A bus and a decision

Even as I sit here and type this down, it seems like a hard decision: one early bus to catch a flight back to America for my brother's wedding, or staying with my community in Japan in solidarity and support.



I had bought a plane ticket months ago for March 26th, excited about coming back to the States to visit people and celebrate the wedding with family and friends. But with so many people leaving Fukushima and other transportation unavailable, I learned on Friday afternoon (last week) that the most feasible option for me to make the wedding would be to hop on the embassy evacuation bus a week early--because we were within the American evacuation zone and I was an American citizen, I totally fit the requirements for getting a seat in the bus. I wrestled with God about giving me what seemed like hard options (leave Cindy and my Japanese friends alone during this time or miss my family and the wedding), but in the end, surprising even myself, I became part of the group of American evacuees. I wish that I could capture some of their stories...wish that I could sum this up for you all in language that would do it justice. But maybe the best I can share is just some notes I scribbled sitting on the bus pulling away from Sendai and starting the journey to the airport.

March 19th

I have questioned this decision to leave Fukushima so many times in the last 12 hours. A good chunk of me still feels like I am running out on those who I should be helping--leaving Cindy and the Nomura's in the middle of Fukushima City. Who knew that yesterday would involve searching for transportation, searching my heart for pride, and searching for God's answers? And then a random 15-minute packing job, running to be one of the last allowed on the bus to Sendai, 2 hours of searching in cold, dark, unknown and unfriendly streets. Then a surprising homestay with church fellowship, prayer, a shower, food, and water. Running to a morning bus, waiting...waiting...and waiting.

I know God has me in the right place. There have been too many connections already that I should have missed but instead received--catching that first bus, a place to stay for the night, etc.

I'm on an American embassy evacuation bus with other US citizens leaving Fukushima. Most people would say we are all running scared, but after only a few hours with these people, I disagree. They are also among the wounded and hurt--tears and questions and stories all falling, running together out of hearts...American hearts. These people want to leave even less than I do, and the lines for food and water and the many needs maybe smack each of us in the face. I wonder if everyone here on this bus feels the discrepancy of living in two worlds--leaving so many dear people suffering here and heading towards dear, worried people over in the States.

So many tears, and so many stories. People who have survived for days while waiting for tsunami water to go down. People who still don't know where loved ones are. People who don't know where they are going. The man next to me has his Bible open to the book of Psalms, while those behind me softly curse between sobs. Please, Lord--please help.

It was good for me to have 24+ hours with this group of Americans, as we wrestled with the "Why, God?" question together and mourned for Japan. It was also eye-opening--Fukushima City had earthquake damage, but is far from the tsunami damage, and hearing eye-witness accounts of the tsunami made my heart ache for the people there.

And now I'm in Minnesota...typing on a borrowed laptop at my family's kitchen table. Thinking of what this last week has been and meant and of people in Japan and America and "my" evacuated Americans who somehow became very special to me. This is hard.

And I'm glad that God is real, and that prayer works, and that life is more than I can see. I'm glad that in the midst of death and need, I know that God's life-giving victory is already set and established. And isn't this God's grace in the midst of a sinful world that a week with an earthquake and tsunami and radiation questions also holds a wedding and life and new hope for a couple setting out together?

I'll head back to Japan at the same time I was planning to before the earthquake hit. And until that point and after that point, I'll be praying--along with so many of you--for God's life and grace to show brilliantly there.

A quick Koriyama update...

Today we left the apartment around 9:30am, arrived at Koriyama church (usually an hour and a half drive) at 1:30pm, and spent the afternoon cleaning up. Part of the long transportation time was because we opted to take the bus all the way to Koriyama station (an hour's walk away from the church). The walk gave us some perspective regarding the damage in Koriyama, and it also was a good opportunity for several photos (to be linked on Cindy's facebook page soon...). Even though Koriyama is south of Fukushima, it seemed like there was a little more damage--a lot of broken glass, etc. The sidewalks were also a little creative, in their dips and hills...

Thursday is our weekly "Koriyama" day of classes and Bible study, and this was the first time we'd been to the church since the earthquake. After seeing the rest of the city, we weren't so sure what to expect, but were pleasantly surprised to find that a church member had already done some stacking of fallen books, etc. Here was our task for the day: the kitchen.

Thankfully, the water in Koriyama was running, and in a few hours it looked like this...

None of the mothers or kids came for classes today. With the world-wide news on the power plants and radiation, we're not sure who is going to be coming out or not. However, we did hear that all of our Koriyama families are safe! :)

It feels good to organize and clean--to do something practical in the midst of the damage. I can't believe that tomorrow is a week from the quake! (On a side note, we've been told that water will be coming on tomorrow--yay!) As the time ticks on, it becomes clearer and clearer that we can't just "pick up and go back to normal." Though the Koriyama kitchen is clean, it is missing several dishes, etc. Other people throughout the country, even as they get in touch with water, food, and electricity, are still missing homes...friends...family members. These hurts run deep.

God heals. I believe that. And I know that God cleans, because the Bible is full of the story of forgiveness and love...

That's what we need here.

But even in the face of so many huge needs...I am thankful for a clean Koriyama kitchen...and more opportunities to use it in the future!

Donation information...

Cindy just got the go-ahead to post this information on her blog, and I'm offering the link here for anyone else wanting to check it out!

http://truthstrand.blogspot.com/2011/03/where-to-give-money-for-japan-relief.html

Also, even as I'm typing I'm receiving many of your comments and words of prayer. What grace!! Thank you!

Blessings,

Haidee

To help now...

Helpless.

That's how it feels.

In the midst of "acid rain" scares, planned power outages, no transportation, so many leaving the country, and evacuees searching for places to stay...I taught my first English class tonight since the earthquake. I know it is what I'm supposed to be doing. In class we talked about the difficulties of the current situation, and I told the one man who braved the rain to come that I would pass on his "prayer request" to you all: that those searching for the missing might find those alive, and quickly. I know--I believe--that this prayer, this communication is important.

But it's one thing to know, and another thing to feel. And right now, it feels like I am so helpless, sitting so close to so many who have experienced destruction and pain. On one hand, life is normal--I'm here on my computer, in my apartment with the light on. We had a school meeting and class today, and we're still without water but hey--the watering hole is fun to use, right? So I use a bucket to flush my toilet...that doesn't begin to compare with the other "abnormalities" around me that so many others are experiencing. A huge part of me wants to go, to do, to somehow help...

On the other hand, my daily life is just plain strange. Our apartment still shakes, and we have spent time looking up the use of iodine to treat radiation, and homes around us have damage. And my student tonight told me that his friend's mother lived in the town that faced the huge wall of water and ended up with so many missing. They still haven't heard from her.

It's all so close and so far and so big and so small.

I'm thankful that faith doesn't have to make sense. I'm thankful that prayer is real communication with the Almighty God. I'm thankful for conversations about real topics and the huge opportunity to bring prayer and God into the picture. And I'm thankful for these words, received from one who feels like a dear friend, though I've only known her electronically:

Christ lives his life in us when we walk by the Spirit. Jesus is not our helper; he is our very life. (Conformed to His Image, pg. 190).

"Our very life"...maybe...this is what it means to minister, to help others, to love with Jesus' love...with His life, we're definitely not helpless.

With that...there are definite, concrete ways to help. I just received some info (thank you! thank you!) regarding donations, etc., from a friend, and I can pass the info on to others who are interested. Feel free to email, or post to facebook, or comment on the blog if you would like the information!

Also, there is still prayer--always. I'm intending to ask each of the students this week for prayer requests and to let them know that many Christians are praying for Japan's healing--physically, spiritually, emotionally, and otherwise. I'll try to keep you guys up-to-date on those as well.

Thanks for letting me process to you all.

Much love,

Haidee

Watering hole conversations

We just came back from a long discussion at "the watering hole," during which we discovered that our nearby neighbor is a former English teacher who studied abroad in MN years ago...Who knew?! The very cute Japanese couple swapped stories with us and ended the conversation with an invitation to visit their home in the future.

This makes me smile. Not the destruction...not the fear, or panic...not the tight faces of those who still don't know the whereabouts of loved ones...but these conversations and introductions, and this life lived together...down by the watering hole or out on the street, discussing toilets and the shaking ground and helicopters bringing supplies and studying abroad and the location of the church.

In other news, during my wanderings today I found many more people wearing masks and overheard fearful comments regarding the radiation from the nuclear power plant. It's supposed to rain here tonight, and there has been a strong wind all afternoon, and we are hearing that people have been warned to wear masks and avoid having rain touch their skin. I'm not sure this is really necessary...we'll see what happens tonight. Cindy and I did decide that we won't try to drink the rain water. :)

Tomorrow starts the normal class week for us...please pray for wisdom and words to share with students who might come...and please continue to cover these water-hole conversations in prayer.

Update...

Sirens wail. The earth continues to shake. And I feel a strange discrepancy, because I'm sitting here in my apartment before a Sunday morning worship that will be neither clean nor so very comfortable...but it will be, as far as I know. Of course, the shaking kind of discourages one from planning so far ahead.

Maybe the movies have conditioned me into thinking that I should be running down a street screaming or something. Or that I should be trying heroically to rescue those in danger. The truth--as is proven by the swaying ground, which sways me with it--is that I am very, very small. So I sit, and Cindy and I pray and read...and we will join others who pray...and we read aloud facebook messages and prayers of so many that bring smiles to our faces. And there is great comfort in knowing that those prayers--they are not small.

And, just to give you a real up-to-date note: Cindy is smiling and rejoicing because we just watched some of our neighbors bucketing water out of a nearby canal. We're off to join in. :)

Strong shakes...

"Oh, geez, I don't want to pick up all of the glass from broken candle holders when that bookcase tips over..."

Seriously. That was my first concrete thought as my students dove under the table in our English classroom, and my first action was to step across the room to try to steady the bookcase that was precariously swaying from side-to-side. Looking outside, I could see the students' cars rolling and bouncing in the parking lot.

Coming from Minnesota, I didn't know that the earthquake I was standing through was big. But it was forty-five minutes later when my students decided to come out from under the classroom table, and I walked with the pastor into the sanctuary, where part of the wall behind the altar had come down.

Because the electricity had gone out, Cindy and I didn't know until this morning that Sendai, a town about 40 miles away, had huge damage and numbers of deaths. We didn't know about the tsunami, wiping away homes and people. We didn't know about the nuclear power plants, of which people are still waiting for news.

In the city of Fukushima, we've heard that five people died in a nursing home collapse. Walking our neighborhood, one can see broken stone walls, large cracks in buildings, broken glass, etc. The apartment that Cindy and I share looked like a disaster area after the quake--things had fallen from cupboards, shelves, desks, etc. and were all on the floor. Last night we saw many people stranded, huddled in blankets in hotel lobbies and on supermarket floors. This morning we joined what seemed like a large portion of the city in searching for water and food at the grocery store. Pastor went to a water distribution line and said 200 people were waiting to receive water. The church members all seem to be okay, and I think right now we are all just...waiting. For water, and more news, and an end to the aftershocks and directions of how to help.

It's a strange and slightly ironic thing to have no water, while I'm feeling slightly sea-sick from the multitudes of waves that keep rumbling through. I always thought that earthquakes just happened and then were over. Apparently not.

We are so thankful for the prayers of many! As news of damage and death continues to pour in, I hope that prayers also continue to flow out like an altogether different "tsunami"--one of God's power, truth, and love.

We've been warned that it's highly likely that we'll lose electricity again for a bit, and I'm not sure yet about water, etc. I'll try to post updates when possible! Thank you for so many prayers and words of love!

And now I'm signing out...because we're going to go walk around and look for bathrooms. People survived walking to outhouses for years, right? :)

Shaking ground and Lenten lists

It was the middle of the day, and Cindy and I were standing, talking in the kitchen, when the sliding doors began bouncing in their runners and the creaking walls started to sway and speak. The rolling and buckling of the earth is not strange in this country, but we stood with eyebrows raised and voices stopped mid-sentence, waiting for what felt like long minutes to see the outcome of massive power beyond our control.

We woke again in the dark hours of the morning to the same sound, same movement.

And again, as morning light filtered in, we were shaken from sleep by the rattle and clatter and apartment's side-to-side stretch...

Each time the quivering earth springs past boundaries and shakes without compassion, I can't help but think of how very small I am. How small my apartment is, how feeble attempts at safety seem in light of such massive movement... And it struck me yesterday that it was Ash Wednesday, and even as many around the world were beginning Lenten journeys of remembrance and celebration and seeking, I was thinking about human frailty and the utterly-dependent state we live in...even when we don't like to admit it. And I was thanking God for the daily, every-moment provision and salvation He gives.

I have been ruminating on walking through Lent this year by joining some other ladies in listing thanksgivings...is it okay to share those here? Right now I can't think of a better way to "do Lent"--to remember who I am (as utterly frail and completely safe in Him...) and who God is (the Glorious and Grace-filled One...) than to present black-and-white word-pictures of honest thanks.

So here's the start of my Lenten list: I'm thankful...

1. For mountains hidden away by storm clouds, giving me a very real picture of faith in what is unseen

2. For hours of conversation and dinner shared with fellow Christians last night

3. For adopted grandfathers...one in particular who had surgery in America today...

4. For family and friends who poke and pursue and provide more "real-life" grace than I ever imagine possible

5. For three beautiful girls who come to study English...for their smiles and laughter as we sing, speak, and learn

6. For a new young girl who wants to join classes

7. For God's amazing approval and the way that He entrusts us--humans!--with the Gospel... (1 Thess. 2:4).

8. For time to "live" (fight, play, eat...) and share the Bible with the Koriyama families today...

9. For the images of blood on the doorframes in Egypt, still speaking to our hearts today about Christ's sacrifice and blood...for the many-facets and times of the Bible's truth...

Prayers please...

"You guys are so great." "You have great power." "I admire you so much..." "I pray that God sees your efforts and gives you fruit..."

These statements from church members hurt deeply. On the surface they are so...laudatory. But the words hint again and again that the ministry I'm doing here is not freeing or discipling the church, but putting it in even deeper bondage to the currently-held pictures of ministry and Christianity.

My power. My greatness. My efforts to do ministry. On one hand, I feel like I'm constantly disappointing people by not working hard enough or connecting to enough people. On the other hand, when I hear statements like this, I feel like all I'm doing is propagating the idea that missions is for Americans, relationship with God is for Americans, God's power is for Americans, truth is for Americans, prayer is for Americans...

What am I trying to communicate? I would love to express to the dear church members that the God of the Bible, the Creator-Yahweh-Savior-Christ-Holy Spirit-God, is for them. Not the head of another religious organization that they can add to their list of religions. Not the teacher of a moral code. Not a foreign, American deity...but the one, true, living God who creates lovingly and powerfully, deserves and demands glory, justly sees and judges sinful hearts, pours Himself out (His blood to redeem and His Spirit to sanctify), and seeks for all to be loved, called His own, and join in lives of celebrating all He is--a celebration that can never end, because He never ends.

Good grief. It's no wonder why I'm having trouble communicating that--I can't even put it into one coherent written sentence.

How do I speak? And, even more importantly, how do I live, and work, and build relationships, and share moments?

A former college professor of mine would, I think, say something like, "Tell them who they are."

And maybe that is really what is needed.

These people come to their 12-person-church every Sunday, with a painfully slow organ and cold air seeping through window cracks. They spend 3 hours with other Christians, talking about pets and food and the weather, and then they return home to their families who are not Christian, to the culture which mixes temples and shrines and churches, and to the news that continually is reminding them of the struggles in the world caused by discriminatory beliefs and those who radically hold to any kind of truth.

It's hard to remember who we are in this world--and who we are not. It's hard to remember who God is.

So I'm back to prayer and the truth, again--prayer that God's communication would happen, and the truth because that is the only way we will learn our true identity--the only thing that brings freedom and light into darkness, confusion, and bondage.

Please consider praying with me. Pray for the church in Japan, that Truth's freedom would push off the weight of many lies. Please pray that a living faith would burn in the hearts of those who simply add Christianity as a religion with all their other religions. Please pray that family members would come to faith as a unit, and that spouses and children would be blessed with faith, so that whole families can stand firm together in faith, love, and joy, and actively remind each other of God's grace and their identity as God's children. Please pray that I would know when to work and when to rest, when to fight and when to fail...so that people don't see an American, but they see God.