Full!

Full. Full of information and names and faces from my first 2 weeks back in Tokyo, full of details of moving, full of cardboard boxes, full of gratefulness for how God provides (through support and prayers from the US; through freely given furniture and appliances, help moving, and conversations over meals here in Japan), full brain of practicing getting back into Japanese language mode, full of time with people I love and haven't seen in ages and newer friends I'm just getting to know...!

It is a joyful and thankful full, but one that has left my brainwaves a bit overloaded with processing ;) 

So in lieu of a longer post of coherent thoughts, here's my prayer for myself, and maybe someday the prayer of some of the thousands of people I pass by every day...

"My heart is filled with thankfulness

To Him who walks beside;

Who floods my weaknesses with strength

And causes fears to fly;

Whose every promise is enough

For every step I take,

Sustaining me with arms of love

And crowning me with grace."

(~Getty&Townend)

And in case this "full" post feels a bit empty to you... pictures!!

Middle-school (?) graduation party singing a cappella in the park,
surrounded by Moms in kimono video-taping

The elementary school in my neighborhood - how awesome is that?

Ginza (shopping district) on a rainy day. The streets
are relatively empty - inside the stores was packed!

Shinagawa Station on an empty Sunday morning (on weekdays, this walkway is a shoulder-to-shoulder sea of black suits)

View from my new apartment:
not too shabby! (*^_^*)

Hungry

I don’t have kids, but I’ve been around babies enough to notice a bit of an amusing pattern. Have you spent time with many hungry infants? Often, it starts with them just being kind of fussy. Once you try a couple things, you slide the baby onto your hip and grab a bottle from the fridge to warm up. And the baby sees it. Up until this moment, mildly fussy. Once the bottle (or other milk source…) is in sight? Eyes lock on and…freak out!!

Strictly logically speaking, you would think it would be the other way around: freak out when hungry, but once you see the goodness, calmly and joyful anticipate it being shoved in your face. Nope. The desire for sustenance is frantic. It’s like babies have this idea that we are cruel (or stupid?) beings that will come so close, then not follow through to provide for their needs.

So as I snuggle this little one today, I wonder if maybe we haven’t grown out of the habit as much as we would like to think. I mean, hopefully not with our lunch, but do we do the same thing with God? I’ve finally reached 91~92% of the support needed to return to Japan, but with a deadline to get back to Japan and “home”-sick heart, it’s so easy and so tempting to freak out.

What are you hungry for today? What obstacle is in your way? And maybe most important of all, who do you trust?

“…But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious…”

New!

  

These pictures are from a fantastic children's book given to me by a good friend in Japan. It depicts a year of important traditions, manners, and holidays starting with 3 of the most important: hospitality, cleaning, and New Year's! While we do celebrate the new year in the US as well, in Japan there are different traditions, food, and religious roots. Even on a seemingly "international" holiday like this, in a different cultural context everything is new! I admit in some situations new is stressful, can leave you feeling a little overloaded or even helpless; but many times newness is fascinating, calls back the joyful inquisitiveness of childhood, or brings to light a difference that makes me reaffirm what I believe (E.g. is this an American, Japanese, human, or Christian thing?). There is so much to learn from "new"!

All of which to say... whether 2016 is looking excitingly (or overwhelmingly) new, or like more of the everyday routine, may you be filled with joy and hope at the newness of each day. And most of all, may looking to Christ fill you with wonder as His steadfast love and mercy is new every morning!  

Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas! What are you waiting for?

What are you waiting for?

I love advent. It reminds me of what Christmas is all about; since childhood advent has reminded me not only how close we're getting to Christmas day, but of the hope, peace, joy, and love we have in Christ.

I love advent partly because there is absolutely no guess-work or mere wishful thinking involved: it is a confident waiting that will definitely lead to Christmas! A time of waiting that involves mint chocolates and cookie-baking, siblings coming home from college and driving in with my awesome nieces/nephews from all around the country, the smell of pine needles and warm glow of lights and quiet evenings reading by the tree. I love advent because it reminds me that waiting isn't just about longing, but is active, content, and full of joy.

This Christmas I also get to be part of planning my sister's spring wedding. I had never realized how engagement has much in common with advent: very active waiting, deliberately planned time, fully confident in what is to come, full of love and joy!

Advent and this coming wedding have been refreshing reminders this week of how my time raising support still, while waiting, is also be a time of action, confidence, contentment, and joy, with my eyes on Christ. No matter what you're waiting for this week, I hope this little comparison encourages you as well!

But if you're waiting to order Christmas dinner, wait no more! As KFC's Japan webpage states, "it's not too late to place your order!" for a barrel of fried chicken ;)  Every year I chuckle a little that this - and white cake with strawberries - is considered a standard Christmas dinner in Tokyo:

Home

Where do you feel most at home? How would you describe "home"?

For me this year... airport terminals and highway gas stations! After being practically a nomad for the past 4 years, I feel "at home" immediately - anywhere I've stayed for 2 days or so. Partly because of the warm hospitality of my awesome family and friends old and new from Mississippi to Tokyo. But I realized this fall that while my optimistic brain likes to say "I feel at home everywhere", the honest answer is that nowhere has been my home in so long (8 years?), I'm not sure I remember what "home" feels like.

People encourage and even praise expats for valuing and longing for our "true Home" - our heavenly one - and I see where they're coming from (like Hebrews 11:13~16). I hear missionaries saying it to each other all the time! I'm growing in understanding it, deeply, but most days I don't feel like being praised for my sacrifice and faith. Because I'm human, and I'm homesick for a good ol' earthly home, too; in the heart of Tokyo, if you please.

And also because I don't want to minimize the beautiful other side: people who do know, for decades or even a century, the rich feeling of "home" in one location. Surely the experience of home can give an all-the-deeper appreciation and longing for our one-day heavenly home that will outshine any earthly one! (Not that I'm speaking from experience, but...right?)

So if you see me or a fellow expat/missionary/nomad and are inspired by how, like Christ, we have "no place to lay our heads" but look forward instead to our heavenly home, praise the Lord. But please don't praise us! In turn, know that you give us a refreshing little taste of that future Home as you share your earthly one with us through conversation, prayer, meals, warm beds, every-day worship... and we're praising God for it and for you!

Now a little fun for those who had the endurance to make it through my ramblings ;)  Pictures of what "home" looks like for some in Tokyo:

Efficient (Yes, this is the whole thing)

Luxury (Yeah...this one might be out of my price range...)

"Home" from the outside (my dear neighborhood 2012~2014)

Last but not least, my dream floor-plan (or close enough to it)!

Enjoy the Flight

Raising support feels a bit like flying standby.

Have you ever flown standby? Financially it is a massive blessing, but…it’s not for everyone. You have to be willing to be extremely flexible, a bit creative, and a splash of patience doesn’t hurt. I booked standby on 2 flights that had plenty of empty seats just 2 weeks before. The night before the flight, they were booked full. Oh shoot. I arrive at my first gate early, refreshing the tracking web page as paying passengers checked in, praying and being prayed for by family. 2 seats left…1seat…gone. I’m frantically searching for the best “plan B” as they make the final boarding call: “so and so, flight ### to Charlotte, last call…guess they’re not coming. Eleanor? You’re on”. Such beautiful words. Thank you, God! (Is it horrible to praise when someone else misses a flight, and the other person waiting for standby doesn’t get on?)

Phew. The hard one is over and I can relax – my next flight still has 12 empty seats. 2 hours later I dash to make my quick connecting flight. I make it on time, and just out of curiosity check how many seats are still open. 3. And 2 people are in front of me in the standby line. I’ll make it.

Up walks a captain – I’m outranked and bumped down and out. Noooo! Remember the frantic searching I mentioned earlier? Yep, that again. I hang around the gate as I search, and 10 minutes to take-off “Party of 4, last call…so-and-so party of 4…OK! They’re not coming. You’re all on.”

I know it’s not a perfect analogy. But the waiting, the wondering, the “plan A” making its way to “plan Q”. The praying, being prayed for, and updating on how it’s going. The realization that it’s completely out of my control. And there’s nothing to do but be thankful, breathe deep, and enjoy the flight.

Night Light

This week has felt dark. The flooding displacing thousands and thousands of people just north of Tokyo. The plight of thousands and thousands of refugees from Syria flooding into Europe in search of food, shelter, safety...home. The 14th anniversary of 9/11 plastered social media with images of smoke, debris, and falling bodies. And my Granddad passed away, and none of us got to say "goodbye".

I was reading Madeleine L'engle last night, and it was just the word I needed to hear:
    "...what do you do or say to your children when they're afraid to go to bed in the dark? There was a long and troubled silence. Finally one of the mothers who was a little braver than the others stuck out her neck: 'You give him a night light.' ...
     I'm afraid of the dark - not afraid to go up the stairs in the physical darkness of night, but afraid of the shadows of another kind of dark, the darkness of nothingness, of hate, of evil.
     So we rush around trying to light candles. Some are real: books, music, friendship. Others blow up in our faces, like too much alcohol and too many sleeping pills or hard drugs or sex where there isn't any love...
     St. John says the light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not understand it, and cannot extinguish is. This is the great cry of affirmation that is heard over and over in our imaginative literature, in all art. It is a light to lighten our darkness..."

And I remember to look to the Light. To be proud of my brothers and sisters in Christ in Japan who are praying for and physically helping those hurt by the floods. Inspired by people all over the world crying for justice - for mercy - and taking action to help Syrian refugees. Encouraged by those who never forget 9/11...but also push on and focus on 9/12: on new beginnings. Comforted that my Granddad died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 89, and a chance to gather with family and remembering him, his laugh, and how he hated to wait.

And I walk a little lighter, and cling a little tighter to our night Light.