The Road Goes On...

Ah, the stories I have to share, but so little time to share them! This is what happens when I don’t blog for a while. It’s my own fault I know. I really should be more loyal to this blog. Where to begin?

Shall I start at the beginning of March?

At the beginning of March I attended graduation and watched as my first batch of third years students left Kyushu Gakuin and headed out into the world. I hope I have made even a fraction of the impact on them that they have had on me. I understand that I will probably never know the answer to that question, but I can’t help but wonder.

Then I wrapped up my first year of teaching in Japan! How crazy is that? One year down and one to go. It’s mind boggling really. I don’t think anything in my life has seemed to pass by quite so fast.

During spring vacation my aunts came to visit! Jennifer and Kippy arrived on March 26^th for a week of touring in Japan! First I showed them around Kumamoto and then we went to Yakushima, Hiroshima, and Kyoto. I saw wild monkeys in Yakushima! I saw tame deer in Hiroshima! And in Kyoto I saw… no wildlife, except for the human variety. It was a wonderful week and an excellent vacation. See the multitude of photos below for proof. Though to really understand the beauty of Yakushima you will simply have to go yourself one day. Truly, one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

Kumamoto Castle in the spring

Stepping back in time. Doesn't he look fierce? Look closely. He's got a sword in one hand and an umbrella in the other :)

Aunt Kippy and Aunt Jennifer

Yakushima was gorgeous!

Don't feed the monkeys!

Monkey Crossing!

Our first monkey sighting!

How cute are they!

A gorgeous sunset that just couldn't be caught on camera.

But I did try...

Hiking in the ancient cedar forests of Yakushima

On to Hiroshima. This eucalyptus tree survived the atomic bomb.

So did this willow. There is a powerful feeling of light in darkness when you look at these two trees that survived something so horrific.

Hiroshima Castle

Cherry Blossoms!

Atomic Bomb Dome

Children's Memorial. The color you see are paper cranes sent by people all over the world.

Sadako and her paper crane

This flame will not be extinguished until all nuclear weapons on the Earth are destroyed.

Atomic Bomb Peace Memorial

Don't feed the wild deer they said. Where are the wild deer is what I wanted to know. This was certainly not one of them.

This little boy was too cute

Aunt Jennifer asking the deer for directions. He was very polite! 

Miyajima Temple. I totally understand now why it is one of the most photographed spots in Japan.

I asked some school girls, in Japanese, if they would take this picture for us. Their reaction was priceless and I switched back to English immediately when they decided they wanted to practice.

On to Kyoto! The Golden Temple was gorgeous and sadly, I do not think it would stay golden were it in the States. That is actual gold leaf that it is covered with.

Kiyumizudera Temple

Love this picture. Old Japan meets new.

There were so many young people in kimono!

The Silver Shrine

Cherry Blossoms!

This is one of the gates to the Imperial Palace in Kyoto. We wanted to get in, but apparently you have to arrange tours well in advance. Good to know.

So with that, our trip was finished and it was time to return home.

So my spring break passed, and for the last six weeks I have been settling into a new school year. It is going to be a more difficult year than last year I fear. My planning and grading load are a bit weightier, but I think I can handle it. I hope so anyway.

A few weeks ago was Easter as you know, and I was able to take the time to do an Easter lesson with my third year students. It involved telling the story to them and having them read the story in their Japanese bibles, after which we played Easter Bingo (Whoot!), and then listened to one of my favorite Easter songs, He Reigns, by The Newsboys.

They were interesting to observe during this whole thing. While they have had three years of hearing these bible stories, I think they have rarely hit home. Personally I think it’s because it has been too bible based. They haven’t been told story teller style. Think about it. You are an eighteen year old. You are not a Christian and you have not been raised in a Christian society. Prior to three years ago you barely even knew the name Jesus Christ and you probably, almost certainly, did not know what Easter was. Then imagine that you attend a Lutheran school and you have religion class. Religion class involves a lot of reading from the Bible and lectures on Christianity. While I love the Bible, and I truly do, it is often a difficult read. For most non-Christian eighteen year olds, it is almost impossible to make heads or tails of it. Hard to blame them really. A lot of the Bible escapes even biblical scholars. So I tried to meet them on their level. The Easter story has it all: betrayal, conspiracy, murder, and, best of all, a man coming back to life and having His reign announced by angels. A snooze fest it is not.

I get way into the Easter story. We started at the betrayal of Judas in the Garden and went all the way through the resurrection. Most of them were quite interested. Or maybe they just were wondering what I was so excited about. They were disturbed during my telling of the crucifixion and crazy confused/didn’t-even-know-what-to-do-with-this-information during the telling of the resurrection, but I think my most important point, Jesus died to save us all, was completely and totally too much for most of them. They have heard it over and over again, but I believe that until you have a relationship with God the Father, His Son, and the Holy Spirit, it is a concept that is hard to truly grasp and understand. However, I do think that I achieved something. I think I got them curious. And really, that’s the best you can do as a teacher. You can’t make students learn anything. But if you get them curious, then half the battle is won. You’ve lit the spark. It’s up to them to fan it into a flame.  Also, they loved the song. We were all jamming out to it when the principal walked by.

One last adventure to tell you, it was Golden Week recently so I had a few days off of school to relax, get caught up on some things, and take another trip with Laura out to Aso. See pictures below. We got lost out in the rice fields of Aso! It was quite the adventure. I got a little sunburned, but we were very pleased with ourselves on the train ride home. That’s all for now! I’ll be in touch soon. Sooner than last time I hope! I’ll do my best. Ja ne!

Back in Aso!

I've been so excited to try an Aso Burger ever since I heard that they were real, honest-to-goodness burgers. They were being sold during Golden Week! I got my chance!

It was indeed delicious

The start of the open air museum tour... it started off so innocently... little did we know we would be walking for 3 hours! 

Carp flags for Children's Day!

"I'm sure we will get to the shrine soon."  - Laura

The sports complex that gave us shade and a place to sit down. It was also really randomly in the middle of nowhere.

Yes! Hydration!

In any adventure its the road and the people that matter not the destination...

Onward!

From Missionary to...

When I was in middle school, possibly the seventh grade, Pastor Griess took me to Camp Carol Joy Holling, to an IDEA retreat. It was a retreat for young people to begin discerning a call to ministry. I honestly don’t remember much about the retreat, except for being very shy, and reading Alanna the Lioness in my room that evening instead of playing outside with the others.  

When I was in eighth grade I was confirmed. I remember a little bit more about that. There was this massive binder full of intense information and I had to get up early on Saturday mornings. I enjoyed the classes though, and liked seeing my friends. But I’ll be straight with you. I don’t remember a lot about what I learned. I can’t recite the books of the Bible in order, don’t know much about the Small Catechism, and, while I have the Apostle’s Creed down, I forget the Nicene Creed on a regular basis. I do remember the most important thing though. I remember the verse chosen for me by Pastor Griess, and it has led me for the past eleven years. “ ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

The summer after ninth grade I went on my first ever mission trip to Seminole, Oklahoma with my youth group from church. The camp was hosted by Group Workcamps and teens from all over the country came together to work on houses in the community. We stayed in the high school and it was the most amazing week of my life. I turned sixteen that week. My crew gave me a hammer that they all signed and I still have it in my tool bag back home. We celebrated that night with iced animal cookies.

When I close my eyes I can almost return. The hot summer sun beating down, the smell of the paint, the weight of the roof tiles, the emotions of lunch time devotions, and witnessing the awesome power of God, when the storm rolled across the Oklahoma plain, headed our way, as we hurried to finish the last house.

I knew then. At sixteen I knew I would dedicate my life to God. How, I wasn’t quite sure. That trip gave me something that sixteen years in the church hadn’t. Suddenly it wasn’t just a thing I did on Sundays. It wasn’t just a prayer I recited every night before bed, the same prayer I had been saying for years. It became tangible. The feel of a hammer in my hand. The heat of the sun.

I returned to Workcamp every summer for four years. Seminole, Oklahoma, Red Lake, Minnesota, Racine, Wisconsin, and Walpole Island, Canada.  Every summer was the best trip ever, and every summer changed my life a little more. I knew more strongly than I had ever known anything before that this was what I was meant to do with my life.

What “this” was was less certain. Building houses? Working with youth? Mission trips? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then college rolled around and those feelings faded with the coming of fall. I wasn’t involved in a church at Peru. This was the beginning of my struggle. God had given me a firm foundation, but that was about to be rather drastically tested.

I got involved with the Christian group on campus. It was fun at first. I was meeting new friends, some of whom I’m still in touch with and adore today, and becoming involved in a peer ministry. And yet, there was a dark underbelly that I caught a glimpse of more than once. I shrugged it off as my imagination acting up. It wasn’t my imagination.

The things being preached started to take on a hellfire and damnation tone. Those in charge were not accepting about questioning. I was told I was going to hell for the first time in my life, and in the same breathe told that the Bible informed me that my boyfriend was supposed to be in charge of my faith life. Oh, the Bible. How they could quote it! They knew far more about the Bible than I did and they wielded it like a weapon. They would tell you it was a weapon of the faith. I can tell you that it doesn’t matter what kind of weapon it is, a weapon is designed to hurt, and it certainly did that. When you are young and asking a lot of questions about the faith, the worst (or best as the case may be) thing you can encounter is someone telling you not to question things. Its black and white they said, written here for you to see they said, God’s word they said. HOW DARE YOU QUESTION GOD’S WORD?

It all ended one evening in my dorm room. It ended with a friend crying on the floor, praying over me with my own, precious, Bible, convinced that I was going to Hell. I was convinced she was correct, because if what she thought was God was really God, than I wanted nothing to do with Him. Which I yelled at Him and her as I ran out of my own room. I ran to a friend’s room and they couldn’t get a rational word out of me for a good half hour. I have never been so angry. On top of that, I was convinced that I had just spoken horrible blasphemy and would be going to Hell.

Somehow they had convinced me that everything I had ever learned or thought I knew was wrong. My kind, compassionate, forgiving, friend and father figure God did not exist. Instead, there existed a God whose whole purpose in creating mankind was to determine who would live in paradise and who would burn in hellfire. Anyone who did not, at some point in their lives, specifically say, “I accept Jesus Christ as my personal savior,” was going to Hell. If you had been raised in the church, and never had that moment, you were going to Hell. If you questioned about those people who had never heard of Jesus Christ, then you were going to Hell along with them. If you did not try to convert everyone you met around you, guess what? If you didn’t take the Bible as the whole truth, to be taken literally in every sense (except for the interpretations by the students in charge) then you were a terrible Christian. Also, being Lutheran, I had to be taught the error of my ways. I was almost as bad as the Catholics.  

It’s almost comical in its absurdity now, but at the time, I was devastated. It was psychological warfare. And they almost won.

I thought I had lost my faith that night. But really, the foundation that had been built had been forgotten and that was on me, no one else. God needed to shake things up. To shake off the dirt, grime, and general rubble that I had allowed to accumulate. That night did it. I felt like I had been tossed straight out to sea, with everything I thought I knew lost completely. He tossed me about a bit (probably trying to shake some sense into me) before tossing me full strength back at that foundation.

I left Peru State, home of so many happy memories in addition to the not so good ones, and returned home to finish my student teaching. I also returned to Luther Memorial. This is the perfect way to describe my return to my foundations. Everything big in my faith life, everything that helped to add to and strengthen my faith, had occurred here and with this family. I began to open up about what had happened, and really ask those testy questions that every Christian needs to come to their own conclusion with God about. Most importantly, I was actively encouraged to ask those questions, and though I was never given the answers, I was pointed in the right direction to find my own answers.

Little by little I began to build my faith life back up. I began spiritual direction, and had long talks with the people in my life who are most instrumental in helping me define what it means to be a Christian. I became involved with the Joshua’s, a group of young professionals, most of whom I had known for years, who were active in the church. I read, avidly, about the faith, but I’ll be honest, I steered clear of the Bible. It is something I struggle with to this day. Having had it used against me, and watching how those same people used it against others, I struggle to use it as the tool of peace that God always meant it to be.

There was a thought I kept returning too at that time, and that thought was what I was going to do with my life. This is, of course, a very normal question for those about to graduate from college. I began to think again about my Group Workcamps experience. I began to want to maybe, possibly, work for the church.

I talked myself out of it repeatedly. “Work for the church” was really just a non-threatening way to say “become a pastor”. Funnily enough, I would definitely be on a one way ticket to Hell if I chose that route according to that group back at school.  

Then the whole Japan thing happened. I had a load of baggage attached to the word missionary, but I am almost completely over that now. The interesting thing is that it took coming to Japan to get me over my misconceptions about being a pastor. Yeah, God I see what you did there. Good job, but I’m still terrified.

All this to tell you a decision I have made. Upon my return to the States I will be enrolling in seminary. I’m going to become a pastor. Yay?

People around me have thought this would be a great idea for years. See the start of this post. But I haven’t. To be frank I still find the idea rather... anxiety inducing. Or, you know, run for your life terrifying. How on earth can I tell people about God? Who am I to baptize babies, perform weddings and funerals, and preach sermons? These ideas make me want to run away. Maybe work at a library for the rest of my life instead. I like that idea. That is a safe idea. And I have the skill set for that idea. I’m pretty sure I don’t have the skill set to be a pastor. But it really doesn’t matter does it, because God has made it pretty clear that He is calling me to seminary. And you can’t really argue with that. I mean you can stand there and be like, “God I will make a terrible Pastor. I want to be a librarian.” He just chuckles and makes it a little bit clearer that you really don’t have a choice. And you just can’t argue with His I-know-something-you-don’t-know (understatement of all time) chuckles.

So, that’s my news. And, as you have probably noticed, I take a long time to tell a story, so someone’s going to have to help me keep those sermons short, sweet, and to the point. 

Feeling Like Fiona

Have you ever seen the first Shrek movie? If not, the story is about an ogre named Shrek who lives in a swamp. He ends up on this quest to rescue a princess from a tower and a dragon. The princess is very beautiful, but she hides away every night. Come to find out, during the day she is human, but at night she is cursed to become an ogre. I won’t tell you how the story ends, it’s a cute movie and I recommend it, but the point is that the heroine is sometimes a beautiful princess and sometimes a scary ogre. 

That is EXACTLY how Japan makes me feel on a regular basis. I call it “Feeling Like Fiona”. This usually happens with small children, but it has happened with adults too.

One example of Feeling Like Fiona happened a couple weeks ago, when I was out running. A girl, maybe first year middle school, hit me with her bike. It was both of our faults really. I was listening to my headphones so I didn't hear her and she was moving too fast (well, to be fair, I was running so hopefully I was moving too fast as well). She came around a sharp corner and slammed into my leg. She skidded away a bit, but we both managed to stay upright. I was much more worried about her, I had a scrape and what would turn later into a fantastic bruise, but was otherwise fine, and she was struggling to gain control of her bike so as not to skid into traffic. I ran over to her to see if she was okay and spoke to her in Japanese. She answered fine at first, but she wasn't looking at me, she was still getting her bike settled. Then she looked up and saw who she hit and she just froze. We are talking deer-in-the-headlights frozen. I asked again if she was alright and if she needed anything. Looking like she was seconds from tears, she gave me a jerky bow and apologized in Japanese and English before taking off again.

Frustrated and upset, (I didn't mean to make her cry! Honestly, how scary am I?), I continued my run, sans headphones. As I was finishing up, I ran past some more middle school girls who were waiting at a bus stop. They started giggling as I approached and called out, “Hello!” I smiled and replied and got a “Bijin desu ne!” Which means, “What a beautiful person!” And thus, I was transformed from a scary ogre foreigner into a beautiful foreigner.

That was just one example of many, and I don’t think I am wrong in saying that many foreigners experience the same thing. With kids it’s more understandable. Especially in a place like Kumamoto, they have very little contact with anyone that is not Japanese. Thus, your friendly neighborhood foreigner, only twenty five and a teacher to boot, becomes something unknown, something scary. But when I get that reaction from adults it really upsets me. One time I had a dad put himself between me and his kids and made them stop while I passed. He watched me the whole time, while his kids peeked out from behind his legs. I bowed and greeted him in Japanese because it felt awkward not too, and I all I got was a stony stare. Like he thought I was going to eat his children or something!

It all boils down to being really different in so many ways than the people you are surrounded by. Physically, I will always stand out here and that is what prompts the mixed reactions. I buy the biggest clothes in the stores here. Only L or XL for me in Japan. And sometimes those don’t even fit. I can’t get pants to save my life, or shoes, unless I buy men’s. I am an Amazon compared to my Japanese friends. I crouch down to take pictures with my eighteen year old students. I could die my hair, flat iron it, put in colored contacts and STILL not blend in.

The really cool thing about all of this is that it is such a beautiful example of God’s creativity. He makes such beautiful people in so many different shapes and sizes! I talk with my girls as much as I can about this. Many of them want blond hair, they want to be taller, they want pale skin, and a more prominent nose. They use whitening agents on their skin, are always on diets, and want to get nose jobs if they ever make enough money! It breaks my heart because I am quite convinced my students are the best looking around. I tell them the same thing my mom used to tell me. God doesn’t make mistakes and he doesn’t make ugly, so you are absolutely gorgeous in His eyes and in mine. I don’t know that it helps, but I am going to keep at them for the next two years. 

I feel lucky to be able to laugh about the situations in which I feel like an ogre, because I’m not sure I could have a couple years ago. The princess treatment helps with that of course, but mostly it has been a lesson of learning how to be comfortable in my own, very different, skin here in Japan. And I think God has helped me adjust to that pretty well.

A while back I was talking with a few of my girls at Starbucks during our English Conversation Club. They were playing with my hair and we were talking about different ideas of beauty. I explained to them that in America, when I was in high school, I was teased for my hair and my pale skin. They thought that was crazy, but I told them that it was true and it took a long time for me to like my hair and that I was very happy that pale skin was popular in Japan.  One of my girls pulled on one of my curls, then gave me a hug and whispered my own advice back in my ear, “God makes no mistake.” And really looking back at the picture of Fiona the ogre above, I think she’s pretty darn cute.

In Which Yours Truly Returned to the States, or, I WAS TOTALLY HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!

How I missed you all!

I bought the tickets for a ridiculously high price in September. And waited. And waited. I drove the teachers around me crazy by counting down the days, and ended every phone conversation with my parents with, “Only X more days!” I was psyched. I didn’t expect when I left for Japan to return home at all in the 2.5 years I am teaching here. But the opportunity came and I grabbed it with both hands and ran.

I arrived home on December 23^rd. I flew from Kumamoto to Nagoya, Nagoya to Detroit, Detroit to Minneapolis, and Minneapolis to Omaha. Total travel time added up to a full 24 hours. I cannot tell you how excited I was when I landed back in the States. The first thing I saw when I got off the plane was a young man my age, built like an NBA star, and beaming at everyone who got off the flight. He saw me and went, “Hey! How was the flight?” American hospitality. I knew I was home.

Traveling between Omaha and Japan is no joke. In fact, it is incredibly exhausting. I got through with the mantra, “Okay what’s next. Strategize your next step.” But when I saw Omaha through the windows of the plane it was all worth it. I teared up and the man next to me asked if I was going home. When I said yes he asked if it had been a long time. “Over a year,” I replied. He hustled me off the plane as fast as he could.

I think that airport security frowns on people running in the airport, but honestly they weren’t going to catch me before they figured out where I was going so I didn’t care. I saw my dad first and took off, backpack swinging. I didn’t let go of my mom all the way to the car. I felt like I was a child again instead of a twenty-five-year-old woman. But then, maybe most twenty-five-year-old women in my situation would react similarly.

We got home and greeting me were our two dogs, Jesse and Frank. Frank got so excited he peed everywhere. There was Dad’s famous brisket for dinner and Anna’s boyfriend Josh kept reminding me that no, it wasn’t a dream, I was still in America. I met Claire’s boyfriend Josh (yes, in fact, both of my sisters are dating men named Josh) for the first time that night. Little did I know he would become my future brother-in-law before the week was out. That’s right ladies and gentleman! My darling, little sister is now engaged! See photographic evidence below! I was so very happy that I was able to be there to see it. It’s one of the biggest struggles about being here in Japan. I feel like I miss so much. Luckily, they both have informed me that they will wait to hold the wedding until I return home.

Claire and Josh

Sparkly!

The next day, Christmas Eve, I cooked with my mom in the morning before crashing in the early afternoon with jet lag. I napped for a few hours (read, slept like the dead) and then it was off to church. My dear Luther Memorial readers, you have no idea how happy I was to see you all and be back at my second home in Omaha. I was so touched by all the greetings and hugs I received.

How jet lagged am I?

We sat in the very back and Anna kept whispering at me throughout the service and making me laugh. It was like everything just melted away and the world was set right again. How many times have I sat next to Anna or Claire on Christmas Eve and our excited whispers were turned into guilty giggles? Tears of happiness were pricking at the corners of my eyes until Anna elbowed me and warned me not to dare start or she would start, and then I’d be in trouble. This led to more giggling.

We had our Keenan Family Christmas that night at my aunt’s house and I was so very content to be surrounded once again by my family. Unfortunately, the Hamann Family Christmas was a week before I arrived home. No matter. I’ll be back again for the Hamann Christmas in two short years. We headed home and it was time for bed.

The next morning we were all greeted by Claire and her Josh bearing grande sized Starbucks! Claire has clearly not been reading my blog as she brought mochas for everyone except for me. She didn’t know that mochas have become my life blood since living in Japan. However, the chai tea latte she brought was so warm and lovely that it hardly mattered! We all opened gifts and had wonderful egg casserole and coffee cake. Afterwards I got to see both sets of grandparents and my aunts, Kippy and Jennifer, who all came to have Christmas dinner with us.

Grandpa testing the space for the picture. But mostly being goofy!

So happy to be with these people! And Jesse and Frank of course.

And so, Christmas was over and I had eight days left at home. I enjoyed spending the rest of the week with my sisters and their guys, complete with the lovely proposal scene! The following days after my sisters left were quite busy. I was meeting friends, shopping for clothes (specifically pants as I certainly can’t get those in Japan), and getting my hair done. I got highlights! Whoot! I spent New Year’s Eve with one of my besties, Miss Alicia VanWesten, and we watched movies at home with Chinese food. American Chinese food. I have been craving that for a year and now my mouth is watering just thinking about it. You can’t get broccoli beef in Japan. At least not that I know of.

Then, all too soon, it was time to return to Kumamoto. I left Omaha Friday afternoon. I flew to Seattle and then to Tokyo where I had a seven hour layover and then down to Kumamoto. Leaving my parents the second time was even harder than the first. Everyone I have mentioned that too has nodded and told me it was because I now knew how hard it would be. Perhaps. All I know is that as soon as I got through security I headed straight for the ladies room and cried for several minutes. What I wanted was to have a full on bawl session, you know the kind, but I was in an airport bathroom, and wouldn’t be anywhere less public than that for many hours to come. So I kept as quiet as I could, and then pulled myself together. I went out, bought magazines and any candy I saw that I couldn’t get in Japan (all for an exurbanite price, but I was feeling the need for comfort), I sat and began to wait for boarding.

God was looking out though. He knew I needed someone to talk to so I wouldn’t sink further into self-pity. He placed a kind woman, my mom’s age, who was flying to Seattle and whose daughter teaches English in China, nearby. She struck up conversation (probably cause she’s a mom and she saw my red eyes and knew exactly what that meant) and we talked until boarding. Then on the plane, sitting next to me, was a very handsome young man (23, the flight attendant asked when he bought a beer), who was a Nebraskan, a Husker fan, and taught in Alaska. He was also a history major! We had much to discuss on the flight to Seattle. We parted ways and I had fifty minutes to get through Seattle’s airport and onto my flight for Tokyo. God got me there, without running, though it came close, and I was seated by a young Navy guy stationed in Okinawa. I had the window seat and I apologized in advance before explaining that I couldn’t sleep at all on planes and had to get up often to stretch my legs or I would go insane. I asked if, because of this he wanted to switch seats. Luckily, he can’t sleep on flights either and does the same thing. Of the three trans-Pacific flights I’ve done by now that was the most comfortable. I hardly had to ask to get out he got up so much!

Once I arrived in Haneda it was time to figure out where I would spend the night. It was 10:35 PM on Saturday when I landed and my flight for Kumamoto didn’t leave until 6:10 in the morning. I found a space near the one 24 hour café and the bathrooms and curled up on three seats for the night. Others were doing the same, and I could totally tell I was back in Japan because everyone had taken their shoes off and placed them neatly by their bags before curling up on the seats. I also knew I was back in Japan when people left their luggage unattended to go to the bathroom or whatever, and they, nor security, seemed to think it might be a problem.

I left for Kumamoto at 6:10 Sunday morning. There were only fifteen other people on my flight! The stewardess gave me my hot green tea with a sticker of Mt. Fuji on the lid and a message that read, “Happy New Yeah!” It made me smile. Japanese hospitality is a wonderful thing. And with that I was on the ground back home in Kumamoto. I took a bus and a cab, both with wonderfully cheerful people who were happy to help me with my ridiculously heavy duffel. On the bus I listened to the Funky Monkey Babies, my favorite Japanese band, to pep me up about being back. It worked as much as it could with someone as tired as I was. The Funky Monkey Babies are a very cheerful band. I stopped at the Family Mart across the street from my apartment upon arrival and bought a sandwich and some juice for breakfast, called home to say I had arrived, ate said sandwich, and didn’t get to the juice before crawling into bed.

I had every intention of getting up again. I set my alarm for two in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day and I had school later that week so I needed to trounce jet lag quickly. However, I underestimated how much sleep I would actually need. At that point I had been up for over 36 hours. I must have turned my alarm off in my sleep or something because the next thing I knew I was waking up and it was 11:36 PM. That made it 9:36 AM in Omaha. Add that to the fact that I had just slept for thirteen hours and I was WIDE AWAKE!

Homesickness has settled back in. I knew it would back in September when I bought the tickets. I planned well though. Two months from now my aunts, Jennifer and Kippy are coming to visit. Then four months from that I have my summer adventures in Korea planned. Four months after that my friends Jenn and Alicia come to visit, and then three more months and I am done. I can’t quite believe it really. But how fast this all has gone by is another blog entirely.

I am so happy that I got to see everyone, that I got to spend time with my family, that I had the opportunity to spend this Christmas at my home church. Writing this blog post has been tricky, because I get teary every time I think about my time at home. Which is probably why I wrote more about the journey and less about the time looking at it again! I just realized how often I talk about crying here in Japan. Happy tears, sad tears, oh-thanks-God-now-I-get-it tears… too many tears! Goodness I am such crier. But in this case I think I am justified.

I thank God that I got to go home and thank Him again for returning me to Kumamoto safely. I pray that these next fourteen months will be as adventurous as the first, and that, when all is finished, I will return home safely once again. Here’s to the next stage of my journey in Japan! 行きましょう！Let’s go!

Claire and her Josh; I call him Josh the Younger

 

Anna and her Josh; or Josh the Elder

 

Back together with the Keysers! So happy!

Why hello Keysers, welcome to my blog!

Out for breakfast with my girls, Jenn and Alicia

A walk at the lake; it was crazy warm that day too!

My amazing ham dinner. Picture taken for students who want to know what an "American" meal looks like.

Back with my puppies! The cute and the crazy.