Pen Friends

Today, I held back some serious tears on the steps of the post office.  I should really wait to get home before I read my mail. 

Backstory.  Over a year ago, I stumbled on a Facebook page for a death row inmate.  I knew I couldn’t do much to clear his name (other than sign a petition and pass it on), so I decided to write him.  Little did I know that when they executed him in March, I would actually grieve  someone I never met, but definitely knew. 

After his death, I felt compelled.  Prison is a world that we don’t really understand or see.  Or really even think about.  It’s an interesting realm for films, but that’s really as far as we take it.  So I didn’t even know if there was any sort of database that helped people write letters to those who are incarcerated. 

I was wrong.  All you have to do is Google. 

I searched and searched through dozens of names to pick out 5 that stood out to me.  I was reluctant on one guy, and only God knows why I was so picky, but I wrote him anyway.  Today I got his first response.  And it was the most heartfelt response I’ve had yet.  Heartfelt and heart breaking.  He’s on death row (that right there told me this wouldn’t be easy).  He lives in solitary confinement.  Has for the past 14 years.  He almost mentioned the “hole.”  He spent 8 months there for getting caught with a cell phone. 

Oooooo k. 

On my ride home, I just felt like I was keeping this to myself.  I love writing letters; I love mail!  So this is something that is simple for me.  Maybe you like mail too.  Give it a try, and write someone.  You might be surprised the kind of characters you find. 

[They ask that you refrain if you are under 18, so I ask that you honor that if you’re a young’n!]

Give Me Two Weeks

In approximately 31.5 hours, these two lovely people, my parents, will arrive at Narita airport.  It has been 9 months since I've seen them.  You see, I had a great home life.  My husband and I were blessed to grow up in an environment of supportive and uplifting high school (and even middle school) friends that we still call our closest today.  We have great families who have been patient and learned to love us from afar.  Who have learned to support us in our wanderlust.  It's not easy what we've put them through.  What we've been through ourselves.

So after all this striving to put home in its place, I am all too ready to breathe out and have a piece of home here with me.  So for the two weeks they're here, I will be with them.  Blogger, I'm taking a break.  I'll have plenty of stories and photos on the flip side.  I'm excited to share them with you.  But for these two weeks, I shall be present with the people who raised me.  You won't see me here, but I'll be back.

The Nearness of Christ

I’m currently reading The Cost of Community by Jamie Arpin-Ricci.  I’m reading it a little differently than I do other books, because I know the author personally.  In the middle of my college years, I took a DTS in Winnipeg, Manitoba, of which Jamie and his wife, Kim, were directors.  My DTS had 6 students, so the staff was more than just DTS staff to us.  They were our mentors, each and every one of them involved so personally in our faith journeys.  

Anyway.  Goes to show how much DTS meant to me.  I had no intention of talking about it that much. 

The book.  Back to the book. 

Jamie does a fantastic job of breaking down the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), one of the most dissected, crucial, and, I think, misunderstood (and perhaps under-understood?) parts of Jesus’ teachings.  He also outlines St. Francis of Assisi’s life, and his commitment to the Beatitudes and the rest of the sermon.  We all need human example sometimes. 

I fear blogging my reflection on this book.  I find it entirely overwhelming, and in light of my parents arriving in Japan in a mere 2 days, am not sure I can commit.  I also think what I need is hearty reflection with my husband, so get out of here.  

Ok you can stay for this one story that I absolutely must share.  Must.  Not only is it hilarious and caused me to actually LoL on my front patio (not exactly the best thing to do in a Japenese neighborhood in the summer), but painted such a beautiful picture of how obscenely personal Christ can be.  And how much He humbles Himself to be so.  Oi.  Our Lord is breath-taking. 

The story includes Jimmy, a homeless ragamuffin Jamie introduces to us early in the book.  He is young and, unfortunately, homeless, and has a mental illness that is all too real.  Jimmy becomes a close friend of Jamie and his church – the Little Flowers Community.  Do yourself a favor, and read this chunk. 

“Jamie, can I ask you something?” Jimmy was being unusually cautious with me.  Generally we could count on him to say what was on his mind, regardless of what it was or how shocking it might be (like the time he asked if any of us had seen the phantom cat-spirit running through our worship service).  Now, however, he was clearly hesitant, and so received my full attention immediately.  I assured him that he could ask me anything he wanted to, so he cautiously went on. 

“Well, I don’t want to offend you or say anything sacrilegious or anything, but something happened to me.  The other night I was riding the bus trying to get some sleep, so I was lying back with my eyes closed.  Then I had this feeling that someone was standing over me.  I opened my eyes and, umm, well, Jesus was standing over me with his arms spread wide.”  He looked at me, waiting for a response. 

Jimmy was prone to seeing things that weren’t there, but usually they were dark terrors that left him in great fear.  I had never heard him recount something like this.  Clearly, he was not unsettled by this event, so I wanted to hear more.  However, when I asked him what he did next, he blushed and looked away. 

“That’s what I didn’t want you to be offended by or anything.  I mean, I was half asleep so I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful or nothing.  When I saw him standing there I did the first thing that came to mind.  I reached up and tweaked his nipple.  You don’t think I am going to hell for that, do you?” 

Bwahahaha. 

While I was able to hold back the laugh that was desperately trying to get out, I couldn’t suppress my huge grin.  I assured him that I thought Jesus would totally understand, affirming that, indeed, I thought he had experienced a genuine encounter with Christ.  He was clearly relieved and so continued his story.

“I am glad you said that, because I am pretty sure it was really Jesus too.  A couple of nights later, it was getting cold out and my buddy wasn’t home, so I needed to find a place to crash for the night.  I found a corner in a public parking garage where I could wrap up, but it was getting colder and colder.  I remember saying out loud, ‘Oh, God, I could use a blanket!’  Just as I said that, I felt as though a blanket as being pulled over my body, immediately keeping me warm.  No one was there, but I knew right away that it was Jesus.  You know how I knew?  Because after the invisible blanket was in place, I felt a hand slip down to my chest and tweak my nipple!”

For some, this story might seem to treat the person of Jesus with deep irreverence and disrespect.  However, remember that Jimmy sees the world through the cloudy lens of a mental illness that most often leaves him terrified and confused.  Anyone who knows him would immediately recognize that this story stands out in stark contrast to the delusions of vampires and demons that typically haunt him.  Despite his nipple-tweaking tendencies, I have no doubt that Jesus reached through his illness and revealed himself in a beautiful, tangible way.  God repeatedly defies our expectations, humbling himself to meaningfully enter into the brokenness of our lives. 

Wow.  Just wow.  I am so thankful for this story.  Not only that it makes me belly laugh, but in the reality of Christ’s nearness to us. 

Insert plug.  Buy Jamie’s book.  It’s great.  It’s this story and more.  About what it means to live the Sermon on the Mount as if Christ meant it.  And you know what, I’m pretty sure He did.  

Iwatayama Monkey Park!

Japan bucket list item #8: see Japanese Macaques, snow monkeys.  These little guys are genius.  And I don’t mean using tools, acing-mind-games-in-labs kind of genius.  But they know how to live.  These are the only monkeys to live naturally in Japan.  Japan is temperate, cold.  But these monkeys relax in hot springs all day.  It’s like living your life in a hot tub.  Genius?  I think so. 

So while in Kyoto we left downtown and took a little train to the outskirts.  The town was adorable.  Then we crossed a river, and climbed a little mountain.  Then we paid 600 yen and entered Iwatayama Monkey Park.  Oh, commercial Japan.  ;) 

We walked up the path, seeing glimpses in the rustling tree branches.  And then we hit the mother load.  The feeding deck.  At the top of the mountain, there’s a wide open space full of snow monkeys.  And you can just … hang out with them.  It was so bizarre to sit with a bunch of monkeys just walking all around you.  Oh hey there. 

You could also feed the monkeys from inside a lodge.  My husband came up with an evil trick and a monkey that fell for it gave us a great laugh.  

Pulling away the food like this … 

And using this face ...

You get the same face back!

Evil, right?  We gave this monkey many a fruit and nut because she was so awesome.  She became our best friend, and we had a great time up that monkey mountain.  

Tako ga Suki Desu!

I often tell people the things I’ve grown to like out here in Japan.  You have to try everything once, right? 

The thing that grosses people out without fail is the fact that I love octopus, tako.  It’s true!  Octopus on nigirizushi is just so flippin’ delicious.  I probably couldn’t eat it everyday; I’m not at all used to it.  But whenever I do eat it, it can be quite the treat.  Any American I express this to here in Japan agrees.  Oh yeah, soooo good, right?  But Americans in the States look at me like I need to be admitted somewhere. 

Next I need to try takoyaki.  Fried balls of octopus meat.  Mmmm.  

The Greatest Teacher

When I tell people how long we’ve been married, they get excited about our newlywed status.  It’s fun to think about, but I also bask in the whirlwind that it’s been.  We’ve been married exactly 9 months to the date, and I think that’s pretty awesome.  We always like to celebrate 9’s.  Curt pretends he actually likes the number, but really, I think he just knows how much I love it.  9’s give you a chance to still be new – you haven’t quite hit the double digits – but still have time to learn and make mistakes and become familiar.  Here’s what we’ve learned in 9 months. 

We’ve learned to live together, which was surprisingly natural.  

We learned how to do a move.  And I think after moving across the Pacific, any other move will be a piece of cake.  Though we haven’t attempted the Atlantic yet … 

I've learned how to take care of him.  And maybe I shouldn’t toot my own horn, but I’m pretty good at it. 

We’ve learned how to budget.  But not how to stay within it.  One thing at a time here, people.  ;)

We’ve learned how to be apart healthily.  We’ve learned the appropriate balance involving a strong ache in your heart for missing the other while still being able to function.  Thrive even.

We’ve learned how to explore like maniacs.

We’ve learned that I can actually cook.  WOAH.

We’ve learned how to build a home.  Next, we’ll build a family. 

We’re learning that getting away is important.  And actually gets you off to a good start in deployment.  Before a 3-week deployment, we stayed up in Tokyo.  And before this more lengthy one, we went off to Kyoto.  These decisions turned out to be genius.  

We’ve learned that community is important, and having to start over in that respect can be the only thing to make you realize this lesson. 

We also learned that though a place can be your own, you can never replace your home. 

(I wish that didn’t sound so poetic.  How cheesy!)

We’ve learned the value of being in an unfamiliar place and having only each other. 

We’ve learned to be vulnerable. 

We’ve learned how to confront graciously.

We’ve learned our vices. 

We’ve learned how to disagree.  And fight.  And how to have discussions instead of not having discussions.

We've learned that our quirks are endless.  At least as far as we know. 

And yes, we learned that I need pets. 

We've learned to be patient with each other.  

We've learned to work on ourselves.

We’ve learned that this will not always be easy.  But it will always be worthwhile. 

So Happy ‘Anniversary’ to my sailor.  May we learn much more.

(photo credit: Joe & Colleen Federer, federerphotography.com)

Learning From Alone Time

The slight oblivion wore off when I was chatting with someone from home the other day.  She was bored because all her roommates were out of town.  And all of her other friends were visiting home or at weddings or what have you.  And my friend was by herself for the first day in a while.  No one to talk to. 

lolawashername.blogspot.com

What, that’s not normal? 

Heh.

I miss community.  Real, earthy, I-don’t-even-remember-how-we-met community.  Sitting on a rooftop drinking wine until the early hours because you can’t help it.  Belly laughing until you pee a little.  Accidentally having 3-hour coffee dates. 

I have friends here.  I have community.  I go to PWOC every Tuesday and find a breath of fresh air.  It’s so comfortable.  I have a few “go to” people that I call if I want to try out that new restaurant or go see that movie on base or if I need company on the day my husband leaves.  My friend April is an actual God-send.  It’s nice to have a person here.  For living here a mere 8 months, it’s more than I can ask for.

But the good stuff, the really good stuff takes years.  So I guess that’s what I’ll have to give these developing friendships. 

I realized in church last weekend that it would actually be wrong to give up.  Wrong.  One of the most isolating situations I find myself in right now is Sunday morning Divine Liturgy.  It sounds really sad.  You’re probably thinking I should find a new church, but that’s not what I need at all.  The church I attend is Japanese.  It's also Orthodox.  I am neither.  Nor am I Romanian or Russian or any other culture in which Orthodoxy is deeply rooted.  When my husband is gone, I am the sole American who attends.  There with my Japanese-English Divine Liturgy ‘script’.  Still learning about Orthodoxy. 

But even though it feels a little funny on certain days when loneliness is crouching at my door, I need to keep going.   And allow myself to be in this great cloud of witnesses.  I have been told explicitly to not give up. 

23 Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise. 24 Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. 25 And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near.  (Hebrews 10)

It is God’s intention that we live among people.  And I now know the detriments of ignoring this intention.  So I will keep Hebrews 10 in my heart, and everything will somehow work out.  New friendships will grow and old ones will be nurtured in their own way. 

Exhale.