sending thanks yous

We have the unique and amazing blessing as missionaries to be given to. Like, all the time!! Our monthly income is technically based on the generous financial support of our partners who have sent us off. With that benefit, comes the privilege of saying Thank you. Which sometimes happens in person while on home assignment, sitting in their home at their table. But more often, it happens with a little scripted post card.

Thanking our partners is on my yearly "to do list" but really it is a chance to sit down; slow down and remember that real people with real lives, give so we can be here. They are the unseen partners in our daily work that make it possible for us to be in this far off place; telling people that they will never get to meet, about our shared Savior. 

So thank you mornings, like this morning, are a part of a cross cultural worker's life. In the yearly workshop I facilitate, I instruct others to regularly thank their partners...so I need to practice what I preach. Plus in Japan there is never a shortage of cute seasonal stationary, that lets me send pictures home of the picturesque home I have here. I admit that the task of handwriting so many letters can feel a bit daunting, and, as I've experienced many times before, my hand will cramp up and I will have to spread the project over several days to get it finished. 

But I am blessed when I finally slip these stamped hellos into the post office box. And my heart is better for the process. The time to think about and pray for, and time to thank our Father God for, His dear children living far from me but connected closely by His work that we do together. 

Here are some of the blessings I have enjoyed recently on home assignment:

Looking out our dining room window at the sunny spotted citrus tree, while spending hours reading life-giving, truth-reminding devotional and Christian life books. Time to fill up my empty tank to overflowing.

Soaking up anything holiday! Can you believe the cookie and pie ingredients so convenient on a miriad of beckoning shelves temptingly calling, "Bake me. Eat me." I am happy to oblige.

Free fire wood from a farmer friend for cozy foggy nights curled up with a library book. So many books pleading, "Read me". I am very happy to oblige. 

Friends who stop by when you aren't feeling well with homemade soup and muffins. The chance and privilege to jump in to Body Fellowship, even if temporarily and limitedly. 

More farmer friends and more free goodies, like Northern California almonds. And the culinary pride of finally mastering the honey-roasting process. Yum. 

phone reminders

I think I need this reminder every time we move. That is why is it taped to the inside of my phone case. 

First it is the reminder that our good and faithful God goes before us. He is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble. As a family we memorized this verse in Psalm 46 years ago and I still need it today. At the end of our home assignment we have to start thinking about our upcoming move back to the field. That means figuring out what we will take and how we will take it. Lists of shoes, spices and medication need to be bought and fitted in the suitcase. We have to plan how we will move out of our present living situation, in this case our house in California. What day do we need people to help? What used furniture is worth storing? Where will we stay the last few days before we get on the plane? What last minute cleaning, gardening or repairs should we tackle before renters move in? You get the idea. This all begins to me weigh down on me about 2 months before we leave.

It is the moving storm that is brewing and I can see the distant dark and dreary clouds on the horizon. They aren't here yet, but when they come we will need more that our folding, travel umbrella to keep from getting drenched.  I need a safe and strong protection, my Almighty Fortress who goes before me. He is the safe refuge that is clearing the impossible path before me. 

The second reminder on my phone is that "Adventure Awaits You". This little slip of paper is from a fortune cookie at Panda Express. Don't get me wrong, I don't think God speaks through a plastic wrapped, crumbly cookie. But the day I opened it we were about to say goodbye to our oldest son going off to college. I was reminded (and I do think by God's Spirit) that the life He has called us is indeed an adventure. And I need to positively look it as that, rather than the dreaded, dangerous journey it often seems to be.

We were leaving our oldest at college.  Other parents were sniffling and complaining about being a few hours car drive and we were a 10 hour plane flight. I still remember the tears that streamed down uncontrollably as we pulled out of the parking lot. How could we leave our kid in a different country? He was just standing there waving as if the cosmic distance to come was a normal part of moving forward. 

It sure didn't feel like an adventure. It felt like a roller coaster ride that leaves my tummy queasy and my head spinning. But was I willing to choose the perspective God wanted? Instead of an unknown stressful burden, I needed to see this as an exciting episode with a gripping climax. How will we see God get us through this? What ways will He show up? This attitude choice lifts my spirits and creates a space for trust and joy rather than for gloomy self-pity.  God is the best and ultimate trail guide. I know that without a doubt. This adventure isn't haphazard or unsafe. It is well planned and directed carefully by the One who knows what the path will look like around the bend. So as I positively look to this next adventure, as God has done countless times before, I know that my Almighty Fortress will go before me and will lead and help me along the way. 

Transition

One of my favorite things is to have a window seat on the plane. As I look out the frosty glass, I am transported into the magical elevated world outside. As we bump along, I sail through layers of cushiony cotton clouds and get lost in the brilliant blue expanse and wide, deep horizon. 

On today’s early morning flight, I get a peek at the sunrise in the eastern horizon, framed over the wing of the plane. It’s incredibly beautiful and I am in awe of our amazing creator God. He spoke all this into place. He is bigger and greater than the amazing world He has made. He is bigger and more powerful than the churning feelings inside me and the unsettled queasiness of another overseas move. 

Even after so many international transplants, the tiredness and roller coaster emotions still take me by surprise. I obviously have not listened to what I’ve taught others countless times: “Transition is hard. We all face it. Give yourself time and grace...this too will pass.” I foolishly think; “I’ve done this before. No worries, I’ve got this.” I somehow think it won’t be bad this time; and all the planning and past experience will have made the difficulties of transition obsolete. But of course, it hasn’t and somehow I need to be reminded that it’s more than jet lag and age that I have to battle through. It is the dreaded and unwanted traveling partner of transition that I forget is my companion, following me through the terminal, onto the plane and into arrivals. It drags me down like an overweighted suitcase that I stumble over. It knocks me in the back of the leg as I try to navigate it through the crowded isle of elbows, leaving an aching, ugly bruise. 

But that is ok because the God who holds the clouds and sun in place, holds me. Not only does He hold me when I am settled and thriving, but He also holds me when I am changing worlds and overwhelmed and exhausted. He is not taken aback at my weakness. Or surprised by my fraility. His purposes and goodness are not sidetracked by these short but overwhelming seasons of groggy eyes and confused brain. His goodness enwraps me. And just as he holds the great expanse of the scenery out the window, He holds me.  He helps me land safely and He gives grace for the next leg of the journey. 

Every home assignment I try to read a book on transitions. This time I picked up "The Global Nomad's Guide to University Transition" that I found in a box while unpacking. I especially appreciated the first half of the book that reminded me of the normal up-and-down-feelings that go with transition in this chart from the book. Here is another well-known chart showing the stages and pitfalls of navigating transition.

 If you have a missionary friend, why not read about some of the challenges they face so you can better understand and support them. There is a multitude of great resources available and here are a few with my favorite one on top of the list.

* The ReEntry Team- Caring for Your Returning Missionaries  By Neal Pirolo

Third Culture Kids: Growing Up Among Worlds By Ruth van Reken, David Pollock & Michael Pollock

Re-Entry - Making the Transition From Missions to Life at Home By Peter Jordan

Receiving Them Well- A guide on how to support your loved one returning from humanitarian aid or missionary work By Lisa Innis & Lori Bryan

Don't Pig Out on Junk Food: The MK's Guide to Survival in the U.S. By Alma Daugherty Gordon

Following the Rules

Here I am breaking the rules. 

Following the rules in Japan is something you definitely have to do. Rules of culture of what to do and not do are quickly learned if you don't want to be labeled the clueless foreigner. You desperately try to "read the air," a well known express in Japan that means figuring out what do to by watching others around you. Sometimes it is spoken and clear, and sometimes you are just guessing and hoping it is the right thing. You definitely don't want to stick out and be different, the biggest taboo in Japan. 

Well, it wasn't me today. This morning you will see me sitting on table, waiting for my towels and sheets to try at the Laundromat. Very comfortably, mind you. And swinging my legs in a carefree fashion. But don't worry, no one was there and no one saw me. Except the security cameras might have caught me. But I waved friendlily to them and hoped they would understand, as I will be leaving on the plane for the U.S. in a few hours. 

Sitting on the table is just one of those "no no"s in Japan. I was shocked the other day when I saw an American tv show with somebody sitting on the table happily and no one seemed to care. Oh my goodness, I thought, what are they doing? Well, you can do that in America....and obviously on American tv shows. Well, soon I will have to acclimate and adjust to the brand new culture of America, which will feel quite different than Japan. So while I am waiting, I might as well start practicing.  Just don't tell anyone. 

Drink tea!! And carry on.

What is it about frothy milk? Well, whatever it is....I'm addicted. There is something about that foamy goodness that literally sweetens a cup of tea. And settles my nerves and heart all at the same time.  I'll have to look into that from a chemical, scientific standpoint, but for now I will just keep sipping...and enjoy every last drop. 

I first started drinking black tea with milk years ago as I rubbed shoulders with my British colleagues. There was always a little pitcher of milk on the snack table.  And there was always a flowing pot of hot tea, even more than a full pot of coffee. So, it seeped in (literally)! Deep into my American bones. Now I am hooked, "Tea with milk please." And if there is no milk, I will politely pass. Why bother? 

Here is where my American-coffee-shop-self merges, realizing that my true UK friends would most likely raise a questioning eyebrow to my mini, handheld frother.  

In a previous post HERE I mentioned traveling with my tea bags. I'm afraid it still continues. Sometimes it has morphed into a mini french press, a bag of loose leaf Earl Grey and a frother that nestles into my carry on suitcase. (Hey, at least I didn't lug along the breakable tea cup!! Pat, pat. pat on back!)

I suppose it is one way that I bring some daily continuity and comfort to wherever I go. In my life, full of travels and transitions, sitting down with a really good cup of tea is a favorite part of the day and helps to sooth away the crazy and chaotic aspects of this global nomad's life. 

I was just talking with a short-term worker the other day about the challenges of trying to adjust to life in a new place and culture. There are the obvious things: like trying to get around by a new mode of transportation. Maybe you used to hop in a car and drive everywhere in your home country and now arriving in someplace, like Japan, you have to walk miles and miles (well, here they are Kilometers), ride a bicycle along a narrow one lane road dodging pedestrians, and navigate complicated and confusing train lines, numerous platforms and crowded stations. 

But there are other challenges and adjustments as well; ones that you might not think of and that will catch a new worker off-guard. Such as feeling excluded and lonely because you can’t connect and communicate. Or not feeling useful in ministry because your conversation gets stuck after a smile and nod.  You might find yourself just standing there, not sure what to do or how to help.  Or trying to figure out what to do during your free time or day off. At home you had fun activities, outings, hobbies, friends and family. Now you have to figure out what you can do that is restful and refreshing in a totally new world, and often on your own. 

In other words, you end up needing to re-evaluate and re-invent daily and weekly life, along with trying to foster brand new friendships with brand new people, who are most likely from a totally different place and speak a totally different language. 

 

Whew! No wonder learning to live in a new country is difficult!

 

I re-experience this and am reminded of these challenges as I lead new workers. 

Culture Shock 

(which hits you at first like a brick wall) and 

Culture Stress 

(the ongoing every day stumbling over bricks of trying to figure out who you are in a new place, and how you will connect with new people and find out a totally new way of doing things, when you are still aren’t too sure about it, yet you are really trying to get on-board with everything). 

It’s not easy and it can be really disheartening. 

 

Cross culture life is not for the faint at heart. I’m still stubbing my toes on those pesky bricks and stumbling often on the uneven path. I need encouragement, just as these new workers do, to keep hanging in there, doing their best and giving themselves grace that God graciously gives us. We have to remind ourselves that the Lord has allowed these new-country-adjustments as opportunities to grow in trust and humility, Godliness and character. Along the bumpy, uneven brick road, we know and experience that God is good and faithful. And best of all, He is walking this steep and rutted path of cross cultural life with us.

Welcome to my Kitchen

I love my kitchen. It is technically called a DK, Dining Kitchen, so our table, where we eat and I often work, is in there too. The bay-like window was an extra blessing as I love natural light and gravitate towards any rays of sun glistening through the glass to warm and cheer me. This space feels big and airy compared to many apartment kitchens here that are small, closed off and have no windows. As with most of our homes, we have had to pack it in pretty tight, measuring to the centimeter to fit it all in, as previously shared HERE.

I don't think I know of anyone else with a rocking chair wedged in next to their refrigerator, but for me it's a favorite place to sit and catch the last bit of light in pink tones in a darkening evening sky. Of course this bit of sunset is framed by cement walls, curvy tiled roofs and power lines. (What else would you expect in Tokyo?) And because we are opposite of a building with all clouded windows, it is very private and we never close our curtains.

Just off the Dining/Kitchen is the living room. These Christmas lights stay up well past December and help light our dark evenings. Although kudos to the tall husband who has to continually duck and yes, bumps his head somewhat regularly in this low archway.

We have tried to be as minimalistic as possible, not getting big, heavy furniture as these little rooms can fill up quickly and feel even smaller than they already are. But I do love the plants, lights and homey trinkets to make it feel more cozy. Including this little stained glass flower that I recently picked up from the give away table at a local gathering. (You know where missionaries share their treasure that if no one picks up goes to trash?) It's rather hilarious because I had actually given it away years before at that very table, probably in some heroic attempt to declutter before a move. It brought a smile to see it again and then I thought of just the perfect place to hang in it our cloudy window. (You know the foggy windows that give us as well as others some privacy since everyone is located so close.) This hanging decor added some pretty to this functional space. And was a small reminder that things are just things. They come and go...and sometimes come back again. And God is always watching over us and  granting little blessings along the way as He provides a joyful and peace-filled place for us to call home. 

Happy New Year!!

I love a new year.  With the turning of the calendar and trying to remember to write 2025 instead of 2024, comes a chance to think about what is ahead. And what has gone behind.  It's a chance to think of all that God has brought me through and reaffirm my trust in Him for what is to come. And none of us knows what that is. And that's ok.

Walking along the small patch of sand and sea, I notice how each day the shoreline has been different. Some mornings it jets further in and sometimes curves more one way than the previous day. And each morning new smatterings of shells have washed in. Always different from the day before. Of course, along with these treasures of no commercial value, there is seaweed and debris, sometimes cluttered and ugly, sometimes even smelly and strange. 

I was reminded that our life is life that. We have no idea what this next year, or even this next day, will hold. What will we find? A clean, smooth path to walk along, dotted with enjoyable gifts to investigate? Or sinking sand that we get stuck in, getting us wet and uncomfortable; irritated from having to navigate around piles of smelly seaweed?

In reality there will probably be many of each of these moments and days this coming year. For we live fallen, forgetful and fearful. But we also live faith-filled and focused. Able to trust our good and loving God who forges ahead for us.  Keeping our mind filled with Gospel truths that allow us to process and preserve...even though days where our little spot on the beach isn't very picturesque.  We don't know what tomorrow's stroll along the shoreline will be, but we know our God, who made every grain of sand and whose Hand holds each crashing wave. And we know He walks with us.

Deck the Halls...well, the stair landing at least

"Will you be decorating your front porch this year as well?". This was the question our neighbor asked Tim in Japanese on a random meeting in the open stairwell.  We've only greeted this neighbor a couple of times and don't even know her name.  But somehow the Christmas decorations we had put near our front door entrance were remembered. Probably because no one decorates outside, let alone inside, for Christmas. 

Last year we had been to the mountains in December so I had brought back some evergreen branches and stuck them in a pot on the stair landing. I wasn't planning to do anything this year but since our neighbor asked, I went scrounging for something festive.  A potted tree got moved to the front as well as some lights and makeshift ornaments. (You can actually do a lot with paper ribbons and plastic balls.)  It ended up looking quite cheery and I admit I enjoy it each time I come home.

Making this little extra effort of Christmas celebration will give us the opportunity to take our neighbors some banana bread and a gospel tract near Christmas. We pray daily that the Lord would give us connections with those around us and that we would somehow be used to bring light and hope to the darkness around us. May we shine, even if dimly and seemingly unnoticed, the light of Christ this advent season. 

For My ways are not your ways

In the midst of being out of breath, along the steep incline, I stop and gaze at the surprising beauty. Glorious colors shimmer in the morning sunlight. These uncultivated marmalade and violet blooms greet me. I look a little closer and they are literally growing out of a rock alongside a curvy road that seems to lead to no place of consequence.  The landscape around them isn't quaint pasture with distant mountain views, but instead a farmer' messy house with a blue plastic sheet as a makeshift shed.

Most of life is not "a walk in the park" as much as I would like it to be; with wide open places and a level path alongside a bubbling stream. Most of life is a winding, obscure path with the uncertainty as the unmarked destination. Even if we try to pave the road broad before us with a well managed schedule; God seems to have other plans. Even in the midst of our wisely arranged life and ministry, God will mostly likely drop in with the unexpected. It's not until part way through the detour, that I start to realize God is up to something. And that something is indeed beautiful. 

In the past when I have thought of the well-know and quoted verse of Jeremiah 29:11, I think of the "prosper", "hope" and "future" to be a do-able life, pleasant with good days and pats on the back from others for a job well done. But instead it will most likely be hard days where I can't seem to figure things out and my trouble shooting isn't getting me anywhere. It will often be days where others will not understand or even where my character looks rather tarnished.

But those days, the rocky-road days, are indeed the prosper, hope and future. They are a part of God's gracious plan for me.  Growth of my character. Straining out my pride and selfishness. Softening my heart to long for and depend on Him more desperately. Turning my gaze from earth to desiring, instead, heaven and the joys awaiting me there.  God's work in my life and knowing Him more intimately is often the prosper, hope and future promised.  They are the radiant surprise of color along the way. And knowing Him more and His work in my life is the unexpected and overlooked beauty along the difficult growing path of life. 

2 worlds. 1 home.

A comment, I heard when we first came to Japan, was deeply imbedded in my memory. This comment was made by another American missionary; something about how another American colleague decorated their house "too American" and that when you walked in you felt like you were in America, instead of Japan. I could understand that warning. My natural bent was to sculpture a little America in the midst of Asia. 

 

I have remembered this comment often and it has haunted me each time I've looked over the cozy respite I was creating in each new apartment or house we rented. Am I making a Japanese home here or just trying to transplant by comfortable homeland into the narrow walls surrounding me because it feels safe and familiar. This lingering warning has guided me to be careful. Careful to embrace where I am living and to welcome in the land I abide.

Over the years I have sought to be purposeful to try to garnish the rooms I dwell in with pretty things like: a Narumi china tea cup and a calligraphy art Bible verse scripted by a pastor we worked with years ago. And a cast iron mini kettle found at a second hand shop.  

No doubt, when I welcome you through my front door, you will walk into a home that is not typically Japanese, but it isn't very American either. It will be a hodge-podge of our worlds. I chucked to myself the other day when I look at the basket at the foot of our futon-bed. (Again a strange mix of our 2 worlds- a folding futon mat on top of a hand built wood frame sitting on plastic storage bins). These 2 blankets really don't "go" together, they may even clash. Nothing screams America as the country decor of Buffalo Plaid. Yet nestled right next to it is this dainty handmade kimono silk lap quilt that declares boldly, "Made in Japan. Love it or leave it.". Yet somehow to me it is a beautiful blend. That is me. That is our life. That is my home. I think the red and black actually compliment each other and it will be hard to know which to grab on a cool autumn evening. They both feel comfortable and cheerful. They both remind me that here, of all places, in this strange mix of worlds, I am right at home. 

grace lessons

I kept checking the weather app on my phone. Yikes. It would be almost as hot there as it was here. We were trying to escape the unusual lingering Tokyo summer heat. Would we want to drive over 4 hours and pay hefty tolls to continue to be hot and sweaty...and not even have the option to cool off with AC? At least in our apartment we could ward off the heat and humidity with the non-stop use of the little unit humming cool, dry air at us. Groan. But we were desperate for some time away. We had planned this week of vacation months ago, purposefully avoiding the August heat, since September was usually a more pleasant weather month along the north-east coast of the main island.Well, we were desperate. A "stay-cation" would not feel like a holiday and we were in serious need of some R & R. We needed to get out of the city, away from emails and away people. We would just lower our expectations and swelter through the hot days with lots of fans (5!! to be exact) blowing the sticky damp air around and eat lots and lots, and lots, of ice cream. 

Upon arrive and a cool salty dip in the seaweedy sea we felt days away, not hours away, from ministry burdens.  Hot or not, it was heavenly. 

Soon to follow was a conviction of my begrudging attitude toward God. My unprayed prayer had been  something like," Hey, we've been working hard for you. Even above and beyond. We deserve a restful vacation. So why are you messing it up with bad weather?" It is embarrassing to write. And even more convicting to think about. My attitude of entitlement, that I scoff at in others and in American each time I am home, was very sickenly portrayed in me. And yes, about something as unimportant and trivial as the desired weather for week's vacation. 

You see, missionaries too, struggle with slipping in to the ugly mindset that we deserve God's blessings.  Somehow my fleshly mindset storms through that I deserve nice things, nice people and a nice life. And we can pout on the sidelines in our entitlement throne when otherwise. "My home church should give me more time to share after all I am doing this great missionary work." "Why aren't my partners concerned about my wellbeing, I'm human too...and look how hard I work." "Why aren't others giving more since they comparably have so much more?"  "God should bless my ministry because after all it's really important." "God should reward me with trips to see my kids because I have given up so much for Him."  

The pathetic list could go on and on. 

In my case, this time, I was wanting God to bless me with comfortable temperature for my vacation. And I was rather put out that He wasn't delivering.

Just writing about it fills me with humility and makes me queasy. Yuck. But this is partly why I started writing this blog umpteen years ago. I wanted those at home to see that missionaries are real people too. Messy families with messy lives. And messy hearts too.  Oh course, God doesn't need to read online about my frail and weak humanity. He already knows it and graciously challenges me to get past myself. 

I was reminded in a sermon by R.C. Sproul how Christians easily slip in to expecting God's blessings. At first, God blesses us and our response is thankfulness. But then, as He continues to bless we begin to expect it. And then, we start to think we deserve it. 

It's not even that we deserve no blessings, it is that we deserve the opposite, punishment. Judgement. Death, hell and separation from God. That's what I deserve. 

And in God's mercy we don't get that what we deserve. We get salvation, freedom, life and community. And then heaped upon that, God pours out His blessings of grace. Little wonderful things in our life like: churches who want to hear what God is doing in Japan, partners who love on us and send care packages, hints of fruit in our passion-filled ministry and video calls with precious family that connect us over long times a part. God didn't HAVE to give me any of this. I didn't earn it or don't deserve it. 

And He continues to bless me with His goodness; like a cool breeze that blows across the ocean into the stuffy humidity of a cabin window. Even more than the restoring gust of crisp air, I need the reminder from an ancient radio preacher that I am not getting what I deserve but getting the undeserved gifts of grace. And remembering that changes the attitude of my mind. Just like a clinking glass of cold iced tea, my heart fills with thankfulness that pours refreshment over my weathered soul.

Same tune...just a little different melody

I guess it is the same now as when I first started out. The call seemed too big. And me, too little to follow.  If you hear me share how God led me to Japan as a missionary, you’ll hear that I didn’t want to come. Food, culture, language: aspects exist most cross-cultural workers, left me feeling ominous and ready to run in the other direction. 

Going to Japan seemed just too hard. But then I finally realized God wasn’t calling me because of what I liked or could do, He just wanted me to be willing to walk where He was leading me. He wanted my submission and obedience, not my flare of foreign languages and exquisite sushi taste buds. “Not my will, but Yours, Lord.”  It was the cry of my heart and my final surrendering prayer, after months of wrestling with my stubbornness.  Just as I am I humbly hummed. 

 

Still, years later. Years and years and years, later.  I am in the very same spot. These circulatory lessons continue. I stop and look at what I am called too and it seems too much. I am not adequate. I am not enough. I tire too easily, get people-out, get overwhelmed. I am not smart enough or capable enough. I am not young enough. 

 

As I wrestle again before the Lord, I am gently reminded that the loving, capable Potter knows what a messy, useless lump of clay I am. He knows that I am a broken vessel. And at times, even in bits and pieces.  And yet He still gently and graciously calls me. 

The paradox is that this is probably where He wants me to be. Bowed down and in understanding of my lack.  Needy, but willing. Just where I should be. Just how it is supposed to be. For in my weakness, He is strong.  And because of my emptiness, He can fill me up.  And use me. For then all the glory goes to Him. And Him alone. 

 

The tune of an old hymn comes to mind. “Just as I am....I come". Years ago, on bended knee, I sang these words. Just as I am, I will go. Wherever you lead, I will follow. And now, many weary years later, the song is a little more faint, but still just as sweet. It’s a prayer of a weak, but willing heart to serve, however and wherever He asks. Just as I am, I will stay.