"Wanna get in a shot before the sun goes down."
"But June, it went down a long time ago!"
What I meant to say was that I wanted to get a picture while there was enough LIGHT, and the words just didn't come out right.
My cousin Stephen and his wife Lori had come for a week's visit to Okinawa. They were the ones who drove my sister and me to the airport in Honolulu, in other words, the last relatives we saw in Hawaii this year. Joyce and I went to an Okinawan food restaurant nearby for a few good, relaxing hours with them.
On the way home, I found an old photo I'd put in my compact camera of my sisters and me in the airplane in 1968, all wearing dresses sewn by Aunty Ayako, Stephen's deceased mom.
"Look, Stephen!" Lori eagerly showed her husband; "your mom sewed all of these dresses!"
"Yeah." was Stephen's dry response. That was pretty much what I expected. Kinya would've been the same way. Men aren't that interested in those things. Men would be more impressed by home run balls or old fountain pens and watches. My Dad even framed several of his trusty favorites.
Since the 2011 Quake, when I lost all my photo albums, my parents' albums that I would've easily thrown away before felt different--they were treasure chests now--and the way I felt about anything to do with my Dad felt different too. Even my Dad's old dark iron fish bookends, I found myself cleaning and polishing for hours until I made the bronze to shine.
God can not only make things change; He knows what experiences are necessary to make those changes happen. He will wait until we're willing to go through them.
