IN BED IN OKINAWA

I am down in Okinawa now, and tuckered out. Last night, I came out in the wee hours of the night feeling like I wanted to spend some time with the Lord, thus the notebook and pen, and I made myself a mug of hot ginger and yuzu. The various other things on the table are gifts my sister Janice brought from the U.S. to give to people here in Okinawa.

I woke up a few hours later to an epileptic seizure where I had bit my tongue and it felt like my head was splitting.

Luckily, Janice was right there. This morning, she let me sleep in, of course, and after talking with me, she went down to my sister Joyce's basement apartment--she lives here--to get jello or yogurt and things from her refrigerator that I would be able to eat, even with my tongue.

My sisters and I have had a good laugh, not about the seizure, but about the fact that I remembered on this trip to Okinawa to bring my adapter so I could send pictures...but this picture is being sent by Janice's laptop, because I forgot to bring mine!

God had arranged our schedule so that today, I don't have to go out to meet anybody at all. I stayed in bed and colored a few things in my sketchbook I've left untouched for some time.

Here they are. I remember reading about Boaz's reaction to seeing an industrious Ruth, and King Saul's response to the shepherd boy David who fought the giant Goliath when he felt the honor of God had to be defended. They had said, "Whose child is this?"

It made me wonder if people, when they see my life, automatically wonder whose I am.

These will be dealt with in greater detail in the future.

FROGS, NOT TURTLES!

I don't know why, but I used to get turtles and frogs confused. They're so different, but for some reason, my brain heard the same signals.

One summer, I caught sight of several toads who went leaping to one place, then looked like...football linebackers body-slamming each other, only doing it with their bellies--wham! Wham! Wham! It seemed some kind of dance before going off in pairs. I thought it was something they did all the time, until I never saw it again.

Something more common was the half-tadpole half-toad creature resting on the boulders of Step Creek. Limbs had grown by then to grip the rock, and features began to bulge out of the round head, making the distinctive froglike shape. They moved up the sandy creek bed towards the deeper ponds. Skin-coloring changed from black to speckled brown to green. (Well, there was one fella whose bodily changes seemed to be happening too fast to keep up; his face had turned a lavender-purple!)

I have seen carp leap out of the water, but I noticed the surface of the creek showed dimples and splashes and realized they were not fish, but large tadpoles! They were developing lungs, learning they were becoming animals called frogs and discovering a craving for air!

Hm. Do we exhibit metamorphosis of sorts too, a desire for heavenly air, or are we content to live by gills in murky water forever?

Hatchlings at Turtle Cove

Step Creek used to have a lot more greenery before. Much of the water used to be hidden by branches and leaves. I called it Turtle Cove because baby turtles swam there, safe from the sight of predators. I found the place rather by accident.

At the edge of the water, I saw what looked like a bit of sand, with some small leaves fallen on the edge of it. But as I looked carefully, some of the leaves jiggled, and instead of the leaf stem, it seemed to have a pinhead. There were four other pinheads around the edge of the leaf, and they began spinning furiously as the leaf started floating away from me.

I realized it was a hatchling--a baby turtle, just born--the "leaf" was the shell, and the pinheads were the head and appendages, and it was trying to swim away from me! The "sand" was actually turtle eggs!

Turtle Cove was the hatchling training grounds, where adult turtles taught little ones how to dive (did you know they learn how to do that?) and swim right. Mature turtles can do things without making splashes and ripples; young ones really have to work at it. At the right season, you can walk around the park and spot places where the hatchlings are practicing, because the water's surface shows funny splashes.

After awhile, the splashes disappear. I guess that's when the mature turtles would tell the young 'uns they "passed."

Mature turtles know how to swim underwater without making a bit of a ripple at the top, so you can't detect its movement from above. Hatchlings practice this too.

Hatchlings listen to their elders absolutely, pretty unlike humans, probably because they realize their very lives are dependent on how well they learn what they're taught. Even if they do it exactly right, they may never live to adulthood.

I wonder if we would listen more absolutely to God if we could see how the predator of our souls stalks about like a roaring lion, and our survival would depend on how well we learned what we'd been taught?

LITTLE BIRDS

Actually, there were 6 different types of animals at that one spot. Because when I was finishing my outline, I took a step back and almost stepped on one of the 4-5 sparrows there.

"Sorry, I didn't see you!" I quickly turned a page in my notebook--"You guys are BEAUTIFUL! Please, can I sketch you?" I said, not really knowing if they were actual suzume (sparrow) or tsugumi or some other little bird of the woods who'd come out to see the drawing of their buddies in the pond. And they seemed to want to be sketched too, because they didn't seem in any hurry to get away. All I knew was they were adorable.

What a delightful surprise it would be if one of those birdies would open its beak and speak to me one day, "June, I've been watching you from a distance...I think I like you!" and then fly away. Wow. That would blow me away, make my day.

It boggles my mind to think the Creator of the Universe stoops down to the earth and thinks we human beings are adorable too--adorable enough to send His Son to die for us--and it would thrill His heart if I would open my mouth and say, "God, thank you for all you do...I think you're swell...I love you!" That would...make His day. Wow.

TODAY AT QUASI POND

I was flabbergasted today. (By the way, is "flabbergasted" really a word? I use it all the time.) Remember I told you the animals seem to know I'm trying to take it easy so are careful I don't have to walk that much, how the other day, when I saw the egret at Duck Pond, and the mallards at Step Creek came swimming out there so I wouldn't have to make 2 separate drawings?

Well, today, it wasn't just the egret and mallards, but nearby the turtles came out of hibernation again, the Kawasemi came flitting onto a branch in the water, and a few minutes later, I heard familiar cawing--the crow!

"I hear you, but if you want me to sketch you, you'll have to come out where I can see you," I said into the air. Sure enough, a crow hopped into the clearing then onto a white pipe at the edge of the bushes bordering the pond. It's at the very edge of the drawing, the very back--I could barely get him in--so it's not a very good drawing tho'. I'll have to do another one another day to get a better picture.

Wow. 5-7 critter friends in one drawing! (2 turtles, 2 mallards) Usually, you can't get this many animals in 10 hours of drawing at the park!

But animals go out of their way to help the weak. They have been so kind as I've been getting over my COVID.

Have you ever seen how protective they are of blind ones in their group? those with heart problems or weak minds? Some people say human I.Q. are much higher than the animals, but sometimes, I wonder if they don't put us to shame.

1% Inspiration... 99% Perspi... 99%Pepsi...99%Practice!

Why do some people have the idea if you're born artistic, drawing comes easy, and you don't have to study or work hard at it, altho' talented musicians practice 6 hours a day? Art is given no more worth than a fun hobby.

This was my first try at serious painting. Yeah; I didn't know trees could get pregnant until I tried painting them--this is what they looked like.

I decided to try watercolor, but then paint for the treetop leaves soaked into the paper and almost completely covered the sky. I checked, and quality brushes, paper, paints were more necessary for watercolor than other mediums. (I'm embarrassed. This is not an original, but one of those tutorials you follow the instructor stroke-by-stroke. I knew nothing about watercolors so had no other choice.)

I had to practice; there was no question about it! So I decided to work hours on brush control, studied elements of composition and the fundamentals of light, structure, color, did scientific research on the objects drawn.

And my artwork began changing slowly! Yesss! My acrylic trees didn't look pregnant anymore--in fact, my acrylic paintings began to look like the painting at the bottom of the page:

No one likes to have what little he may have, hold dear, and work hard for treated lightly, called merely "must be nice". 

But God bestows talent, and like saving Grace, He then asks us to work it out. I will go on enjoying His gift as much as I can. (And, hopefully, He will show me how to continue using it to please Him as well.) Whether or not my effort to make that blessing greater is or is not recognized by other humans cannot really lessen that enjoyment--unless I choose to dwell on it, that is. 

She really really saw - Nov. 17, 2020

 I decided to take it easy today and stay home, post some old stuff:

"Blessed Assurance." I cried. There's so much in there. Father, You know the part about the angels coming down from heaven and bringing down echoes of mercy and whispers of love? It felt like today, as I was looking at the words of that song, very angels, like the ones in the song, were circling my shoulders, whispering to me the secret, delightful meanings behind every phrase in the hymn! Oh, when You gave those lyrics to Fanny Crosby, how rich with love they were!

I have been so afraid of blindness...I do not doubt that You, Father, could fill a life of physical darkness with utter joy and revelation that would make me marvel at how I could've feared it for so long--yet I do. But I see Fanny, in her darkness, walked in light, while most of us, to see even a fraction of what she saw, have to wait until we die.

Some speak of Fanny Crosby and other blind people being able to see when we receive glorified bodies. But I rather think those of us who have been disabled with physical sight on earth and unable to see unlimited, eternal truths will find, when we get to Heaven and receive glorified bodies, we will be able to see infinite light and realities as Fanny Crosby and all the other blind Christians knew on the earth!

And we thought they were the ones who were handicapped.

                                                                                              (picture drawn May 2021)

Um, pretend I'm not here...

On the way to the park, I usually pass an old apartment building. but I noticed everyone had moved out, weeds had grown all over the place, and yup, the cranes and wreckers came in to tear the place down.

Today though, besides the workers, there were other living creatures moving around on the mounds of dirt--there were two crows, hopping about, looking for...bugs? worms? I'm not sure what they were looking for. Little birds called Hakusekirei came too (I call them "My Silver-Tuxedoed Birdlings", because that's what they look like to me), but they flew away as soon as they saw me.

"Hey, you're up close today!" I called out to the crows; "Can I draw you?" But they didn't answer.

The crows seemed too engrossed in looking for whatever it was they wanted to fill their stomachs with, they didn't give me much notice. But maybe that's good. They didn't run away; in fact, kept coming back and letting me see what they looked like from various angles so I could keep drawing them.

Sometimes circumstances look like we aren't being given the attention we deserve, even being ignored. But maybe God knows it's better left that way.

Cold but Colorful Day

It wasn’t raining today, just colllllddd, so I set off to the doctor's office. God could keep me warm if He chose. I read once about a person who got real angry with God Who didn't seem to help her when she was driving through a snowstorm and her window got stuck open. Why wouldn't He answer her prayers to get it closed, she wondered, exasperated, and she concluded God could at times be mysteriously cruel, stopped asking for His help. It was after reaching her destination--she'd driven the entire way with the window completely open--she realized she was completely warm. Her heavenly Father had been watching over for her, just not caring for her in the way she told Him to do it.

I not only walked outside to the doctor's office; went to the post office and paid monthly rent; did a bit of shopping; but walking home, I found myself telling Kinya I felt like going to the park. Yes, God had kept me warm too.

But the park animals knew I've been taking it easy, so seemed to cooperate with me today. When I told the mallards I saw the egret at Duck Pond and wanted to sketch her, they came too, so I wouldn't have to stand in two places to make the drawings. And I heard Peter the Kawasemi again.

"I can hear you, but I can't see you!" I shouted into the trees.

But just as I finished drawing the mallards and egret, the pretty blue bird came flying to a branch in front of me--so I wouldn't have to move--and could make my sketch right there.

I feel up to doing the pictures in color, but it was much too cold to stay outside...so I compromised. I did the outlines at the park, fully intending to color them in at home in color pencil (that's the only medium possible on this thin paper).

It's been a while. But it felt good--almost warm.

RAIN

"It's forecasted to rain again," I heard myself telling my husband; "the doctor's visit...it'll be tomorrow, okay?" I did this 2 days ago, except instead of "tomorrow", it had been "Monday".

The rain brought back a memory from over a dozen years ago.

There was a family with a boy in a wheelchair with a severely compromised immune system. We were caught in thundershowers one day, and I saw his 5th-grade brother unexpectedly peel off his own jacket to cover his brother with it. He himself went home cold and soaked. It came as no surprise the next day he came down with fever. The mother explained to me, the 5th grader realized: if he got wet himself and caught pneumonia, that would be the extent of it, but if it had been his wheelchair brother, he could die. So he'd chosen to get chilled instead. Only grade 5, and already he was thinking like this.

In August 2020, Aaron, the boy in the wheelchair, went Home to be with the Lord Jesus. Because of his godly parents, he left behind, not only aching hearts, but rich memories as well.

REMEMBERING CHRIST'S BODY

Today, after the online worship service message, we had communion. I know that with my recent COVID and my throat scratchiness, anything bread-like could bring on a coughing fit. I wondered what I'd do.

But I remembered a Christian friend telling me about her missionary parents, when they were prisoners in a Chinese prison camp and there was absolutely no bread available, how they knew God understood and even substituted a bit of ground up rice.

I would do so today, I decided. My throat could handle rice gruel. Surely, God would understand if today, I was wanting to remember the sinless body of the Lord Jesus given in my behalf yet could not physically ingest the actual unleavened bread. 

And for now, I've been trying to keep everything rather bland. Even the "umeboshi", or dried plum, sometimes used in the "okayu", or Japanese rice gruel, is a bit too spicy for me. But the commercially prepared-for-okayu umeboshi is somehow made without that sharp taste, plus it's very soft and easy to mash--I would add a few drops of warm water to dissolve it into a juice to drink for communion. After all, scripture does say "fruit of the vine", not necessarily grape juice, and it was to commemorate the blood of the Lord Jesus.

So I decided I would participate in the Lord's Supper after all. And I was happy.

But my husband, who had been asked to bring the rice gruel and dried plum (I was planning on making the juice myself) didn't bring them in until after the service was finished. I hadn't told him what I'd planned on doing, so he probably thought it was just lunch, so not wanting to interrupt had waited until everything was over!

When I realized what happened, I laughed and told my friends online what had just happened. Oh well, I'll just have Communion alone, I said almost to myself. Do you want us to pray with you? One of them (a dear sister from Latvia) ventured. They had already had the Lord's Supper!

But one of them read the passage in I Cor. 11 for me--a person who had thought of going to Turkey then served several years in Japan--and his wife (an MK from Nigeria) prayed when we were done.

I think today, I remembered the Lord's Body in a much different way. It was because of the Cross that we could be part of this, His Body, isn't it?

I hope I never, ever forget what He has done for us!

SAYONARA SENSEIS (to the tune of Jingle Bells)

(This is something I found this morning. My sister and I sang it duet for veteran missionaries at a going-away fellowship by fellow missionaries when they were retiring. We had just arrived on the field then.)

"We really hate to go; we'd like to stay some more

We'd leave shoes at the door and sleep upon the floor

We'd ride on crowded trains, drive down left-hand lanes

But sayonara now we say, and head for Stateside planes.

(Chorus)

Many years, Nippon years, full of ojigi

Thank You Lord, for happy years with the Japanese

Many years, Nippon years, now we say goodbye

Thank You Lord, for blessings more we have yet to see."

(Descant)

"Sayonara Senseis, as you go to America

Know that all our thoughts go with you

     And that we do love you so

Sayonara Senseis, may God bless, and may He keep you

Know that warmest thoughts go with you

     How we hate to say goodbye!

(Repeat)

"Sayonara Senseis, as you go to America

Know that all our thoughts go with you

     And that we do love you so

Sayonara Senseis, may God bless, and may He keep you

Know that warmest thoughts go with you

(Together)

Please Gambatte Kudasai!"

 

You're Too Far Away

"Hey June," they seemed to caw as they whizzed by, "you say we're your favorite birds, but you're sketching the spot-billed mallards, the greenheads, the kawasemi, the egret, the great blue heron...You were kidding us, huh?"

"Wait a minute. I still think your black iridescence is beautiful. But you guys always stay so far away, it's hard to sketch you. And even when crows do come up close, you don't stay still..."

"But what about the time you saw us squabbling for that breakfast worm? It was on the nextdoor rooftop, and just an instant, but it stayed in your mind, and you did a full picture with that."

"And there was the time you were doing this thing called 'Gesture Drawing' that required you to draw things quickly, even animals in motion, I think. I was perched atop a pole when you started sketching real quick once and said it wasn't going to be a detailed drawing, you just wanted to show the feel of the picture. Actually, I really like it."

"Remember the mallard ducklings? I remember when they were really little, the mother mallard and even you were really defensive about my coming too close to where they were. But now that they're as big as the others, it's okay for us to be friends. June, you saw me one day hopping close to the water and staring at the mallard across the creek. But it's not like we're best friends, just across-the-water pals. And you saw that and decided first to take a photo of it, then go home and draw a picture from that photo. I've seen it."

"Those pictures June, what's wrong with them? Do we have to pose for you up close for a long time to have something to call a really nice picture?

I guess not.

But that's what we do with God. We decide how He's going to work, and if things don't happen just that way, we think it hasn't happened, even if there's really nothing wrong with other things He's done.

BLACK & WHITE

Here's something, "hisashiburi," as they say, in English. It's just that for this Japanese post, I had to compose it all right now, whereas the English things are already all done so aren't taking up as much of my time. Anyway...

I went back to the park today. But I'm still not back up to par physically so decided to do simple sketches. It seems the animals were notified, even before I came, of what I'd have to do, because...

As soon as I got there, I saw Eida the Great Blue Heron in the back in the reeds of the inner flow of Step Creek.

"As beautiful as always," I said, pulling out the small notebook. "Can I draw you? Please?" and began sketching. But maybe I said too much. Eida seemed to get embarrassed and moved away, so I couldn't make a very good drawing. Oh well.

When I put the notebook away and walked around the pond to the other side of the park, I saw the egret fishing on the other side of Deeper Pond as well as two cameramen focused intently on a tiny blue bird on this side of the pond. It was Peter the Kawasemi, standing tall as a sentinel on a branch.

"Just for you," he seemed to say. Oh yes. His name. I've learned to distinguish the call of the Kawasemi from the other small birds, think its "piping" is just as pretty as all the rest; altho' the Pied Piper of Hamelin was red and yellow, I figure the flying piper of Iwatsuki can be blue and yellow. The long, black beak does look a little like a fife, after all. What do you mean Peter, it does not either? You were listening?

When I finished sketching Peter, I looked up and saw the egret was gone. I walked over the Main Bridge to see the area of the pond where she had been, when...

A white form moved around in the reeds--it was Alabaster! She hadn't gone home after all! Of the three birds today, she was the closest. Of course, I sketched her. By next week, I'll probably be able to work out of my larger sketchbook and full range of colors, not just black brush pen.

I wonder if that is how God feels about some of His children too who do that which is right in the sight of the LORD, but not with a perfect heart, as...wasn't it King Amaziah? Isn't that like composing an accurate picture in black and white, but not trying to make it as pretty as possible?

His Blessings in a Different Way

When my COVID hit right around the Holiday Season, my sister had e-mailed, "I hope God will show you His blessings in a different way this year." Boy, did she hit the nail on the head!

Some people think you have to have a big Christmas Dinner to celebrate the holidays. Since my husband and I both had fevers, neither of us were thinking about preparing or eating dinner. My fever came down once but went back up again. When it started to come down again, I was wary of saying I was over my COVID, because I'd been conditioned to feel it could go back up again. When my temperature finally got down to 37 degrees Celsius and stayed there tho', my husband went out and bought a "nikuman" for me to celebrate.

He heated it up in the microwave then handed it to me, saying, "It's hot, so be careful you don't burn yourself." I think that little nikuman tasted better than any turkey stuffing I've ever had in my life.

By New Year's, my fever was completely gone, and I was able to participate in online New Year's service. Kinya saw my coughing wouldn't go away and bought some cough drops, put a bowlful on the kitchen table.

The following day, I mentioned I went to the store and bought a journal. I didn't mention some other cleaning things I got, because I had seen some places in the kitchen I'd meant to clean by year's end but had found myself getting sick so hadn't been able to do it.

It was just the kitchen sink and area behind the stove, but after awhile, the place started looking nice, if I say so myself. Some people think you have to have Christmas Decorations for Holiday cheer. But the surprised looks my husband and son showed when they saw the gleaming chrome were all I needed to warm my heart!

Before year's end, I had asked God to show me how I could show my husband how I loved him.

Ha! We don't think like God thinks! Instead, God showed me how Kinya loved me, caring for me--at the beginning stages while he himself had fever too. When I found out about this, I heard myself thinking I would never complain to him ever again about anything--but I know I will--rats.

IN KING'S PALACES

Some of you may've wondered why I got so excited seeing the garden spider in the "8 Legs" post. Maybe this will show you why. I remember, in June 2021, feeling something akin to awe in watching these outdoor creatures.

"The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in kings' palaces." (Prov. 30:28)

Sun-glinting raindrop-studded spiderwebs have often looked to me like diamond carpets--wouldn't only royalty walk there, I have often mused. Growing in the pond is the pink lotus, or as it is also called, the "Morning Dew". Although raved for its beauty, this flower has to wait for its few drops of moisture; unlike the despised garden spider overhead who has so much, she'll slip if she goes out for a walk!

----------

But make no mistake about it, I admire them from a comfortable distance; I am not one of those people who doesn't mind letting spiders crawl all over their arms or faces. I began thinking positively about these creatures after 50 years of automatic-reflex-conditioned jumping when I saw them move. Physiological responses don't change overnight.

So I can only apologize, but I honestly cannot stand to touch or be touched by spiders. They know how I feel. After all, their automatic response is to hide from humans--even the ones they trust and have no reason to run from.

Come to think of it, don't we do a lot of things without really thinking about it--but that's what we've always done? I know. I've strayed quite a bit from what I intended on writing about. But I always do that. 

My Ability to Draw Less meant God Sent More Out for Me

I finally went back to the park today. It was forecasted to have warm temperatures in the afternoon, so what I decided to do was...

On my last visit to the 100-yen shop, I asked God to show me a small, unlined notepad to do quick sketches at the park, and He had exactly ONE such notebook in the store waiting for me on the shelf. So I took it with me, determined to do only simple drawings. When I take my 9 x 14 sketchbook --which is actually called a "small" sketchbook-- and have an entire set of my watercolor brush markers, I get in the frame of mind to make a nice picture.

Okay, composing a picture in 1-2 hours with brush pen is a lot faster than the 10 hours or so I spend doing it with color pencils, but still...

Most people get over COVID in a few days, I hear. It's been 2 weeks for me now, and altho' my fever is completely gone, I still have that lingering cough and feel that phlegm. 

So I told myself I wouldn't stay out in the cold and lose myself in my drawing as I always do, but kept myself down to doing simple sketches in this small notebook with ONE black brush pen. Then I'd go home. Better to do it this way and come out again tomorrow, and the next day, and keep getting stronger, than to try to stay out to make a better drawing but end up in bed again.

I think the critters understood what I was doing. Because instead of only a few animals coming out and giving me really nice scenes to draw, a lot came out giving me a lot of simple pictures to sketch! It was as if my park friends said to me, "Whatever you do, it's okay. Were glad you're better. Welcome back!"

I came home after making the 3rd drawing--actually, I was almost shocked to see the turtles--altho' terribly happy--I always miss them every winter--who don't usually come out of hibernation until the end of February!

I didn't draw these, but they came too: Alabaster the egret came from the Moto Arakawa River, Peter the Kawasemi, and I saw Kara the Finch, Patrick the Pigeon, several Crows, Hero the Thrush, and several Carp.

BIRDS' DEDUCTIONS

Altho' I don't go to the park on Sundays, these are actual accounts from other days. I thought it would be a good idea to relate something that really happened since yesterday's post was birthed from fiction.

Perhaps the most sought-after bird is the vivid blue Kawasemi, which has won numerous photography awards thus appeared on many calendars. It's smaller than the sparrow and a fast-flier too, so it's hard to get a clear shot of.

But there's another reason I like the Kawasemi. I have seen many young mothers with their toddlers finding the elusive bird perching on a branch nearby and enjoying a time of glee together. Older, experienced caretakers might scold the younger generation mercilessly that they can do nothing right...but I'm sure these times in the park renew their confidence in themselves--they can make their children happy after all!

Broken Alabaster Jar

   Another bird I saw the mother-child duo looking at together was the beautiful egret. I remember coming to the park one afternoon when I saw a heron flying towards the Moto Arakawa River and called to it.

"Eida, you going home? I just came!"

I really didn't think she heard me. But several minutes later, a heron came to Step Creek--it was Eida!

I still don't think she heard me. She might've seen something, then had it confirmed when she heard  another critter talking about a human who came to the park. Birds can deduce things, are smarter than most humans give them credit for. Their "smarts" just work in different ways.

Incidentally, these are pictures drawn in the spring, while it was still warm. These birds don't show themselves at the park during the cold months!

BROWN BIRD

(Written Sept. 15, 2022)

There is a well-known story that is used to encourage people to live up to their full potential, about an eagle egg placed in the hen’s nest. Supposedly, it grew along with the others that hatched from the eggs and lived and died as a chicken too. I tweaked the story to have the fellow claiming his regal identity to relate another truth.

The bird was concerned to learn all he could about the proper strut, the best way to find grains on the hardened ground, how to spot them and how to distinguish the good grain from the bad, how to encourage possessors of feed to deposit more into feeding utensils so you got the most benefit out of each feeding session.

Experienced chickens taught much about how it was important to ingest much to increase personal circumference but not get too large so as to make it difficult to locomote. At the same time, they taught the importance of balance: one had to keep exercise to a minimum, because tough meat would not make good delicacy, and wasn't that, after all, the goal of all chickens, to become the tastiest dish?

But one day while out “strutting,” he saw a bird flying in the sky.

This bird wore a quizzical expression, came down to the roof of the barn near the chicken and seemed to stare hard at him.

“That’s not nice,” the chicken said. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“B-but,” the other bird said, then broke into a smile (an eagle “smile”). “Really now. You’re not a chicken. You’re one of us. You’re an eagle! Come fly with us!”

Nothing doing. Was he joking? The chicken stood his ground, literally. Maybe he was brown, maybe he was bigger, naturally stronger than the others, and sounded a little different, but…an eagle? Ridiculous!

The next day, that bird came back. And the next. And the next. After a while, the chicken started to get tired of the pesky visitor. So the following day, when he saw him coming…

He cut him off just before he got to the rooftop eaves, showing him an angry expression. Surely, he would understand he wasn’t welcome and hopefully stop these irritating visits. But instead, the other bird surprised him with a big smile.

“You must be an eagle!” he said almost gleefully. “A chicken couldn’t fly up this high.

What? The chicken thought. But he smiled and seemed pleased. Actually, from when he was little, he wanted to fly. But chickens were taught they were birds of the earth and had no need for flying.

“Since you’re up here already, just come and join us!”

That brown bird found himself soaring high, high, high, circling and swooping, feeling rushing wind; seeing lights and color flashing by. Even sounds and smells seemed to come stunningly alive. The great bird could see the full possibility he himself possessed—he could look back at the farm he had left, and although they were flying far above it, he could see a little mouse on the ground! And it wasn’t just powerful sight: the brown chicken realized his muscles rippled with power to enable him to change direction in mid-air if he wanted and head down to that mouse!

He caught the eye of the other bird who said simply, “Do it. You can get him.”

That chicken found himself making a U-turn in the sky and dive-bombing toward the mouse, who, seeing the dark shadow descending from the sky started to scamper away, but it was too late. Sharp talons grasped the rodent.

What a thrill! But this felt…so natural! And so much better than pecking around for seeds, thought the brown…

“Because you’re not a CHICKEN,” the companion bird uttered. He seemed to wink and looked approvingly at the snare of the mouse. “You’re an EAGLE.”

“Good catch, Buddy.”

“And Welcome home.”

Home? His eagle friend let him know the eagle flies all over the sky so calls heaven his home. All that knowledge about detecting seeds, about being the best chicken possible, about keeping meat soft to be deliciously edible…well, now he wanted to start filling his mind and heart with heavenly things, the brown bird decided.

With a final look at his former habitat and a few bats of his wings, he turned to the peaks and was gone.

 END

 

Can't Sleep?...Can't Stay Awake?

It's almost a week into the new year. My fever from COVID was gone Sunday, and I even ventured a trek outside Monday, but it seems last week's experience got me a little less quick to say my health is completely OK now.

Last week? Well, I felt really sick Monday when COVID hit (I got it from my son, who brought it home from the workplace), but my temp seemed to come down Tuesday so I thought "I was all better" and let my appetite have free revenge. But it wasn't over. Fever raged back Wednesday, and I found my brain pulsating cement again for a while. And despite my frenzied feeding Tuesday, my weight dropped 2 kilos. When the fever finally broke, "restless leg syndrome" came, and for those of you who know, this hits me in not just the legs but also my arms and hands.

It felt like I was being laughed at for trying to return to some sort of normalcy.

Make no bones about it. I asked dear friends as well as my sisters to petition our Father for me, and I happily, gratefully let myself get hours of incredible, uninterrupted rest as only He can give in answer to those prayers. But...

When He chose to wake me up after several hours with a gnawing pressure in the limbs, I was not going to say, "Hey God, You didn't do Your job right! This is still bothering me! Take away the discomfort and let me sleep more--so I can praise You and say, 'God answers prayer!' "

No--I just decided He felt I'd gotten enough rest. So I stopped fighting the "restless syndrome", got out of bed and washed up, dressed (yes, albeit this was the middle of the night) and began recording what a loving Father had just shown me that night.

Sometimes this seemed to be the best way to wake up and start the new day--but then I think the very demons who tried to keep me awake were the same ones trying to get me to fall asleep because they didn't want me writing anymore.

.

I want a journal, June

On Mon., Jan. 2, I decided to chance walking to the nearby convenience store to buy a journal. I hadn't been out in the cold a while, but it seemed something God wanted me to do.

I knew exactly what I wanted and went straight to the shelf I'd seen it on sale before--then took a copy to the counter. But the customer ahead of me was in conversation with the cashier, so I moved down to the younger clerk at the register in the corner, who seemed to be by herself, and she rang up my purchase for me.

It felt like God nudged me from the back, telling me to open my mouth and be a little friendly.

"Thank you. Um--and do have a good New Year's," I said. She looked up and gave me a surprised smile.

She'd probably been thinking how it was no fun having to work on the day when all her friends were out having a good time.

Did I say "journal"? It was just an "A5 Soft Ring spiral notebook I came to buy. But I think God wanted something else.

AHN'S MOTHER

I forgot to tell you--the end of 2022--Dec, 31, my COVID had cleared, and I did a last spurt on reading the Japanese translation of If I Perish, that book about Esther Ahn Kim. I finished all 609 pages of it. (Thank you for praying!)

Ahn not only made it over the border into free Korea, but the chapter ended with her leaving the country to give testimony, in the U.S., of God's unmistakable power. I couldn't help but cry when the last memory she had of her mother was how she urged Ahn to go for even a few short months to encourage the believers there. "We will always be meeting later SomeDay," the older woman had told her.

That was so consistent with the way she had lived. Few mothers would speak of their daughters needing to prepare to die, as did this one, the years before real persecution began--and she stood by and watched Ahn's choosing of rotten foods, even living in bacteria-ridden places to strengthen physical resistance. They were training themselves for the hardships of prison life! Years later, on the day her incarcerated daughter was about to be released from prison because of failing eyesight, this mother reminded her when she gave her life to God, she gave Him her eyes too! Ahn bows gratefully to her mother for the reminder and instead of seeking freedom, returns to her prison cell. The mother could not see Ahn's form disappearing behind those gray walls--as many other persecuted Christians, she herself had become blind.

This mother--who didn't know how to cry--but was entrusted with the gift of laughter to put the entire prison compound in stitches...this mother made a strong impression on me when I read the book decades ago in English, and the impact was just as great reading the book in Japanese this time around.

When Ahn and her mother meet in Heaven...and my moms and I will be there too...I wonder, what language will we be speaking in?

KAZUE-NECHAN

"Lord, save this baby boy, and when he grows up, send him to Japan as a missionary."

I've got to hand it to the faith of that missionary on furlough.

There was a missionary to Japan back in Canada for furlough in Brandon, Manitoba in 1920, when he heard that a young Japanese couple had given birth to a little baby boy, so he hurried over to their hospital room. After spending time visiting with them in Japanese, he asked if he could pray for their son. Thinking this man of God would pray for their boy's blessing and success, of course they complied; but were startled to hear the strangest prayer they had ever heard.

"God, save this little boy, and when he gets older, send him to Japan as a missionary."

That child grew up to be a leader and instructor...then informed them one day he would quit teaching. He had become a Christian and wanted to go to Japan as a missionary...they remembered that prayer over 30 years ago!

That boy's name was Roy. He was my father, who came out to Okinawa in 1955, saying, "If I don't tell my relatives about Christ, who will?"

But they did not welcome the Gospel with open arms. In fact, when Daddy went to Glory, only one of his close relatives: a cousin, Seiko--the one he had gone swimming with in the Uken Creek nearby--got saved, while most of the others rejected the Gospel, feeling too strongly entrenched in traditional ways.

There was one other cousin the same age as Daddy and Seiko, however, who respected Daddy's walk, giving him real estate on which to build a house. So, it is this cousin's daughter who lives within a stone's throw from the house. She is the one who, when I went to Okinawa recently for my stepmother's funeral activities, came early to the procedures and stayed after the others were gone.

"You know what I remember about your first mom?" she told me. "She loved plants. She would see a pretty flower by the side of the road, raise it in an eggshell in the backyard at home, bring it a beautiful bloom in a pot one day!"

Only someone like Kazue-Nechan (Japanese for elder sister). Please pray she find God's unconditional love someday soon.