A J-3 Christmas or "By the way, Merry Christmas!"

Here in Japan Christmas is a big deal. Commercially that is. But I suppose in America these days it's the same. There are beautiful Christmas illuminations, which we have seen, Christmas music is played in all the stores, people at the counter are often in Santa hats or reindeer antlers, and Christmas deals and gifts are everywhere. Two fun Christmas traditions here are as follows. You order KFC (yes, Kentucky Fried Chicken) on Christmas Eve and you must have your order in very early. There is also Christmas cake on Christmas Eve, usually of the strawberry shortcake variety, which goes promptly on sale the morning of the 25th. Also, Christmas Eve is date night. It is kinda the opposite of America. We have family time on Christmas and date night on New Years; here they have date night on Christmas and family time at New Years.

Personally, this may have been the first year ever that I was not excited for Christmas. It didn't feel like Christmas. Seeing as I am moving in two weeks, decorating my apartment seemed silly since I would have to pack it all to move anyway. Aunt Debby sent me a beautiful nativity set, so my rooms were not completely devoid of cheer, and once my wrapped gifts arrived from home it felt a little more Christmassy. But still. No matter how much Mannheim Steamroller I played I couldn't get into the Christmas spirit. I was homesick, and culture shock was starting to set in.

So Christmas arrived with far less fanfare in my life than normal. No tree. No decorations apart from the nativity set. No last minute Christmas shopping (its tradition!). No baking. No snow. No Christmas pageant at church. No plans for big family gatherings. None of these things heralded Christmas for me this year. Instead it crept up as a black cloud of homesickness. I tried to stay upbeat. I looked for a cute dress to wear for Christmas Eve (I never found one, sadly) and planned what I would bring to the potluck at church. Upon discovering that the Christmas music library on my computer was sadly lacking, I created a playlist of my old favorites on YouTube (this was interspersed with ads in Japanese for Pantene or whatever which kinda threw me off, but beggars can't be choosers). I ooohed and aaaahed over the Christmas illuminations and tried all the Christmas deals at coffee shops. I routinely wore the Christmas socks that mom sent me (super cute by the way). I tried really, really hard to achieve Christmas spiritedness but it never came.

Christmas Illuminations at Odiaba (We totally caught a fireworks show that night! So cool!)

Pretty Christmas tree near our apartment building

Since Christmas Day is not a big holiday in Japan we held our Christmas Day service on the Sunday before Christmas. We had a delicious lunch afterwards with bento boxes for each and massive amounts of extra food in the middle of the table. There was wine and champagne and beautiful Japanese sweets for desert. There were traditional songs, all sung in Japanese of course, but I could jump in when I knew the lyrics in English, though that sometimes threw off those around me! Then we took a picture as a congregation and called it a day. I was kindly kicked out of the kitchen when I went in to help and when I asked Tokuno-sensei how I could help he thought for a minute and then said in halting English "Help... yourself!" and beamed at me, before shooing me out the door.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer at church

Koishikawa Lutheran

Morgan had been invited to the house of the host family she had stayed with when she was in high school so we had our J-3 Christmas that evening (the 23rd). We went to Tully's Coffee a few blocks over and had a grand time. Then we tromped back, wished each other a Merry Christmas and that was that.

Christmas Eve day dawned and I had a bit of a wait for the service which started at six. So I scrubbed my apartment. Seeing as it is tiny, this didn't take long. So I watched Bend it Like Beckham on YouTube (very Christmassy of me I know). Then I read for awhile (I am rereading The Hobbit), but I was too antsy to read. I was homesick and upset and trying really hard not to be either of those. I was alone and very lonely. Finally the time came for church, so, dressed in my best, I headed out.

One thing I can say for the service is that when they said candlelight service, they meant it. We had glass holders for tea lights and the whole service was done by candlelight. It was a beautiful and moving, but it was frustrating in the extreme. I knew which verses we were reading and could follow along, but it didn't have the power it does when it is read aloud from the pulpit in a language I understand. Missing was the sense of understanding I had received in earlier church services. I tried to sing the songs in English, but I kept mixing up songs and verses. There was a saving grace in all of this, and that was the people there that night.

I adore Koishikawa Lutheran. The kindness that has been shown to me there is unequaled, and I shall be very sad to leave them for Kumamoto. I was given a gift as soon as I walked in the door by one member of the congregation and hailed with "Merry Christmas's" from all over. After the service I was shuttled into the eating area, where my plate was never empty for more than five seconds and my glass was always full. I felt so loved, and by people I had met only a month before. I was kicked out of the kitchen again. Taka-san informed me that they were finished. I looked from him to the large pile of dishes on the kitchen table. He got my message clearly, but just laughed at me and said "Finished! Finished!" I was grabbed by two church ladies and dragged out to chat somewhere other than the kitchen. So with many a "Merry Christmas!" I put on my coat and shoes and left church. It was still fairly early, only about 8:30. As I was about halfway to the station the enormity of it all hit and I nearly lost it on the sidewalk.

In Tokyo, no matter where you are, other than, say, your own apartment, you are never alone. So there I was fighting tears in the middle of a street that wasn't crowded by Tokyo standards, but was very crowded by Omaha standards, and mostly with young couples out for Christmas Date Night. I made it to the station and managed to pull myself together. I made it home without incident and decided that a good way to cheer up would be to have my own English church service! I made a cup of hot tea, put on my pj's, lit a candle, pulled out my bible and started with the prophecy in Isaiah. At least I meant to, but I got frustrated when I couldn't find the verse I wanted and my little travel bible doesn't have a concordance. I tried online and finally gave up and started with a song instead. YouTube is a grand invention. I pulled up "Oh Come Oh Come Immanuel", one of my all time Christmas favorites to start my service. I sang along and then began with Luke 1:26 where the angel comes to Mary. After I finished reading Mary's story (I was reading aloud to my empty room) I sang "Breath of Heaven" as it seemed most appropriate. I was trying to recreate what we do in church. Read part of the story aloud and sing the songs that go with that part. I got a bit choked up during "Away in a Manger" and then I reached the part where the angels come to the shepherds and I realized how very, very lonely my little service was. I couldn't see the verses through my tears. I cried through "Hark the Herald" and "The First Noel" and positively bawled while singing "O Holy Night". I finished the story and stopped my service without fanfare.

The next morning I got up and dressed in my new Grandma Christmas sweater. It was Christmas Eve back home so I Facetimed Dad. It was great to see a lot of the Keenan clan gathered at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Then it was off to church at St. Paul's International Lutheran Church. When we arrived the woman at the door greeted us and asked if we were visiting or living in Tokyo. I started to explain that we were just in Tokyo for a bit before moving to Kumamoto and no sooner was "Kumamoto" out of my mouth before she grinned and asked "Are you J-3's?" It turns out she was a former J-3 and had come to Japan over thirty years ago and stayed. We've met lots of former J-3's here with similar stories. My mom does not like these stories.

I cannot tell you how nice it was to attend a service in English. The liturgy was so familiar I could have done it with my eyes closed and I felt my whole being breathe a sigh of relief to be worshipping in a language I understood again. I hadn't had a sermon in English since the first Sunday in November and I have missed it dearly. I didn't realize how much though till that very moment. After church Laura and I began our Christmas Day adventures.

Neither one of us was feeling like Christmas. For example, we greeted each other that morning like any other day and hopped on the subway. We had probably been together for about forty five minutes before I realized what greeting we had missed. We were walking up the stairs from the subway and I don't remember what we were talking about, but I turned to her and said, "By the way, Merry Christmas!" She laughed and said, "Oh yeah! Merry Christmas!" And so our Christmas Day began.

After church we went to Mos Burger, basically Japan's version of McDonald's. We had "Christmas Cheeseburgers" with "Christmas Fries" (the Christmas was added by Laura and myself not Mos Burger). We were surrounded by office workers on their lunch break. We left Mos Burger to head to Korea Town for hotteok (the amazing pancake/English muffin thing I mentioned earlier) and Snow Cup (the amazing mocha mentioned earlier). We got off at the wrong subway station and walked around like fools following Apple Maps on my phone for a good half hour before arriving on a happily familiar street. Laura allowed me to indulge in some fangirling while I bought myself some drama soundtracks. Here was the awesome thing about Korea Town. The store clerks all wished us a Merry Christmas. We didn't get that from anyone else, but the clerks in Korea Town. What's more, they were heartfelt "Merry Christmas's" and that in itself brought tears to my eyes. After some shopping we decided it was time for hotteok and this led to The Great Hotteok Incident of 2012.

I'm not really sure exactly what happened. I don't think Laura is either. All I know is that we got our hotteok and were doing what all the cool kids do: sitting on the sidewalk railing in front of the hotteok stall enjoying its amazing goodness, when I hear Laura start doing that half laugh, half wail thing that people do when in a funny yet distressing situation. I look over to see her bent over trying to get her hotteok out of her mouth. The dough just kept stretching. I wasn't entirely sure why she couldn't spit the whole thing out (later she informed me she was afraid of making a mess, but a mess was happening anyway so it was a mute point), but she clearly needed help of some sort so I started pulling on the hotteok too. By this point I was laughing really hard, I nearly fell off the rail, and we were drawing lots of attention from passerby including some school girls who were clearly not sure if they should laugh or be worried about Laura, who, by the way, wasn't helping the situation. She was laughing, but, because her face was hidden, she could have easily been crying. We finally got the hotteok straightened out (or rather she did, I was laughing too hard to be of any assistance at all). Our next problem was that she was covered in honey and melted sugar. We set out for Tokyo Lutheran (which is located on the same street) in hopes that Eric Roth, the new missionary pastor and friend of ours, was still there. He was and he let us in through the back door to get cleaned up. I can't quite figure out how she got that much honey all over. It was on the back collar of her coat, on her sleeves of all three layers, in her hair, all over her watch, on her collar, the drawstrings of her hood, and all over her pants. She washed up as best she could and it was off to Snow Cup, laughing the whole way. And that was the Great Hotteok Incident of 2012. Maybe you just had to be there.

Hotteok stand: Scene of the Great Hotteok Incident of 2012

The ever fantastic Snow Cup mocha

After Snow Cup we went back to Shinjuku to see The Hobbit. We had already seen it once, but we were feeling homesick and thought spending three hours in Middle Earth might help (we are both nerdy English majors after all). It did and we exited the theater happily. Since there will be a Hobbit movie all three years we are here, I sense a tradition in the making. We headed into Shinjuku itself for a bit, spent some time in a bookstore and bought crepes before walking home.

The Hobbit Japan style

Once there I Skyped with my family and we opened gifts. I feel so blessed to be able to use things like Skype and Facetime to talk to home, especially at times like these, but there is a down side. Eventually, you have to get off Skype and are left alone again in your apartment knowing that there are 6,038 miles between you and your loved ones. I cried once I said goodbye. Laura texted me then, asking if I was still awake or something and I called her to vent. She came up to my apartment and we talked and watched Korean dramas until about 3:30 in the morning. It was the distraction that I needed. I don't know how I would be getting by without Morgan and Laura. We have only known each other for a short time, but there are some things that bind you instantly and this adventure is one of them.

Christmas is over. I am quite happy it is because the emotional turbulence should subside. I hope. At least for a bit. Please? Okay, I guess not. Where are my running shoes...

Japanese Lessons and Tourist Days

So some of you may wonder: what does the J3 do while in Tokyo and not teaching? The answer: Japanese lessons three days a week, lectures and bible studies, homework, church duties, and a lot of exploring. So let me take you through a class day and then we will talk about seminary days (which include the history of Christianity mentioned above that I swear one day I will write about) and finally some places discovered while exploring.

On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday I have Japanese class (*note: by the time I post this, the correct terminology will be had. My last class was on Friday). I leave the apartment at nine with Laura and Morgan and get on the subway. We are right at the end of Tokyo rush hour so the initial part of the ride is, of course, packed. I am pretty used to it by now though. The ride takes about forty minutes and then we walk about five minutes to the Japanese Evangelical Lutheran Association headquarters. The headquarters building is really nice and we hold class in a big room on the first floor where they often hold meetings and worship services. Laura is in an advanced class on her own, so my class includes Morgan, myself (obviously), and Eric and Tauna, the new missionary couple here in Tokyo. Our teachers (we have two, one for Tuesdays and Fridays and one on Wednesdays) are very kind and patient. Class lasts two hours with a ten minute break in the middle. It is sourly needed because, depending on the day, okay so most days, my brain is about ready to explode by that point. It has gotten easier though, especially as I have gotten much better at reading Hirigana (the first of the three, count them, three, Japanese alphabets). Sentence structure is another matter. For the English speaking brain it is backwards and circular at the same time. Like Yoda, but more complicated. Anyway, since I was late coming in (stupid appendix), I have tutoring sessions after class to catch up. By this point my brain is mush, so I don't retain much, I'm sure.

After class the five of us and Paul often go out for business lunches at Ebisu station. We discuss how class is going (HA!) and what is coming up in the grand scheme of the J3 adventure. Always a good time. On Wednesdays we go to the JELC headquarters (the same as above, but substitute Church for Association) and have bible study or lecture with Pastor Asano, the head of the JELC. These sessions are thought provoking and interesting. Afterwards I go home and crash for about an hour before beginning homework. We have "a lot" of homework for class. It's really not all that bad, but when I was just starting out it took me like ten minutes to decipher the question and then another ten to answer it and say I had ten questions... you can see where I am going with this.

We have gone to the Japan Lutheran Theological Seminary twice for lectures on different subjects: the history of Christianity in Japan, living as a foreigner in Japan, Christianity and Japanese culture, etc. These lectures need a blog post unto themselves and trust me, it is coming. The breadth and the scope is such that when it comes, steal yourself. Its gonna be one long post.

If we don't have a lecture at JELC or at the Seminary we have afternoons off (also Mondays and Saturdays are free). We either explore or do those mundane things such as laundry, grocery shopping, errand running, along with studying, studying, and more studying. Grocery shopping is always entertaining because, unless I stand right next to Laura and say "what's this, what's this, what's this" pointing to every object in turn (which has happened, you can ask her) I really don't know what I am getting. To make this even more complicated, I didn't really know how to cook when I was in America, much less here in Japan. These two things combined have put me on an interesting diet. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, instant ramen, eggs, pasta, bananas, Ritz crackers, cereal... and that's about it. Sad huh? Peanut butter is really expensive here, but its half the protein in my diet so I can't give it up. Plus, it's Skippy. So good. The ramen is not the fifteen cent packs at home, its way better, though still instant and not as good as the real deal you get in the restaurants. I tried to make the real deal once, with an egg and everything, and it was positively disgusting. I really have no idea where I went wrong. I haven't tried to "cook" since. I am looking up recipes though, so hopefully this will change. Let's be real, it has to change. Just writing it out makes me ashamed.

Our exploring has taken us to some interesting places. A few weeks ago Laura, Morgan and I went to the Edo-Tokyo Museum which tells the history of how the first shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu, moved the capital of Japan from Kyoto to Edo, which is now Tokyo, and history of Edo/Tokyo up until the 1964 Olympics. I was so excited to be in a history museum... until I got to the first exhibit. The English explanation was two paragraphs and the second described where they had gotten the information. I was so upset. How was I going to learn anything about what I was looking at? Luckily, this museum has volunteer tour guides at no extra cost. So I marched right up and asked if someone could show me around. I had my own personal tour guide! The man who took me around had the best stories for everything (not that I have anything to compare them too but still) and had extra materials to supplement what I was seeing. I learned about the firefighting in Edo, the literacy rates (over 80%!), wars with Korea and China, women's roles, city development, the shogunate lineage, kabuki or traditional Japanese theater, Commodore Matthew Perry, the Chinese influence, the first Western architects in Japan, the Meiji Restoration, the earthquake of 1923, World War II or the Cold War as it is known here, and so, so much more! I was in history nerd heaven! I walked around for over two hours, the entire time desperately wishing I had something use for note taking. Morgan and Laura, God bless them, let me have my fun. It is my favorite place I have been so far and I cannot wait to go to the Japan National History Museum! Below are some fun pictures I took at the museum.

This fancy fireman's pole was used to tell other fire departments which department was handling a fire that had broken out. Some poor guy had to stand on the roof of a nearby building and twirl that thing for hours while the others put the fire out (mostly by tearing down the buildings around it so it had no where to go). Oh that pole? It weighs 15kg. Which is about 33 pounds. Pretty heavy to hold up high without a break for hours on end.

Poor Canada. This is the surrender agreement signed on the USS Missouri. The Canadian representative apparently got nervous because he didn't sign on the line. He signed under it. Now New Zealand is just hanging out at the bottom. If you look close you can see where MacArthur's aide initialed the changes since MacArthur himself had already left.

 

A replica of the Nihonbashi Bridge which spanned the Nihonbashi River and connected the merchants to the more elite classes. It was a very popular spot during the Edo period and was replaced by a stone bridge during the Meiji period.

Another favorite stop has to be Korea Town. Reasons one, two, three, and four are listed here. Reason one: I get to unlease my inner fangirl. Many of you might be unaware, but I love Korean dramas! Subbed in English of course. It's slightly ironic since I am in Japan, but let me tell you, my fellow ladies here in Japan are right there with me. There are fangirl shops up and down the street and if you go at the wrong time there is a line out the door and down the block. These places are packed! So fun! Reason two: hotteok. This is a Korean pancake/English muffin fried in/with? honey, stuffed with honey, peanuts and brown sugar. I took one bite and thought I had died and gone to heaven. You can get all different kinds, but I probably will only know this one, because I can't NOT get it, it's so amazingly good. There are five street vendors selling these and I intend to try every one and compare. Reason three: Snow Cup. The best mocha I have ever had in my life. It's on the second floor of a building and as you climb the pastel colored stairs you can smell powdered sugar. The shop sells waffles decked out in whipped cream, powdered sugar, strawberries and all other kinds of goodness. Mocha only for me though (I was full of hotteok at the time). Laura had a strawberry mocha. Amazing! Reason four: Tokyo Lutheran is on this street and they cooked us a turkey for Thanksgiving. How can you not love that?

Korea Town. View from Snow Cup. If you look really close you can see how packed the sidewalk is; so hard to move!

Self explanatory I think!

Eating turkey and mashed potatoes with chopsticks!

 

I am really enjoying my time here in Tokyo. So much to see and do! It's hard though because we are leaving so soon. It makes it difficult to "put down roots" as it were. I don't really want to get to attached, but it is hard not to. God made a very special, unique place here in Tokyo. I feel blessed to be here and a part of the madness if only for a short time. And I call it madness with the utmost love and affection. We are already making plans to come back over summer break in order to a) climb Mount Fuji (though I might be the only one of the three of us!), b) go to Disney Land/Disney Sea c) see our friends again! It will be hard to leave, but I am ready for Kumamoto. I am impatient to see the place I will call home for the next two years.

Understanding

"When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what appeared to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues and the Spirit enabled them."

- Acts 2:1-4

I promised myself that I would blog at least once a week. It has been a little over a week; hopefully this does not become a habit. I stated in my last blog that I would write about my experiences at church and have been asked for details several times now. I'm not really sure where to begin, or where to end, so bear with me. My first Sunday at church was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I have had so far. It was my first time on the subway by myself and I was headed to a place I had only been once, and taking a different, supposedly easier route. Side note: we three J3's are split up into separate congregations here in Tokyo and will be in different congregations in Kumamoto as well. Gotta spread that J3 love you know.

On Sunday, November 25th I left for Koishikawa Lutheran ridiculously early. I was quite convinced I would become lost, not realize I was lost until it was too late, and have to spend a great deal of time getting back on the right track. I desperately wanted to be on time for my first day. Church starts at 10:30 and my instructions said that it would only take me about 35 to 40 minutes to get there. I left my apartment at 9:00, did not get lost, and consequently arrived at the church at 9:35. Since I was almost an hour early, I was too embarrassed to go in, so I walked around aimlessly for about twenty minutes. Then I stood in front of the church and pretended to text. Like anyone looking out from the church wouldn't know who the weird ganjin girl on the doorstep was. Finally the cold and a tad bit of courage drove me into the church. I arrived simultaneously with three women who greeted me warmly in a mix of Japanese and English, directed me to the slippers, got me signed in and signed up for lunch, and took me to the pastor.

Pastor Tokuno, or Tokuno-sensei as you would say in Japanese, turned out to be a very kind man who was in the middle of leading a bible study. A bible study that, had I entered the church when I arrived, I would have been on time for. As it was, I had been expected and was late. Not, of course, that this caused any ill will, just embarrassment on my part. I was still greeted warmly and asked to join the class. It was conducted entirely in Japanese so I had no clue what was going on until they pulled out the hymns at the end of class. We sang "Abide with Me" in English. So I sang "Abide with Me" in English with three men who didn't speak English. It was beautiful.

After bible study I was led into the sanctuary and left there. I was unclear if I was supposed to just leave my things and return to greet people as they came in (as others obviously had judging by the coats), or stay put. My courage failed me and I stayed. The service began and I was, once again, at a loss. It was too much. I couldn't understand anything, could barely pick up the basic order of a service that I have attended since I was a child, and was expected to stay for lunch and talk to people (a very daunting thought; as of then, I had only met one person who spoke English well). I was near tears until the seminary student started his sermon. It became readily apparent that some things transcend language barriers. I might not have a clue what he said, but I felt his words deep in my gut. My tears retreated and I managed to rally for my introduction.

After service Tokuno-sensei booked it to the back of the church. No one else moved. Suddenly, he booking it back up front, sans pastor's robe. It was time for the church council meeting. At least I think that was what was happening, but again there was that whole pesky language thing so I can't be sure. On the way to church I had been repeating my introduction over and over. You know when you are learning a new language and random things that you don't really use in everyday conversation, or you know, ever, stick, but the stuff you really need, like how to introduce yourself, just won't stay in your brain? That was me. "Hajimemashite. Caroline Keenan desu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu." "How do you do? I am Caroline Keenan. Nice to meet you." The other riders in the subway probably thought I was crazy. Anyway, the only way I knew it was my turn was because I heard my name. One of the ladies in the congregation was suddenly behind me asking, in English, if I knew how to introduce myself in Japanese. I nodded and stood up. I bowed and got out "Hajime...." before the congregation started clapping. I finished hurriedly and sat down, but one of the ladies at the front was motioning for me to stand back up and repeat myself. They hadn't heard me over the clapping. I was probably redder than I have been in recent history, but I stood back up, bowed again, and repeated myself. The clapping continued. I could feel my ears burning.

As it turns out, Koishikawa Lutheran's congregation has a large deaf and hearing impaired population. There are two interpreters for the service. When I sat down for lunch, I sat across from a man who was sitting alone. I greeted him with the most polite greeting I knew and bowed. There was absolutely no response. I was worried and upset until the interpreter came up. He simply hadn't heard me and hadn't been looking at me to see my lips move. We nodded to each other and I was once more at a loss. And then the loss gave way to more angst when I was told, by a very pleased matron, the menu was curry udon. I hate spicy food with a passion. But what could I do? Nothing. It was time to "cowgirl up" as Claire would say.

As luck would have it, a very nice young man about my age sat down across from me. He spoke English fairly well and we were able to keep a conversation going all through lunch. How was the curry udon you ask? I had been entertaining visions of Indian curry and was terrified at the prospect of forcing it down, but that turned out to not be the case. It was absolutely delicious. No forcing needed. It was like stew with big delicious noodles added. Lunch went far more smoothly than I had anticipated. I had someone to talk to, and someone to interpret for me and for others. In a fairly entertaining moment, the lady next to me pointed to the young man and said something in Japanese. I asked if that was his name and she nodded with a big smile. I turned to him and repeated it, adding on a "san" to the end to try and be polite and he about fell out of his chair laughing. He informed me it was a nickname she had for him, not his name, but he didn't know what it was in English so he couldn't tell me what I had said! He then introduced himself and, while I tried desperately to remember, I promptly forgot and was too embarrassed to ask for it a second time.

During lunch one of the deaf members came up and was clearly trying to ask me something. I, of course, had no clue what she was saying and neither did my friendly translator. The woman was getting frustrated, and I was feeling guilty, when one of the translators came over to interpret. She watched the woman sign, then turned to me and spoke in Japanese. I just looked at her blankly. She repeated herself, and my new friend came over to help. So it went. The interpreter (whose name I don't think I ever got) translated the sign from the woman in front of me into Japanese, which the young man translated into English for me, I responded in English and it went back down the line. By this time we had the attention of most of the congregation. So it turned into a question answer session with two interpreters. Soon we had a "map" of the US on the board (my interpreter had tried to draw it nicely, had given up and drawn a circle; I would have too) with dots for Omaha, Chicago, and Minneapolis for reference.  

After lunch it was time to learn some Japanese sign language with the rest of the congregation. I am pleased to inform you that I can now sign "Christmas", "Jesus", "Christmas tree", "presents", and "Santa Claus" in Japanese sign language. Following that it was time for the deaf bible study. I joined the group and they seemed happy to have me which was nice. Again, absolutely no clue what was going on. Except I was invited to a Christmas party with their group at Denny's (I think it was Denny's, it was written on the board on a map but I don't think anyone ever actually said Denny's) which apparently in Japan serves pizza (maybe), and I am to bring 3,000 yen (this last bit seemed excessive, but they had put it on the board while, possibly, talking about the party so I plan to have it on me just in case). Mostly I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I just stuck around. And then stuck around some more. When they started to turn the lights off I knew I was free to go.

I boarded the subway to return, got home, collapsed on my bed and didn't move for about an hour. The whole experience was mentally and emotionally exhausting. I despaired of ever learning Japanese well enough to be able to understand what is happening in church, names eluded me (after that first day I only knew one out of all the names given to me and that was Tokuno-sensei, whose name I had repeated in mantra with my introduction the whole way there), and mostly I really wanted to go to a church service that I could understand. I missed service at Luther; there is comfort there. It is home. And it's in English.

Since that first service I have been to a second and it was infinitely easier. I knew my way, arrived on time for bible study, and now know a grand total of five names. Its progress anyway. There was communion which I managed without incident. Tokuno-sensei kindly gave me the English blessing with the bread and then Nagayoshi-sensei, the seminarian, gave me the Japanese blessing for the wine. I chatted more with those that spoke English and, through them, to others of the congregation. After lunch (more delicious udon) we had a meeting about the plans to make the church safer in case of an earthquake. Always a good idea. Nakano-san, my English translator from last time, whose name I had to ask for again since I didn't get it the first time, began trying to tell me exactly what was being said, then shook his head and said "Defense for shaking." I understood.

After the meeting I summoned my courage and marched into the kitchen to offer my services. I was welcomed with smiles and finally I felt at home. It was just like at Luther after a big meal, with a bunch of people pitching in to wash the enormous amount of dishes. Only there were chopsticks instead of silverware, udon bowls, and tiny Japanese tea cups. I was at the drying station and Nakano-san asked if I did this at my church. I announced that of course I did and it even looked the same! It did too, with the big sinks and table in the middle, only it was a great deal smaller than the kitchen at Luther. I told him that my aunt and a good family friend were in charge of the kitchen at home and so I was in it a lot. The ladies smiled when he translated that and brought me a bigger stack of dishes to dry. I learned how to say "Let's begin!" and "Finished!" in Japanese and Japanese sign. After we were finished I managed to say "See you next week" in Japanese (I was so excited to remember that one!) and they taught me how to say it in Japanese sign. I was beaming the whole way home. God never gives you anything you can't handle. Mom told me once it was sort of a backwards compliment when you encounter hard times. I consider myself complimented.

Living here, this new job that is more than a job, it is an incredibly difficult thing, there's no denying it. The language barrier is the most difficult part of the whole experience. When you cannot fully speak to someone, when they cannot truly express their thoughts to you, when there is a lack of understanding on both sides, the temptation is to become depressed and commence with a great deal of head-desking (you know, the feeling where you just want to bang your head on your desk repeatedly). There has been a lot of head-desking. But that's the funny thing. God has dealt with this kind of thing more times throughout history than anyone could possibly know. I am certainly not the first to send up pleas for understanding and I will not be the last. I'm sure that there will be rough times ahead and I fully anticipate many tears over the struggle to learn Japanese, but these first two services have told me something important. Just as with the elderly lady whose walker I fetched down the stairs, it is not necessary to speak the same language to connect with people. As I said before, just open your heart, God will take care of the rest. It is going to be an incredible two and a half years.

家庭 Home

I have so much to tell of the events of the past few days, but forgive me if I wait to do that until a later post. I want this post to be about something I have been reflecting on for quite awhile now and I think I am ready to put it into words. Many of you are familiar with the idea that God speaks to us in ways that we often don't even see coming. In my own life, it is sometimes almost rare for me to hear God through the Bible (something I really need to work on), but more often than not someone, somewhere will say something and it will be a light bulb moment. "Aha! I get it!" and I send God a grateful smile or at least a nod of acknowledgement (usually when I am unhappy with what I am being told), and a word of thanks for making it so clear. These words have come to me from complete strangers, or random signs, but one of the cleverest ways God has spoken to me recently came from an American Idol winner whose number one hit has been all over the radio lately. At least in the States. By now I am sure that many of you know which song I am talking about, but for those of you who don't the song is called "Home" by Phillip Phillips. I will post both the song and the lyrics below for your perusal. I think as soon as you listen/read it you will know exactly why this song speaks to me so.

"Home" by Phillip Phillips

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home


I was told by many people, upon taking my current position in Japan, that there would be days when I would wonder what the heck I am doing. Those days came, on occasion, before leaving. And whenever they did all I had to do was hop in the car, turn on the radio, and lo and behold, sooner or later this song would come on. Its a song that makes me cry, and a song that makes me cheer. This song is one of the ways that God has reassured me, repeatedly, that He knows exactly what He is doing by placing me here. As the song says, "Settle down, it'll all be clear..." At the end of the day I don't have to have an answer to the question of why I am here. The only answer I have to know, absolutely, is that God placed me here. In time the why may become clear; but that's for Him to reveal to me when He chooses.

Today was a hard day. It was the first day I took the subway by myself. I was headed to a church, alone, to a service that wasn't in English, not knowing if anyone there spoke English, hardly knowing a word of Japanese. I played this song over and over and over again. I am listening to it now, as I write. It gave me the courage and strength that I needed to face this day, as it has many days before today. I will reflect more on church later, for it is important, but today I want to give thanks for an American Idol winning song, the man who sings it, and the God who gave it to me as a precious gift. Some may read this post and think I have lost my mind. Some may read it and say that's too simple, or its just a coincidence. Its not. Not to me. And really, that's what matters. I wonder if Phillip Phillips knows that he has changed lives with his song? Maybe I should send him a thank you card. "Phillip Phillips, thank you for the courage. Did you know God was using you? No? I never know when He uses me either. Funny how He does that, isn't it? Love from a fan in Japan." God has spoken to me loud and clear. He placed me here. He chose me. He has a plan for me. He knows EXACTLY what He is doing. I know I am not alone. And, without a doubt, He's going to make this place my home.

The First Week: (my brain doesn't want to think of a better title right now, forgive my lack of creativity)

"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith." Ephesians 3:16

Hello dear readers! Greetings from Japan! Things have been pretty crazy since I last wrote, but I'll try to keep it a bit shorter this time. I won't bore you with the details of my flight, because, honestly, compared to Tokyo, what is there to tell? I will tell you that I was two hours late getting in, so it was a bit of a late first night. I was met at the airport and it was off to see my new apartment!

Laura and Morgan had both mentioned the apartment was small. That was an understatement. It's one room, a hallway, a closet, a shower room, and a toilet room. Totally cute though and, since it's just me, it works. I'm all moved in and settled now and I like my apartment. The view from my window is a little bit of sky and lots of buildings very close together. Very strange to a girl from the Midwest.

My first day was madness of the best kind. Tokyo is made up of wards and my apartment is in Shibuya ward. This means that I had to register with the Shibuya office and get a ID card. After that we went off to get a bank account and a cell phone. Paul Hoshizaki from JELA (the Lutheran Association here in Japan) was helping me with all of this and I am so glad I was not on my own. Things that would be so easy for me to do on my own in Omaha would have been incredibly difficult here, and the language barrier was just the start.

The amount of people in Tokyo... I had read all about it of course, and seen pictures, but absolutely nothing could have prepared me for it. The largest city in the States that I've been to is Chicago. It has nothing on Tokyo. You turn the corner and it is just a wall of humanity all moving in different directions. It is incredibly overwhelming, and, perhaps, will be one of the things that will take the longest to get used to. Riding the subway during rush hour is intense, but that is how I get to Japanese class in the morning. Luckily, I am riding close to the end of rush hour.

Speaking of subway stations, they are so confusing! I don't know that I will ever fully figure it out. However, I do know how to get to class. Church is another story because I have to switch from the subway to the train at one of the busiest stations in Tokyo. We got lost the only time I went. Hopefully, I will manage okay the second time. It's the stations that are the worst for me. I have no idea where to turn! The signs help, but there are so many! Plus, the people around you are moving so quickly that it is difficult not to get swept along in the rush.

I have made my first social gaffe as well. I met the Executive Director of JELA, Mr. Morikawa. He handed me his business card and, thanks to Grandpa Keenan, I was well versed in how to handle this situation. I took it with both hands, bowed, read it thoroughly, thanked him, and put it in my card case. Only problem was I was so nervous and so concentrated on not messing up, that I accidentally used the informal thank you, the one that you use with family and friends, and NOT the Executive Director! I was very embarrassed, but I think he understood.

This weekend I went to an English Bible Camp. We took a bus across Tokyo Bay to Chiba. My first trip to the ocean! I had seen the ocean from the air of course, but it is not the same as being there. It was so windy! We were a small group, only about seventeen counting myself, but we had a great time. I can officially state that I have attended a worship service at a squash court! It was pretty funny trying to pray with people playing squash and celebrating squash victories next door. Not to mention the ping pong in the room in front of the squash courts. I am so happy to have met such good, new friends. One of the women I met, Sachie-san, told me as I was getting off the bus at the end of the weekend that we were family now and it made me so happy! Knowing that you have people to turn to makes all the difference in the world. It was a weekend of trying new foods (least favorite: tofu, most favorite: everything at the BBQ from pork to eggplant!), meeting new friends, and taking a new look at familiar Bible verses.

For me, one of the highlights of the weekend was telling the Christmas story to a new friend of mine who was hearing it for the first time. It was harder than you might think because, while she spoke English very, very well, some of the familiar phrases we use, such as Wise Men, or even worse Magi, didn't work well. Sachie was listening and she said, "Are those the three Scholars?" and so the Three Scholars they became. Which totally works and I think I may use from now on! Tauna, another new missionary in Tokyo, had started telling the story and when she saw I was listening she asked if I wanted to jump in. I did starting from the shepherds in the fields. Telling the story in such a place and to someone who had never heard it before reminded me of what a dramatic story it really is; it is a powerful, moving tale. I got choked up (not that I think anyone noticed) when I talked of the angels coming to the shepherds. The retelling gave the story a whole new meaning to me and I, once again, thank God that He put me here. I think, at the end of the day, I am not the missionary. The people I am surrounded by are the true missionaries. They have so much to teach me and I have so much to learn. Being here has given me fresh insight into old tales and verses that I have heard since I was a child. Looking at them again through the lens of another culture is a beautiful experience.

I will end with one last small anecdote of something that happened to me last week. It is something I have thought about every time the language barrier gets me down. Laura, Morgan and I had gone to the Daiso, or the 100 Yen store. It was pretty busy, as you might imagine, and after awhile I got sensory overload and told the girls I would meet them outside. While I was waiting an elderly woman with a walker came out the door. She left her walker at the top of the stairs and started to move down the stairs holding on to the rail with both hands. I figured she must have someone to help coming right behind her, but I kept an eye out just the same. She reached the bottom and just stood there, holding on with both hands, and no one came. I was nervous, not being able to say anything, so I bowed, gestured to her walker, and went up the stairs to get it. I was kind of worried that someone would come out of the store and wonder what this weird foreign girl was doing with their mother/grandmother's walker, but no one did and I carried it down to her. What followed was a lot of bowing by both of us. She thanked me and I said "You're welcome" before remembering that I totally know how to say that in Japanese, which I promptly did. We were both beaming at each other and with one last bow and a big smile she started down the street. Laura and Morgan came out, and, as we were heading home, I noticed a young man helping the woman into a car. We smiled and I bowed and walked on. You don't need to be able to speak the same language to connect with people. You just have to have the courage to open your heart. God takes care of the rest. Till next time!

New friends! At Chiba Bible Camp

The J3's: Morgan, Laura, and I

If you look VERY close you can see Fuji-san! My first glimpse across the sea!

A visit to the sea wall with Mae-san and Min-san

Hanging out the the J3 ladies and Sachie-san

Playing darts. Neither of us really knew how to play so it was an entertaining game! Mae-san totally won.

BBQ time! Look at all that good food!

Squid, pork, chicken, scallops, and soba noodles!

Yay for grilled veggies!

Outside of Shinjuku Station

The Great Wait of 2012

"For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord..." Jeremiah 29:11

Hey all! I am now two days away from moving to Japan where I will be teaching English for the next two and a half years as a missionary for the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, ELCA. You will frequently see me refer to this as J-3, meaning Japan three year. I am going with two other ladies, Morgan Dixon of Georgia, and Laura Fentress of California. In later posts I will discuss how this all came to pass, but for now let me explain the insanity of the last two months.

The original plan was for the three of us to leave on September 25th. With this in mind I was commissioned by my church on September 2nd and had a big going away party with family and friends. Shortly afterwards we (Laura, Morgan, and myself) received word that there was trouble with our visas and our leave date might be delayed for a month and a half at most. And so the Great Wait of 2012 began. Okay, allow me to admit something. I do not wait well. I have plans. Always. Frequently ten years in advance. When I find that a huge life change is not going according to plan (I know, like it ever does?) I don't always handle it well. This was no exception. However, there was a chance, however slight, that we might still leave on the 25th. So I continued to pack and plan, and by the Saturday before Leave Day I was ready. We still hadn't received any word, going or not, and on Skype that Saturday night we had no clue what to think. Word came on Monday that we would not be leaving the following day and the Great Wait of 2012 continued.

I had quit my job at the library at the end of August in order to give myself some time to prepare and I considered going back. However, the reality of the situation was such that we had no idea when we would be flying out and it could be any day. First coping mechanism: buying things. Clothes, travel oddities, DVDs... it was, frankly, ridiculous. I wasn't buying big things, and they were all things I "needed". Another pair of slacks for teaching, a laptop bag, an outfit for church, a pair of black pumps to go with the new slacks, you get the picture. I thought I had room. And according to my understanding of excess baggage limitations I did have room. My understanding was very, very wrong. But more on that in a minute. I think more than anything I was shopping to get out of the house. This whole shopping spree thing didn't last long, but it did some damage. The full extent of which I was to find out later. While in the house I was often studying Japanese, finding things to do in Japan, studying Japanese history, etc. etc. I'm sure I actually retained more than I think I did, but as of right now I feel like I can't remember anything I spent so much time studying in the past month and a half.

Claire, my younger sister for any of you readers who might not know, was home with me during all of this (except for this last week cause she got a job! Whoot!). She was spending her time filling out job applications like crazy. In reality we were terrible for each other. When one was all ready to get things done, the other was being lazy, which usually led to both of us lazing around the house and, in general, being rather pathetic. Then my parents would get home from work. I was driving my family batty. All I could talk about was Japan and I hadn't even gone yet. I felt like I had no life outside of preparing for Japan. My other friends had all begun their new graduate jobs and were insanely busy, most being first year teachers. So I stayed home and talked about Japan and made my parents and my younger sister want to scream. Anna (older sister), my dear, consider yourself lucky to have escaped the madness. I think I should mention that the thought that I might leave any day prompted MANY "final" goodbyes. Honorable mention goes to: Alicia, Jenn, Sarah, and Lauren. I can't tell you how many times I hugged friends and family and we expressed that we actually hoped that this would indeed be the final goodbye.

Around the second week in October I had enough of waiting. Which brought about the second, more healthy, coping mechanism. I didn't think going back to work at the library was an option with the thought of leaving any day still there. So instead I called both branches that I had worked at and asked to volunteer. I went for my first day on Friday. It was great to see everyone again and spend a few hours in productive activity. That Friday night I was home alone and started to have stomach pains. It wasn't terrible, more of a mild annoyance and I ignored it. By Sunday afternoon I was not doing so hot and I resolved to go to the doctor first thing the next morning.

My family doctor couldn't find any of the usual causes of stomach pain of this kind to be the case and scheduled me for an abdominal ultra sound for the next morning. She left me with instructions to call if the pain got worse. Lo and behold it did and Monday evening found my mom and myself in the ER at Methodist Hospital. They promptly sent me in for a CAT scan to make sure it wasn't the appendix. After "ruling that out" they injected me with lots of pain killers and sent me home. Monday night was awful; I was in so much pain I couldn't sleep.

My doctor called the next afternoon with the results of the ultrasound. They thought they had a diagnosis, but in order to be sure they wanted to do a laparoscopy. Minor, outpatient surgery, I was told, with a recovery time of about two days. It was scheduled for Wednesday, October 24th. This phone call came too late in the day for me to call the ELCA and I resolved to do so first thing in the morning. And I bet you know what comes next.

The morning of October 17th I got on my email with no thoughts other than to get the Global Mission's HR phone number. I had over the last several weeks restricted myself to checking my email twice a day, at noon and at five. I broke that rule and hopped on early in the morning to get the number I needed and, naturally, the email I had been waiting weeks for was the first thing staring me in the face. There may have been a bit of screaming. I opened it with shaky fingers and breathed a sigh of relief. Our visas were on their way and we would fly out the week of the 29th. I had time to get the outpatient surgery and still go with Morgan and Laura. I called the ELCA and filled them in, stressing that I would be fine and would of course be able to leave with the others. HA!

I went in to "outpatient" surgery on October 24th at the Methodist Women's Hospital. I was nervous, but incredibly thankful that I was still at home when it happened. The first thing I heard upon waking up after surgery? "They ended up taking her appendix out," I heard a nurse say, presumably to another nurse, right next to my bed. All I could think was, "Wait. Are they talking about ME?!" and then I went back to sleep. Yes, they were talking about me. My dad called the ELCA for me and let them know of the changes and I spent the night in the hospital.

I emailed Laura and Morgan and we set up a Skype chat to discuss the fact that I would no longer be flying with them. I was torn. On the one hand I was so thankful that it had happened while I could recover at home. On the other I was incredibly upset at the delay. On Halloween, the day that Morgan and Laura flew out, I had my turn around day. I was glad I wasn't on the plane though, because I still felt pretty sick as the day started. The following day I got the okay from the doctor to leave, and the day after that I was told I would be leaving on Sunday, November 11th.

This past week was a flurry of repacking and re-goodbye-ing. Which leads me back to my earlier point about excess baggage. I was prepared financially to pay $252 in excess shipping costs. The area of my two big suitcases was over the 106 inch limit (really lame as each of my suitcases is a standard 61 inches but whatever) and each weighed more than the 50lb limit. No big, I thought. The ELCA gave us a shipping allowance, and I was moving for two years. I had already had a major lesson in materialism when I got rid of a ton of clothes, shoes, and books before packing the first time. I was about to get my second lesson. It's not an easy thing to pack you "life" into two suitcases, a carry-on, and a backpack that has to fit under an airline seat, but I accomplished it and was rather proud of myself. I thought I had better check the excess baggage fees for Singapore Airlines one more time. And about had a fit when I realized that it wasn't $84 each time your bag was too big. If it weighed to much it was THREE TIMES the number in the above table. Which meant that I would now pay $588! I'm not entirely sure how I missed this the first time. I even called Singapore Air the first time to make sure I was okay. Whatever. Point being, I had to lose five pounds from one bag and a whopping twenty five from the other. Please note: I considered fibbing that last bit as it is embarrassing to admit that you bag, which was supposed to weigh 50lbs, actually weighed 75lbs, but I did not.

Bag one lost two pairs of shoes and (this is the most distressing) my beloved Archeological Study Bible. I had a travel bible in my backpack and, have you ever seen the Archeological Study Bible? Its massive and probably weighs like five pounds on its own. However, I will probably ship that in a box before I go as it is really important to me. Bag two. Oh bag two. All of my books. I had been so proud at the amount I was taking (hardly any in my opinion, but you'll note I am not telling you the real number), my DVD case, and most of my toiletries. I had to chastise myself on the last one. I am going to Japan, they have it there. I was in tears at the end, both because of what I was getting rid of and also because I was in tears over what I was getting rid of. I felt so selfish and materialistic. So many people don't even have enough possessions to fill my suitcases and here I was in tears because I couldn't take DVDs. I was joining a long history of missionaries who went to these incredibly remote places around the globe and I was upset because I couldn't take my favorite books. I had a Kindle! It wasn't the end of the world, but in some ways it really felt like it. I was trying to surround myself with my stuff, like that was going to make what I was about to do easier. Nothing can make what I am about to do easier, nothing but faith that this is all according to plan.

I will say goodbye to my family on Sunday morning at Eppley Airport. There is a chance that I will not have another hug from them for two years and four and a half months. That thought makes me want to bawl my eyes out, but we don't talk about it because it won't change anything. This is a dream I have been after my whole life. My family knows that and I know they are proud of me. I am blessed to have such support behind me as I set off. Thank to everyone who put up with my insanity for the past few months. I couldn't be here without you, you know who you are.

Once upon a time my parents gave me a necklace with the following quote on it from Shakespeare's A Winter's Tale: "To unpathed waters, undreamed shores..." Let the adventure begin!