Fleeting February

Naturally, the theme for our February prayer time was Hope. “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” (Hebrews 6:18) But the anchor sometimes slips when life is so very disappointing for some. When the relationship just isn’t working; when the kids are in a hard, rebellious phase for a mom who is very much alone. When the diagnosis isn’t good. So we read together, “And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” (Romans 5:5) And the reply is – hang on, I’ve heard of this Holy Spirit idea, can you explain that again? Well, let’s start a few steps back.

Monster masks!

Just after the New Year, February marks a month of fresh hope for many, and the official beginning of spring (although no one seems to have notified the temperature controls that winter is over). Early in the month, the festival of setsubun or bean throwing, is a very elaborate event at our preschool. The festival involves chasing bad luck and demons out of your home, and inviting in good luck. Kids make monster masks for months in advance, and then throw beans at a representative cardboard monster (not at each other) to wish for good luck.

As a side note: we know that there is a wide spectrum of cultural adaptation and assimilation for Christians; we chose to allow our kids to participate in the bean throwing game as a cultural practice (which is really all it is for most people), and to talk at length at home about the difference between wishful luck and a relationship with Providence himself.

English class for preschool friends!

That night, our bedtime story was punctuated by a repeated shouting next door. Our neighbor, who lost her 12 year old grand son to brain cancer in August, and had a scare with breast cancer herself in the fall, sobbed out each of her windows, demons out, good luck in! It was moving, stirring and heart wrenchingly sad. Knowing what her year has been like, the emotion in her voice hit hard.

Secretly, I think we sometimes wish God was like a vending machine, spitting out our lucky wishes and retreating into passivity. Hope is so very different from luck or wishing, although it feels the same sometimes. And that Holy Spirit is a force to be reckoned with – not particularly tame, but deeply good.

Although this may feel heavy, our days are so incredibly good. Please join us in thanks for a healthy family, warm house, happy kids, joyful marriage and fulfilling work. We do not take any of this lightly, especially given the many situations surrounding us.

Joyeux January

Walking in the park

One of the strangest joys – at least to me, having lived half my life on a mountain which is nearly all brown and bare from November through March – of living in Tokyo is that something is always in bloom. On a bitter cold night, walking home from a late evening, we were stopped in out tracks by the sweet smell in the dark – winter sweet. Then, walking the dog in the afternoon, the plum trees are in full bloom amid a brisk wind and grey sky. I take it as a reminder that, even before the deadest of cold winter days, the buds of spring have already set. Spring will bloom again, in all the literal and metaphorical ways.

Dress up party!

Looking into this new year, I have to admit I’ve been wrestling with God on a number of points. One in particular. If it were up to me (which, thankfully, not much is), it seems that as humans begin a fragile step toward God, evidence a slight softening toward the concept of divine sovereignty, God would do well to rush at them with open arms. I secretly feel God would do well to reinforce the earliest prayers with quick answers, deepening the reliance and the trust. When God seems to be doing anything but – in fact, presenting dear friends with utterly bitter, impossible situations in their first moments of turning toward God – I get a little miffed. (Now, please don’t point fingers. Know that I’m trusting our relationship with some honesty here.) With reflection, I realize that, of course, God does rush, all prodigal, toward us with open arms - but not arms loaded with gifts and candy – he only offers himself (see Keller, The Prodigal God). Not a vending machine, exchanging token prayers for happy endings, but a rich, lively divine friend.

Successful student project based on Ryan's design

Of course, here I realize that what I thought was a seasonal but superficial introduction is actually the answer to my wrestling – these are the buds, this family, these humans, hearts newly set toward God in pleasant late summer, when things seemed manageable. Now it is winter. The buds will make it to spring. The winter will make them heartier, less prone to bugs. It feels long and cold. There are also blooms in the winter, though.

We are so grateful to be warm and healthy this winter! So much to be thankful for this second winter in our warmer, healthier house.

This season, we’ve been praying intensely for one young family, one relationship. For reconciliation, for restoration. Please join me if you will.

Our next open house is mid-February. Thanks for your prayers for our conversations and relationships.

Several of the praying moms have dreamed up a kids program. We’re doing a test run next month. Please join us on our knees for the moms and kids we will connect with! And for our own families as we take on another commitment.

December - year in review

Tonight, in the oldest night of this year, my daily book on the psalms, which sits open on a shelf just above my kitchen sink and stove top (its pages stained with olive oil and cookie dough, and – I’ll admit – a little thawing chicken), reminds me that the psalms end with praise: “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.” Praise is bold. Keller says, “Every possible experience, if prayed to the God who is really there, is destined to end in praise.”

This year began with brokenness - disarray, wanting repair. Can we repair relationships when we feel like breaking up and finding new friends? Can we repair a house when everything seems broken? And then, neighborhood conversations sparked a budding new dream of communion around a table, and women began to gather. Of course, the reality is always different, better, than what one little mind considers.

As we gathered this year, our communion table is scratched, with a plastic veneer, smeared with rice from kids’ lunches. Or the table is a lumpy bench in the park, grubby with mud pies and spilled juice boxes. Or the dusty, construction-stained rug – always wanting a vacuum. But the Spirit is here. Moving, healing hearts. How many times this year did we silence each other – did you just see that? Did you see this moment? And as we sat, covered with babies, laughing and crying together, the music played in the background: Holy, holy, holy are you Lord God, Almighty.

By the time summer came, we felt overwhelmed and helpless. So much lost, lacking, undone. So many hearts. How can we hold them all? Remember, our pastor said: God is determined to build dependence in his people by giving them more than they can handle . . . He will give you more than you can handle so that you will run to him.

Our house is warm!

And as the weather cooled, reality hit: life without prayer and praise isn’t really life. What about trying church? So they started coming. Every week. We wept as we all took communion together, for the first time. Sisters, family.

Christmas message for community kids!

Now, we look ahead to tomorrow, the youngest day of the new year. Japanese tradition honors the first dawn, the first laugh, the first taste. We will once again take communion together, pray once again for repair, and look forward to the first psalm. We’ve prayed for our house to become like a sheltering, heartening tree, strong because of deep roots and enlivened flexibility. And this is the image in the first psalm, our first hope for the new year: “That person [who delights in God’s patterns] is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither”.

Now, in November

“You are blessed when you grieve; grieve sin, grieve where the curse isn’t yet rolled back.”

Waving hankies to show the headmaster: we won't catch colds!

The sermon on the second beatitude seemed apt, albeit somber, sitting in church with a jumble of wiggly kids. In front of me, a dear friend – just inquiring about this whole church and Jesus business – carrying a weight of heavy memories from the past. We talk a lot about forgiveness – will God really forgive anything I’ve done? Anything?

And beside our distracting row sneaks in another full family; their only son, just six months older than mine, heading in for yet another round of chemotherapy this week. I mourn with this mother, this father. Yet here they are, in community.

Happy 4th Birthday!

And here in the inbox sits an update from a sweet man in our community, detailing the discovery of not one but two tumors in his bride’s brain. Yet, “Jesus still loves her, loves us” he says.

We’re so thankful for the community we live in. Please join us in praying for these dear humans.

 Where the Spirit is moving, sin is ever present. Please pray for our health, our marriage, our family, and the families in our community.

For three years, going on four, we’ve met to pray. And our numbers have grown along the way. So we all got together, to celebrate our thanks. Piled in together, tables heavy with plates and trays and elbows and smiles. Juice spilled into the seats, crumbs ground in the rug, and teenagers ate all the pumpkin pie notwithstanding – here they are, these so many children. My heart overflowed to see them, all in one squirmy, sticky place. Giving thanks together. 

Thanks Giving, international style!

Snack date

Hey look, snow!!