It’s a big week

 Moving into a new chapter in our lives isn’t without pain. I know that the changes we’re going through right now are necessary to move into the next thing, but it isn’t all joy. 

To start with, this week has been miserably hot. Cleaning, packing, and moving furniture and boxes around is an energetic exercise at the best of times, but this week we’ve hit a heat wave in Tokyo, a fairly early one. The average maximum temperature in July is usually 30, the last three days have been 36 or 37 degrees. Additionally, the house we’re moving out of had air conditioning only in the living/kitchen areas, and even that we lost on Tuesday morning as they came to uninstall the units. It’s been a case of working in spurts punctuated by breaks. Thankfully we’ve been able to housesit for friends of ours who are currently in the US on holidays. Their fully air conditioned apartment is only 300 m away from our house, so it’s been extremely easy to pop back and forth between the two. That’s meant we’ve been able to sleep in the cool too.

Sorting our goods thankfully hasn’t been too painful, we did a good portion of it in the months leading up to this move. But still, there was plenty of decisions to be made (this decision tree I shared earlier this year helps you to appreciate the extra layer of complication we have as missionaries). Some decisions are more important than others, but they add up. Just today I’ve decided which pieces of gardening equipment to keep (thankfully I don’t have much), which ice packs to keep, and whether I want to store a razor, or take it with me. Seemingly minor things, but the end of a long list of decisions.

On Sunday we watched as our two youngest sons decided what to take with them when they leave Japan next week, knowing that we don’t really have room to store stuff for them here. You see photos of kids leaving to go to college with whole cars stuffed full of things. Our guys only get a few bags. One of the harder decisions to make was regarding their winter clothes. It was hard to even touch those in the midst of this current heat.

On Sunday evening, it was almost anticlimactic to watch our loved dining table taken away by strangers. But all of a sudden, our house was definitely missing a key piece and since then it’s been feeling more and more like a familiar, but no-longer-the-same place. Then Monday morning the “large rubbish” department of the local government came and took away nine other pieces of furniture. Last night friends came and took our son’s beautiful desk. And two other friends came and took two futon sets.

Last Friday afternoon we welcomed local friends to an open house. We provided cold drinks (it was another stinking hot day), home made snacks (I found frozen bananas that either had to be used or tossed), and a bunch of stuff free for the taking. It was a great opportunity to see some people for the last time. But also we cleared out a lot of stuff too (which either got taken, or subsequently disposed of). It was like a turning point in this move. From then on things have been steadily leaving the house, destined for various places.

One of those is a space OMF rents for missionaries going on home assignment. This is a shared space, so requires quite a lot of juggling. Just in the last fortnight, several missionary units have put stuff in and taken stuff out. Thankfully it’s close to us, so we’ve been able to save a lot of money utilizing our eight-seater van and our two strong sons.

The twist, is getting stuff up and down this unattached ladder! Removalists aren’t super keen and I can understand why!

In the photo you can see a large blue tarp. That is covering the goods of a single missionary who will be coming back, we understand, in the next couple of months.

Other stuff that this last week has held includes:

• A trip to immigration to get our re-entry permit.
• A trip to do the paperwork to transfer the ownership of our car to the missionaries who’ve bought it.
• Quick trips to the store to buy lunches
• A trip to the city hall to tell them we’re leaving the country (so need to pause health insurance).
• Farewelling our youngest as he went to his final youth group camp over near the Pacific Coast. We’ll see him again on Sunday when we head that direction ourselves.

And coming up:

• Tomorrow David will make a journey into our nearest large centre to see if they can figure out why his not-old laptop won’t start.
• We also will make one or two trips to the local dump to dispose of the miscellaneous pile of stuff that we don't want to store.

Friday David will hand over the keys to the house and Sunday we’ll gather our bags once again and head to the OMF guesthouse for a couple of nights before hopping on a flight on Tuesday.

Speaking of bags…we’re pretty sure we’ve got more than the weight our tickets allow us, so today or tomorrow we’ll be weighing it all and deciding what to mail.

It’s been a big week, and hidden underneath all the busyness is an array of emotions. This is a good move, but also lots of big changes and adjustments are needed by everyone.

We have so much to be thankful for. I’m thankful for small things like a nap yesterday afternoon (I’ve been waking after only six hours of sleep each night) and no headaches for nearly two weeks! 

And we have so much to continue to trust God for. It’s pretty common these days to call someone in their life their “rock”, but I think the best rock is God, the only unchanging, reliable being that we know.

 “Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I shall not be shaken. My salvation and my honour depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.” (Psalm 62:5–8)

This time next week I’ll hopefully be in Cairns, Australia, recovering from an overnight flight. I’ll “see” you on the other side of this journey.

Farewells to precious things and places

If I were a poet, I’d be able to write some odes this week as I say some goodbyes to things. But as I’m not, a blog post will have to do. 

Oven

The first one would be my Japanese gas oven. Most Australian homes come with ovens and stove tops, that’s not the case here. In fact installed ovens are rare. More common are small convection microwave ovens that you plug in and can use both as a microwave and a conventional oven. When we moved into this house in 2010 there was a giant, old American gas oven in the kitchen. Obviously it had been imported by a former American tenant (there had been several prior to us taking over tenancy). It was old, however, and you practically had to lie on the floor to light the oven.

Five years after we moved into the house the oven started leaking gas and we had to dispose of it. I’ve written before about that drama and the decision to buy a (not cheap) Japanese gas oven. It’s not common for missionaries here to buy an oven to install in their homes, but I’m glad we did. I use this oven a lot. It’s brought me much joy and many people have been blessed by what we’ve been able to cook in it.

Because we own it we are responsible to get it uninstalled (not something we can do on our own), but also have the potential to take it to our new place next year. However, it remains to be seen if the owners of our next place will allow us to have this installed there. 

So we’ll put this in storage on Monday and wait to see if we’ll ever be able to use it again. I really hope so as I love cooking and this is the best oven I’ve ever used (yep, it beats anything I’ve used in Australia).

Plants

The second things I’d write about saying goodbye to are my plants, which have almost all gone now. This time, instead of asking just one person to look after more than a dozen plants, I asked local FB friends if they’d like to nominate one or more that they’d like to take care of. As a result about six people have taken plants for the year. I’m sad that my house is looking empty and I don’t have plants to look at and enjoy, but also glad that I haven’t had to throw them all out. 

I’m not really a gardener, but I have grown to love a few pot plants (yes, that's really what Australians call plants in pots) in my house. The bay window halfway up our stairs and just outside the bathroom has been a great place to put them, and probably the thing that most started me down this path. Keeping plants there made them easy to take care of and provided a great shelf of green (and sometimes other colours, when they flowered) to look at. The plants overflowed from this shelf and we've had plants in other places, including the narrow platform outside our tatami lounge room (maybe called an engawa) and a shelf outside our dining room. These locations also made plants easy to take care of and were visible from our living areas. 

I probably won’t have any plants in Australia, one year is just too short, unless I get a couple with the intention of gifting them to others at the end of our stay. We’re happy that the garden in this new house is almost non-existent (we’ve had the opposite and struggled with the responsibilities). But the great thing about this new house in Ipswich is that it’s close to lots of parkland with many, many plants that I don’t have to take care of, just enjoy!

Bike and park (rides)

Third thing to say goodbye to is my bike, and that is closely linked with the park I’ve ridden to numerous times in the last eight years.

This bike has done many kilometres. It’s my workhorse, I've used it it on my twice weekly shopping trips where both baskets are usually fully loaded. It’s rarely let me down and has needed minimal maintenance. I’m giving this bike away next week, and will likely get a new/er one next year.

The bike has also given me the opportunity to ride to the big park south of us (about 5 km). This park-ride, as you might know if you’ve been following this blog for a while, is a destination that I love to go to. It’s not just that it’s a great destination, it’s the anticipation, the “hope” that that can give me after a busy stretch at work that has been incredibly valuable.

Here is my first post about riding to the park in October 2015, it mentions a resolution to ride there every week or two, but that simply hasn't been possible. I haven't kept a track of how many times I've ridden there, but it would be unusual to ride more than twice a month and sometimes several months went past without going.

I rode here on Wednesday this week to say my goodbyes and sat for a while thinking of many of the visits I’ve made. I was able to get there during the pandemic and did a personal retreat there one day in 2020, when I’d been cooped up in my house for months with the rest of the family as they did school, and then a long summer holiday at home. I’ve visited on my birthday, enjoyed the cherry blossoms and the many other flowers that bloom through the year. It's been fun to visit in all seasons and see how it changes. I've met friends there, and eaten many a picnic in this park. 

Our first encounter with this park was when the boys were young as it’s got a lovely big playground and bike rental place (we used to drive when we were taking the family). I’ve got memories of those times too. One particular car trip stands out, when I had a car load of kids (ours plus one extra) telling really bad jokes…for the whole trip (about half an hour, but felt like an eternity).

These days the park has become “mine”. A place to retreat to, to enjoy peace and quiet, and the exercise getting to and from has been good too, when I could get there.

But alas it’s goodbye for now to this place too. As I’ve already written, there are many green areas close to our new home, so I’m looking forward to them too, but I’ll miss Koganei Koen (park).

House

And soon it will be goodbye to this house too. We stop living here on Sunday evening and will hand the keys over next Friday (14th). It's the end of an era, one that started when our youngest began kindergarten and ended when he graduated from high school! That might not seem to remarkable to you, but to most missionaries that is an unusual stretch of time living in the same house. 

So we're thankful and know that it's time to move on. Next July, we hope to be moving to somewhere smaller that's easier to keep cool in summer and keep warm in winter, and also easier to keep clean! Hopefully it will also be a place I can keep pot plants, can ride to this park, and can continue cooking with my oven!

Unusual week, including my first podcast

In November last year I got an email from someone who does a similar job to me (digital content managing) with OMF in the US. He's been following this blog for a while and noted that I'd written occasionally about our upcoming home assignment. He's noted that it's an element of missionary life that is not well known and not often written about. So he asked if I'd be interested in writing an article about the process of planning for home assignment, with the intent of helping people who've never worked as cross-cultural workers to understand this (rather significant) element of our lives.

It sounded like a great writing project to sink my teeth into. One article quickly turned into six. I knew it was a big topic, but I think I surprised myself with how much I could write. It ended up in total around 4,500 words and took several months to complete because it was often at the bottom of my to-do list because it wasn't so urgent.

So this week the first of the series came out and you can read it here:

https://omf.org/us/what-home-assignment-means-for-a-missionary-part1 (they'll be coming out weekly, I think)

The new, and even more unexpected element to this project was the opportunity to record a conversation with Kesia, a colleague/friend here in Japan. She read my edited articles and then we talked about home assignments for 30 minutes while I recorded it. The tech gurus have turned that into a podcast, so you can even hear my voice (and my friend's):

Playing, amid the boxes. 

https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/omf-us/episodes/What-Home-Assignment-Means-for-a-Missionary-e2696fh/a-aa2dv0i

And bringing this blog post back to the ordinary daily life of a missionary in transition. Here are the sorts of things we've been doing this week:

• Packing boxes: yes, we've actually got to that stage.
• Sorting: in a few weeks you'll be able to see the blog post I've written for OMF US that includes a scary diagram about missionary sorting.
• Things have been leaving our house: furniture we've sold to others, and the first van-load of stuff has gone to the OMF storage facility. Oh, and more plants have left too.
• Sorting clothes: the daunting task of packing for 12 months. I struggled through this on Monday so that I could empty the set of drawers in our room. I'm going to go back in a few days an reassess what I've done (separated my clothes into leave here and take with us).
• Medical stuff: a couple of doctor's appointments. Mostly regular checkups, but I've also got a bacterial infection that's being stubborn (and the sort of thing my body does when I'm in transition and stressed).
• Applying for rentals in Brisbane. This was complex and threatened to drag on for several weeks, but God was merciful to us and on Tuesday gave us the first house we applied for. For the first time we'll actually be present and part of the "moving in" of stuff to a house in Ipswich in a few weeks time. This has been a huge answer to prayer.
• HA prep stuff: photo and text for a prayer card, starting on a HA photo album 
• Administrative stuff: making sure our bond is paid to secure the house (which required an international phone call to our Australian bank who wanted to text our Australian phone number to confirm identity . . . but our Australian phone numbers aren't active till we're in Australia), re-entry visas applications, organising to do the transfer of ownership of our car, changing addresses, etc.
• Helping other people move: David and our youngest son have both helped others this week.
• Hosting. We had two of our youngest son's friends playing Monopoly in our lounge amongst the boxes yesterday afternoon. They both stayed for dinner and one stayed overnight.
• Goodbyes: I had afternoon tea with two Japanese friends on Tuesday. One of those ladies I've known since 2006. It's always difficult to say goodbye, but we hope to meet again next year.
• Naps: I napped after lunch for three days after conference!

 I think that is a long-enough list. And now I think I need another nap . . . or maybe a coffee?

But first, something that's good for me to remember in this turbulent time of transition. In preparing this blog post, I stumbled about a great quote from the retreat I went on in March:

On a daily basis we're faced with two simple choices. We can either listen to ourselves and our constantly changing feelings about our circumstances, or we can talk to ourselves about the unchanging truth of who God is and what He's accomplished for us at the cross through His Son Jesus. (C.J. Mahaney inThe Christ Centered Life: Keeping the Gospel the Main Thing")

A missionary conference

Time for a mobile post. We’re sitting at Chitose Airport in Hokkaido after five days of the 2023 OMF Japan conference. It’s been an intense week, as expected, but very good. I’m reminded that a field conference bears resemblance to a family reunion. These, in so many ways, are “our people”, though we’re related to none and have few common experiences with any of them prior to coming to Japan. It’s a strange feeling, but nonetheless is truly how I feel.

The view from our traditional Japanese room.

A couple of unexpecteds for me:

• The number of missionaries is about the same as last time we gathered (170), but I felt a distinct shift in balance. At 22 ½ years of service we’re definitely in the “senior missionary” realm now. About half of those at conference weren’t in Japan at our last one (five years ago). Even taking into consideration the short- and medium-term missionaries (about 50 of those 170), there’s a lot of people who have been here many years less than 22! We had a lot of conversations with people who know very little of the recent history of our organisation. It’s shocking to realise that things we experienced in 2011, 2015, etc., are “ancient history”.
• Heaviness. The theme of the conference was four-fold, based on Romans 12:11–12 “Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervour, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” We spent a day on each of these: Joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer, and zeal & spiritual fervour. The day on patience in affliction we spent time looking at grief, lament, and suffering. This was heavy, but helpful for me personally, as I continue to struggle with the “whys” of some of our parenting struggles.

I’m really tired now. I’m particularly craving quiet. These days have been loud, with conversations often being held almost at shouting level to make oneself heard over the crowd. And conversations were had: at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner, at morning and afternoon tea, before and after sessions, in the baths (yes, Japanese communal baths), in the pools (this hotel has a water park in the basement), in the elevator and in the halls. Many small group discussions, and times of prayer. Much talking and much listening. Wonderful and draining at the same time. We prayed for God-appointed conversations and continue to pray that the words we spoke and the listening we did are a blessing to all those we encountered. I’m so thankful for so many interactions. Possibly even more thankful in the context of being post-pandemic (and very few masks). Three years of masked and online interactions have caused us to value these multiple informal in person interactions much more.

I’m also thankful for much unrestrained singing in English. I’ve been teary most days! Singing in English is something I miss in Japan. The first night especially was precious. We joined with fellow missionaries from over a dozen countries and multiple Christian backgrounds and sang our hearts out. Such freedom isn’t often part of my church experience, in either Australia or Japan.

Conference is a time to step back from the minutiae of ministry and life and remember the Lord who saved us and called us. It’s so important and I hope that as we stand at the intersection between service in Japan and service in Australia, this will help fuel us spiritually as we move forward, helping us to keep the big-picture in mind.

I’m looking forward now to my own bed (a luxury I’ll have to give up in just over two weeks). But it’ll be still several hours before we get there. The reality is that even once we land in Tokyo around 8.30, we’ll still have another 1 ½ hrs at least on trains to get home.

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.

Transition reflections

We are inching closer and closer to home assignment. It's less than five weeks till we fly out of Japan and while I know there is a lot yet to be done, I'm also getting impatient for it all to be over! I feel a bit overwhelmed by all the anticipation! 

This week I've been slowed up considerably by the miserable cold I mentioned last post, complicated as usual by my chronic asthma. I've gotten a lot less done than I'd expected, but nonetheless, I don't appear to be terribly behind, which is a great relief.

Yesterday morning I had my last "handover" planning meeting. Gradually the puzzle that I've been working on is being solved. The question that's been heavily on my mind for months now was how I was going to take leave from my various roles in Japan for 12 months without having those ministries collapse (not because I'm indispensable, but because I have been a key leader of both my main ministry teams). 

The goal I've been working towards is officially finishing most of my roles next Friday. After that we have our OMF field conference for a week in Hokkaido and then three and a half weeks to pack up our house, pack our bags, move, go to final medical appointments, say farewells, dispose of stuff, and hop on an aeroplane.

Forgive my unbelief

One of the stresses of moves like this one are all the unknowns compounded by many, many decisions. Most of the unknowns for us now are problems to be solved in Australia: like where we're going to live and how we're going to get around. 

We sent out our June prayer letter this week and in that we made an appeal to borrow furniture. We don't know where we'll live, but chances are that it will be unfurnished. We have only a very small amount stored in Australia and almost none of that is furniture, so each time we've got back for home assignment, we've asked our network to help us out. They've never failed in 20 years and I can't remember ever having to buy any larger (or even medium) household goods. God's provided in the past. But I still succumb to anxiety, which, I realise, is basically rooted in not believing that God will supply our needs (despite what I say with my words). In the case of the furniture, only an hour or two after I sent out that prayer letter, a good friend messaged me with news that she can supply most of those needs! Wow. Thank you Lord, but please forgive my unbelief! And help me to apply that faith to the other needs we have!

Quietly rebelling

What most people don't realise is that we really do like what we do in Japan. The essence of home assignment is that we have to give up what we really like doing here to become public speakers in Australia. And neither of us really enjoys public speaking.

I find myself quietly wanting to rebel against what we’re required to do over the next twelve months. Most of what we do in Japan is usually in the background. Neither of us feel comfortable being in the limelight. But home assignment puts us firmly there. We morph into speakers, workshop leaders, and Japan experts. My quiet rebellion is because I don't really want to be considered an extraordinary human being, one that needs to be pointed out as something special, someone who we invite to speak about their amazing experiences. That sub-text is contrary to what I want to communicate: that we are just ordinary humans, doing pretty ordinary stuff (just in an extraordinary place). We appear "special" because not many people do this, but it's not because we are inherently special. All we have and are is from God. It's because we serve an extraordinary God that we can do this, and keep doing it.

Translators?

I'm reading a book at the moment 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. What I didn't expect was to gain some perspective on what our role is during home assignment.One of the authors, John Inazu, calls himself a translator, though he is a lawyer and teacher. He says each of us is called to the task of translation: making words and ideas accessible to audiences unfamiliar with them. He describes his role as translating for and to each of the two worlds he occupies: the church and the university (he teaches law). "My vocation of translation means translating the university to some of my church friends and translating the church to some of my university friends." (p. 115)

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.

This is an interesting, helpful new thought for me. The author's thoughts on how we all need more humility, patience, and tolerance, are challenging, but helpful as we head into a different season of translation.

Culminating events

Before we came to the Christian Academy in Japan in 2005 I'm pretty certain I'd never heard the phrase "culminating events". I'm not even sure if we had a phrase when I was growing up that collectively described the various events that happen at the end of a school year.

In any case, last week we were in the middle of culminating events at school, and, of our last son graduating from high school. The week looked like:

Monday—last day of classes

Tuesday—final assessment in the form of a formal presentation about his year-long project about mental health and exercise in adolescents. The audience was a panel of two teachers, plus around 10 middle and high school students. We, his parents, were also invited.

Wednesday—parent-organised banquet for seniors and their parents (plus siblings in some cases).

Thursday—graduation rehearsal and farewell parade through the school in graduation gowns and caps.

Friday—graduation before a gathering of about 400 people in the school gym. 

Tuesday was full of emotion as we watched our youngest child finish his last assessment. It was all over by 9.30 a.m. and I came home, not quite ready to start work, so I made a cake. Emotional cooking? It was very satisfying to do, and we've all enjoyed the fruits of it.

Photo by Megumi Nakazawa

Wednesday night was the school's traditional banquet, organised by a small group of mums. We got dressed up and took the trains downtown to a Brazilian BBQ restaurant. The meal was spectacular: all-you-can-eat meat cooked in a rotisserie, plus an amazing salad and dessert buffet, plus soft drinks and juice. Of note for some were the whole pineapples, also cooked in the rotisserie. It was a late night, however. We travelled home on crowded trains between 10 and 11 (yes, Tokyo trains at that hour, mid-week, is a sight to be seen). I only got five hours sleep that night.

Thursday was quiet for parents, but the students spent the afternoon at school, rehearsing for graduation and doing a final walk-through of the school (dressed in graduation gowns and hats). Parents were left to their own devices, which for me meant making final decisions on the Summer issue of the magazine before it went to the printer, as well as editing work on the next one, the Autumn issue, plus work on social media posts for the upcoming weeks.

Friday was an emotional day. I tried to fill in the morning with tasks that needed doing but didn't need too much brain. We had significant rain all day and through the night, maybe as much as 200mm, so there were no lovely photo opportunities in the school's lovely courtyard. Also, because there is only a small car park, we walked to school (as usual). I'd already thrown away my rain boots, so I wore sneakers and socks, changing into my black flats when I got there. It was an emotional afternoon as we watched our last child walk across the stage, finishing high school.

The emotions are mixed, mostly happy, but also sad as our son says goodbye to good friends and a place that's been like a home-away-from-home all his life. 

I also think back to the last time we did this, two years ago. The differences are stark: last time was in the middle of the pandemic, so we were masked and sitting in little "islands" apart from one another, and the only people there were the graduating students and their parents, staff who didn't have a specific job stayed home. It had also been many many months since I'd been in a room with that many people, so it felt very odd. This time anyone could come (though the weather held back many, we suspect), so all the staff were there, as well as a number of other students and parents and community members. Though I felt there is another subtle difference that's resulted from the pandemic: there weren't actually many people I knew. I think that's a hole that's partly come from not having community events for a couple of years.

The other difference is much more personal and harder to write about in a public place like this. Our sons are very different in personalities and their journey through high school has been markedly different. Some of that is related to mental health and neurodivergence. Last time significant social anxiety was a very big unseen presence that came along to graduation with us and made just getting through the ceremony a big deal, and one that didn't garner any medals or plaques.

But now we're all quite tired, socially and emotionally. I've come down with a miserable cold and am struggling to get through the brain fog to continue working on my to-do list for this week.