Spring Break adventures!

Each year the school where my husband works has a one-week holiday called "Spring Break". This is an American term and tradition, one that we embrace as it's the only break in classes at school in the six months between Christmas and the end of the school year in June. 

In recent years our most common activity during this single week in March is to go camping. The weather is starting to warm up, though it can be a little volatile. We experienced it's volatility last week.

Tuesday

We left for our camping trip on Tuesday and the weather was great, if a little cloudy.

Our destination was the Boso Peninsula, east of Tokyo on the other side of Tokyo Bay. The fastest way there from our place, theoretically, is straight across the city and across the bay using the 15.1 km tunnel-bridge built 29 years ago. It features a 9.6 km tunnel, one of the world's longest underwater tunnels, and a 4.4 km bridge. The place where this transitions between a tunnel and a bridge is a tourist destination on an artificial island called the Umihotaru (literally "Sea firefly"). We'd decided to stop here for lunch, but unfortunately there doesn't seem to be enough parking for the traffic it receives and we crept for ages on the access ramp from the tunnel. Frustrating!

But we did get a yummy lunch and then a photo on the deck outside (it was a little chilly):

Location of the artificial island

Another photo of the island that is fashioned like a boat.

We got to our destination early afternoon and had fun setting up our tent. We had a fairly large site (for Japan) and therefore multiple layouts in which we could have set up our tent/tarp annex. It turned out later that our prediction of where possible wind might come from was wrong. We did have a nice view and didn't pay top-price for it.

I put the below photos here for reference for what happened later.

Beautiful sunset first night.

This is where we were located.

On the first night there were a lot of people around, especially young men. They weren't loud, but they also didn't sleep much either. We were located near the amenities block and often heard people walking past.

Wednesday

All our fellow campers packed up the next morning. It's often the case in Japan that people just camp for one night, so we weren't surprised. 

We went for a walk before lunch around the local roads, and then after lunch drove down to the beach for another walk. We played games (Scrabble and Red 7) and the weather was calm and very comfortable and a relaxing day. We were looking forward to more of that the next day.

This new sprout is apparently called a "Jack-in-the-pulpit" or Arisaema Triphyllum.

This is a sign at an archaeologically significant site near our campsite. Apparently
the site has evidence of habitation since around 5 or 6,000 B.C.

Here is the underwhelming (for us lay people) site.

Welcome sign at the campsite. Look at that blue sky.

Selfie on the local beach with my ever-obliging husband

We enjoyed camp pizza, a free hot shower, and then readied the campsite for a rainy night. Weather forecast is something we always keep a close eye on when we're camping and the forecast on Wednesday night was for rain to come in for several hours from around midnight.

Windy night

At around 1 am we realised there was an excessive amount of flapping going on outside and David went out to check. One corner of our tarp-annex had collapsed from the strong wind. From experience he knew that it was best not to try to reconstruct the shelter at that point, so took the whole structure down to the ground and secured it over the top of our equipment.

Then we tried to get more sleep. But it was very broken sleep. I thought about stories from the Bible that involved storms, including the amazing story of Jesus sleeping in an open boat in a storm. And I tried to read my book on my Kindle to distract my brain from going into "what if" mode. The side of the tent our heads were close to was slapping us on the heads which significantly disrupted any sleep that might have happened. 

Around 4 am I was concerned by further noises outside and opened the door to our sleeping area to investigate. To our surprise, the front of the tent was not where it should have been (around a metre in front of the sleeping area): instead it was almost blown inside to where we were. Investigation showed that the pole holding the fly out there had split and was no longer able to do the job it was designed to do. The whole tent was flapping considerably at this point and it was very noisy. David also discovered that the kitchen had pretty much capsized, which put much of our dining equipment in the muddy grass.

At about 5 am we decided to abandon our sleeping bags and evacuate to the car. The part of the tent where we'd been sleeping was secure and nothing in there was wet, nor did it seem in danger of blowing away, but it was just very noisy and stressful being inside there.

The car was so peaceful in comparison, though I wish I could have gone back to sleep. We sat in the car and watched our tent, passed the time with games (including Scrabble), and ate a small breakfast (70g tub of yoghurt and a mikan/mandarin). Around 9 it started to calm down and we bought some caffeinated drinks from the vending machine at the campsite. 

Thursday: not so restful

Then we started to assess damage and try to make a decision about what to do: did we clean up (including a trip to the laundromat to wash all our towels, tea towels, and rags) and re-erect the tarp shelter and stay on one more night as we'd planned, or did we clean up, pack up and go home? In the end it was the weather forecast that decided us, and that this was supposed to be a holiday. More rain was forecast the next day, which would have meant that we'd be packing up wet the next day. Packing up wet gear has consequences when you're going home to a small apartment where it's harder to dry things, especially the tent. We decided to cut our losses and go home and try to salvage some rest in this short holiday period.

Around 4 or so David piled much of the kitchen stuff against
the fence that delineated our campsite from the next door one.
He tells me he nearly lost the tarp, but thankfully it
caught on a tent rope and he was able to grab it.

This angle shows that the back part of the tent (where we were sleeping)
was still intact, it was just the entry that got a bit demolished by the wind. 
However the wind was hitting the side facing the camera and knocking
us around inside.

Thus ensued four hours of cleaning, drying, washing up, and packing, done with sleep debt and not much food. But the power of water and soap is amazing. I picked up the fry pan out of the muddy grass, washed it up, and later cooked dinner at home with it!

We had conversations with the camp site caretakers who were very sorry that this had happened. They, like us, had not seen any forecast of strong wind (in the worst of it my apps were saying the wind was blowing around 27-37 km/hr, which may or may not have been right for where we were on an exposed ridge). 

Alas, I think the worst was to come. It took about 5 ½ hrs to get home (about 110 km). The congestion driving through Tokyo was pretty bad and Google maps was frustrating, more so because we were tired and hadn't eaten well. We got stuck in 5-10 km/hr traffic in tunnels under Tokyo where there is nowhere to pull over if you're tired.

I saw these guys when we stopped for ice cream after our beach walk.
I think they looked like we did after our windy night!

Rural Japan sight: a tiny tractor! Really just the size of a small ride-on mower.

Finishing drying out the tent in my office.

Needless to say we slept well on Thursday night. Disappointed, but also glad that we hadn't been so far from home and could bail out fairly easily. 

Friday and Saturday

On Friday we'd planned to meet a friend for lunch on our way home. After a slow morning we were still able to meet her, but sadly got stuck in traffic again. We did have a really lovely afternoon with our friend, though, and I came away feeling refreshed (and we had a good drive home). 

Saturday I had declared to be a "spring clean" at our apartment: tackling things that don't normally get cleaned, like windows, tops of high furniture, etc. But first we finished tidying away the camping gear. I also mended one of the tabs on the tent that had been ripped out by the wind. It was good to clean together and we finished the day feeling satisfied.

Most of our friends will wonder why we even bother with camping when things like this happen. But honestly, this is only the second time in nearly 15 years of camping that we've encountered such wind. And I'd much rather be dealing with this than walking down a very crowded street in Harujuku or going to Tokyo Disney (or be stuck in city traffic)! You take the good with the bad when you go camping and most often it is good. And certainly you store up lots of memories and stories!

An overflowing week

Last week was huge—such a contrast to a usual work at my desk at home. I'm glad for all the people I interacted with, though, so thankful.

Monday

Monday was the monthly missionary gathering of OMF missionaries in our area, involving around 50 or more people. This is held at our Japan headquarters on the other side of Tokyo and typically I spend between three and four hours on six or more trains to get there and back. Once I'm there, it's encouraging, but the train journeys can be a bit fraught if you get stuck on heavily populated trains.

The morning's schedule was:

9.30–10.00 arriving, chatting, and coffee/tea

10.00 singing, devotional, announcements, welcomes and farewells.

11.00 morning tea

11.30 prayer time

12.30 BYO lunch

From 1.30 we had a working bee (cleaning/gardening to tidy up the Japan headquarters building).

I got home after 4 pm feeling pretty weary.

Tuesday

At 8.30 I met a friend I said goodbye to in 2016 when she moved back to the US. She's part of my magazine team, so I haven't lost touch with her, but having 1½ hours to sit and talk one-on-one with her at a cafe was such a joy and encouragement. In the few years that she lived in Japan we spent many hours together at prayer meetings and volunteering at school. She's just one of the multitude of friends who have passed through my life in this cross-cultural life. It felt like a redeeming moment to reconnect last week.

The rest of Tuesday was spent working hard at my computer to ensure I could be away from my desk for the rest of the week.

I climbed into a hammock leaning
over a stream!

In the evening I picked up a young Australian friend from the train station who'd be staying with us that night. She'd travelled a long way from western Japan and then gotten a bit lost on Tokyo trains. We were all pretty tired by the time she arrived, so we fed her and then went to bed.

Wednesday – Friday

I did some more desk work in the morning before gathering a carload of ladies around midday to travel to the annual Women in Ministry retreat. Our houseguest was one of my passengers, as well as a missionary neighbour and a friend from church (these days I drive a small car with only four seatbelts).

I also climbed into a tree (with help
from a taller friend)

From then on it was almost constant interaction and activity until Saturday! But, as usual the retreat was a great blessing. 

The worship times were a highlight for me. There's something about singing God's truth into our hearts that is very precious. The worship leader didn't mess around by talking: she lead us through song after song, so the flow wasn't interrupted. I found that it gave me helpful contemplation time. This retreat has been a big "lily pad" in my life over the last 20 years. It's a notable "memory handle" when I think back over those years—I remember various times in my life that this retreat has coincided with other challenging events. 

For example, the retreat in 2011, just days before our lives were sent into turmoil (on this actual day, 11th March) with the triple disaster north of of here. 

I remember the retreat in March 2020 when the magnitude of the pandemic was just starting to dawn on us. I arrived at that particular retreat with the heavy weight of one of my best friend's son who was terminally ill (at 13 years of age) and straight after that women's retreat I hosted a writing retreat that was both incredibly fulfilling as well as incredibly taxing and exhausting. 

Speaker, worship leader with two
visiting Biblical counsellors

I remember the 2021 retreat held online, just a couple of weeks after some devastating news in our family and in the midst of our middle son's traumatic last year of high school.

And 2022, when I was numb after a couple of years of almost no in-person time with people, and when a friend confronted me after noticing my unusual demeanour, I fell apart in her room as I told her about some very heavy stuff within my own family.

That's a sampling of the memories that were coursing through my brain as we worshipped. It was actually pretty therapeutic to reflect on those things as I sang about the goodness and faithfulness of God. Annual events like these nowadays are reminders to me of the friends who are no longer there (usually moved away) and the underlying grief that accompanies me now through life. Remembering, though, that God is still with me and has walked with me through all of the above, and more, was very special.

My other take-away from the retreat is diving into Ephesians 3:17–19. It's a rich passage where Paul's words start to run away from him a bit. Here it is from the Amplified version (not one I usually use, but it was helpful in thinking this through):

And may you, having been [deeply] rooted and [securely] grounded in love, be fully capable of comprehending with all the saints (God’s people) the width and length and height and depth of His love [fully experiencing that amazing, endless love]; and [that you may come] to know [practically, through personal experience]

Meals were plain Japanese-style.

 the love of Christ which far surpasses [mere] knowledge [without experience], that you may be filled up [throughout your being] to all the fullness of God [so that you may have the richest experience of God’s presence in your lives, completely filled and flooded with God Himself]. (Eph. 3:17-19 AMP).

I was particularly noticing that my head knowledge of Christ's love is far surpassed by his actual love for me. I come from a theological background that doesn't emphasis personal experience of God's love, but I think that that is only part of the story in the life of a Christian, a part that I'm still growing in my understanding of and desperately need when I have doubts about my own worthiness and value.

Friday

On Friday at noon, we headed back to Tokyo, and ordinary life. But those in my car got another three hours of enjoyable fellowship in my car. I wasn't the most reliable of drivers, though, because I was tired. I pour myself into interacting people when I get the chance and it wears me out. It was actually hard to concentrate on driving as well as talking with those in the car and I took two wrong turns and one "dodgy" last minute turn! Two stops for caffeine later and I was pleased to finally park my car outside our apartment without any serious incident.

Our Australian guest's flight wasn't until the next day, so she stayed one more night with us. We were a little sad, because, though she'd physically been present at the retreat, she'd missed the entire programme on Thursday as she stayed in bed with a cold. Thankfully she was feeling a bit better by Friday and even able to play card games with us that evening (taught me a new game too—not easy when I was so tired).

Saturday

After we said farewell to our guest and had lunch, we rode our bikes to do a small errand for some other OMF missionaries at the mission's storage facility about 2.5 km from here, and then got groceries on our way home. It wasn't a fun ride: the wind was horribly strong and cold. But this was actually a much needed rest day, so we spent the rest of afternoon and evening lounging in front of the cricket (a rare women's multi-day cricket match, Aust. vs India).

Sunday

This was a pretty usual Sunday: left for church on our bikes at 10 am, ate lunch there, and got home by 3 pm—in time to hang-out online for a couple of hours with our kids.

I'm glad every week isn't like that, but also glad that some weeks are!

Thinking twice about time

I've been thinking about time. That it takes more time and chronological distance to process things than we often allow. We live in the era of fast and instant: fast food, fast fixes, time-is-money, instant success etc. That subconsciously flows through to how we think and live. I see it in myself: I know the value of margin and not living life at full tilt 100% of the time, but I still struggle at times with thoughts about "wasting time."

Image from Pixabay    

Making every moment count is a concept that is so unhelpful in so many instances. For example, rest, personal growth, trauma recovery, mental illness, grief, even building friendships, dating, child raising, building a good marriage. None of these are things that can easily happen well in a short space of time. As I write about it, it even feels a little bit ridiculous that I even struggle with this concept at times, because I know this.

For example, about five or six years ago when one of our sons was having a horrid time during his last years of high school, we decided the best thing we could do for him was "give him time". He was too anxious to talk about the next week and conversations about post-high school just weren't happening. It was enough for him to just make it through each day sometimes. So we were stuck. We decided to let him stay with us for a couple of years until we could go with him back to Australia and walk alongside him as he made that huge transition to young adult years. He needed that time and we have never regretted it (though it was a bit wobbly at times when people asked about him and what he was "actually doing"). This week it's two years since he moved out of home. He's in a much better "place"—mentally and physically—and we're so glad that God gave us the wisdom of how to be the best parents we could be in a situation where we were pretty much at sea, and to be truthful, quite anxious ourselves.

Some time back a friend shared an article with me titled "Intentionally wasting time". It's written by someone from Sydney Missionary and Bible College about how we should live in relationship with others: by building in non-programmed, informal time with people. It's worth the seven minutes or so it takes to read it. Here's a quote:

Sometimes the most profound ministry moments happen during informal, unplanned spaces.

God works in quiet conversations. He turns up in fun, social times. He’s present in the impromptu prayers, in the ER waiting rooms, over meals and everywhere life happens.

While we’re waiting for the ‘main event’ to begin, or after the programmed teaching time ends, God brings us to another part of his work: to love, to be encouraged by the faith of others, and to help others love Jesus no matter what life throws at us.

One of the most enjoyable thing for me at the moment is something I realise that I've been missing for a long time: deeply satisfying relationships within a church family. And it's mostly happening because of frequent, intentional times of unstructured fellowship: staying a couple of hours after church to share lunch with others, joining an online prayer meeting mid-week (and trying not to be frustrated that it is not efficient, but rather another place where we're walking alongside others), dinners in people's homes, and even a time during the service where people share prayer and praise points.

We also really enjoy "wasting time" with our kids every Sunday afternoon: just hanging out on a video call for two or three hours. But calling it "wasting time" is to badly label it. This is totally worthwhile time.

Then today I saw another article about "wasting time" and ministry: https://www.alifeoverseas.com/did-i-waste-my-life-in-missions/. It's definitely worth a read, whatever your day-to-day job is.

Sometimes ministry can seem like a waste of time (and money). No one has ever said that to me about us following God's calling to Japan, but I wonder if they think that. I do know that people got impatient with how long it took us to get to Japan in the first place...and it's often hard not to get impatient with God's timing. 

But I think we need to go back to trusting God on this. I often pray at the start of the day that God would help us to do the things that he's prepared in advance for us to do (it's from Ephesians 2:10) and that what he leads me to will be pleasing to him. I need to trust that he's at work, that his timing is perfect, and seek his leading every day.

Ordinary deeds are not so ordinary?

Many people don't think of missionaries as ordinary. I've blogged here for many years in an effort to show that I really am just quite ordinary. Somehow we put big titles on people that makes them seems greater than ordinary. It's not just us. If you say someone is an actor, or a rocket scientist, or an Olympian, or _____. There are plenty of other titles that you could put into that space that makes us go "Wow, that person is pretty special" and quietly to ourselves say, "compared to my very ordinary life".

Image by Thomas Mühl from Pixabay    

Somehow we attach great significance to these things and little significance to the more usual things. I read an article by Tim Challies this week about this, about how some dream of being rich, of being convinced they could do big things if they just had a lot of money. The author suggested we've got it all wrong. He suggests thinking on Galatians 6:2 "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfil the law of Christ" (NIV). 

Challies quotes John Stott's commentary on that verse: "To love one another as Christ loved us may lead us not to some heroic, spectacular deed of self-sacrifice, but to the much more mundane and unspectacular ministry of burden-bearing."

What does bearing one another's burdens look like in my life this week?

I had two single ladies at church separately tell me of their burning desire to be married. I listened and promised to pray for them. (And followed through on that promise.)

I had a friend confess that she's sad. She's had many goodbyes recently. I shared some of my own goodbyes and sadnesses with her and we commiserated with one another.

Another good friend told me and a mutual friend over a text-chat about some choices she has about how she spends her time, about her heart for a specific group of ladies at her church, and wondered if God was calling her to do something practical for them. We listened and promised to pray.

I had an unexpected opportunity to have dinner alone with a new-ish friend on Monday. She asked about my boys and kept asking and listening...I told her more than she expected to hear from that simple enquiry. I was blessed by being able to tell some of our story and to be amazed again at what's happened for us in the last few years.

Also on Monday (it was a huge day!) I had coffee with a colleague who told me he felt flat as a result of various events that are happening to others in his life. I listened, and prayed for him.

I simply hugged several people this week. This isn't usual in Japan, most of those happened at a mission event where I caught up with a few people I haven't seen in a while. I've also discovered a Japanese lady at church loves hugs and so I'm leaning into that.

These are just a few small examples of bearing one another's burdens. They aren't worth bragging about and I certainly don't deserve any accolades or applause. These are things that any of us can do wherever we are. What have you done this week that will go unnoticed and perhaps be forgotten by even yourself by the end of next month? (And no, you don't have to tell us, just think about it!)

Early home assignment plans for 2026

In the last few weeks we've been working on putting a new-to-us plan into action. We've spent 4 ½ years of the last 25 years on home assignment in Australia. It's a requirement of our organisation to periodically spend time in our passport country visiting supporters and supporting churches. Yep, we did that in 2004/2005, 2009/20010, 2014/2015, 2018, and 2023/2024. Three of those five times we packed up and moved out of our place in Japan. That adds up to a total of ten international moves.

The bookmark we gave people before we
left the first time for Japan

I've written here a lot about the strange institution of home assignment. If you've seen some of that you'll know that it's an exhausting, stressful, all consuming thing. The purpose behind it includes you getting rest in your passport country, but an awful lot of work goes into getting there to get that rest.

But I'm at risk here of not toeing the party line . . . Home assignments have numerous good things about them, including staying connected with family and friends. After our only six-month home assignment in 2018, I wrote a post pondering: Was it worth it? It was a difficult home assignment (we had two teenagers still at home, just for starters). The blog post was pretty brutally honest, but I did come up with some really good things that happened because we took the time to go to Australia.

The world is changing, though, and short home assignments these days are far more common than six- or twelve-month ones. And we're feeling quite jaded about these huge international moves. Now that we are in a season where we don't have to consider the schooling (or mental health) of our kids and it's just two of us moving around, we've decided to try out a short home assignment, one that will last 76 days, or just short of 11 weeks.

This has numerous benefits:

• we don't have to move out of our beautiful apartment in Tokyo (massive benefit, I hate moving)
• we don't have to find somewhere to rent in Australia or find a car (also massive benefit)
• the above two points means that moving between countries will be smoother with far less exhaustion and practical details needing to be arranged
• we have minimal handover to others for our jobs in Japan (also a huge benefit)

One of the downsides is that we'll be moving faster in Australia and have less rest there. We'll also have less time to spend with our home church, family, and friends.

So, I've been contacting our main supporting churches and getting some 'big rocks' in place. David's bought plane tickets and we've been communicating with key people. It's actually been amazing—since the start of the year the following things have fallen into place quite easily:

• dates to visit eight churches in Queensland and Western Australia
• places to stay throughout our visit
• cars to drive
• a place to have a holiday and a motorhome
• time to visit both sides of the family (and hope to see our granddaughter)

We're arriving in Brisbane on May 21 and then fly to Perth on July 24. Then onto Tokyo, arriving in the hottest, most humid part of the year on August 4.

Closer to the time we'll decide on some "open day" type events where people who live in SEQ and Toowoomba can meet up with us, rather than us racing around to see many people in such a short time.

But for now, we need to put our heads down and live here and now. This morning I've set aside for writing, especially putting time into a first draft of this book project I'm working on. So I'd best move onto that now...but I'm looking forward to seeing some of you who live in Queensland and Perth in a few months time.

Okinawan adventure

Last week we had a pretty unusual week. Okay, some things were familiar, but many things were not.

The girls posing on the beach

David and I flew to Okinawa (a group of Japanese islands closer to Taiwan than Tokyo). We travelled with two teenage girls from CAJ. It was our first visit and when we arrived I realised I'd never been on such a remote island. 

This part of Japan is also distinctly different to what they call "mainland". I was surprised when talking to my dad when he referenced a sad wartime Australian folk song by Ted Egan called "Sayonara Nakamura" about a pearl diver from Okinawa. The region has a sad wartime history. There are still a lot of US military on the islands (about 30,000 troops and a population of around 80,000 from the US). We didn't get much time to ourselves to explore, but maybe one day we'll be able to go back.

We were the support crew for CAJ's high school girl's wrestling team at a two-day tournament called "Far East". This is the same type of tournament that we've been to several times before, notably, two of our sons were crowned "Far East champions" in their last year of high school when they won the final in their weight classes at this event. Across the world the US military run regional tournaments for various events such as wrestling, track and field, basketball, etc. Our region is "far east" and includes Korea and Japan.

It's way out in the ocean!

This was the first ever girls-only Far East tournament ever held in our region and the first one we'd ever been to. Most tournaments we've been part of have been male-dominated and this one looked quite different in some ways. Some notable things:

• most wrestlers had long hair and most of it was braided
• lots of them had mascara
• emotion was close to the surface: tears were common and winners often were crying, boys react quite differently to winning
• many more hugs going round, most of the girls genuinely loved hanging out with their competitors
• it took a while to figure this out, but the cheering/screaming was higher pitched and it really jangled in our heads after a while
• girls don't sweat as much as guys and the gym didn't quite smell as bad as quickly as with a gym full of male wrestlers

But in other ways, it was just a wrestling meet. The rules were the same, the outfits (almost) the same. These were athletes doing their best at a sport they'd worked hard at and there were some great matches.

Because we were such a small team it almost felt family-like. It was also quite different travelling with two teenage girls, as opposed to boys. David was impressed that when we told them we were meeting in the foyer of the hotel at 7 am to catch the US school bus they'd sent for us, the girls were there, on time, with all their gear! I was honoured to be asked by the girls to pray for them at the start of each day of competition.

Yummy Okinawan Zebra bread
(peanut butter flavoured)

On the last afternoon we were freed from the base in time to see the sun set and explore the local shops a little. We noted that the girls were looking for scenic spots to pose and take photos...something that we've found boys not interested in at all!

I was so glad I had the opportunity to do this. It really was a historical occasion. For years I've watched girls struggle on the edge of this sport. Having to wrestle guys is not at all ideal and we've longed to see the sport grow so that girls will have other girls to compete against. It was very special being part of this inaugural event! I do wonder why I'm so passionate about this...I think it's in part that, as a short girl I'm excited about a sport where short, strong girls can succeed. So many sports that were open to girls when I was younger were biased towards taller girls. We watched tiny, strong girls competing last week, and it was fun.

The girls were sad that the rest of their team and their usual coaches weren't with them. We were a poor substitute to the guys they'd been training with all season. We've heard rumours that it will be a combined meet next year and we're hopeful. We talked with the girls over meals about recruiting more girls and even dreamed about having a female coach sometime in the future. I wish I had the skills to coach them, but I'm content to support from the sidelines and hope I'll continue to have that opportunity in the future.

Another Okinawan treat: peanut butter filled biscuit/cookie.

Not all beautiful.

Braiding was a real theme...I'm not sure
I'll ever say yes to braiding someone's hair
at a meet again: my lack of skills was very 
obvious when one of the girls did this after my poor
attempt the day before. Japanese hair is
fine and slippery!

We got cute t-shirts!

Grief...again

Right now my head is a little bit all over the place. The last couple of weeks have been fairly quiet at my desk, but all of a sudden this week my work has exploded and there's plenty to do. So it's not very helpful that I'm having trouble mustering my brain this morning. But I think the main reason would be grief.

Image by Michaela 💗 from Pixabay

Sometimes it's getting hard to write here because there are themes that just keep coming up and I wonder if I've said all I can say on them? Or if I'm boring my audience?

But then I run into a new-ish missionary who asks questions about the same themes I've experienced and I remember that they are also on a journey of learning, though perhaps not as far along as me, and that perhaps I can continue to speak on these themes helpfully...

This week it's grief. On Tuesday, part of my job was to write a short obituary-like piece that was used in our mission's social media yesterday. Just doing my job, but it's about someone about my age who I knew, someone I had lunch with in Brisbane last home assignment, someone whose daughter is around the age of my kids, someone who comes from the same part of the world that I do, and who was a missionary like me. Last night we attended his funeral (online). [Link to the post I wrote is here.]

In 25+ years of service more than half-a-dozen of our missionary colleagues have died (i.e. pre-retirement age, currently in ministry when they first became ill), mostly because of cancer. It's always a shock and the questions arise: Why Lord? Why now Lord?

Even if we didn't know some of those colleagues really well, it's still a shock and a grief, and I'm often surprised by how much I get affected by each one.

But I've come to understand that the missionary life is laden with a lot of other grief, so many goodbyes and losses, many more than most people encounter this early in their lives. And that grief piles up.

This week I Googled "missionary grief" and this nine-page article came up in my browser: https://www.emsweb.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/OB_Winter_2014.pdf I've yet to steel myself to read the whole thing (I'm pretty busy this week and also not good at reading longer articles on my computer), but these points from it grabbed my attention:

"HIDDEN LOSSES are crippling many on the missionary field and they don’t even know how to identify where it all began."

The article lists typical losses missionaries experience when they first go to the field, and, I would argue, ongoing losses:

• language (the ability to communicate)
• identity
• a place in society
• life skills
• sense of safety (less in Japan)
• family (knowing the wider family and seeing them regularly, and these goodbyes happen again and again)
• friends
• intellectual and professional peers
• places (e.g. favourite places in home country)
• things (e.g. favourite foods, familiar furniture, house)
• pets
• smells (familiar scents from home country)

Many of the above are "hidden" losses, many of these we often don't identify or notice. 

The difficulty with many of the losses of a missionary life is that there is no funeral, no socially acceptable way to acknowledge our loss. And indeed, it might even seem that we don't have permission to admit that we are grieving these things.

I am attentive when a younger colleague mentions a sadness that is in the list above, because I know that it is not going to get any easier, if they continue to work as a missionary. 

Life happens at a fast pace and missionaries make massive transitions that involve multiple griefs all at once, there is often simply a lack of time and emotional energy to process. As well as that, we live life amidst other missionaries who are also experience more transition than the average person. We build a friendship with a colleague at language school and they graduate and move to another part of the country. We build another friendship with a colleague who lives near our place of service and they go on home assignment, or we do and when we get back, they have moved somewhere else. No one is having a "funeral" about these losses; we sometimes get to say goodbyes, but they are hard to do again and again and again.

Another quote from the article, sorry it's a bit long:

“Ambiguous grief” is a response to “an unclear loss that defies closure.” This barrier stems . . . hidden losses. The losses are hard to acknowledge and therefore the response of grief is muted.  The groundbreaking work of Dr. Pauline Boss in her book entitled Loss, Trauma, and Resilience; Therapeutic Work with Ambiguous Loss is very helpful in understanding this barrier. Dr. Boss explains, “…ambiguous loss is the most stressful kind of loss. It defies resolution and creates long-term confusion…. With death there is an official certification of loss, and mourning rituals allow one to say goodbye. With ambiguous loss, none of these markers exists. The persisting ambiguity blocks cognition, coping, and meaning making and freezes the grief process.” Ambiguous grief is born from a loss that is often hard to recognize, therefore it is also hard to resolve. In order to overcome this barrier to grief we must make a concerted effort to name these hidden losses so that the grief process can be experienced.

As you get older you accumulate grief. I see this in older people—they're gradually losing their friends, parents and siblings, their professions, and their strength and health—it takes a toll. Missionaries accumulate grief at a faster pace, though:

 Accumulated grief is usually a result of ignoring many small losses and allowing them to build up. . . . Although the losses many missionaries experience may seem trivial and small, much like the paper cut, their accumulated effect cannot and should not be ignored.  (also from the above linked article)

Hence, I'm writing here today about grief. Because I have accumulated a lot of small paper cuts, and larger grief-wounds over the years and a death like we experienced in our community last week hits deeply. It's easy to rush into the next thing (my work on the magazine and in social media hasn't stopped, the emails coming across my desk haven't stopped, I still have a dental check up today and a seminar to attend this evening). But I'm instead taking a moment today to stop and process my thoughts by writing.

To newer missionaries and those who are headed that way: I don't want to discourage you. This calling we've received is hard, but it's not impossible. Indeed, the text that Steve chose for his funeral was Joshua 1:1–11. These are a bunch of instructions from God to Joshua, just after the death of Moses. He uses this phrase, or similar words three number of times: "be strong and courageous". Why? Because "I [God] will never leave you nor forsake you" (said explicitly twice in the passage, but also implied in other words multiple times). Because our God is great and has promised to be with us wherever we are, because he's called us into this work—he will provide all we need, he will be all we need. Fix your eyes on him, again, and again.

To those who have been around longer and are feeling this deeply. Take some time. Reach out to someone to talk it through. Journal. Take a walk. Acknowledge this accumulated grief.

To people who pray for missionaries: Keep praying. Let them know you are praying for them. See if there's anything practical you can do to help one of them. Remember when you see them that they are carrying some accumulated grief, and ask God how you can help. Ask good questions.