Thursday, January 5, 2012
Nikolai's Kanji
Tonight, Dan and I finally chose kanji (the Chinese
characters used in Japanese written language) for Nikolai's name. We had
chosen Malakai's kanji when he was born (希魁 meaning "Aspiring Leader"),
but hadn't yet chosen Niko's. We felt that this trip reflected what we
hope for Niko in the future and selected kanji accordingly: 仁鼓雷. The
characters mean "humanity," " beating (like a drum or heart)," and "thunder." Our hope for
him is that he will have a heart that beats for
humanity with the boldness of thunder. He won't remember this trip to Japan, but he will carry a reminder of it for the rest of his days in his name.
Struggling to Leave
Tonight I packed up our belongings in preparation to leave Kessenuma. It was a bittersweet feeling, but the job is done. We have cleaned and locked up the center for the last time, eaten bento (convenience store lunch food) in our room for the last time, and tucked the boys in their shared bed for the last time. The suitcases are basically packed for the next leg of our trip - our hometown of Misato!
I'm so excited to meet our old friends and visit the places Dan and I have reminisced about so many times over the last few years. There's a sense of anticipation hovering in the air and there are so many hugs that I cannot wait to give. There has been such a hole in my heart as I lived apart from some dear friends and finally tomorrow we get to see them again (and so much sooner than I imagined we would!) However, I'm struggling turning the last page of this chapter of our journey, sad to leave Kessenuma.
This trip has given me a mouthwatering taste of true passion. I've really reconfirmed that this "get your hands dirty" kind of work is what makes me tick and makes me feel alive. I thrive on helping people in a tangible way, seeing the difference that we can make in an individual's life. This faith in action lifestyle is good for me on so many levels... I really am battling internally with the idea of going back home.
Of course I have to return - our visas are only good for 90 days and we definitely wouldn't have the funding to continue this adventure for very long! :o) Not to mention our families' protestation (I think my Mom might get on a plane and drag us home herself!) But there's a huge part of me that feels in turmoil about going back to my life in Cheyenne after feeling so alive here in Japan. So much of my life feels mundane and routine... laundry, dishes, driving Kai to school... I feel like passivity is an easy trap to fall into at home. Our time in Kessenuma had clearly defined purpose for us (and especially for me).
Perhaps this stems from a deeper issue. When Niko was born, I scaled way back on how much I was working as an independent contractor for a few organizations and became a full-time, stay-at-home mom. The rewards of that on one level have been great. I love my boys and we've learned how to make our family work while Daddy works during the day (Dan went to work full-time at Sierra Trading Post shortly before Niko was born after a few years of being self-employed). However, at the same time, the apparent loss of identity as I became "just" a mom was really difficult for me. I feel like this trip has reignited a part of my driving force - that I am useful beyond changing diapers and entertaining toddlers.
Of course I'm surrounded by friends and family that tell me of my worth, even on my less-than-spectacular days as a mom. And I love and need each one of them dearly. But this trip was so eye-opening to me - there is such a calling out for help in this world - and a need for those to answer the call. And my soul feels that tug. My hands ache to work, my feet yearn to run. I want to do THIS. I want to dig in roots where there is such obvious need and DO something about it.
But we have to leave.
I anticipate the well-intended comments and encouragement that I can find ways to help wherever I live, that perhaps I can continue this project from afar. I know there will be people who discreetly frown on my desire to help elsewhere when there are social problems in my own neighborhood. But God has instilled in me a passion to help where others cannot and I am finding it difficult to reconcile this with the rest of my life right now - particularly when we have poured so much of ourselves as a family into this project this month and we have to stop midstream.
We knew that this would be a "short term" project for us and we knew we'd be leaving (perhaps) as soon as things were really getting going. Ideally, we would have been here for a year or more, giving the center continuity, establishing long-term relationships with residents, and truly becoming part of the community. However, that wasn't in the cards for us (we do have responsibilities at home, you know... darn bills... can't pay themselves...) and we just have to look ahead to whatever may be next for our family.
This trip didn't come without it's challenges. Living in a hotel has exactly two perks: clean, freshly-made beds every night (one of my very favorite pleasures in life) and seemingly endless hot water for showers (another guilty pleasure of mine). However, they didn't outweigh the hassles of living in a Japanese hotel for a month. The lack of a kitchen meant we ate out or ate bentos WAY more times than I ever care to in a one month period ever again. I love bentos, but really... needing a break. I cannot WAIT to eat some Mexican food when we get home. Yum. Living in such close quarters with the family was tough on all of us. There wasn't enough room for a rambunctious 3 1/2 year old to play, run, and wrestle with his daddy; we were constantly hovering near Niko (when he wasn't being held) in fear of him falling off the bed (which only happened once, miraculously!); I was SO thankful for my earplugs on the nights that all three of my boys were snoring like old men (unbelievable... seriously!) Dan and I somehow mananged to never lock either room key inside the rooms (we only got one copy of an "old-fashioned" metal key with a bulky plastic key-chain that we had to turn in to the desk every time we left the hotel). And there was smoking allowed in the lobby, so every time we came or went, we were greeted by a cloud of cigarette smoke or the remaining pungent, stale odor. And the parking lot was a bit of a mystery. There were cones that tended to change locations every day, blocking off certain spots some nights but not others... not the ideal situation for a van that was exceptionally long for driving in Japan. We definitely will not miss those things and make the thought of returning to our own home with our own things that much sweeter!
That being said (and please do not get me wrong - the mission here was WONDERFUL to provide us with our hotel rooms for the duration of our stay here!!!), the hotel was comfortable and had great proximity to the office, allowing us to walk when it wasn't too cold. We got to immerse ourselves in the neighborhood as much as we could and supported the local businesses as often as possible. There were a number of unspoken friendships shared in glances and smiles with the local shop owners and neighbors as we passed by each morning. I made friends with a tea shop owner one of our last days here. Her generosity was the quintessential example of Japanese kindness. And one of the hotel staff members (she runs the café on the first floor) and I had several good conversations while we stayed here. I was reminded often of how much I love Japan.
In our time here, I struggled with the language (which I fully expected) but only being here a month didn't push me to really work on improving my skills beyond where I am now. It is difficult for me to learn languages... nothing sticks very well (and it's doubly hard because Dan's God-given talent is linguistics, so it's incredibly hard for this super-academically-competitive girl not to get frustrated!) It was clearly evident that there was so much more depth to what could have been shared in each conversation I had here. I lament the loss of that opportunity.
But over all, through the good and the bad, I still am overwhelmed with a desire to stay... or to move on to the next mission field. Dan and I have learned the challenges with doing this with kids in tow, but we've also learned that it isn't impossible. And I really feel that if we stayed longer, Kai would do just fine - he's really seemed to turn a corner and adjusted in the last week or so. I hate to "throw away" that progress (and potentially start the adjustment cycle over again at home!) And I am not sure how my personal sense of purpose will evolve when we return to Wyoming.
I have no doubt that God did not send us to Japan - 8,000 miles around the world - just to dangle this exciting realization of my passion in front of me and then never allow me to use it again. He's got big plans, I'm sure. I'm just not very good at the waiting part. :o)
As I told my mom, the work being done here is out of our hands. It's never been in our hands - it's been in God's hands. We were just blessed to BE the hands for a time. And that's pretty cool.
I'm so excited to meet our old friends and visit the places Dan and I have reminisced about so many times over the last few years. There's a sense of anticipation hovering in the air and there are so many hugs that I cannot wait to give. There has been such a hole in my heart as I lived apart from some dear friends and finally tomorrow we get to see them again (and so much sooner than I imagined we would!) However, I'm struggling turning the last page of this chapter of our journey, sad to leave Kessenuma.
This trip has given me a mouthwatering taste of true passion. I've really reconfirmed that this "get your hands dirty" kind of work is what makes me tick and makes me feel alive. I thrive on helping people in a tangible way, seeing the difference that we can make in an individual's life. This faith in action lifestyle is good for me on so many levels... I really am battling internally with the idea of going back home.
Of course I have to return - our visas are only good for 90 days and we definitely wouldn't have the funding to continue this adventure for very long! :o) Not to mention our families' protestation (I think my Mom might get on a plane and drag us home herself!) But there's a huge part of me that feels in turmoil about going back to my life in Cheyenne after feeling so alive here in Japan. So much of my life feels mundane and routine... laundry, dishes, driving Kai to school... I feel like passivity is an easy trap to fall into at home. Our time in Kessenuma had clearly defined purpose for us (and especially for me).
Perhaps this stems from a deeper issue. When Niko was born, I scaled way back on how much I was working as an independent contractor for a few organizations and became a full-time, stay-at-home mom. The rewards of that on one level have been great. I love my boys and we've learned how to make our family work while Daddy works during the day (Dan went to work full-time at Sierra Trading Post shortly before Niko was born after a few years of being self-employed). However, at the same time, the apparent loss of identity as I became "just" a mom was really difficult for me. I feel like this trip has reignited a part of my driving force - that I am useful beyond changing diapers and entertaining toddlers.
Of course I'm surrounded by friends and family that tell me of my worth, even on my less-than-spectacular days as a mom. And I love and need each one of them dearly. But this trip was so eye-opening to me - there is such a calling out for help in this world - and a need for those to answer the call. And my soul feels that tug. My hands ache to work, my feet yearn to run. I want to do THIS. I want to dig in roots where there is such obvious need and DO something about it.
But we have to leave.
I anticipate the well-intended comments and encouragement that I can find ways to help wherever I live, that perhaps I can continue this project from afar. I know there will be people who discreetly frown on my desire to help elsewhere when there are social problems in my own neighborhood. But God has instilled in me a passion to help where others cannot and I am finding it difficult to reconcile this with the rest of my life right now - particularly when we have poured so much of ourselves as a family into this project this month and we have to stop midstream.
We knew that this would be a "short term" project for us and we knew we'd be leaving (perhaps) as soon as things were really getting going. Ideally, we would have been here for a year or more, giving the center continuity, establishing long-term relationships with residents, and truly becoming part of the community. However, that wasn't in the cards for us (we do have responsibilities at home, you know... darn bills... can't pay themselves...) and we just have to look ahead to whatever may be next for our family.
This trip didn't come without it's challenges. Living in a hotel has exactly two perks: clean, freshly-made beds every night (one of my very favorite pleasures in life) and seemingly endless hot water for showers (another guilty pleasure of mine). However, they didn't outweigh the hassles of living in a Japanese hotel for a month. The lack of a kitchen meant we ate out or ate bentos WAY more times than I ever care to in a one month period ever again. I love bentos, but really... needing a break. I cannot WAIT to eat some Mexican food when we get home. Yum. Living in such close quarters with the family was tough on all of us. There wasn't enough room for a rambunctious 3 1/2 year old to play, run, and wrestle with his daddy; we were constantly hovering near Niko (when he wasn't being held) in fear of him falling off the bed (which only happened once, miraculously!); I was SO thankful for my earplugs on the nights that all three of my boys were snoring like old men (unbelievable... seriously!) Dan and I somehow mananged to never lock either room key inside the rooms (we only got one copy of an "old-fashioned" metal key with a bulky plastic key-chain that we had to turn in to the desk every time we left the hotel). And there was smoking allowed in the lobby, so every time we came or went, we were greeted by a cloud of cigarette smoke or the remaining pungent, stale odor. And the parking lot was a bit of a mystery. There were cones that tended to change locations every day, blocking off certain spots some nights but not others... not the ideal situation for a van that was exceptionally long for driving in Japan. We definitely will not miss those things and make the thought of returning to our own home with our own things that much sweeter!
That being said (and please do not get me wrong - the mission here was WONDERFUL to provide us with our hotel rooms for the duration of our stay here!!!), the hotel was comfortable and had great proximity to the office, allowing us to walk when it wasn't too cold. We got to immerse ourselves in the neighborhood as much as we could and supported the local businesses as often as possible. There were a number of unspoken friendships shared in glances and smiles with the local shop owners and neighbors as we passed by each morning. I made friends with a tea shop owner one of our last days here. Her generosity was the quintessential example of Japanese kindness. And one of the hotel staff members (she runs the café on the first floor) and I had several good conversations while we stayed here. I was reminded often of how much I love Japan.
In our time here, I struggled with the language (which I fully expected) but only being here a month didn't push me to really work on improving my skills beyond where I am now. It is difficult for me to learn languages... nothing sticks very well (and it's doubly hard because Dan's God-given talent is linguistics, so it's incredibly hard for this super-academically-competitive girl not to get frustrated!) It was clearly evident that there was so much more depth to what could have been shared in each conversation I had here. I lament the loss of that opportunity.
But over all, through the good and the bad, I still am overwhelmed with a desire to stay... or to move on to the next mission field. Dan and I have learned the challenges with doing this with kids in tow, but we've also learned that it isn't impossible. And I really feel that if we stayed longer, Kai would do just fine - he's really seemed to turn a corner and adjusted in the last week or so. I hate to "throw away" that progress (and potentially start the adjustment cycle over again at home!) And I am not sure how my personal sense of purpose will evolve when we return to Wyoming.
I have no doubt that God did not send us to Japan - 8,000 miles around the world - just to dangle this exciting realization of my passion in front of me and then never allow me to use it again. He's got big plans, I'm sure. I'm just not very good at the waiting part. :o)
As I told my mom, the work being done here is out of our hands. It's never been in our hands - it's been in God's hands. We were just blessed to BE the hands for a time. And that's pretty cool.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Cause for Joy
Greetings everyone. Dan here tonight.
I had an exceptionally interesting (joyous) conversation with a woman I had never met before today. She had come into our office on the day of the Café a few weeks ago. I was in Tokyo for those two days. Fujino-san (a woman in her mid-sixties) poked her head in our door around 11:00 this morning mostly to see what we were up to and say 'thanks again.' She complemented us on our work of getting all these quilts out to people who really needed them and said that she had hers covering her kotatsu (table with a heater on the bottom of it). She and I chatted about her 'first experience with Christmas' during the Café when another return guest of ours came through the doors. The two women exchanged greetings and swapped stories about the blankets they had received. While I was talking with this second guest, Fujino-san said (somewhat discreetly) to Andi that she had gone to church a few days ago (Andi looked to me for a quick translation, and I had a hard time holding back a smile).
Let me say that again: Fujino-san's first experience with Christians and Christmas was a couple weeks ago at our office. It turns out that she went to church at the Catholic church here in Kesennuma on Christmas Day. She didn't understand much of what was being done or said, or even the name of the book they were reading from, but she was curious about what made us Christians tick.
I could see in her eyes that she was full of questions, but didn't have the time to sit with us and talk for long. Also, we ran out of the 'intro to Christianity' booklets that we had been giving out. So, I gave her the phone number of one of the Japanese pastors that has been working with us and told her to give him a call and then fairly quickly, she had to get going.
After she left, I told Andi about our conversation. It's not often you see pure joy raise up the way it did in Andi's eyes when I told her about Fujino-san's story.
If you have be following our adventure on this blog, you know that our days are full of challenges ranging from language and cultural barriers, to taking care of our two boys. Today, there was cause for joy.
Tomorrow is our last full day in Kesennuma. There are mixed emotions in our camp. On one hand, we are starting to see 'progress' and really getting to know people here. On the other hand, we are looking forward to sitting on our couch and cooking in our own kitchen again. I have been grateful for the chance to get a serious brush-up on my language skills, but can't wait to be in a conversation that I don't have to work so hard to understand. I know Kai is going to race into his room in our house in Cheyenne and play and play and play with the toys he hasn't seen for a month. I will go back to work, and life with return to the way it was, mostly. We will be different than before we came here. Kai has learned countless lessons about language, patience, disasters, culture, and love. As Andi highlight in yesterday's post, Kai has matured a great deal in our time here. He's not even four years old yet, but he has experienced parts of life many people never get to. Andi and I have been blessed to hear first-hand accounts of the horrors of 3.11 and the aftermath, AND we have had the pleasure of being able to help.
God saw fit to bless me with an ear for language, and He put it to good use this last month. Before we came here, we knew a lot about the disaster and the status of the recovery. What we didn't understand entirely was the amount of sorrow mixed with joy we would see come through our small office. That is the true work that we have been tasked with. Yes, warm quilts are a tangible way to help, but the conversations over a cup of hot tea is where the memories that will be carried forward are created. My prayer is that Fujino-san and others will continue to poke their curious heads into the office as we pass the work onto our successors.
I had an exceptionally interesting (joyous) conversation with a woman I had never met before today. She had come into our office on the day of the Café a few weeks ago. I was in Tokyo for those two days. Fujino-san (a woman in her mid-sixties) poked her head in our door around 11:00 this morning mostly to see what we were up to and say 'thanks again.' She complemented us on our work of getting all these quilts out to people who really needed them and said that she had hers covering her kotatsu (table with a heater on the bottom of it). She and I chatted about her 'first experience with Christmas' during the Café when another return guest of ours came through the doors. The two women exchanged greetings and swapped stories about the blankets they had received. While I was talking with this second guest, Fujino-san said (somewhat discreetly) to Andi that she had gone to church a few days ago (Andi looked to me for a quick translation, and I had a hard time holding back a smile).
Let me say that again: Fujino-san's first experience with Christians and Christmas was a couple weeks ago at our office. It turns out that she went to church at the Catholic church here in Kesennuma on Christmas Day. She didn't understand much of what was being done or said, or even the name of the book they were reading from, but she was curious about what made us Christians tick.
I could see in her eyes that she was full of questions, but didn't have the time to sit with us and talk for long. Also, we ran out of the 'intro to Christianity' booklets that we had been giving out. So, I gave her the phone number of one of the Japanese pastors that has been working with us and told her to give him a call and then fairly quickly, she had to get going.
After she left, I told Andi about our conversation. It's not often you see pure joy raise up the way it did in Andi's eyes when I told her about Fujino-san's story.
If you have be following our adventure on this blog, you know that our days are full of challenges ranging from language and cultural barriers, to taking care of our two boys. Today, there was cause for joy.
Tomorrow is our last full day in Kesennuma. There are mixed emotions in our camp. On one hand, we are starting to see 'progress' and really getting to know people here. On the other hand, we are looking forward to sitting on our couch and cooking in our own kitchen again. I have been grateful for the chance to get a serious brush-up on my language skills, but can't wait to be in a conversation that I don't have to work so hard to understand. I know Kai is going to race into his room in our house in Cheyenne and play and play and play with the toys he hasn't seen for a month. I will go back to work, and life with return to the way it was, mostly. We will be different than before we came here. Kai has learned countless lessons about language, patience, disasters, culture, and love. As Andi highlight in yesterday's post, Kai has matured a great deal in our time here. He's not even four years old yet, but he has experienced parts of life many people never get to. Andi and I have been blessed to hear first-hand accounts of the horrors of 3.11 and the aftermath, AND we have had the pleasure of being able to help.
God saw fit to bless me with an ear for language, and He put it to good use this last month. Before we came here, we knew a lot about the disaster and the status of the recovery. What we didn't understand entirely was the amount of sorrow mixed with joy we would see come through our small office. That is the true work that we have been tasked with. Yes, warm quilts are a tangible way to help, but the conversations over a cup of hot tea is where the memories that will be carried forward are created. My prayer is that Fujino-san and others will continue to poke their curious heads into the office as we pass the work onto our successors.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Signs of Growth
Our time here in Kessenuma is wrapping up quickly. It feels like we just arrived, but we somehow managed to squeeze in a whole lot of work in a short amount of time. We have two days left in the center before we pack up the bags and head to Misato for a few nights.
This trip has been an amazing experience for all of us (well, I can't really speak for Niko, but he's grown a lot bigger in the last month and plays new games, etc... that would have happened at home too, but now he's got baby bragging rights and a passport to prove it!) For the rest of us though, it definitely has made an impact on our lives.
The biggest change can be seen in Kai. I've been so proud of him and his sense of adventure throughout this whole trip. He's willing to taste different Japanese foods and has found some favorites... and some not-so-favorites! He likes the crunchy part of shrimp tails for some reason (I guess it's good calcium, so I don't protest too much), but doesn't like umeboshi (pickled apricots - and neither Dan or I can blame him for that at all!) He's learned a handful of simple Japanese phrases (which never ceases to elicit gushing praise from the Japanese recipient!) And just yesterday, without any prompting or teaching, he bowed to one of the guests at the center! Dan and I were amazed at his adaption in such a short time; he really did well, considering the enormous change we created for him! It seems a shame to uproot again... we're just getting adjusted now!
On an emotional level we've seen change in him too. This afternoon, Dan sat down an "interviewed" Kai (some of the footage will be used in a video to be post up here in a few days, hopefully!) He can articulate why we came to Japan (to help others), why people need help (the 'big wave' took their homes), and what we're doing to help them (giving them quilts). His world has begun to expand beyond himself... the ability to put the needs of others first is a skill he is beginning to develop.
More importantly, though, he has begun to grasp the concept that not everyone is a Christian.
Yesterday Kai and I went for a walk together. We ended up walking up over 100 stone steps to the top of a hill where a shrine was situated, overlooking parts of the city. He and I walked the grounds, looking at the different elements of the shrine (the ornately decorated buildings, the bells and gongs, the purification water, the statues). Just like when I first moved to Japan, I can see the amazement and wonder in his eyes as he discovers these new, foreign concepts. There's no denying it; everything here seeps ancient beauty. So many of Japan's cultural aspects are so very different than anything we find in America. It feels so old, so deep, so strong. A sense of the 'old world' is found around every corner in Japan.
As we travel with the boys (now and in the future), I want them to learn that it is OK to accept the beauty of a culture, even when many of its roots are in its religious traditions. As an artist, I find so much to respect in Japanese culture. Ranging from simple eloquence to ornate artistry, Japan has harvested many art forms over hundreds of years and the way they intertwine is like an ever-evolving dance. I believe it is possible to step aside and observe culture objectively, appreciating the intricacies as art, separate from the religion. I want the boys to learn to embrace culture, while still striving to bring people the Truth they so desperately need to hear. It can be a difficult balance, but I hope to teach them well.
Yesterday, as Kai and I wondered about and took in this part of Japanese culture, it became overwhelmingly clear to me that I had been given a teaching moment. Up to this point in his life, Kai has been primarily surrounded by Christians. He has several friends that are unchurched, but he attends the preschool at our church and our family is very active and supportive in raising our boys to know Christ. In the last year, Kai has really begun to learn about Jesus through his young eyes and mind (and in turn, reteaches Dan and I how to think like children). Preschool has worked wonders and my heart swells with pride and joy whenever he relates the "Jesus Time" story of the day back to me as I buckle him into his car seat. This trip to Japan, however, marks a turning point in his faith life - a realization that there are many people who don't know Jesus and won't be in heaven with us - and it's OUR job to tell them the Good News.
This trip we've been given the chance to teach Kai in a very hands-on way about how urgently we need to share the Gospel with others. He and I watched lost souls come to the shrine for the New Year; we saw the stone and wooden statues to which prayers and offerings were given; we listened to the coins clink, bells ring, and hands clap as our Japanese brothers and sisters pleaded for blessings from non-living gods. Residing in Japan has always helped me identify with the Old Testament Israelites. And this trip, perhaps more than our time living here, has opened my eyes to how tied to these traditions Japanese people are. The mission field here is a difficult one, but so very important.
This all is a lot for a three-year-old to grasp. I have no doubt that this trip will lead to many conversations down the road (usually when I least anticipate it!) For now, the gravity of the situation hasn't really sunk in for Kai, but I pray he continues to learn from this trip as he walks with Jesus, even at home.
This trip has been an amazing experience for all of us (well, I can't really speak for Niko, but he's grown a lot bigger in the last month and plays new games, etc... that would have happened at home too, but now he's got baby bragging rights and a passport to prove it!) For the rest of us though, it definitely has made an impact on our lives.
The biggest change can be seen in Kai. I've been so proud of him and his sense of adventure throughout this whole trip. He's willing to taste different Japanese foods and has found some favorites... and some not-so-favorites! He likes the crunchy part of shrimp tails for some reason (I guess it's good calcium, so I don't protest too much), but doesn't like umeboshi (pickled apricots - and neither Dan or I can blame him for that at all!) He's learned a handful of simple Japanese phrases (which never ceases to elicit gushing praise from the Japanese recipient!) And just yesterday, without any prompting or teaching, he bowed to one of the guests at the center! Dan and I were amazed at his adaption in such a short time; he really did well, considering the enormous change we created for him! It seems a shame to uproot again... we're just getting adjusted now!
On an emotional level we've seen change in him too. This afternoon, Dan sat down an "interviewed" Kai (some of the footage will be used in a video to be post up here in a few days, hopefully!) He can articulate why we came to Japan (to help others), why people need help (the 'big wave' took their homes), and what we're doing to help them (giving them quilts). His world has begun to expand beyond himself... the ability to put the needs of others first is a skill he is beginning to develop.
More importantly, though, he has begun to grasp the concept that not everyone is a Christian.
Yesterday Kai and I went for a walk together. We ended up walking up over 100 stone steps to the top of a hill where a shrine was situated, overlooking parts of the city. He and I walked the grounds, looking at the different elements of the shrine (the ornately decorated buildings, the bells and gongs, the purification water, the statues). Just like when I first moved to Japan, I can see the amazement and wonder in his eyes as he discovers these new, foreign concepts. There's no denying it; everything here seeps ancient beauty. So many of Japan's cultural aspects are so very different than anything we find in America. It feels so old, so deep, so strong. A sense of the 'old world' is found around every corner in Japan.
As we travel with the boys (now and in the future), I want them to learn that it is OK to accept the beauty of a culture, even when many of its roots are in its religious traditions. As an artist, I find so much to respect in Japanese culture. Ranging from simple eloquence to ornate artistry, Japan has harvested many art forms over hundreds of years and the way they intertwine is like an ever-evolving dance. I believe it is possible to step aside and observe culture objectively, appreciating the intricacies as art, separate from the religion. I want the boys to learn to embrace culture, while still striving to bring people the Truth they so desperately need to hear. It can be a difficult balance, but I hope to teach them well.
Yesterday, as Kai and I wondered about and took in this part of Japanese culture, it became overwhelmingly clear to me that I had been given a teaching moment. Up to this point in his life, Kai has been primarily surrounded by Christians. He has several friends that are unchurched, but he attends the preschool at our church and our family is very active and supportive in raising our boys to know Christ. In the last year, Kai has really begun to learn about Jesus through his young eyes and mind (and in turn, reteaches Dan and I how to think like children). Preschool has worked wonders and my heart swells with pride and joy whenever he relates the "Jesus Time" story of the day back to me as I buckle him into his car seat. This trip to Japan, however, marks a turning point in his faith life - a realization that there are many people who don't know Jesus and won't be in heaven with us - and it's OUR job to tell them the Good News.
This trip we've been given the chance to teach Kai in a very hands-on way about how urgently we need to share the Gospel with others. He and I watched lost souls come to the shrine for the New Year; we saw the stone and wooden statues to which prayers and offerings were given; we listened to the coins clink, bells ring, and hands clap as our Japanese brothers and sisters pleaded for blessings from non-living gods. Residing in Japan has always helped me identify with the Old Testament Israelites. And this trip, perhaps more than our time living here, has opened my eyes to how tied to these traditions Japanese people are. The mission field here is a difficult one, but so very important.
This all is a lot for a three-year-old to grasp. I have no doubt that this trip will lead to many conversations down the road (usually when I least anticipate it!) For now, the gravity of the situation hasn't really sunk in for Kai, but I pray he continues to learn from this trip as he walks with Jesus, even at home.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
がんばろう日本！
3.11.11
A day that ravaged Japan's northeast coast in a matter of hours.
It mangled its buildings,
Scorched its infrastructure,
Stripped it bare,
And took many, many lives.
It paid no attention to age or gender.
Time stopped.
The former troubles of the day seemed meaningless in an instant.
The impossible suddenly was possible,
But the scope of the problems were unimaginable...
...even nine months later.
But the land is taking back her own.
And the people of Japan, too, are picking up the pieces.
Celebrating their victories (like a day's good catch)
Moving forward with their lives
But will never, never forget.
Ganbarou, Japan.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)