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.

Joy with my new garden

I've been wanting to write about my little garden for a while now. What's been stopping me? I've concluded that it's because it is not perfect, several aren't doing that wel! But that's a terrible excuse. Not all the plants are at their best, but it is winter time here, getting down to zero at nighttime, not the best time for plants! And because most of them are new to me and the conditions in this new apartment are also new to me, so I've been making lots of little adjustments: to plant placement (light and temperature variation), how much I water them.

These last five months has been a rebuilding time for my little potted garden. I got back some of the plants that I gave to others to take care of for the year we were away. Not all the plants made it through the transition to different locations and caretakers, so there was a fair bit of natural attrition. But as I got back some "old friends", I also got some new plants from the ladies who were looking after my plants, which was a surprise. On top of that I bought some new plants too. So now I have 21 pots with plants in them. Some are enjoying the bay window in our living room, two are in the dining/multipurpose area, and the rest are out on our tiny balcony, sharing space with laundry some days.

Parlor Palm

I felt very happy when my new garden was largely assembled. Why? Apparently there are many benefits to having indoor plants in your life (see this Time article, which, amongst other things cites an experiment where people who spent five to ten minutes in a room with a few houseplants felt happier than those in a plant-free room!) They are generally good for your mental health, though obviously not if plants are dying on you, which is why I always advise people to start with easy plants like geraniums, which are super hard to kill in moderate climates (mine survived being snowed on in Tokyo but didn't survive a year in a higher altitude when temperatures are much lower than here)! 

I particularly enjoy plants that I can nurture and see grow, rather than those you can buy fully grown and just water. There is also a lot of satisfaction in making changes so that a plant starts to thrive again. The Parlor Palm we have started out as a tiny little thing I bought for 100 yen (about a dollar)! It's now quite tall.

My sick maidenhair. I moved it outside
because I was concerned the fungus 
might jump ship to other plants, so I 
guess it's in isolation!

The maidenhair fern also started quite small and the second one (pictured) is a baby of the larger one. They've both been through some rough times. I think I'll have to wait till the weather warms us to see how they go. The latest drama with the little one seems to be a fungus of some sort.

Miniature rose

My miniature rose was a gift from David five years ago and it also has survived a few different crises. When we got it back this year it was just sticks and very dry, thankfully regular watering has revived some of the "sticks" and I'm hoping for good things come spring.

On either side of the rose you can see my efforts at a little bit of vegetable growing, but haven't had much success yet: my lettuces are still sprouts and I'm really not sure about the plants I thought were spring onions.

Baby hydrangeas. I don't know why they still 
have leaves...but I hope they flower in June!

The plants with the best story, though, are the two hydrangeas. Last year when we were moving out of our house in Tokyo I posted a photo of the two large hydrangeas in our backyard just as they were in full bloom, noting that I'd miss them. My mum suggested I take a cutting and someone else suggested that I ask a friend to look after the cuttings. I thought it was quite a long shot, but also realised I had nothing to lose. I Googled the topic, did the deed, then gave the fragile little cuttings to a Japanese friend (who also takes care of her parents' farm) and she gave them back to me in September this year looking magnificent. I'm so glad for the suggestion from my mum and friend, and for my Japanese friend who nurtured them! The parent plants are no longer in existence because the whole house and garden was demolished the week we moved in to our new place. But I've still got these little reminders of the place where we lived for 13 years!

The chrysanthemum is flowering quite nicely, with
many more buds forming, the Gerbera will probably
not flower again till it gets warm, and the Japanese Grape Leaf
Anemone looks a bit ill, but again, hopefully it will limp
along until we get to spring.

One of the surprises: another kind of geranium,
but I don't think it is well, it's also in iso.

The beautiful geranium flowered just in time for Christmas.

On the edge here is my lavendar: first time
trying to grow this plant. It's also not
looking great, but I'm hopeful.

My Aluminum Plant. I've shifted it
around a few times trying to find 
the right light and temperature combos,
it seems to be thriving in this spot 
where it gets light for a short period most
mornings.

I'm so glad to be settled in a place where I can have a garden again. I enjoy watering it and tinkering with it. It's a very small hobby that takes little time and not much money, but brings joy and colour into our lives.

Update + what awaits in Japan

I'm feeling pretty weary today. Yesterday morning I had a molar removed and abscess cleaned out under general anaesthesia. It took less than an hour and was less traumatic than having three or four wisdom teeth removed (I still have a "good side" to chew on). I'm thankful that the numbness lasted all day yesterday, so pain management wasn't hard yesterday. Today it hurts more. Overnight I slept fitfully, probably only got around four hours. Thankfully my brief is to rest for best recovery; I'm hoping for a nap after lunch. Hopefully this is the end of this strange health journey. The surgeon thinks that there was never an involvement of my salivary gland and that it was this tooth the whole time! I'm thankful that it seems this has come to an end before we left Australia and pray that there will be no complications that need to be dealt with in Japan.

Last week I wrote and sent out our prayer letter and intended to share some of that with you here. The "lead article" was:

What awaits you in Japan?

We plan to move into our new Tokyo apartment on 24 July, just two days after leaving Australia. A removalist (US English is "mover") is booked to shift our stuff from storage and there are OMF and other friends available to help us there.

The living area of our new apartment

We’re excited that our new apartment has better cooling (and heating) than our previous place, especially with another extremely hot and humid summer forecast. It’s smaller than our previous house—around 60 m², the size of a squash court. We’ll be doing a fair bit of problem solving to sort out where things go and if more furniture is required (we got rid of a lot last year). Thankfully we both love problem solving.

One of the first things we’ll do is buy bicycles to help us get around the suburb easily. Later we’ll be looking for a small car to purchase with money we’ve saved up.We will have about two weeks to get settled and then we’ll both begin work in our various roles.

We hope to have more opportunities for hospitality in this new season. Two new OMF families have moved to the CAJ area, so it will be good to spend time with them. We also have a few friends in the area who we’re hoping to invite to an Open House in our new apartment before school begins in late August.

We’re excited to start this new season. Though it will be hard to say goodbye to our sons, it’s been great to have this year to walk alongside them in Australia. We’ve seen God provide in tremendous ways and look forward to see what he’s going to do in the future! 

A couple of hymn verses come to mind as we reflect and move forward:

I am trusting you to guide me;

you alone shall lead,

ev’ry day and hour supplying

all my need. 

(Frances Ridley Havergal)

Great is Thy faithfulness, 

O God my Father,

Morning by morning 

new mercies I see,

All I have needed 

Thy hand hath provided,

Great is Thy faithfulness, 

Lord, unto me. 

(Thomas O. Chisholm)

________________________

And of course, you'll hear about our settling in process in more detail than those who read our prayer letter (I'm excited that both WiFi and air con are already connected in the apartment). But let me know if you don't receive our monthly prayer/news letter and would like to.

Feeling off-balance, but okay

I started this week with some trepidation. We knew that on each of the first three days (Monday to Wednesday) we would hear news that was out of our control and each had the potential to change the plans we'd carefully made for the coming month. Of course, we try to hold our plans lightly, knowing we're not really in control, but it's still hard.

The three things were:

Car repair

Our car was in a minor accident when our middle son, practising for his driving test, was hit from behind on the approach to a roundabout. Not his fault and the offender didn't stop. On Monday the car was scheduled to go to the panel beater and be assessed for our insurance claim at to be fixed. Our main concern was: when would we get it back? With an already complex month, this was an unwanted extra complication. Thankfully the assessor thought we'd get our car back on the day that we start to move out of our house. No day was ideal, but that's not the worst it could be! Thankfully we'd bought a second car a few weeks ago, with the intention that it would become our middle son's car after he got his licence. So, we still have a car to get around in!

Driving test

For my non-Aussie readers,
this is the sign that you
get to put on your car in the
first year after you have your
driver's licence (then you
change to a green P for two
years). When learning you
have an L sign.

Our middle son had his second attempt at a driving test on Tuesday. Again, out of our control, though we'd done all we could to prepare him, including recruiting a number of prayer warriors to pray on Tuesday afternoon at 2.50! I vacuumed the house while waiting for news about how the test had gone: shouting out my prayers and frustration to God. It must have been a sight for any flies on the wall. (It's been a 2 ½ year journey from when he first got his Japanese learners, then was diagnosed with epilepsy and had to jump through medical and government hoops here to get his Australian learners, get his required hours, get credit for the hours he did in Japan, and then get a test date, fail, and get another test date.)

We're incredibly thankful and relieved that this time he passed. God has been so gracious to us this year in helping us achieve so many of the goals we set out to nail.

Ongoing medical saga of my jaw

The ongoing saga of the discomfort I've been experiencing on the left side of my jaw came to a head (this started in Canberra during our long service journey in mid March). By late-May I was unwilling to accept the GPs assurance that all was fine. So I went to a physio (thinking it might be muscular-skeletal). He suggested another go at a dentist, who took an x-ray and referred me to an oral pathologist, who referred me to an Oral and Maxillofacial Surgeon who sent me for more scans, including an MRI. Amazingly, all that was achieved during June! 

It's been a ridiculous journey that I wanted to end asap, preferably before we went back to Japan, where accessing medical and dental services just becomes more complex for a non-fluent Japanese speaker. 

I had my post-scan appointment on Wednesday and the final assessment is that this is an abscess under a molar. The tooth needs extraction under General Anaesthesia. This is now planned for next Tuesday. Phew! And amazingly, I'm not in much pain, certainly nothing like I experienced at Easter time.

No one knows how this has escaped the attention of so many professionals (in three months I've had four dental x-rays, two ultrasounds, two CT scans, as well as an MRI). But perhaps it was just God keeping me off-balance, and part of his growth plan for me to trust him?

What now?

Well now that most of that is decided, we forge onwards. It's only 15 days until we hop on our first plane. Things are steadily getting done. Today so far I've made an enquiry about getting our carpets cleaned, I've finished our last prayer letter for this home assignment, written this blog post, and done (all?) the paperwork for my day surgery next week. Next on the agenda is a coffee and some more sorting of boxes of stuff that are lying around (much is memorabilia and correspondence from many years ago that has thus far been stored here).

On Saturday we are doing something new: holding an open day here at our house. So between 9 and 4.30 we could have a lot of people visiting (or maybe hardly any at all?). It's a chance for local people who may not have seen us to briefly do so.

Yep, I'm still feeling off-balance. I think that's where God likes me!

Finally the day has come…

Yesterday was the day we've been working towards: it's the day we decided months ago that we would finish our work (i.e. magazine editing, social media managing, and—for David—teaching). It seemed impossible at times, but alas (or much to my amazement) we actually managed it! The only portion of all that that I will retain is an overall management of the magazine team and general "hard question" consultant.

I'm thankful that I was running ahead of schedule last week. That relieved some stress as yesterday didn't go at all as expected—a simple get-medication medical appointment at a hospital (usually takes under an hour) turned into a four-hour ordeal. 

Being ahead of schedule also meant that I could volunteer several extra hours to help the admin team for the magazine with the manual labour of packing, and this month's mail-out had a wrinkle that's extended the time it's taking to packing all the magazines up several fold!

This week has held other unplanned things: 

• Doing my first ever audio recording of a conversation with a colleague which will go with six articles I've written about home assignment preparation (looks like that recording and the articles will be published over the next couple of months, so I'll be sure to share them).
• Doing some serious culling of files on my computer so that I can transition to my new work computer (yep, my computer lied about how much it held, and we ordered a new computer that was too small). Why this week?
• Starting to hand off my plants to others! Just like with my work, I'm splitting my plants up between several people to care for while we're away. I’d planned to do it, but not as soon as this week!
• A pile of mending has suddenly appeared! Really?
• And various appointments that aren't related to us leaving: mostly medical, and dental, but I do need to remember to make a hair appointment.
• I don't remember when I found out, but not long before Monday I discovered that I was invited to a staff-family dinner that night. First time since COVID (for me). And it was followed by square dancing, which is very closely related to the Australian bush dancing we did as kids and was super fun (even if I was very tired).

And expected things:

• I'm starting to struggle with sleep: nightmares about clerical errors, waking up early with my brain whirring, etc.
• Finishing work today, of course!
• My last work meeting (aside from next week, which is basically a whole five days of meetings at our OMF conference).

After my long wait at the hospital on Thursday I was feeling quite off balance yesterday. I'm really glad that I planned ahead and handed things off early, it's really helped that that hard work of thinking things through to be done before this week!

David also finished work yesterday, and last night he pulled out a whole lot of boxes that we haven’t used in 13 years. They’ve been living in our attic. Now our house looks like we’re moving, even if we haven’t actually put much into the boxes yet. But I’m feeling pretty restless about it all. Probably the best way to deal with that is to get off my chair (and this blog) and actually do some sorting myself. Here’s my secret: I leave the actual box-packing to David who is a magician when it comes to 3D puzzles like this.

Boxes full of packing material

On Monday we leave early to catch a couple of trains to catch a plane to Hokkaido for a five-day conference with OMF Japan. So we’ve also got to pack for that…and so, I’d better get going.

An audaciously big question

I was recently asked to fill in a form for our organisation that included the question “What emotions characterize your last two years?” 

Yep, it’s two-year-review time. I’ve reviewed my attitude and just got on with filling out this form that includes lots of hard questions like this (I’ve been grumpy about this process in the past).

Last time I did this (2021) I also blogged about it. Here’s a portion of what I wrote:

“I don't think I got any surprises as I went through the questions this time, although the question about "What subjects have you thought about in the last two years?" always flabbergasts me: no one really wants a detailed answer to that! “

But back to what kind of emotions characterize the last two years? Words like sadness, isolation, and anxiety came to mind. That’s a different group of words than I usually have written on this form in the past (we’ve done this approximately every two years since 2000).

What’s changed? We’ve experienced loss, but not the sort that immediately comes to mind. I’m currently reading a book called A Grace Disguised (revised and expanded) by Jerry L. Sittser. This book is about how the soul grows through loss and is intertwined with his personal story of losing his mum, wife, and one of his daughters in the same car accident. That kind of loss makes most of us feel shocked and automatically we start comparing. He addresses this upfront in the chapter “Whose loss is worse?” I was encouraged by this:

"There is a different kind of loss that inevitably occurs in all of our lives . . . this kind of loss has more devastating results, and it is irreversible. Such loss includes terminal illness, disability, divorce, rape, emotional abuse, physical and sexual abuse, chronic unemployment, crushing disappointment, mental illness, and ultimately death. If normal, natural, reversible loss is like a broken limb, then catastrophic loss is like an amputation. The results are permanent, the impact in calculable, the consequences cumulative. Each new day forces one to face some new and devastating dimension of the loss. It creates a whole new context for one's life."

I’m so grateful this list includes mental illness and disability. These are the realm of loss that we’ve inhabited in the last couple of years. Not a sudden loss, nor one that has a clear beginning or ending. But a loss nonetheless. It’s helpful for me to acknowledge that this hasn’t been without consequence in my soul and the context of our lives has changed, even if it’s hard to see for the outsider.

I haven’t finished the book yet, but I’m looking forward to seeing where he goes with this. Part of the pain is related to struggling to see what the future holds. The dreams you had in the past no longer give comfort. Sittser writes:

“Loss creates a barren present, as if one is sailing on a vast see of nothingness. Those who suffer loss live suspended between at past for which they long and a future for which they hope. They want to return to the harbor of the familiar past and recover what was lost—good heath, happy relationships, a secure job. Or they want to sail on and discover a meaningful future that promised to bring them life again—successful surgery, a second marriage, a better job. Instead, they find themselves living in a barren present that is empty of meaning. Memories of the past only remind them of what they have lost; hope for the future only taunts them with an unknown too remote even to imagine.”

Some part of the practical, competent me says I’m being melodramatic, that this isn’t true of me, that what’s going on for us isn’t that bad. But then my body quietly whispers signs that I shouldn’t ignore.

I’m sorry if I’m writing in riddles here. I wish I could tell you more details about our story, but it really is not completely my story to tell, so I won’t, at least not right now. And that’s part of the isolation that I’ve felt. Not that I’ve don’t have friends who regularly ask me how I really am. But that I don’t have many people who I feel able to really open up to about how I really feel. I did dump some stuff on an unsuspecting friend the other day: someone I hadn’t seen for three years. She looked shell-shocked, and I realised that I’d overstepped an invisible line . . . Again.

Whenever I get to this point in a blog post I’m confronted by the decision of how to finish it off. There’s no obvious conclusion. But maybe back to the question of emotions that have characterised these last two years. I did have some positive emotions that I might have included in the list, like contentment and joy. Yes, I think loss can teach you that your soul can expand to allow you to experience immense opposites, even at the same time.

I highly recommend this book. In the “praise” section at the start, someone wrote:

“Our souls need stories of how other people have overcome challenges so we can believe that our own hard stories can be ones that testify to our overcoming as well.”

I hope that my blog can be also a vehicle for helping others, in a small way, to believe that they too can make it through hard times.

The truth about journeying with illness that isn’t physical

Monday was international mental health awareness day and as this is something that has become part of my family's life over the last few years, I have been pondering how to write about it. I'm hesitant, but last week I was encouraged by two separate people within an hour of one another, that telling our stories is valuable and important, something I know, but need reminding of occasionally. And another person on the same day asked about my writing. All of this was a reminder that God has given me a gift for writing, so I should use it, even when it is a little bit scary. For though I’ve talked to various people about portions of the journey that our family have been on with mental illness, writing it in a public forum is a different level. I’m scared to hit publish on this post!

Until mental illness became part of my own family's story, I knew little about it. Though possibly I knew more than some as my university degree touched on it. But I consciously tried to stay as far away from having to interact with this topic and this “scene” as I could, until it appeared under my own roof and I couldn't run any more. I’m writing for those of you who have no experience of living with someone with a mental illness, that you might know some of the struggles we have. But I also write for the other parents out there who are quietly, perhaps silently, struggling.

I recently got quite upset when someone wrote on their social media page that they'd never heard a negative comment about their child. It's difficult to imagine a life like that. I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to talk to teachers about their child's behaviour (behaviour that stemmed from a neurodevelopmental disorder and mental illness). I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to take their child to a psychologist for an assessment and had a diagnosis (or several) presented to them. I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to research psychiatric drugs and sit in a psychiatrist's office.

I'm scarred because I've heard mothers of classmates of my son say things that show they don't understand their kids are barely aware that my son is in their class, let alone that he’s struggling. And I’m wounded because another mother told me she'd hate to have a child with a disability. So

This little plant is thriving in a hard place. That's what I want to see me and my family doing too. 

I hesitate to share about our experience because I know there are people out there who simply aren't interested in understanding.

But what I was most sad about when I started this blog post the other day is that someone may think that they have never heard a negative thing about their child because they are great parents and have, in their own power and strength, raised amazing children.

I know that I haven't been a perfect parent and that my kids have not had a perfect childhood, but I can't allow myself to be ashamed that they've struggled. That we've struggled as a family. A lot of what's happened isn't my fault, and nor is it the fault of my children.

I wish I didn't have the knowledge that suicidal thoughts are part of one of my son's experience. I wish that another of my sons hadn't had someone close to him take her life.

I wish that our dinner times had been ones of great conversation and connection over the years. We’ve often struggled, and it’s not because we don’t value that time. We’ve tried, really hard, every day, but dinners are still often a struggle. Polite conversation is not something everyone does well, or happily. I wish I could say I hadn’t felt judged because of my kids’ social skills.

Mental illness in a teenager is difficult because it is very often not easy to diagnose. It masquerades as a lack of motivation, as belligerence, as disobedience, as stubbornness, or a lack of confidence, and many other ways that look like behavioural issues, not illness.

For example: Is not sitting with anyone at lunchtime at school worthy of concern? Are they shy and prefer their own company, or do they lack the same interests or social skills as other children, are they the victim of bullying, or are they socially anxious, or do the sounds that other people make when they eat bother them? As they get older: not being able to get assignments in on time: is that just poor organisation, or is it because they have trouble concentrating, or are they depressed and struggling with motivation? Or is the effort just to get out of the house and interact with others through the day draining them of all the energy they have and there’s none left for doing difficult assignments?

I wish I was someone who could talk freely with my son about future plans. Plans for college or work; about the big, hairy audacious goals that some young people have. For several years we’ve struggled to talk to him about the next week. Anxiety takes a toll and makes planning for the next day hard, let alone planning for the start of life after high school.

As a parent of someone with mental illness, I've had to be hypervigilant at times (and I know that is the case for some parents of kids with other disorders also, like epilepsy and some kids on the Autistic Spectrum). Hypervigilance is exhausting. It's a hidden hurdle a parent must overcome to participate in daily life outside the home. If you have to be hypervigilant, it's important to take care of yourself and please don't feel you have to make excuses.

Mental illness in your house means you become a buffer between your child and the rest of the world. An advocate too, if you choose to be. I've had to spend a lot of time explaining our son and our family to others. Explaining why my son isn't getting out of bed at an "appropriate" time, explaining why he's wearing headphones, or why he's hitting his head. I've had to explain why he's not participating in polite dinner conversation or why he won't share a bedroom with his brother when we're traveling.

We've had to adjust our family's life and our parenting in so many big and small ways, it is hard to even remember them all now because many have become instinctual. It's only when other people see us behaving in a way they don't think is normal that we remember (and may have to explain).

Grief is part of all this and I guess that is part of why I feel this so deeply when people "boast" about their brilliant kids. I grieve that my family has suffered in this way. I am sad that what seems easy to some, is a battle for us. On a bad day it's tough to keep looking upwards, to trust that our God loves us and our kids as much as he says he does. To know that he goes before us, and that our situation is known to him. 

The Lord himself goes before you

The workshop I've written about in recent posts has finished. I'm so happy to be at the other end of it. It's been lovely to get back to work at my usual tasks and really enjoy the largely uninterrupted time! Yes, I've had no meetings this week, tonnes of work, but no meetings. I've got several meetings tomorrow, and next week have the equivalent of two days of meetings, so we'll just count up till now.

I'm just not sure what to write here today. The bigger picture of our lives is that our personal future has become more uncertain over the last year. Of course we never know what the future holds, but our plan has always been, for 21 years, to stay in Japan until we retired, unless the Lord called us to something different. We're not so sure now, but maybe God will call us to return to Australia for a period? It relates to our responsibilities as parents. I can't divulge more than that on this public platform, which means it's hard to write about. It's not the most comfortable of positions because we're both feeling very settled and happy in our various roles. But it is a question we will carry into the rest of this year and probably through next year also. 

So, we learn more about patience and waiting on the Lord. He called us to this life in Japan, he's sustained us thus far, and he will continue to do the same, whatever the next chapter of our lives looks like. 

I just keep coming back to a beautiful card that arrived in mid January. It came from an elderly lady I can't remember ever meeting. She knew my mum when my mum was a nurse-in-training 50 years ago! This elderly lady send us this verse, along with her letter and reassurance of her prayers. She doesn't know the specifics of our situation, but her gift was definitely on point.

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.

Broken minds: learning more about mental illness

I read a lot, but I don't enjoy writing book reviews. However, I think this book needs to be shared. It was one of several non-fiction reads I picked for my summer reading and I'm so glad I did.

I didn't grow up with mental illness close by, indeed, I actively avoided this area as a young allied health professional, because I didn't understand it or feel comfortable with it. But, as a middle-aged adult, without my bidding, mental illness has come much closer to my life, but I am still an observer. It is a bewildering and challenging subject and, while I've learned more about it in recently years, there is still much I don't know. I’ve struggled to write about this area, in part because I’m protecting the identity of people I know and love, but also because I know I don’t know a lot about this topic.

This book has been a very helpful way of learning more. It is a great balance of personal story and information. The bonus is that it is written by a Christian couple who have intimate experience with major mental illness (as sufferers as well as a professional). But the book is written with the express purpose of addressing some of the concerns of the Christians about mental health and how it should be viewed and treated.

I am thankful that my family has been spared the worst of Christian viewpoints on this matter, but still, reading this book has been enlightening. As an Australian I come at it from a somewhat different angle to an American. There are many more American Christians than Australian Christians and, Americans have in the past generally been more willing, as a culture, to accept psychology and counselling than in Australia. (That’s changing as Australian become more open to counselling and psychological care.) Therefore, in most of Australia there is a paucity of Christians who are professional counsellors or psychiatrists. Yet, we have been advised in the past by Christians to only seek the counsel of Christian professionals in this area. This hasn't always been helpful advice—we've experienced both bad and good Christian mental health professionals. And we've also received good help from non-Christian professionals. 

The authors highlight how differently we treat non-brain disorders, and repeatedly ask us to consider whether that is a legitimate divide. Do I only go to a Christian doctor for my asthma? In my thinking about the people close to me who struggle with mental illness, I’ve had to remind myself that there is a legitimate biological problem. This is not something that they are choosing, it isn’t something they can will themselves out of. It has been great to see how medication helps, but also realize that medication isn’t a magic pill that makes everything normal again.

The book focuses in on biological depression (as opposed to depression that is caused by challenging circumstances and often resolved through counselling alone), however the authors do touch on other types of mental illness.

Here are some of my highlights from the book:

• understanding better how biological depression affects someone
• helpful explanations about medication
• a historical explanation of how mental illness has been viewed and treated over the centuries
• an explanation of three main schools of thought in Christian circles (sadly none of them 100% helpful)
• an examination of people from the Bible and history who may (or may not) have had varying levels of mental illness

I was even comforted by the admission of one of the authors that she has avoided the companionship of those who can't accept that mental illness is a medical condition. This is a challenging enough issue to live with, without unhelpful comments from other people. I’ve had limited exposure to such attitudes, but have no desire to expand that exposure!

I think most of us know someone these days who has been diagnosed with a mental illness. Do them, and yourself, a favour and learn a little more about this poorly understood area. This book would be a good starting point.

Mental health and missions

Here is a great article from OMF US on a topic that has touched our lives in various ways. 

I know missionaries who struggle or have struggled with mental health issues, and yet are here, serving in Japan. It's not easy, but with the right support, they're able to use their gifts for the Lord here. In many ways it's not much different to someone with well-controlled asthma serving in mission (i.e. me). But I also know missionaries who have had to leave the field due to mental health (or, for that matter, physical health) issues with themselves, or their kids.

Mental illness still holds a stigma and it's not easy to talk about these things openly. This is especially the case for missionaries who are unfortunately often held up as something like super-Christians. 

Mental illness is also beset by stereotypes. So if a missionary tells their supporters about their particular struggle they are opening themselves up for misunderstandings from the very ones who are supposed to be supporting them. Understandably that is not an easy place to be.

I like what the author of the above article wrote about pretending:

Whether we pretend we’re fine, pretend we’re holy, pretend we don’t need help … The life of pretense sets us up for failure and separates us from ourselves, from God and from others. Whether we face mental health issues or not, we must learn to stop pretending. Our only hope to deal with the challenges of life is to learn to come to the Father and rely on him in our lack.

We are a body, not individual units. Let us each care for the members of the body, giving grace and providing a safe place for transparent and honest living. 

Can you serve overseas when your family isn't 100% healthy?

Last year an article arrived in my inbox about thriving overseas when your child has special needs. We know missionaries with kids with special needs and, without invading my own family's privacy, there's been times that we've also had to access the care of professionals. 

I took this photo on our last camping trip in Japan: October 2017. It's
been too long! But we're going camping again next week for a couple
of nights. Stay tuned all you virtual campers :-)

The article above is about a family whose son was diagnosed with diabetes and has managed, nonetheless, to transition to life in Russia. That was a bit close to home when we saw a child in our boys' school here diagnosed with diabetes just last month.

The instant assumption you can make is that you need to be 100% healthy and have 0% special needs to serve overseas, but that is quite untrue. Of course it does depend on where you are working and what support you have around you. When we first came to Japan we met a couple who were going to Cambodia. The situation at the time was pretty much evacuation if you had anything barring a simple cold. Medical treatment was not available in-country. That's a completely different scenario to Japan and many other countries where missionaries serve.

We're thankful to be in the capital city of a country that has good medical care and to be a part of a large mission that provides a lot of support. Just in the last few weeks, two members of our family have had phone conversations with our in-country medical advisor and I emailed him this morning about a third matter. The two of these matters weren't large ones, but the third is going to have an impact on our lives in the years to come.

We're also thankful that our boys can be educated at a supportive Christian international school. I can't say enough about the way we've been supported through various struggles our boys have experienced.

Whether or not you can serve overseas does also depend on the nature of your ill health or special needs. For example, intellectual disability is something that is much more difficult to accommodate, though we have a couple of expat friends who have experienced good things with Japanese special education.

We've seen several colleagues and their kids treated for serious illnesses like cancer in Japan, and numerous other diseases and injuries. One of our boys was born here and two boys have been in hospital here for infections. I regularly see a doctor to treat my asthma.

In the above mentioned article, the author lists some important questions to ask, if you are heading overseas with special needs—but also points us to God, reminding us that he provides what we need. Sometimes the way he does that is in our home country, at other times it is in our country of service. 

She also has this advice: give your child and yourself grace. This is what I'm trying to do at the moment, give myself grace to relax a bit. Turns out what happened last Monday (see here) was more a stress reaction than just a headache. I've been keeping a lot of balls in the air and I need to give myself (and my family) grace.

Some joys and struggles of the last 10 days

I've been busy this last week since I last wrote. Here's what's been going on in my on the edge of ordinary life:

But first a photo. Plum blossoms are just coming out. Next week the
Cherry blossoms are forecast to show themselves in Tokyo. Spring
is taking off and it's wonderful!

Monday 4th I did my usual grocery run and spent some time at the gym too. Aside from that, it was a home office day as I tried to get ahead before the rest of the week.

Tuesday 5th Was another home office day, alas a beautiful warm blue-sky day outside. I got a lot done, but it was heads-down all the way. Late in the day I rode to a new giant home store near us, especially to buy a couple of laundry accessories, but had a look around for a few other needs also. 

At 5pm I had a Skype meeting with a colleague in the UK who was just starting her workday. The meeting ran later than I'd planned and dinner ended up late (and me with a headache). Both boys had track and field training until nearly dinner time on Monday and Tuesday.

Love, love, love these missionary-women retreats!

Wednesday 6th I did some uncharacteristic baking mid-morning (usually I do this on weekends, or, at a pinch, late afternoon). It was in preparation for the Women in Ministry retreat that I left for after lunch, I'd volunteered to take some home-baked goodies for snack times.

After lunch, I met four other ladies at school and I drove us all out to far-western Tokyo for the two-night retreat, about a two-hour drive.

Thursday 7th and Friday 8th Yep, at the retreat. Times of worship, fellowship, eating, resting, and even crafting. On Thursday evening we also go to try out some Scottish highland dancing, a lot like Australian bush dancing.

More blossoms!

I had several retreat highlights:

• great Biblical teaching
• time spent one-on-one with a couple of good listeners telling about the challenges we faced at the end of November, early December last year
• a practical grief workshop
• feeling at home with other missionaries who don't need you to explain much between the lines to "get me"
• Scottish dancing
• worshipping in song and in English
• an enjoyable walk

Of particular note from the Bible teaching was:

• being reminded of the love of God, especially that God dwells in perfect love in the Trinity and his compassion towards us is constant.
• the Father-son relationship between Jesus and the Father is worth exploring in the Bible, it's a strong theme
• ministry is about serving (it's not a badge or a status) and it is just as valid to be called to be a faithful follower of Christ in the midst of the chaos or suffering of life as it is to have a recognised "ministry" role
• 2 Corinthians 4:1 tells us that ministry is a gift of God's mercy—what a remarkable way to view whatever it is that God's calling us to do right now
• there's an ongoing challenge to persevere through hardship and not lose heart 2 Cor. 1:7-12

On Thursday night, I sat for about an hour while the two worship leaders continued to sing after the formal session had finished. I just sat and soaked in the music, sometimes singing, sometimes not. It was a wonderful way to end the day.

Friday 8th Thursday was a rainy, cold day, but Friday was sunny and invited me outside. After lunch we were free to go home, but I asked leave of the six other people riding in my van, to take an hour for a stroll down to the river the retreat centre is located next to. It was a lovely bit of breathing space before diving back into the concrete jungle.

Saturday 9th Didn't end up being the day off that I'd envisioned. I spent the morning doing groceries and at the gym and the afternoon working on urgent office matters. David spent a couple of hours at school supervising a robotics team and then he and our youngest went to an end of wrestling season party.

This was me on the train on Monday morning.
Four people in this photo! Tokyo trains are
wonderful, but are also tiring. I've been on them
at least 1 1/2 hrs each day this week so far.

Sunday 10th This was also busier than I'd hoped. Church in the morning, and, though we're not responsible for anything at the church, Japanese worship still makes me tired. We had lunch with OMF colleagues and also a meeting to plan for a missions prayer meeting we're leading at church this coming Sunday. It was a lovely time together, especially seeing our children, who are very un-alike (they are two lower-elementary girls), interact so well.

Mid-afternoon after we got home we had a short (planned) conversation answering questions from a couple who are applying to come to Japan with OMF. Mostly it was about kids education.

Then we rested.

Monday 11th I jumped on a train not long after 8am to head to our monthly Kanto OMF prayer and fellowship day. I didn't know it, but I wasn't going to return home until nearly lunchtime the next day. Around lunchtime I became unwell. It seems now that I developed a rather nasty headache/stomach migraine. It would have been nice to jump in a car and sleep all the way home, but the idea of spending 90 minutes trains getting home was too much, so I ended up staying the night there, in OMF's guesthome. First time that's ever happened to me: not being able to return home because of illness.

This cuppa helped me get home on Tuesday after
a nasty headache the day before kept me from
travelling the 1 1/2 hrs home on trains.

Tuesday 12th I gingerly returned home and, after a bit of a midday rest, had a great afternoon trying to catch up on computer work that had been neglected for several days.

Wednesday 13th I worked at home in the morning and then met a friend for coffee (about an hour away by train). It was a delightful afternoon, but I have to admit that I'm still struggling under a bit of a headache cloud. Not so bad as Monday, but it's lurking, and sometimes clouding my thinking.

Well, that is already a lot and if I don't publish this soon, you'll just be getting an elaborate version of my daily schedule, which isn't my intention (I started this on Tuesday and now it's Thursday)!

This photo doesn't show well this cute little
building. One room upstairs and one downstairs.
It's a coffee shop. The sort that asks you which
coffee beans you'd like your coffee crafted from!