Pondering our uncommon "walking around life"

Before we went on home assignment in 2023 I was reading a book called Uncommon Ground, a collection of essays brought together by Tim Keller and John Inazu with perspectives from people thinking deeply and working daily to live with these times. Here are some of my reflections on that in light of our upcoming time in Australia:

Home assignment means meeting
up with people for various reasons.
On Saturday we met up with a 
member of our church in Tokyo,
someone we'd never met before.
We got to walk for the first time on
this cool bridge across the Brisbane
river.

In the case of a missionary on home assignment, we have to "translate" overseas mission and Japan to Australians. In general people we encounter there don't clearly understand what we do or where we do it. If you've followed my blog for a long time, you'll know that our work in Australia is composed of answering a lot of questions.

Much patience and diligence is required in translation. Much attention to detail as well as sensitivity to the wider picture. My work as an editor is also translation to some degree. I have to ensure that the writer's intent is accurately and appealingly translated into words that the audience will understand and not stumble over. And of course, as a writer who writes about cross-cultural life, I am translating my experience, life in Japan, and missionary life, into words so that others can understand. Pretty similar, in a way, to what we do on HA, except that as a writer and editor, I can hide behind my screen, rather than have to engage people face to face, or stand up in front of an audience with no time to edit my answers. (from here)

In the midst of another home assignment, one that is far more fast paced, the thoughts about still resonates with me. I'd definitely rather be working behind the scenes, but alas, God has given us this thing to do and we're getting on with doing it.

These last few weeks, when I have some free time and energy, I've been gradually making my way through A Long Obedience in the Same Direction by Eugene H. Peterson, the author of the Bible paraphrase: The Message. A Long Obedience. It is a book that I heard about early in our time in Japan but have only now gotten my hands on a copy. I didn't realise that it was a book on discipleship based on the Songs of Ascent, Psalms 120–134. It's a good read!

The chapter I read on Tuesday was based on Psalm 123 and in it Peterson connects it with Romans 12:1–2:

So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you. (The Message)

Below is how I more commonly recognise this passage: 

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God – this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:1-2 NIV).

The Message version of the passage stands out to me because the intro that I'm giving to our formal presentations includes a series of statements about what our ordinary lives in Japan looks like. Our "walking around life". We tend to think of service to God as the extraordinary stuff, not the stuff of ordinary life. As we talk from the front of churches and other gatherings I'm deliberately framing our stories as being from the place where God has set us down. (From the quote that Alistair Begg uses from his mentor Eric Alexander: "There's no ideal place to serve God, except the place he sets you down.")

And of course the other thing that stands out is the observation about culture. As we move between our two "home" cultures, we see things that people who are immersed in them don't necessarily see so clearly. It doesn't make us experts in either culture, but it does give us a unique perspective. Perhaps not fitting so well into either culture is an advantage, helping us to focus our attention on God as Paul instructs us to do?

I'll continue to ponder this and other thoughts in this book while I go about my "walking around life", which, this afternoon includes the joy of hanging out in an Australian library :-) and even borrowing some physical books!

Seasonal confusion

The shadow of me at the beach on Saturday

Over the years I’ve mentioned that I get confused about seasons…

Here’s an example: we’re in the middle of school starting in Australia. Everyone is posting “first/second/third/last-first day of school” photos. I didn’t think it would really be that big a deal for us, who have no one starting school (not even as a teacher), but there’s no avoiding it all around us. 

Of course I also see this on social media when I'm in Japan, but it makes less of an impact when we're there. Driving around at 3pm this week has been different to the preceding six weeks, with all the school speed zones activate again (the rule here is you have to drive 40 km/hr in designated and signed school zones between certain hours, the hours that kids are arriving and leaving school). Shops and TV ads are full of "back to school" stuff.

At our local supermarket...one
 of many signs of the season

But our youngest is starting uni next month and various preparations for that are taking place. So in some ways, we're in "starting the new education year" mode, but not as intensely as when we had kids at school.

All of that has overflowed into my thinking. The other day, I was idly pondering CAJ in Japan (where our kids went to school) and wondering about how the cross-country season was starting up—something that happens at the start of the school year there. Only trouble is that though cross-country season starts at the start of the school year, that is September! Yep, I’m confused. I'm sitting here in summer clothing, seeing many of my northern hemisphere friends in the depths of winter, and watching cricket (a summer sport). And it messes with my brain. 

But to confuse things even more we watched some live wrestling the other day too, a live stream from CAJ where they were holding the Kanto finals tournament. Something that definitely happens in winter, and in January!

This is all a bit like when there’s a public holiday and you’ve got no clear idea what day of the week it is and have to think carefully if you’re pressed for an answer. It's not quite as bad the mind fog between Christmas and New Year, but similar.

So, once again, I look and sound like I belong in Australia, but inside my head it isn't quite the same. The other day I mentioned to a long-term friend that, though we've here six months, I still feel only partly here and still partly there. She wasn't surprised; she thought that after 23 years of this life it was to be expected!

If you encounter me in the wild . . . be gentle :-D

I live in a dichotomy

The past week has been full of things we've grown to associate with Christmas in Australia, things that we don't do or experience when we're in Japan:

Outdoor carols events: we went to one run by our eldest son's church and have seen plenty others advertised. The one we went to was different to many Australia Christmas events: it was evangelistic, it didn't include Santa, and almost all the songs were related to the true story of Christmas.

Church family Christmas dinner: some churches in Japan may do this, but mostly Christmas is a time for outreach events like concerts

An example of Australian "ugly"
Christmas clothing :-)

Christmas everywhere we go: decorations, lights, packaging, Santa, events, and Australia's version of the "ugly sweater" (often matching shorts and t-shirts with some kind of repeating Christmas motif), it's all far more pervasive than we see in Japan.

Preparing for the "rellie tour": visiting our birth families around the state for Christmas, which requires two eight-hour drives and one 90-minute drive.

Cricket: yep, this is a summer sport and the "sound of summer" for us is cricket on the TV in the background of life. And last week we actually went to one match live, which was a great experience after a lifetime of watching it on the tellie.

Summer: of course, it's summer, even if most of the Christmas motifs deny it. It's our second descent into summer for the year. A Brisbane summer is a bit easier than a Tokyo summer, the humidity is far less oppressive, and the nights are often are not as hot. But it will be longer. We do go most places in a car, too, which makes it easier than riding a bike or walking. We also live in a house with decent insulation, and our bedroom has an air conditioner (though I really would prefer not to live in aircon all day and night).

I remember when I first when to Japan I felt like I had to reinvent myself, like I was a completely different person in Japan than I was in Australia. To some extent that's still true. I remember meeting a life-long friend here one time for a Japanese lunch, then we went to an Asian supermarket. She remarked that she was seeing a completely different side to me than she'd ever seen before (she's never seen me outside the context of Australia). 

Life in Australia is very different in many ways to life in Japan. Life in cross-cultural ministry is also different to what most people "get". And it's easy to feel sorry for myself and descend into a pity-party here. I'm glad I didn't post this when I first wrote it because I've been able to delete a couple of paragraphs of that kind of thing!

I know that I have friends who love me and try hard to understand and love the weird person that this life has made me. I am ever so grateful to them. This is a lonely life and those special friends make a huge difference. I'm trying to do my best to embrace the "Australian Wendy" for these months we're here.

I'm also grateful for the various people we meet along the way who understand. We met two just yesterday, people who we've only crossed paths with a few times, but who have a lot more in common with us than many other Aussies.

There's so much to be thankful for! Even the uncertainty about the future, because it challenges me to trust God more. What are you thankful for this week?

Off my game, but seizing the day

It's been a weird week and I haven't been able to settle well to work that needs deeper concentration. The main thing to blame is my schedule. I started the week exhausted from Saturday when I helped run a wrestling tournament (and continued straight on to dinner across town with friends), and end the week nervous about the really long day tomorrow at another tournament a long way from home. In the middle of the week was a day hanging out with missionary women and a funeral of a church member, plus a mid-week wrestling event, all on different days. Add to that two other days with meetings, but not even long meetings! 

All that is enough to throw me off my game. I can sandwich some work in-between other things as well as the next woman, but I find that writing and editing longer or more difficult pieces of writing, takes more concentration and doesn't squeeze well between other things. So I generally chunk my schedule to help me work that way (ideally, two or three whole days in a week without any external events), but it just hasn't happened this week. Oh, and I've been struggling with headaches on and off too, which never helps concentration.

Next week looks better . . . I hope it lives up to that expectation.

But for now I want to tell you a little bit about the funeral. We arrived at church on Sunday to the news of a sudden death the night before of a 65-year-old church member who has quietly served his community and church for decades. He was not obviously Japanese, having American heritage, but his heart was clearly centred on Japan. He was born here and spent most of his life here teaching English. He served the church by simultaneously translating one of the services each week into English in his little booth at the back of the sanctuary, as well as proofreading the bilingual PowerPoint presentation. So many people have been blessed by his service over the years! His Japanese wife and mother-in-law were clearly distraught at the funeral yesterday. He hadn't been ill and died while doing something he loved: watching sumo at home.

It was a small funeral, which surprised us. But we were glad to be present, at this beautiful Christian, Japanese funeral, representing some of the many people who have been served by this humble, behind-the-scenes guy. There are so many funerals that I haven't been able to attend in the last few years, usually because of family responsibilities and distance. I'm sure there were some who wanted to be present at this one, but couldn't.

It's only the second funeral in Japan that my husband or I have attended. Before we came to Japan we were told about Japanese funerals, in particular, about the very strict dress code and the need to own "funeral clothes." It's all black, except the men get to wear white shirts with their black tie and women can/should wear pearls (but no other jewellery except wedding rings). I own very little black (and no pearls), as it just drains my already pale face of all life. And almost none of the black clothes I have are "winter weight". My heart's desire was to honour this man and his family, and not to draw attention by my foreign-ness and what I was wearing or not wearing.

Thankfully I managed to do that, all while not getting frostbite! But let's just say I was wearing a lot of layers under the appropriate black externals!

The service was very different to the Buddhist one I attended many years ago, indeed it was very similar to a worship service. I was taken by surprise by the open coffin where we were guided to lay flowers after the service, but as we aren't close to the family, we didn't stay long after the main service. To learn more about Japanese funerals check out this article I edited a while back.

It's sobering to think that this man was only about 15 years older than us. Truly, a funeral is a good place to get a reality check in our busy lives. I'm always grateful for my husband, but this was a good reminder to seize the day as often as I can.

The fairly spontaneous dinner we went to last Saturday was very much a case of "seizing the day". It wasn't wise, at the end of an exhausting all-day event, but it was a rare opportunity for three families who get along well to get together. And we had fun. I'm really glad we went. Taking time to appreciate those we love is so important. For those of us who have no family in-country it's even more important to invest time in friendships nearby. Just this week we've heard of an expat whose cancer journey has taken an unexpected turn, and another family we know whose overseas journey seems to have come to an end (they aren't returning from home assignment, though continuing to work with a mission). Seizing time with friends that God has given you to walk with this current week, month, year, is important in this life where things can change so quickly.

On the edge of ordinary on the medical scene

Looking at July and August, all I've written about on this blog is holidays and camping! Anyone would think I've done nothing else. I actually only had 16 official days of holidays in those two months. Since we got back from holidays in mid July I've been at my desk most of each work day (aside from those two days of camping a couple of weeks back). It's always a challenging time of year to work, although as the boys grow older it's become much less of a problem. They are no longer running around the house during their holidays, demanding my attention at random times, so I've got a lot more headspace to devote to work.

David went back to work officially on Monday, so this week is looking more like business as usual, except that I've got two big boys sleeping away much of the day (yes, they are pretty nocturnal at the moment). When I say "officially", David's actually been in and out of school many days in the last fortnight. And he's been on his computer doing email and other admin things for a period most days, not to mention three Zoom meetings/training with OMF last week. Plus, he's been working on a project of digitalising a portion of his work that has existed on index cards that have been collected by dozens of teachers over the last few decades. So, I've not been alone in working at home here!

We do as much of our medical care as we
can in Japanese, but for some things we 
really need English service providers for.
We're thankful for the doctor near this
station who has been caring for one of our
sons over the last 2 ½ years.

In addition to that, we've been doing a few medical things. I wanted to write a bit about one of them—a visit to a dermatologist.

When you live in your home country you don't think about how the medical things that happen there are (sometimes) specific to your country. Of course you might think about how accessing medical care in another language is hard (and it is!), but I've got a different type of example you might not have thought about.

Skin cancer isn't common here

Australia has the highest rate of skin cancer in the world for men (not women, though we're close to the top of the list). Japan is not even in the top 20 countries in this list. But Japan is third on the list for stomach cancer and Australia doesn't feature in the top 20. (This data is from here.) 

These are interesting statistics, but the rubber hits the ground when you are not living in your home country. In Australia skin cancer is high on the list of things that your local GP will check if you ask them to (and in fact we've been told that the average Australian GP is better informed about skin cancer than the average dermatologist in Japan). Plus, there are many easily accessible skin cancer clinics that will give you a regular full body check. By contrast, in Japan, there aren't such clinics. And at annual government-funded medicals in Japan, they check for bowel and stomach cancer, but skin cancer isn't on the radar.

It just so happens that my husband has a family medical history (and now a personal history) of skin cancer, and so this is definitely on our radar as he gets older. I'm very grateful, therefore, that we live in one of the largest metropolises in the world. It's possible to find unusual services, like a doctor who has read up on skin cancer in Australia and is willing to "colour outside the lines" with foreign patients who have different skin and had different environment growing up to most of the Japanese population. It's not covered by our Japanese health insurance, but it's an awful lot cheaper and easier than going to Australia. It really is another example of how we live "on the edge of ordinary".

And life continues on...

Aside from all that, we're living pretty quiet lives here and trying not to be too stressed by the news of what's going on in the rest of the world. The pandemic is raging in Japan (between 15,000 and 20,000 new cases a day in the last few days, around 5,000 of those in Tokyo) and we're doing essentials, but otherwise at home. We're thankful that Japan is working hard to vaccinate—nearly 50% of the population has had one jab, that's 60 million people since they began in mid February. Maybe by summer next year Australia will welcome us back for a couple of months without requiring us to quarantine in a hotel at our own expense?

School (CAJ) starts the new school year for students from next Tuesday. I'm still coming to grips with the fact that we'll only have one at school this year. We're not sure what the year will look like for our middle son, but we're glad we have the means to be able to support him at this transition time of life, to give him a chance to figure things out.

International perspective on life in the pandemic

Quick summary of our current pandemic situation*

In early January the Japanese government called a state of emergency for Tokyo and ten other prefectures. This was to March 7, but has been extended for Tokyo and some other prefectures until the 21st.

On 3 March, the 7-day average of new cases/day: 

• Japan 1,030

• UK 7,173

• US 64,409

• Australia 8 

(It's interesting to note that both the UK and US numbers are falling but Japan and Australia—though admittedly the numbers are tiny in Australia, so it's a poor comparison—are holding steady at present, possibly related to the roll-out of vaccines?) 

New visas for Japan aren’t being processed, so this is holding up a number of short-term and new, long-term workers from joining us here in Japan.

CAJ has continued to start an hour later to enable most students to commute at a less-crowded time. This will shift back to a normal time as soon as the state of emergency is lifted.

Our Japanese church has been online since early January.

Our personal international perspective

As we talk with people in Australia, we realise that we have an interesting international perspective. It’s amazing how this global disaster is being experienced in vastly different ways around the world. In February, Wendy chatted with a missionary who is in the UK on home assignment. The restrictions they are living under there are very tight and quite depressing.

By contrast, talking with Australian friends, there is almost an unreality about it all now, with little threat being felt in much of the country. We realised with a shock recently that Queenslanders have made it through the majority of the last 12 months without needing to wear masks!

But the border restrictions are strict in Australia. As a result it would be challenging for us to go there right now. Yet we have American friends who have gone to their country and back, and had to quarantine only when they returned to Japan (with minimal restrictions in their own home).

Japan has many less infections than the US or UK, but more than Australia and the experience is different again. Though we’ve been in the midst of a state of emergency in Tokyo since the start of the year, the rules are vague and nowhere near as strict as Melbourne has experienced. That is partly due to the constitution that limits the powers of the government. However, 99.99% of people over five are wearing masks in public. Many churches are meeting online, even though regulations don’t insist that they do. But schools are still open.

Where the limits are strict in Japan are with allowing new people into the country. That has an impact on organisations like OMF and potentially CAJ, if they want to employ new, overseas staff in August. It also means that many meetings, workshops, and consultations that were previously held in person are being held online these days.

Vaccines are going to change things again, and we wait to see how that pans out. They’ve started vaccinating medical workers here, we wait to hear how the next stage will roll out.

*We sent this out in our prayer letter on the weekend and I thought it might be something useful to put on here too. Cross-cultural workers tend to be more aware of international matters than people living in their own countries, it's just a fact of life when we're brushing shoulders with people from a variety of cultures.

Not able to make plans yet

This year has been one filled with pain for many. One particular struggle has been the uncertainty and difficulty in making plans. We've had it relatively easy compared to some other cross-cultural workers (we know some who've been stuck in countries where they'd rather not be), we had no "big" plans for the year. That is:

• we'd not planned to go on home assignment, or return to the field
• none of our boys have been in the middle of a major educational transition
• we were settled in a good location and had work we could do regardless of the conditions around us
• we had no major travel plans disrupted 
• we got to take our annual summer holidays as planned in July

Of course there have been many disappointments: 

• our son in Australia has not been able to visit us as he'd planned
• school was online for several months 
• lots of other things have been cancelled or radically changed

This blog post in 2015 was answering questions we were dealing with back then about how our eldest son would be transitioning to Australia. We had big, bold, audacious plans! Surprisingly, most of them came to be.

Somewhat random photo, taken during my time in the park
on Friday as I pondered some of the things I've written in 
this post.

This time round, with our middle son graduating (Lord willing) in June of next year, we've got a clearer idea of some things, and, for a couple of reasons, a much foggier idea of others. Who said it gets easier?

Five years ago I wrote that blog post while we were on home assignment, partly out of frustration at having to repeatedly explain things (but I’m not sure it helped much as most of those who asked weren’t reading this blog). 

The challenge we have is that Australians don’t understand the American schooling system our boys are in and most people we encounter in Japan don’t understand the Australian schooling system. Add to that the challenge of having to negotiate the journey of your kids transitioning to adult lives when you’re not working in your passport country. Plus the fact that these kids have lived most of their lives overseas and have almost no friends in their passport country.

All these things add extra layers to such a time in life. The natural result is lots of discussion and plans. David and I love a real-life puzzle and we love planning, but this puzzle has too many pieces that aren’t even in the box yet.

One thing I’ve been struggling with is that the natural question to ask people at this stage of life is about those plans. The thing I’ve found is that most people would like to hear a neat, ABC plan. But what if you don’t have a neat “ABC” plan? What if your “plan” looks like a bunch of squiggles that don’t make much sense? What if your plans look more like a bunch of possibilities and maybes, than anything concrete? That makes for awkward conversation. It also leads to worry. At the moment, my challenge it is to trust God in all this. To “be still and know that he is God”.

I’m reading Sword Fighting: Applying God's word to win the battle for our mind by Christine Dillon, a friend of mine. She’s asked me to write a review when I’m done, but I’m not finished the book yet. However, the other day it was good to read the chapter about worry. Thinking about the story of Abraham and Sarah—God had promised them they would have children, but they’d had none thus far and were getting older. So Sarah came up with a plan, which turned out to be a bad plan, not God’s plan. 

I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to “help God out” by coming up with a plan that isn’t in line with his plans. But sitting still and trusting God is hard. And talking to people who enquire about the plans of our son who is in year 12 just highlights how many ifs and buts there are. It also seems that for people of our age, suggesting post-school plans for teenagers is a particularly enjoyable/tempting thing to do? We've been on the receiving end of so much well-meaning advice and suggestions, but . . . it hasn't necessarily helped me in waiting on God.

I’m reminded of the passage in Ecclesiastes 3 that begins “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.” I reckon this fits (though there's no actual verse that says this): “There’s a time to make plans and there’s a time to wait.” Right now, for us, it’s time to wait, and trust in the Lord with all our hearts, leaning not on our own understanding and God will direct our paths (paraphrase from Proverbs 3:5-6).

This is getting to be a long post. But as I've thought about this over the last few days, God has been working in me. Yesterday I looked up "wait" in the Bible. It occurs many times, but here are a couple that are relevant to our current situation:

"In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly" (Psalm 5:3 NIV).

Indeed, we've been laying our requests before the Lord many, many mornings. We also need to wait expectantly for his answers (which may not come quickly).

"I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, in his word I put my hope" (Psalm 130:5).

Yesterday we also were privileged to hear a Japanese missionary from Wycliffe speak on Psalm 13. 

How long, Lord? Will you forget me for ever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts

and day after day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, Lord my God.

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,

and my enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him,’

and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in your unfailing love;

my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,

for he has been good to me. 

He pointed out that this was probably written later in David's life, as he reflected on the many struggles he'd had in his life. Verse 3 is David's prayer: that he would have "light" or understanding, that he would be able to see God in the midst of the struggles. 

The preacher also took a little detour to talk about the phrase "it came to pass". It's a common phrase in older versions of the English Bible. In modern translations it is often translated as "after that" or "one day". But he pondered what God might be saying to us through this Hebrew phrase and thought it might be a reminder that these things haven't come to stay. That no matter what you're going through it will pass—keep your eyes on heaven.

I'm praying that I'll have wisdom to deal with conversations that encourage me to worry, and more conversations that point me to trusting and waiting on God. And that God will enable us to sit with these current uncertainties and trust him to work it all out. 

Hidden reasons

The older I get, the more I realise how much what you see is different to what is really going on. And I'm quite convicted, because so often I judge others by what I see, without knowing the bigger story.

This is tricky to write about because I have a big elephant in the room that I want to write about as an example of this, but I really shouldn't write about it because it will invade that person's privacy. So let's go with some common fictional situations:

• a toddler who loses it in the grocery store
• a young adult who is sullen and rude
• a friend who can't seem to meet the goals she's set herself
• the quiet man in the corner of the room
• the colleague whose capacity to get stuff done is way less than yours
• the lady who appears antisocial

Oh, myriad examples. You know what I'm talking about. Behaviour that seems odd, or even unreasonable, that you don't understand and that is easy to judge.

What I sometimes (often?) forget is to stop and think is:

What's going on behind the scenes that I can't see?

There are many legitimate reasons for the above behaviours. From tiredness, poor organisation skills, or personal preferences; to the much more serious: mental health problems, traumatic life experiences, or serious physical illness.

The kicker is that most of the time we don't know why. Unless we know their backstory we don't know why that person is behaving like they are.

I've been on the receiving end of overt judgement from others, especially in relation to my children and our parenting decisions. That's hard. It's actually harsh. Sometimes it's possible to explain why such and such a thing is happening, but even then, it is usually very difficult for someone else to imagine walking in my shoes.

And I really shouldn't judge others for their poor judgement of me. I might not be guilty of saying my judgement out loud, but to my shame much judgement goes on in my head.

So back to my elephant. There are things about the way our family operates that I can't share with many people, and even the people I do share some things with have trouble fully understanding. You can speculate if you wish, or you can just accept that we are very deliberate about what we do. We make choices looking at the full hand of cards that only we can see. And sometimes those choices seem odd.

People look at missionaries and (sometimes) think "aren't they brave?" But they don't see the non-public times. The sheer exhaustion after an international move, or even the daily fatigue from operating in another language and culture. The self-doubt as we question our decisions. The fear as we wonder what the future holds.

Parenting as a cross-cultural worker is very challenging. We have no extended family to help us—though I know that many in our home countries are in that situation also. We're negotiating our way through situations that our parents never had to (and I'm not talking about screen-time here). We're trying to guess what the best decision is, when even small changes can impact our work, or even our ability to remain in the country we serve in. And we have few peers who are like us. 

It's a vulnerable situation, parenting in this way. Lots more people are watching us, more than would be if we'd never left the place we grew up in.

Please don't think that I'm in a bad way right now. I'm writing from a fairly strong position at present (though there are people I do avoid because of their capacity for quick judgment and slow listening). I'm writing from the experience that comes of having lived cross-culturally for over 19 years now. But don't fall into the trap of thinking that all is hunky-dory because I share photos of my family's public successes. And I'll try not to assume the same of you.

Borderlands: on the edge

Here's an excellent 15-minute video by a TCK that was originally a TED talk. It fits so well with my blog's theme of "on the edge of ordinary" that I just had to share it with you. Joshua Tan calls this edge "the borderlands" and explores the theme biographically, looking back over his 20-something years as a missionary kid and then as a young adult seeking to find his way.

He's studying a post-grad degree in Art Therapy. From about 13:00 (my paraphrase, not quite an accurate transcription): 

"I like this concept of the mental health continuum....we're not just well or unwell. We're constantly moving throughout the day, sometimes we feel a bit more well, sometimes we feel less well. 

I think this is similar to belonging, to moving through the borderland. We're constantly moving up and down through the course of the day. In each new group, we're going to be at different stages. Maybe we see a friendly smile in a strange place and we move up the scale, or a colleague makes a remark that makes us feel a little bit uncomfortable and we feel as though we don't belong as much in that workplace."

I'm seeing my own TCKs find their way through these borderlands, but at the same time have my own borderlands to negotiate. Living a cross-cultural life has a lot less security, in terms of belonging, than we otherwise would have experienced in our home country. I have to say that I probably "belong" most right where I am at present, being the longest I've stayed in any one place since I left home at 17. We certainly don't belong as much in Australia anymore, though that would grow if we stayed there for a length of time.

I do like the way he ends:

It's important to know that you are not alone...The borderlands aren't a bleak wasteland...they are rich with potential, filled with the colourful vibes of so many other people. You will find your own place in your own time.

This is true for adult TCKs, it's also true for us. The borderlands are a constantly changing landscape, but with keen eyes it is possible to see and appreciate all the beauty of the diversity and change there.

What's it like being on a US base?

Someone who had never been on a US military base asked me the other day what it was like.

Here are a few observations:

A combo of Japan and, what I presume is US/military

For example, the below sign on one of the buildings: dual languages, but strangely the Japanese describes the distance as "feet" a measurement that is pretty much not ever used here.

You drive on the left side of the road, but the signs are American and the road rules are also American (which makes me nervous).

Many of the takeaway shops we have used in the food court have Japanese staff, so you can speak English or Japanese to them. I tend to modify my English to somewhat American vocab...eg. "green pepper" instead of "capsicum" at Subway. Some bases you can use yen, but some will give you change in USD. Sometimes they won't take larger denominations of yen.

It is like a foreign land

You have to go through an ID check of some sort at the gate and there are security measures that one has to abide by. That differs from base to base and sometimes from week to week! Your car also has been be registered with them to drive on and at most bases they check your documentation every time. You can't just go on at a whim, you need to be on a list that the school (in our case) has submitted to the base some time previously, or you need to be "sponsored" by someone who has military ID. Sometimes it's taken us an hour to get onto a base, sometimes it's just a few minutes.

The shops are American, so some are familiar, but some aren't. For example, I've discovered Philly steaks are a thing, a good thing. It is somewhat embarrassing, though, to be lining up for one of these places, being able to understand the menu, but not really understanding even though you look like you should. At the place where we do cross-country, you can buy snacks at the little store and most of the "candy" is unknown to us.

There is an alien feel to them

This has got to be the "military" bit: the buildings are all painted this same beige colour.

The base where we've had all the athletics meets this year is an airbase. Most of the time I've just used the one gate, but when I've been with ex-military friends we've gone out a different gate that means driving across the runway! That's pretty weird. At another base where we've gone for wrestling, you can see the military ships in dock (maybe a nuclear submarine or two?).

Of course, there are a few guns (mostly at the gate) and people walking around in military uniform too.

This missionary life is full of surprises. I never expected to be visiting US military bases when I first headed to Japan (nor for many years after that, either). But here we are!

And we're going back tomorrow. We're past half-way, only two more long Saturday meets this season after tomorrow.

Looking after the customers

A notable characteristic in Japan is looking after the customers. We've seen a great improvement in this in Australia over the years, but I think it's mostly done there out of fear of being abused by the customer (or sued). But Japan goes way beyond Australia's version of customer service, it seems to be embedded in their culture, not a product of fear.

Last week I rode to a newly opened grocery store in our neighbourhood. I was amused to find three "guard men" in the car park looking after customers.

In the photo, you can see half of the car park and about an eighth of the bike park. It is not large! But three men were helping people park their cars and bikes. The bike park was pretty full when I arrived and one of them directed me to an empty slot.

I bought a full-load of stuff, and it took a while to load it all into my baskets, so I got to hear them interacting with customers. The man closest to me in the photo was thanking people as they left to store as well as helping with bikes. The two at the entrance were greeting people. I got an extra blessing of "Be careful" as I rode out with my well-loaded bike!

I shared this experience with a couple of Japanese friends the next day. One of them later shared a video with me that includes a hilarious section about these "guards" that I include here for your enjoyment (it's a 17-minute video, the "guard" part is 30 sec at the 4-minute mark).

Though it may seem a bit over the top, you really do feel looked after and I have to admit that there are times I miss that in Australia. A classic time was trying to find my way through complex roadwork on my bike in Brisbane a few years ago. There were no signs, no people to direct or even to ask. I had a moment of homesickness for Japan right there.

Challenging encounters

Coming back into Australia often feels like a cross cultural encounter. Beyond the obvious cultural differences, it's the deeper stuff that is more challenging, especially because others don't usually expect that we have a different perspective on things because we look and sound (mostly) Australian. 

These trees on my parents block remind me it's been a
long time since I grew up here. As a young adult on holidays
from uni I used to mow around these two
big trees—they were saplings.

This is a strange cross-cultural challenge, though, because some things remain the same others change. New ones appear and old things get an unexpected twist on them. Each time we come back for an extended period we tiptoe around a bit, trying to figure out what's changed. We try to spend time asking questions and listening. Sometimes that's hard because some people want to hear all about what we've been doing, but every now and then we can get people to talk about what's going on in Australia and get a feel for the lay of the land.

Topical hotspots
We've discovered that Australia has a number of topical hotspots at present. At the risk of opening some pandora boxes, they include:

• Plastic bags
• Gender
• Gay marriage
• Drought and farmer assistance (Australia's in the midst of a significant drought and metro areas have just realised, resulting in a lot of "save the farmers" type campaigns and includes blame casting.)
• Abortion (which is situated in a different political/religious climate to the US, it is nowhere near the political hotspot here as it is there)
• Refugees (this has been around longer)
• Anti-vax (which has also been around longer, but has had a financial impact on us as it's now a requirement by the government for our kids to have certain vaccinations that are hard or impossible to get in Japan, if they don't we lose out on some financial benefits that could be ours as low-income earners)

There are more, including a bunch of political issues. I'm also sure that I'm not keen to try to figure it all out. Not because I'm an irresponsible citizen, but I have to acknowledge that we have our limits and dealing with all that we have on our plates at present is plenty. It's also usually enough to seek to weather the conversations our own situation dredges up. 

Here are some real examples from recent weeks:

Japan and cars
Yesterday someone taking our money at the gym wanted to know if we wanted membership and we declined citing that we were moving at the end of the year. "Where to?" he asked.
We sighed, we'd been trying to avoid this.
"Japan"
"Oh cool...they have great cars there."
I have to say I've never had a conversation about the great cars of Japan . . . it's surely not my area of strength. But we heard plenty from him . . . before we finally got to go and work out.

Japan and bikes
When I came back in February and accompanied my son as he bought a bike for commuting to uni, we had a conversation about bikes with one of the staff. He was fascinated with hearing our experiences of using bikes in Japan. His knowledge had been much more of a serious cyclist, but we gave him an insight into daily life with bikes as a "commoner".

"Oh, you've lived in Japan . . . I've been to... (read here an unrecognisable name) what an amazing place!"
This is a more common conversation with a stranger when they discover where we spend most our time. The place name we often have to strain to recognise because we really don't have the Australian accent on Japanese words down pat yet. Japanese has only five vowel sounds and typically Australian mangle these, making many words very difficult to recognise without context. Needless to say, we try to go with the flow on a conversation that starts like this. Usually they aren't too hard to make it through, although if we stay at this point in a conversation too long I'll be cringing inside because I know that people have only seen the surface of Japan: the beautiful front that this nation puts up for visitors.

"Japs"
Believe it or not, I had a conversation with a very earnest young Christian man the other day who used this word as casually and neutrally as he might say "postie" (or postman for non-Aussie readers). I was shocked as I'd consider this an insult, but thankfully he moved on quickly.

Language changes
This relates to words we don't use in our family, words we consider crass or dishonouring to God. Some of these words have made it into polite conversation while we were gone. Our kids brace themselves at school because the language there is often cruder than they are used to hearing.

Odd conversations
There's the odd conversation that leaves me speechless. Something, if you've ever met me after breakfast, will find hard to believe. I can usually dredge up something!

I'm still staggered by an awkward conversation I had with a community nurse a few weeks back. As part of our routine medicals we have to have fasting blood tests. These I hate. A breakfast meeting is not something I volunteer for because I really can't make decisions before I eat (hence I eat pretty much the same thing for breakfast every day) and good conversation is really not  on the cards.

It all started off badly when the nurse asked, "So how are you this morning?"

I responded with an attempt of realistic humour: "I've not had breakfast or coffee yet..." 

She had no response to that at all. We fenced back and forth without finding any traction at all, on any topic. Towards the end of our encounter I tried again:

"It's a bit cloudy today."

She grabbed hold with both hands on this one and went, in almost one breath, from, 
"I wonder if it will rain." 
to
"The Chinese are going to take over our country because the farmers are selling out."

Quickly followed by, "What's your opinion?"

I was speechless. 

In my fragile, pre-breakfast state I was not about to step on this landmine. (Did I have an opinion?). I had the presence of mind to just mumble, "It's a complicated issue." And escape as fast as I could to get some food and coffee.

Conversations is what we mostly do
Conversations are the mainstay of what we do here. You might think it is up-front meetings, but that's just the most visible bits. But in fact, if you add up how much time we spend standing up in front of a large group vs one-on-one conversations with people you'll find the ratio is very much in favour of the latter. In the last six weeks we've spent less than 45 minutes in front of a congregation at worship services on Sunday mornings. We've already spent many hours talking to people—about mission, Japan, and our lives—before and after such events, as well as over coffee or meals or other occasions.

But obviously, from what I've written above, conversations that aren't even missions-related, conversations that are just part of our everyday interactions with the society around us can be treacherous. 

Do pray that we'd be wise. That we'd gain something of an understanding about this land that used to be so familiar to us, but has changed, and continues to change. Pray for our boys too. Australia is even more foreign to them. They've not grown up here and, at times, aren't sure how Aussie they are at all as they observe everyone around them.

Continuing to do the impossible

I'm freshly home from having an iron infusion at a doctor's clinic. 

I found out last week that I'm seriously deficient in iron and therefore anaemic. I didn't guess I was low in energy—the result came through a routine blood test required for our two-yearly OMF medical—I don't actually feel as whacked as everyone thinks I should be. This morning I sat in on the bed at the clinic while the nurse injected iron into my vein at 1ml a minute and had a doctor, nurse, and medical student exclaiming over my test results. It's hard to know how to react to that. 

I stopped very briefly at this park for a bite of lunch
on my way home. I just can't get enough of the
juxtaposition of Australian bush on the
amazing blue sky.

The thing is, I'm nowhere near as exhausted as I was throughout each of my three pregnancies. It's probable that my iron has been dropping slowly for some time and I no longer know what "normal" energy is. So I'm looking forward to seeing what that feels and looks like in a week or two. Or maybe it will be a little bit scary!

I'll also need to be making some adjustments to our diet, I"m not sure yet if I'll need to take supplements, though I'm guessing I will. I've got another blood test in a month to see how well today's infusion has lifted me out of the danger zone. And we'll see where we go from there.

I could milk this situation nicely! I don't need to feel guilty that I've been a bit slack recently: at both writing and editing. Truth is, it's not just my body that's made me a bit weary. An international move will do that too, especially with a teenager who is struggling to find his feet here.

Answered prayer

But I do have to give credit where credit is due. Lots of people are praying for us (though not specifically about anaemia, but in general) and God has enabled us through yet another tough period. I'm sure that without God's enabling I'd be in a much worse state.

I had an interesting encounter with a lady a couple of weeks ago that, I suspect, is having a lasting impact. She herself is a relatively new expat in Australia (from the UK). She came here with her family, primary-aged kids, for her husband's ministry. A major change for all. We only spoke twice, for a few minutes, but connected deeply on the various issues and challenges that such moves and a ministry-lifestyle produce. 

As we parted, she said she'd pray that I would be divinely guided to people who would ask great questions and be life-givers for me during this six-months. I think I can say I've seen that prayer already being answered. 

Here's a glimpse of some of the conversations I've had recently (as best I can remember...I should have written more down soon after they happened...that's what happens when I get slack about blogging).

Yesterday I had a conversation with an older lady in our home church about how God's built her "faith muscle" over the years, especially in regards to safety. I came away so encouraged!

Over the weekend we had no ministry engagements, we were therefore free to get involved in our local/home church's events, which included a working bee, a bring-and-share African night, and worship on Sunday morning. That in itself was encouraging. 

At the working bee I worked with a young lady who's interested in youth ministry. She asked some great questions, including, "What do you do during the week?", "Where does OMF work?" and "What sort of medical conditions would stop you from going back to Japan?"

We also were able to host a BBQ here with some friends. I fielded some interesting questions, including, "Where do you plan to retire? Do any Japanese houses have ensuites (bathroom attached to the main bedroom in a house)?" Even—what's it like to live in a snow?

I've had a lot of conversations about whether it's good to be back in Australia. Thankfully most times people have had the patience to listen to some of the joys and the challenges that we experience at such a time and have grown in their understanding that it isn't so simple as they might imagine.

I've had a number of people say they love this blog, love following my journey. One person I met only this year in Japan wrote: "You ... challenge and inspire me in what you write and your passion for God and others around you. I have found myself writing much much more lately and I know that is in part thanks to you ... and so I just wanted to say thank you!"

I was encouraged to hear about the faith of the physio treating my son on Friday (just a bit of re-tuning for this sporty kid). The physio was super excited about us being missionaries and told us about his short-term missions trip to Fiji when he was 18. 

People continue to observe that "I couldn't do what you do", that we look like we're doing the impossible. I've had conversations where I've been able to point out that though what we're doing looks impossibly difficult (especially moving cultures with teenagers), God has enabled us to do it without serious disaster. Indeed our eldest son endured a year here when he was 15/16. It wasn't a fun year, but I think that it helped set him up for a future of living here. The year didn't totally derail him (he settled back into Tokyo really quickly), and he's been successful at both graduating from high school as well as moving to Australia and settling here. All this undergirded with much prayer and God's enabling.

I hope that as we continue to "do the impossible" God will be glorified, for there seems no earthly explanation for why things might have gone so well in many cases. It's not that we're perfectly amazing parents with perfectly amazing kids. Things get ugly (often at home, out of the public's view). Our bodies give way (hence my infusion today). We struggle not to be self centred. Our boys criticise our choices, though we try very hard to be as fair to everyone as our work allows. Some days it feels as though I can do nothing right. There's no way that we're doing all this in our own strength. We're doing God's work with his resources. Praise him!

Isaiah 40:28-31 seems very appropriate:

Do you not know?
    Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
    and his understanding no one can fathom. 

He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint. (NIV)