am I going to get out of this one?” I thought. Soon enough, the relatives arrived, and everyone kneeled on the living room floor to bow, faces to the ground, while exchanging traditional greetings (this very rarely takes place in modern family settings, attesting to the adherence to tradition alive in my host family). After I humbly introduced myself, everyone headed for the altar upstairs… I lingered at the foot of the stairs, not sure what to do. Staying downstairs alone wasn’t a good option in a group-oriented culture, but neither was refusing to burn incense in everyone’s presence. After taking my foot on and off of the first stair multiple times, I went back to the living room, fell to my knees and spent the rest of the time praying for the Otsuki family. Grandpa came down stairs first, and started chatting with me like normal, as everyone slipped into the room one by one as natural as ever, joining in the conversation. Round three: cleared.
I stand in a long line of Christians who have refused to deny Christ, or worship other gods, beginning with the early church, continuing on to today, and including a great number of Japanese Christians that shed their blood for the faith in the 1600s. When commanded to deny their faith, or perish, they boldly declared, “death first!” My friend sent me this text just before the incident with the relatives, “’Stand fast in the faith, and love one another, all of you, and be not offended at my sufferings.’ These were the last words of Perpetua to her pagan family before being martyred for not burning incense to Caesar. ” Although the consequences of my actions would only mean broken relationships, not any kind of physical punishment, my heart also resounded with the cry of those who have gone before me, “DEATH FIRST! I will not deny my Savior!”
This experience, as mellow as it was compared to what my Christian brothers and sisters are going through around the world, has left me with a lot to contemplate, mostly about my own relationship with God. When faced with blatant idolatry, my heart can respond “DEATH FIRST!” But this “DEATH FIRST!” mentality seems to be missing from my handling of other areas of sin in my life. Will I talk about someone behind their back? My reaction should be “DEATH FIRST!” Will I withhold money that could be helping someone in need? Again, my reaction should be “DEATH FIRST!” Will I fail to trust God to provide for my heart, and try to take matters into my own hands? “NO, DEATH FIRST!” But instead of the appropriate reaction, I find complacency in many areas of my life. Colossians 3:5 spells it out clearly, “Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is IDOLATRY.” Any sin, even if it looks like selfishness, as opposed to burning incense to foreign gods, is in its very nature idolatry. Jesus, thank you for your faithfulness to me this weekend. Jesus, teach my heart to cry “DEATH FIRST!” in every area of my life that is out of alignment with your call to absolute righteousness.
Last February I made plans to spend my spring break with one of my host families, in Yokohama. Right before the trip, Japan was hit with a 9.0 earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. My family advised me against going to Tokyo because of the instability of the nuclear situation in Fukushima, and Tokyo’s proximity to the disaster. I told the Otsuki that I would not be able to go. I knew that Japanese people don’t like it when plans are changed, but my American way of thinking assured me that natural disasters trumped cultural rules about sticking to the original plans.
After I canceled on my host family, I was asked to go to the disaster area with CRASH Japan. I worked in the office in Saitama (just north of Tokyo) for two weeks, and made a supply run to Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture. I figured that because I was already near Tokyo, I might as well try to see my host family. I messaged them asking if I could come. They said yes, but when I arrived, I was greeted with an incredibly cold reception, and scolded “you should really think about how other people feel!”
I spent the next two days trying to put together the pieces to figure out what I had done wrong, and how to fix it. During the next month I tried to win myself back into the good graces of the family by apologizing profusely and sending cards and presents (which is very appropriate in a reciprocity culture such as this). During this period, my host grandmother, Kazuko, passed away from stomach cancer.
In Japan there is a saying, “You are born Shinto, married Christian, and buried Buddhist.” Syncretism is a way of life. Where Western cognition would say either/or, Japanese cognition would say both/and. Being a Christian in the presence of the death of a loved one is an incredibly difficult situation in Japan, regardless of if you are a Japanese national or foreigner. There is no traditional category for exclusion devotion to one set of beliefs, so the Christian who refuses to partake in ancestor worship or Buddhist rights in seen as cold, rude, disrespectful, and uncaring.
I was invited to spend this past weekend with the Otsuki family, directly after Obon (a Buddhist week long celebration when the spirits of the deceased family are thought to return to the home). It was my first time to visit since grandma passed, and I was unsure of where I stood with the family. I had a feeling I was going to be put in some very compromising situations, amidst my own grief.
Michelle vs. Incense: Round One. I walked into the house, flowers and gifts in hand (as is appropriate when you visit any Japanese home), and was greeted with a long hug. I had intended the flowers for the dining room table or living room, but my host mother graciously received them from me, took me by the hand, and headed for the Buddhist altar that had been erected in the tatami room, complete with a large picture of grandma. My host father’s voice carried from the other room, “Michelle, go burn grandma some incense.” My heart started to pound a bit, I loved my grandmother dearly, and loved the family dearly, but was not about to compromise my faith… how was I graciously going to duck out of this one? Luckily for me, dinner was waiting on the table, and Naoko set the flowers down on the alter, and said, “let’s go eat.” Round one: cleared.
The dinner table overflowed with amazing food, drink, and stories from the past four months we had been apart. Everyone was happy to be together. My adorable 92 year old host grandpa wouldn’t stop doting on me, telling me how beautiful I looked, how happy he was that I came, and about all the presents he had made and bought for me. He asked me if I would stay in Japan for the rest of his life, to which I enthusiastically answered, “yes!” and he threw his hands into the air and cried “bonsai!” Things seemed to be just like normal.
Michelle vs. Incense: Round Two. Somehow I ended up in front of the altar again, with my host mother. Naoko lit and incense and placed it on the altar, and asked me to do the same. I told her I was very sorry, but I couldn’t, because I was a Christian. She replied by saying, “It’s ok, go ahead, Buddhism isn’t strict…” As I sat there, unmoving, looking at grandma’s picture, we both started sharing stories of grandma and crying a bit. Then I remembered that we had left water boiling on the stove… Round Two: Cleared.
That night, they took me out to an incredible Korean BBQ restaurant for dinner (I’ve pretty sure my meal was well over $70 US). Half way through the dinner, Naoko reached into her purse and pulled out a beautiful pearl bracelet, with a heart clasp, and handed it to me. The bracelet had been a gift from my host father Kousuke’s mother, and like the handmade yukata that my deceased grandmother had made for Naoko that was now in my care, Naoko wanted me to have this bracelet as well. As I stared at the beauty of my first string of real pearls, I felt a bit like the prodigal son, or Peter on the beach with Jesus, being reinstated into the family. It was clear that whatever horrible blunders I had made over the past months were forgiven, and I was family again.
Michelle vs. Incense: Round Three. It was in light of all of this, that I was faced with the biggest challenge. The next afternoon, I was sitting in the living room talking with grandpa, who loves whiskey and horse races just like my late grandpa Dave, when Naoko came in to announce that her older sister and niece would be coming over shortly to burn incense. “AGGGHHHHHH!!!!! How am I going to get out of this one?” I thought. Soon enough, the relatives arrived, and everyone kneeled on the living room floor to bow, faces to the ground, while exchanging traditional greetings (this very rarely takes place in modern family settings, attesting to the adherence to tradition alive in my host family). After I humbly introduced myself, everyone headed for the altar upstairs… I lingered at the foot of the stairs, not sure what to do. Staying downstairs alone wasn’t a good option in a group-oriented culture, but neither was refusing to burn incense in everyone’s presence. After taking my foot on and off of the first stair multiple times, I went back to the living room, fell to my knees and spent the rest of the time praying for the Otsuki family. Grandpa came down stairs first, and started chatting with me like normal, as everyone slipped into the room one by one as natural as ever, joining in the conversation. Round three: cleared.
I stand in a long line of Christians who have refused to deny Christ, or worship other gods, beginning with the early church, continuing on to today, and including a great number of Japanese Christians that shed their blood for the faith in the 1600s. When commanded to deny their faith, or perish, they boldly declared, “death first!” My friend sent me this text just before the incident with the relatives, “’Stand fast in the faith, and love one another, all of you, and be not offended at my sufferings.’ These were the last words of Perpetua to her pagan family before being martyred for not burning incense to Caesar. ” Although the consequences of my actions would only mean broken relationships, not any kind of physical punishment, my heart also resounded with the cry of those who have gone before me, “DEATH FIRST! I will not deny my Savior!”
This experience, as mellow as it was compared to what my Christian brothers and sisters are going through around the world, has left me with a lot to contemplate, mostly about my own relationship with God. When faced with blatant idolatry, my heart can respond “DEATH FIRST!” But this “DEATH FIRST!” mentality seems to be missing from my handling of other areas of sin in my life. Will I talk about someone behind their back? My reaction should be “DEATH FIRST!” Will I withhold money that could be helping someone in need? Again, my reaction should be “DEATH FIRST!” Will I fail to trust God to provide for my heart, and try to take matters into my own hands? “NO, DEATH FIRST!” But instead of the appropriate reaction, I find complacency in many areas of my life. Colossians 3:5 spells it out clearly, “Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is IDOLATRY.” Any sin, even if it looks like selfishness, as opposed to burning incense to foreign gods, is in its very nature idolatry. Jesus, thank you for your faithfulness to me this weekend. Jesus, teach my heart to cry “DEATH FIRST!” in every area of my life that is out of alignment with your call to absolute righteousness.
Friday, August 12, 2011
A Mountaintop Memorial
June 13th, 2011, was another ordinary day of teaching junior high school in Japan… until the phone rang. I heard my father’s grief stricken voice on the other end of the line, telling me that my grandfather had gone home to be with the Lord. A few days and a plane flight later, I was sitting in the pews of Saint John’s Catholic Church with my family, mourning the loss of our dearly beloved patriarch.
My grandfather was an incredible man and lived a very full life. Part of his legacy paved the way for my current location. I was not the first of my family here, in Japan. My grandfather served in Yokohama in the army during the occupation after World War II. During the 14 months my grandfather spent in Yokohama, him and his friends would often throw case of cold beer into the back of a jeep, and drive up the side of Mount Fuji-yama, as my grandfather called it. Not many people can say that their grandfather has driven up Mount Fuji in a jeep and had a cold one on top. My cousin Sarah and I always said that if she ever came to Japan, we would carry on the family tradition, climb Mt. Fuji-yama, and have a beer at the summit.
In late May, Sarah decided to come to Japan for summer break. We told my grandfather our plan to relive his experience of Mount Fuji-yama. Little did we know that we would be climbing in his memory on July 14th Japan time, exactly one month from the day he went home to be with Jesus. Little did we know when we began planning the trip that he wouldn’t be here to see the pictures and hear the stories upon our return. Rather, he looked down and watched the entirety of our journey to the summit of Mount Fuji-yama, beers in our backpacks, instead of the back of a jeep.
I’m sure Mount Fuji-yama has changed since my grandfather’s visits it in 1947. Far from the desolate ruggedness that typifies American wilderness, Mount Fuji-yama is literally a city on a hill. Mountain lodges dot the trail about every twenty minutes all the way to the summit. Hot coffee? Hot tea? Cup-a-noodles? They’ve got it! It will only cost you about ten dollars a cup. The summit is home to a bonafide village complete with souvenir shops, restaurants, a post office, vending machines, and full-bar cell phone coverage. Mount Fuji is almost always climbed at night, in order to greet the rising sun from Japan’s highest peak. The sun set as we began climbing, and Mount Fuji-yama shed a crisp shadow across the sunset. Because of the height of Mount Fuji, and the fact that it is a volcano, the clouds wrap themselves around its base. For the first time in my life, I looked down to watch lightening flashing in a sea of clouds below me. The moon rose behind the mountain, snatching Mount Fuji’s shadow from the sky and sending it sprawling across the valley below. We paused to look down the mountain as we ascended, mesmerized by the train of headlights that danced along the trail like fireflies.
We made it to the peak just as the first gleam of morning kissed the horizon. The sun rose red, in unison with the raising of the red sun on the Japanese flag. We greeted the sun, serenaded by the singing of the Japanese national anthem、beer and picture of my grandfather in hand. I couldn’t help but smile at the beauty stretched out before me, and I know my grandfather was doing the same.
My grandfather was an incredible man and lived a very full life. Part of his legacy paved the way for my current location. I was not the first of my family here, in Japan. My grandfather served in Yokohama in the army during the occupation after World War II. During the 14 months my grandfather spent in Yokohama, him and his friends would often throw case of cold beer into the back of a jeep, and drive up the side of Mount Fuji-yama, as my grandfather called it. Not many people can say that their grandfather has driven up Mount Fuji in a jeep and had a cold one on top. My cousin Sarah and I always said that if she ever came to Japan, we would carry on the family tradition, climb Mt. Fuji-yama, and have a beer at the summit.
In late May, Sarah decided to come to Japan for summer break. We told my grandfather our plan to relive his experience of Mount Fuji-yama. Little did we know that we would be climbing in his memory on July 14th Japan time, exactly one month from the day he went home to be with Jesus. Little did we know when we began planning the trip that he wouldn’t be here to see the pictures and hear the stories upon our return. Rather, he looked down and watched the entirety of our journey to the summit of Mount Fuji-yama, beers in our backpacks, instead of the back of a jeep.
I’m sure Mount Fuji-yama has changed since my grandfather’s visits it in 1947. Far from the desolate ruggedness that typifies American wilderness, Mount Fuji-yama is literally a city on a hill. Mountain lodges dot the trail about every twenty minutes all the way to the summit. Hot coffee? Hot tea? Cup-a-noodles? They’ve got it! It will only cost you about ten dollars a cup. The summit is home to a bonafide village complete with souvenir shops, restaurants, a post office, vending machines, and full-bar cell phone coverage. Mount Fuji is almost always climbed at night, in order to greet the rising sun from Japan’s highest peak. The sun set as we began climbing, and Mount Fuji-yama shed a crisp shadow across the sunset. Because of the height of Mount Fuji, and the fact that it is a volcano, the clouds wrap themselves around its base. For the first time in my life, I looked down to watch lightening flashing in a sea of clouds below me. The moon rose behind the mountain, snatching Mount Fuji’s shadow from the sky and sending it sprawling across the valley below. We paused to look down the mountain as we ascended, mesmerized by the train of headlights that danced along the trail like fireflies.
We made it to the peak just as the first gleam of morning kissed the horizon. The sun rose red, in unison with the raising of the red sun on the Japanese flag. We greeted the sun, serenaded by the singing of the Japanese national anthem、beer and picture of my grandfather in hand. I couldn’t help but smile at the beauty stretched out before me, and I know my grandfather was doing the same.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Easter and Golden Week
I just wrote an email to one of my favorite professors back home, and realized I should probably tell the rest of you what's going on in my life too! SO here is part of the email, plus some!
For Easter my little tiny church threw a Easter party for kids from the neighborhood, and we had 28 kids come to church for the first time! We had games, prizes and easter egg hunt, and all the goodies! I got to give the message. I dressed up like Mary Magdelene and ran into the room screaming "HE IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN! JESUS IS RISEN!...what? you don't know who Jesus is!!!???" And proceeded to tell the story from my perspective. SO FUN! The kids listened super attentively. But my pronunciation is still a little strange (I have a tendency to skip alveolar stops towards to end of words). So after I finished, all the students left saying "HE IS RISEN!" over and over with my funny pronunciation.
We had a lot of national holidays last week (the Japanese all it "Golden Week"), so I spent three days at the young adults camp at the bigger church in my city. It was super fun! Complete with great messages, scavenger hunts, skits, trips to the onsen, and even the traditional camp "grace" song before each meal. It was super fun to live in that community for three days! :D
I also spent three days in the neighboring prefecture at a rescue center for suicidal people. There are these beautiful cliff overlooking the beach that people like to jump from, and my friend's church has a sign on them that says "give us a call before you jump" (but in a lot nicer way), and they take people in and take care of them until they get healthy. We got two calls while I was there, and took in one lady in her 50s. Super sweet woman with a tragic story. I had a really nice time with my friend and getting to spend time with the 16 people they have living there right now. :) That's what the church should look like in action!!!!
I'm leading a Bible study Tuesday and preaching on Sunday cause my pastor is going to be out of town. I'm having dinner with someone everyother night of the week, and still cramming for my Japanese test I have coming up in July (which I am pretty sure I am going to fail!) Some friends (two from the states and one from Germany) are coming to my neck of the woods in the very near future, so I am getting SUPER excited to see them! YAY~!!!!
The recovery work is still dragging on in Tohoku... so please pray for everyone up there! The situation is super super super awful still. If I can get one of my friend who is there now to write something up on what things look like on the ground, I'll post it for you guys.
That's all for now! WITH LOVE!!!!! ~Michelle
For Easter my little tiny church threw a Easter party for kids from the neighborhood, and we had 28 kids come to church for the first time! We had games, prizes and easter egg hunt, and all the goodies! I got to give the message. I dressed up like Mary Magdelene and ran into the room screaming "HE IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN! JESUS IS RISEN!...what? you don't know who Jesus is!!!???" And proceeded to tell the story from my perspective. SO FUN! The kids listened super attentively. But my pronunciation is still a little strange (I have a tendency to skip alveolar stops towards to end of words). So after I finished, all the students left saying "HE IS RISEN!" over and over with my funny pronunciation.
We had a lot of national holidays last week (the Japanese all it "Golden Week"), so I spent three days at the young adults camp at the bigger church in my city. It was super fun! Complete with great messages, scavenger hunts, skits, trips to the onsen, and even the traditional camp "grace" song before each meal. It was super fun to live in that community for three days! :D
I also spent three days in the neighboring prefecture at a rescue center for suicidal people. There are these beautiful cliff overlooking the beach that people like to jump from, and my friend's church has a sign on them that says "give us a call before you jump" (but in a lot nicer way), and they take people in and take care of them until they get healthy. We got two calls while I was there, and took in one lady in her 50s. Super sweet woman with a tragic story. I had a really nice time with my friend and getting to spend time with the 16 people they have living there right now. :) That's what the church should look like in action!!!!
I'm leading a Bible study Tuesday and preaching on Sunday cause my pastor is going to be out of town. I'm having dinner with someone everyother night of the week, and still cramming for my Japanese test I have coming up in July (which I am pretty sure I am going to fail!) Some friends (two from the states and one from Germany) are coming to my neck of the woods in the very near future, so I am getting SUPER excited to see them! YAY~!!!!
The recovery work is still dragging on in Tohoku... so please pray for everyone up there! The situation is super super super awful still. If I can get one of my friend who is there now to write something up on what things look like on the ground, I'll post it for you guys.
That's all for now! WITH LOVE!!!!! ~Michelle
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
