Strange Encounters of the Japanese Kind

I have been putting off writing about my time in Japan over winter break, perhaps because I could never do it justice in a paragraph or a page or two. In fact, I have been fighting with words for the past 15 minutes, revising sentence after sentence because I simply cannot describe what it meant visiting my dear friend Kanako and friend s Shige and Sugi in Shizuoka, and discovering Noriko’s world in Tokyo.

Sugi, Shige, Kanako, and I goofing off in Joyhouse (where some of the male students live)

I believe friendships where two people connect in a deep, mutual understanding are rare. When these happen cross-culturally, they are not only rare but miracles, because it takes a divine touch to allow us to transcend cultural expectations and experiences. I don’t take it for granted that these connections have happened with these friends of mine.

My arrival in Shizuoka was surreal. 21 hours ago I had been at my house in Richmond, Virginia. Now, after a 14 hour flight, navigating a foreign airport, finding the train station, getting on the right train, and successfully catching my transfer train, I found myself in Shizuoka, with only a gate separating me from Kanako. I went to march through, and Kanako waved me back, indicating no, I needed to insert my ticket before being allowed to pass through. Of course I had crammed the ticket into the bowels of my backpack, and so I had to drop my bags and scramble to find the ticket while crowds of Japanese people tried to navigate around me. I found the slip of paper, and the next minute I was hugging Kanako awkwardly with my two bags getting in the way.

That first evening with Kanako was perhaps the most magical – just the two of us, reconnecting, experiencing her life. We sat at a coffee shop for a while, then went to the restaurant where she worked part-time, a beautiful Italian-Japanese restaurant called Pietro. Kanako introduced me to all kinds of new foods – raw fish that melted in your mouth, tangy snail, and tender pork. And the food just kept coming (a trend that was to continue throughout my trip in Japan!).

What I loved most, though, was the camaraderie between Kanako and me, the melting away of time, the ability to enjoy each other, laugh together. Like my first visit to a Japanese restroom and the robo-toilet. I remember double-checking with Kanako about where the flusher would be (Noriko had already tried to reassure me that most have a regular flusher at the back, even if the arm on the side has a million cryptic buttons). To my relief, the toilet worked fine (I never did get up the courage to try any of the more “advanced” buttons).

The "Robo" toilet -- note the control handle on the left!

The next three days were a whirl of trips, and always “hagimemashte, Susan-des” – introductions to so many new faces, but faces whose names were familiar after a year of hearing Kanako and Shige tell me stories about their friends back home: Kuma, Yukari, Nosomi. And seeing others I had already met: Sugi, Nami, Koshi, Kanako Y.

One of the most moving experiences was meeting one of Kanako’s freshman girlfriends. Kanako had been a part of our Bible reading group in the U.S., and upon returning home had started her own reading group. This young woman was one of the reading group members, and they had been doing the same study we had done called “Jesus Cares for Women”. It thrilled me that she was now experiencing the Christ, incarnate through the other group members, bathed in the relational reality of God Alive.

Kuma, Kanako, and Koshi at the Excelsior, a cafe where Shige works

Good news

Just a quick update to those left hanging ... Bart and Amanda's test results came back negative, meaning the baby is just fine. AND, the baby is a little girl, so Audrey will be having a little sister come July! To say that we feel blessed and thrilled is an understatement.

"How precious is Your lovingkindness, O God! Therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of Your wings." Psalm 36:7

Learning to Dance the Dance

I think one of the most difficult things about becoming older is the reality that seems to slam, full-force, into the illusion of “la vie en rose” of my younger years. This winter has been an aging experience for me, and I feel the chill in my bones. Among a swirl of personal dramas and a Master’s thesis that refuses to be written, I have also seen my family pulled into this storm: five days before Christmas my mother was diagnosed with her father’s chronic disease. Two days ago my brother and his wife received test results indicating the child they are expecting may have Down’s syndrome. Our family is close, and so when one suffers, each of us feels the pain as if it were our own. We carry each other, and carry the burden. I am reminded of the book of Romans and creation “groaning” and I feel this word, better than any, explains our inward state of mind.

As I was getting ready for bed tonight, I read a chapter in Through Painted Desserts, and was startled by recognition, reading my own condition in its closing paragraphs. Donald Miller writes:

“God bestows three blessings on man: to feed him like birds, dress him like flowers, and befriend him as a confidant. Too many take the first two and neglect the last. Sooner or later you figure out life is constructed specifically and brilliantly to squeeze a man into association with the Owner of heaven. It is a struggle, with labor pains and thorny landscape, bloody hands and sweaty brow, head in hands, moments of severe loneliness and questioning, moments of ache and desire. All this leads to God, I think.”

Yes, I have to agree with Miller. But the leading is not profound, and I don’t feel I have any more grace to walk this road of life as a result. I have to be honest that this walk is painful. It’s more like limping, and at times I’m unsure about where the road is leading.

Miller continues: “Matter and thought are a canvas on which God paints, a painting with tragedy and delivery, with sin and redemption. Life is a dance toward God, I begin to think. And the dance is not so graceful as we might want. While we glide and swing our practiced sway, God crowds our feet, bumps our toes, and scuffs our shoes. So we learn to dance with the One who made us. And it is a difficult dance to learn, because its steps are foreign.”

And that is the amazing thing. That while my feet may be bruised right now, there is still hope that I will learn to dance this dance and say:

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, to the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever.” Psalm 30:11-12

Favorite Audrey Moment Over Christmas

Sorry, much to catch up on!! Hopefully I will have some moments in the next few days to inform on my latest adventures both here and abroad. In the mean time I want to share one of my favorite moments with my 2-year-old niece, Audrey.

It's Christmas Eve. My brother, his wife, my dad have all gone to Christmas Eve service #1 (another one to follow at a different church at 11 p.m.) and so Mimi (my mom), Aunt Teffy, and Aunt Shushn have volunteered for the oh-so-difficult task of babysitting and getting dinner ready. All four of us Bobb women have congregated in the generous kitchen at my brother's house, when Audrey looks up at me and asks "See the moon?"

Now what you must know is that the past two visits (her birthday in October, and at Thanksgiving) Audrey and I have had bonding moments going outside at night to see if we can find the moon. What startles me, and melts my heart, is that Audrey actually remembers doing this with me, and requests to do it again. It's not only special to me, it's special to Audrey. And it's something she and I share, just the two of us.

"Yes, let's go see if we can find the moon, Audrey!" I say. "But we need to get your coat on." She looks at me, then states emphatically "Cold outside." "Yes, it's very cold!" I say. I put her jacket on, and pick her up, then walk into the hush of evening. Neighbors have turned on their Christmas lights, and the entire street looks festive, expecting the advent of the celebration.

"See the moon? See the moon?" Audrey asks, turning her face this way and that. The moon, however, is slow to rise in winter, and I say what I've said the past two times, that the moon is hiding. "See the stars! See the lights!" Audrey counters and points up and around her. We discuss the decorations and the beauty of the evening, that it is Christmas and Jesus' birthday. I sense that Audrey is satisfied with our little adventure, and we head inside, content.