THAT'S MORE LIKE IT

(This is something I journaled & drew a few years ago when I got to be friends with a great blue heron.)

*******************

They looked really big when they were flying in the sky, but one day I rounded the corner and saw one standing on the footpath, it looked surprisingly small. What surprised me even more was it didn't seem in a hurry to fly away.

Actually, I had seen this bird from a distance for several days now and admired it for its beauty and regal carriage. Maybe it sensed this in me and knew it didn't have anything to be afraid of.

"Can we be friends?" I found myself saying after a while--can I give you a name? It seemed he just looked at me asking what name I would suggest.

"I don't know. 'Harry', since you're a Heron?" Birds don't have eyebrows so can't make expressions like people, but somehow, I got the distinct impression he almost winced with that name. I felt like he almost whimpered after that, "Do I LOOK like a 'Harry' to you?"

"What about 'Little Boy Blue'? Herons are huge birds, but for a Great Heron, aren't you Little one? And you're a Blue heron, so..."

Herons don't smile either. But as sure as I felt his disappointment a few moments earlier, I sensed the bird's pleasure at hearing the new name. I didn't need a hearing device to pick up the distinct "Yeah; that's more like it!" in the air. He gave a slight nod, spread his wings, and went home.

BEFORE & AFTER

When I got out my memo pad yesterday, I realized the last day before leaving for Okinawa in January, one of the sparrows had let me get very close and sketch a rough outline, with the understanding I'd finish the drawing when I got back to the park. I had completely forgotten about it.

I know it's an old adage, but there's one that says, "better late than never," right? So...I decided the sparrows would be less upset with me for being tardy than not doing a drawing at all and spent a few hours this afternoon working on it. Here it is, after it was finished:

I'm not anything to look at now, BEFORE glorification. I wonder what I'll be like AFTER God sanctifies me completely. I'm so glad it won't completely slip His mind to work on me!

They're just practice sketches, but...

I know I haven't posted a while, but it's not that I haven't done anything.

This past week, I've been looking back over pictures I've drawn to see what can be given away on my trip to the other side of the Pacific. Gifts for my "brother" Brian and his wife Sherri; drawings of my friends who invited me to a lodge 11 mins. from my cousin's; pictures for relatives...

I decided to send something to a friend who was moved to tears by something I drew, altho' she's on this side of the Ocean. I hear God sends added blessing to those who are thankful of them; It's easy to send stuff to someone who's already shown you it'll be appreciated!

M.T.A....?

WWW...TWA....ETA...MTA. Do you know what they stand for? Most people living today wouldn't be able to survive without the WWW, or World Wide Web. The next set is difficult, because it no longer exists, but one of the words is the same. Yes, the airplane company, Trans World Airlines, now owned by  American Airlines. The third grouping has the same letter, all the words are different--but air traffic personnel would definitely be familiar with "ETA". You guessed it. Estimated Time of Arrival.

"MTA"? Well, those are the letters my sisters and I refer to often recently. Master Travel Agent. I mean:

We're in awe how God is going before us and preparing the way for even the tail end of our trip. It involves seeing relatives on our Dad's side (in Canada) and on our Mom's side (in Hawaii). We booked a flight to see cousins in Abbotsford, British Columbia, and found out some dear friends who served the Lord 7 years in Japan but I met online only--would visit relatives in Abbotsford too. They invited us to stay at the lodge they used. They did not know it was a mere 11 minutes from the home of the cousin who was picking us up at the airport. What a Master! He was looking after us.

Then, several days later, we would need to get down to Seattle, Washington for an inexpensive flight to the island of Kauai (my mother's birthplace). Another former missionary couple to Japan now lives just half an hour across the border, and they offered to come get Joyce and me. They would put us up for a night; and drive us to Seattle for the flight to Kauai. The wife, incidentally, is the niece of the person who founded the mission board under which my Dad went to Okinawa in 1955. It was not the aunt nor a ship that would be at the sendoff this time, but it would be the same Master Travel Agent.

We'd board the plane and marvel how God had led our journey thus far. Originally we thought we could go only to an uncle's on a nearby island. Our cousin's husband was in hospice care. But Janice got an e-mail from her saying God worked a miracle in which he actually recovered such he was back home! I have never heard of anyone coming out of hospice before. Only the Master Travel Agent can make this kind of arrangement.

"So please come," Bonnie said.

So for just one day, we will. It seems God made the light turn green so we could.

3 HEADS ARE BETTER THAN 1

For quite a few years now, my sisters and I spoke of and prayed about doing a get-together in the U.S., to share with supporters and folks on the other side of the Pacific who could not come over to our side of the globe.

When financial provision was made for several of the Gushikawa Baptist Church young women to visit U.S. Christians; workplace situations were conducive to their going; and my stepmother's Homegoing brought unexpected provision for my accompanying them as well--there were several other factors...God almost shouted: "THIS IS OF ME! GO!" The next few posts may tell you more about this.

Joyce, Janice, and I put our heads together and tried to think of which route to take; which flights would be the cheapest yet most convenient (altho' we're doing most of this by mileage points), who to see. It looks like it will be a summer trip from the third week of June to the third week of July.

THE THRILL WAS FOR ME

"I wanted to make a thank you drawing for all the running around you did on all those cold days, but I ended up messing it up," I said, showing Kinya what I'd made of him. He'd tried to cheer me up then, telling me it was getting warmer soon.

And as soon as it warmed up even a little bit, I'd gone back. And the stunning blue Kawasemi had come out, two Cormorants had made a special trip from a nearby river to welcome me back, and the egret also came from that river and made a special catch for me.

What do you mean, he caught it for himself, because he ate it himself? He let me see and photograph it, so the thrill really was "for me" too!

Was that a Compliment, or What？

"Junie's Back!"

In the wooded area behind the boulder at Carp's Walk, several birds came cascading down to where I could see them. One of them showed his form rather clearly to me.

"Hero! How're you doing? I told you I'd come back when it got warmer." Remember the Heeyo Bird (I called him "Ditto Bird", May 31 post), my feathered friend? He'd come to welcome my return to the park.

He was glad I remembered him and hadn't been sure I wouldn't forget him because he heard elephants never forgot, and I didn't look like an elephant who he heard had long rubbery noses.

Thank you...?

. 

2 Postcards I Doubt I'll Ever Use

Wouldn't God anoint every encounter at the park, I've prayed; I almost forgot about one of my first.

I almost can't remember how we met. I remember hitting it off with someone else at the park, and we ended up walking around for about an hour, just talking. She collected wildflowers then arranged and painted them at home, tried to sketch birds in the woods on her walks (that's how we met...we were talking about the photographers at the park wanting her sketches of the Kawasemi.) Sato-san opened up how she tried abstract art too. On our walk, she showed me her collection of work saved in her cellphone, saying some of her watercolors had been made into postcards. But probably only her mother would be happy to get them, she said; so I begged a few off her. We met only 2 times, and I don't know if she's moved, but I haven't seen her since.

Sato-san is completely self-taught. She may not have the training she wishes she had, but now, with her little art gift between acrylic sleeves, sitting on my desk, at least she's getting more prayer.

THE BOULDER

Although I planned to tell a story to cormorants who came to the pond on the other side of the park--and I needed to get over there before they went home (they don't live here); I completely forgot about it when I began to sketch at the boulder at Carp Walk.

"There are carp there!" I could hear people comment, narrowing their eyes to see what the artist could be drawing. Maybe a few guessed the crow added interest. Few would've guessed it had been the ROCK I'd seen the dragonfly stop on, mallards rest under, sparrows scamper around, small animals hide from predators.

Lots of us go to a place called "church" for the togetherness it affords, or some want to shine in front of others, and some want a feeling of security or religion. How many of us go for the Rock Himself and lose ourselves in our longing for Him?

MY BIGFOOT

For most of the past month, since having come back from Okinawa, it's been freezing collld here. I suppose people living in Alaska or even the northern states of the U.S. would laugh at me for saying it was cold, but the day we came back, it SNOWED. It never snows in Okinawa, and my body got used to 70 degree weather there, so...

Other than the one day I went to the clinic for a blood test, I've stayed indoors. It's too cold to go out! Kinya has been a treasure, hopping to the 100-yen store to pick up things for me, running down to the post office for necessary supplies, doing whatever shopping has been necessary. As I told my sisters, I've found myself saying "please" and "thank you" to Kinya quite a bit the past few weeks.

I hunted up a picture from 2 years ago, when Kinya and I took a lot of walks, and decided to draw a picture from it to say thank you. But I got the nose wrong, and when I tried to fix it, it got worse. I knew what to do. It had worked with other pictures. But oops--the ink just spread, almost looking like Kinya had a moustache! I'd wanted to make a nice picture, but I decided to stop before it turned into a...what do they call those giant hairy apes walking around in the snowy mountains? Bigfoot, wasn't it?

Kinya isn't a hairy ape; but God does make it snow here sometimes, and...Kinya has left a BIG imprint on my heart.

THIS WORLD IS NOT MY HOME

Idioms and Expressions. "The Day that Rocked the World" is one of them. I was just thinking, 3-11 was one such day...but it was kinda literal. The "ground rocked".

Koriyama City, Fukushima Prefecture, Japan. The morning of March 11, 2011. My son crossed his junior high school gymnasium platform amid applause to receive his graduation certificate along with his other classmates, smiling into bright high school days...but that wasn't what "rocked". Several hours later a huge earthquake hit Japan, sending floor and walls into convulsions: plates were hurtled out of pantries (I saw "flying saucers" that day!) rubble and broken glass was scattered across the ground; water began pouring out from cracked pipes underground such that "ponds" were formed above ground. Needless to say, utilities were cut off for a while. The Sendai airport was destroyed. Nuclear power plants, once means of energy and income, now threatened death.

All U.S. citizens received letters from the government at that time, strongly recommending those living within a certain radius of affected reactors find new living situations. We said goodbye to our two-story home and came to Saitama then. One day, we will say goodbye to this home too, and the next, perhaps, and the next...until the day we land, on our eternal Home. That is why children of God should never be shaken..."even when the world is rocked?"

JOYCIE'S TEARS

Today is my sister Joyce's birthday.

I hear when I was born, she shed tears for me. She's only a year older; how many one-year-olds do you know of who know how to cry out of happiness, especially out of joy that a sibling has been born? Okay; you figure I'm not telling the whole story, huh?

What REALLY happened was this (This is over 6 decades ago!):

Joyce had my parents' attention all to herself, until one day Daddy told her Mommy would be coming home with a special present for her, but...

When Joyce ran out to the door, neither Mommy nor Daddy were looking at her, but at a tiny bundle in Mommy's arms, calling it "Junie". And without asking Joyce for permission, they lay "Junie" in her baby crib! This...is my "special present"? Joyce thought. She took Daddy and Mommy away, and now...she's taken the crib too. 

When Mommy came back into the room, Joyce was standing at the side of the crib, looking forlornly at the baby, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, oh, oh." Speaking slowly, Mommy explained to Joycie right away how she had a dear little sister now who needed her to love and protect--could she be a good big sister to her? Gradually, the tears dried up, the hiccups stopped, and the infant began to look innocent, maybe even helplessly cute.

By the next year, when Janice came along, I hear Mommy didn't have to explain things to me; Joycie had done a good job of preparing me, of letting me know that when Mommy came home from the hospital, she would be bringing a special present, a dear little sister who needed to be loved and protected--we'd have to be good big sisters to her!

"BASU GA-RU" (Bus Girl)

Oh dear. I came all the way to the bus terminal? But I was only in the first grade! What was I going to do? I couldn't stop the tears I felt flooding out of my eyes.

"Little girl, what's wrong?" a wonderfully soft voice sounded.

In 1965, public buses used female bus conductors--we called them "Bus Girls"--this one looked like a lifesaver to me. My busstop was actually way back in Ojana, and child's fare was only 2 pennies, but for some reason, I could find only 1 penny in my purse. I panicked, froze, and stayed on the bus all the way to the end of the line. NOW WHAT? Between tears and hiccups, I told the bus girl (with softest voice) about my predicament.

"Come with me," she said; "my bus is going that way, and I'll tell you when to get off." I was so relieved.

Not only did she show me the way back, she refused to take my penny!

I suppose I could've pretended like I didn't need any help, like I could handle things on my own, but I don't like to think about what could've happened then. Sometimes I'm glad I lived when "Bus Girls" with protective instincts (and soft voices) were around.

MOUSE PHONE

I hear some people are addicted to their cellphones. While in Okinawa, I found a photo showing my son's attraction for the phone began when he was a toddler. He's in his P.J.'s, holding a computer mouse to his ear, as if it were a telephone.

But wait a minute...he didn't even know how to talk yet. But that doesn't seem to trouble him one bit. He had his "phone," so he was happy.

Would you pray? Circumstances made it necessary for Keima to let go of his job in January. It looks like we'll need the rest of March to tie up legal matters. Should temporary setback trouble the family? Well, we have an ever-faithful God whispering into our ear: "As thy days, so shall thy strength be," so I think we're okay.