Morning

I’ve been getting up at 5:30 am lately. An hour earlier than usual (actually, I don’t get out of bed ‘till 7 most of the time, so it’s more like an hour and half earlier than usual). I started doing it to increase my work time. Especially since I hurt my back, I’m so tired passed 9:30 pm or so and can’t get anything done. So I decided to just go to sleep and do my homework in the morning instead of staying up late. And it’s working!! The amount of sleep I get is the same as before, but I’m definitely less tired during the day. Ok, this is what I used to do:

Megumi’s day starts :-D
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Get up late (7:00 am)
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Tired and groggy and unmotivated at work (8 am to 5 pm or so)
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Come home. Still tired. I may take a nap, or just lay around if I don’t have to go anywhere. If I have to go somewhere, I go, and be tired and spaced out. (5:30 pm on).
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Get into bed, but can’t fall asleep (11:30 pm to 12:00 am or so). Think about what I accomplished today…. NOTHING.
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Megumi’s day ends in suckiness :-(
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Repeat

I think the biggest difference is that I’m completely wiped out by the time I get into bed. I’m more productive in the morning, compared to late at night. I think part of it is that I have definite timeline when I need to finish what I’m doing (time to go to work). In addition, I have been able to have more solid quiet time. It’s a definite bonus.

WOW! Am I turning into a morning person!? What a foreign concept! I probably go back to my original life style, though, once this crazy busyness subsides…

Butterbur Sprout

I often call my mom while I’m driving to work. There is 11 to 13 hours time difference, depending on the time of the year. So when I call in the morning, they are usually chilling out, watching TV in the evening. We usually chat about little things in our lives.

My mom is a very interesting person. She is nothing like me, and to this day I don’t really understand her. I don’t think she really understands me either, though she knows me very well. Yet we love each other to pieces. Actually, my relationships to other family members are also like that, too. We don’t have much in common any more, and it’s hard to relate to each other. But I’m just happy to have them and they seem happy to have me. That’s totally outside of the concept of “closeness” I would normally associate with my significant relationships.

Come to think of it, neither my dad nor my brothers ever told me that they love me. I have a vague recollection of asking my mom if she liked me. She said yes (maybe I was 5 or so years old?), but had a perplexed expression on her face and was clearly uncomfortable with the question. Don’t get me wrong; my family is one of the most loving bunches of people I know. It’s just that word of affirmation was not the primary love language in my family (funny that it’s my most prominent love language now). In any case, I have learned to receive their love in other love languages. Now I want to learn which languages they feel most comfortable receiving my love in.

Going back to my mom, the way she expresses herself is very different from the way I do it. She seems to have a hard time sharing about things that are highly emotional for her. I’m the opposite. I just dish out what’s in my heart at the time. If I couldn’t let it out, I would explode. It took her more than six months to tell me when my brother got divorced. I also didn’t know for a year that my brother almost went blind because of stress-triggered diabetes, and had to get surgery for his eyes. At first I was upset about being left out of important things in my family. But later I realized my mom needed to process the events first and settle her emotion before she could talk about it.

This morning, we talked about butterbur sprout hunting they just went to. My other brother and his wife took my parents to plum flower viewing (seasonal event) and butterbur sprout hunting (less common seasonal event) last week. My mom was telling me how nice the weather was, and how the whole car was filled with the rustic fragrance of butterbur sprout on the way home. My brother (he is a very good cook) made tempura butterbur sprout and miso butterbur sprout for them. My mom said they have slightly bitter flavor. I’m guessing it’s kind of like good Brussels sprouts?? I’ve never seen them in real life, so I have no idea.

I’m just happy. I’m so happy that my brother and his wife are showing love to my parents. I’m so happy that my parents are enjoying their retirement. I’m so happy that they are happy. Butterbur sprout hunting is such a happy spring thing to do.

Perfect Weekend (Long)

Ok, I wanted to record each of many blessings I received over the weekend. But so not to bore you with the detail, in a nutshell, I had a fabulous weekend. If you feel so inclined to know every single account, see below :-D

I had a perfect Sunday, yesterday. Actually, the whole weekend was awesome. It was absolutely packed with things that make me happy. Such as:

Late Friday night, I went to a movie night at Jon and Garrett’s. I was happy to see “Howel’s Moving Castle”. I wanted to see that movie over the new year of 2004 with my mom, while I was in Japan, but I got bronchitis and couldn’t go then.

Rochelle and Bethany came over after the movie and stayed with me. It made me very happy, because I’ve wanted to do sleep over at my house for a while. We had whole-wheat, granola pancakes with strawberries for breakfast. I LOVE these girls. Well, I guess that’s no secret.

Jon, Garrett, and I went for a walk in Nicolas Arboretum, Saturday afternoon. It made me so happy that it’s warmer out and the sun doesn’t go down ‘till later. I love walking in the Arb. It was still pretty gray and dead looking, but I so needed to breath in some fresh air. I can’t wait till the new leaves come out on the trees. It’ll be so pretty!

Toesin called on Saturday, and asked me if I could take her to church, because Kristina was out of town this Sunday. It made me happy that she felt comfortable to call me. I really like Toesin. She is such a thoughtful and cool person. I’m so glad she’s in our Wednesday night small group. Her contribution to the group is very solid and integral to the growth of our group. Toesin is a short version of her name (I don’t remember the full version), and it means, “God is worthy of praise” in the native language (which I also forgot what it’s called. Darn) of Nigeria. How cool is that? I have wanted to get to know her more.

Cumbi came along when I picked up Toesin, Sunday morning. I met her very briefly before, and it made me happy to get to know her more. She’s also from Nigeria. Cumbi, Toesin and I had an interesting conversation about the churches in Nigeria, in comparison to churches in the States, and in Japan. I’m so curious about different frameworks, from which people in different countries approach their faith.

During the service, Lori got baptized. I was so happy to be there! I didn’t know she was getting baptized that day, and also she usually goes to Saturday night service. Tears flooded out my eyes. It’s funny the way God designed us, so when we are filled with an overwhelmingly strong emotion (joy or sadness), it overflows out of our lachrymal gland. I love baptism at Vineyard. I’m always deeply touched. At first I thought the portable plastic pool as a baptistery looked a little funny, because I’m used to baptisteries close the alter, at least 10 feet away from the rest of the congregation. But I came to love the plastic pool on the floor, because it allows people to surround the person who is being baptized. Baptism is the declaration of one’s commitment to follow Christ, as well as the official pronouncement of the person’s membership to the family of God. So it’s appropriate for the community to be right there to receive him or her. There is something to be said about the physical proximity and the feeling of intimacy.

Katy Petty and Nate Mitchell became the member of the Vineyard. It made me very happy to be in the same church with them. The whole time I was at church, I felt the strong presence of Jesus. I kept thinking about how He is working in each of our lives, bringing us together. I’ve been feeling weak and tired, but yesterday, I was strengthend by the thought that together, we, the body of Christ, have been given the power to break the hell.

Garrett and I went to Chelsea after church. We had our lunch at Common Grill, and it was absolutely fantastic! The food was great (various seafood, mmm, yum!) and our waiter was also really good. Good food always makes me happy.

Then we went to an independently owned bookstore in down town Chelsea. I love books and it was fun to look at them together with Garrett. I found a picture book called “Concert”, by an artist called Yuko Takano. She’s originally from Japan, and studied in Michigan for a year. The book features really cute mice (I like mice). A random and neat encounter like that makes me happy.

In the evening, Garrett and I spent some time singing and worshipping together. It was a very very happy time.

Right when we finished our worship session, Sarah called. She asked me to pray for things. It makes me happy to have a friend who I can share each other’s burden with. She has carried so much of my burden, and it’s truly a blessing to be able to give the favor back.

Pink makes me happy. So I wrote all people, things, and events that made me happy in pink ;-D.



　

A Cave Dweller’s Diary

I had such sweet God moments over the last couple of days, precious enough to make one expect to see an immediate emancipation from the cave, following. Well, the expectation has not come to pass. It seems as though I’m stuck in this hole a while longer. Maybe it has to get worse before it gets better.

Last night I noticed I missed a phone call from a friend. Nothing out of the ordinary. He probably needs to talk about taking care of this or that business. Maybe he needs a prayer. I should call him back, but I can’t bring myself to hit the “send” button on my cell phone. A small ball of fear forms in my stomach and creeps up to my chest, pulsating. You should call. I can’t. You should call. I can’t. You should call. I can’t… Please stop. Make this go away, it’s making me sick.

C’mon now, he is a friend, what are you afraid of? Ah, I’m afraid of having to be pleasant on the phone, being there for him as a friend, offering a support where it’s needed, being asked to take on additional tasks, or being asked to do what I already have agreed to do. I am so sorry, but all these things feel too much for me right now. So I decide not to call. Maybe I will tomorrow. The nauseating little ball slides down my esophagus, back to my stomach and settles there. It won’t be bothering me now, not until the next time I’m pressed to perform.

I see the difference, though, since I’ve experienced the presence of God. I’m no longer alone in my cave. He is now ready to step in every time I let Him. It took me ‘till 1 AM, but I finished my homework (at least the most of it). I asked for help, and You were definitely there, my God. For goodness sake, it’s my homework, nothing of the spiritual importance. It’s ridiculous that You want to be involved in such a mundane detail of my petty life. Dear creator of the heaven and the earth, who am I that you are mindful of, that you care for me? Your love is outrageous and You are out of Your omnipotent mind to love me.

As I lay in my bed, I start to freak out again. I’m exhausted, yet I can’t fall asleep. Even if I fall asleep right now, I still won’t get enough sleep. I just remember how tired I’ve been, and imagine how much worse it will be tomorrow. The mixture of fret and dread spreads from the small ball in my stomach and to the whole body. But you know what, I’m going to hand the darn thing over to God. I just won’t worry about how little sleep I’d get or how tired I’ll be tomorrow. God, my body belongs to You. You know my coming and going, standing and lying. I’ll surrender to You the control over when I fall asleep. What do you want me to do in this moment while I lay awake? What can I do to please you? I will be still and know that You are God.

So I close my eyes and listen to the sound of wind and rain hitting the roof and running down the siding of the house. It’s strange that the sound of rain makes it feel quieter. It cancels out other noise from the street and fills the late night air. And I slip into a gentle obscurity…

Morning. I wake up to the alarm clock going off, and Yes! It’s not nearly as bad as I feared it would be. I knew You would grant me Your favor, God. I keep falling back asleep, but thanks to the wonderful gift of snooze on my alarm, I even manage to get through the Morning Office in the Devine Hours. Oh, the temptation of going back to sleep for another 10 minutes is great, but I say in Christ, I can do anything. Lord, claiming your power in faith works like a miracle. It is in fact a miracle that you are working in me. What an amazing effect a positive phrase creates! It makes me wonder, how many negative phrases I’m unconsciously filling my head with, when I’m overwhelmed by the feeling of incompetence?

I notice another sign of the life in the cave while driving to work. The worship music I normally love sounds too loud to me this morning. I’m too frail for the beat. So I switch to a calmer praise worship CD. No, it’s still too harsh. How about Bach? No, it’s not working either. Then I hear You telling me to push through the discomfort. I feel like I would go off the deep end, if I push myself. But You are nudging me to push beyond the feeling. “Child, come to me. Meet me in the worship. When you fall, you will fall in my arms.” I can’t find a song I know well enough to sing on this CD, and my commute is almost over. It has to wait until my commute back.

I think about what’s up with my resistance to praise worship. Then I realize one of the most powerful forces that are holding me in the cave, is self-pity. It robs me of the courage to get out and drives me deeper and deeper into the cave. A part of me wants to keep dwelling in the cave, so it naturally averts praise worship, which is the complete opposite of self-pity: Praise worship takes my eyes off of myself and lifts them up to God.

Lord, I’m pathetic. How can You put up with me? Who is like you, o God? And you are so very near. When things are all right, I can go without noticing Your presence for days. But when I’m messed up like this, You let me know that you don’t leave my side even for a second. I go up and down like a piece of trash, tossed around among the ocean waves. Yet You let me experience victories by Your grace in the midst of rather deflating circumstances. Psalmist wasn’t lying about You not despising the broken hearted. I do experience You more intimately when I’m utterly defeated. For that, I thank You for my life in the cave.

Recipe and Freshly Baked Bread - The Word Incarnated

This is the secod half of the translated entry from Hachiko & Boboru's diary.

I found this passage as I was reading “Window of the Soul” (by Ken Gire): Jesus said he was the bread of life, and after he went back to heaven, the bread would have been gone from the earth for a while. So he left the recipe of his own life in the Bible and sent the Holy Spirit that the world will not starve.

Just as flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and other ingredients are mixed together, he has mixed the truth of the Word in us by the Holy Spirit. Like dough being kneaded by hands, we are kneaded by our environments. Like the leavening of the yeast, we are left alone for a time, and are baked in the oven of our daily lives. Then again the smell of the freshly baked bread fills the earth. The difference between the written word and the word incarnated is the same as the difference between the recipe and the bread. The recipe is important, but that’s not what people are drawn to… What people are drawn to is the smell of freshly baked bread… However, we often give starving people the recipe, instead of the bread. (pp276-277)

“We often give starving people the recipe, instead of the bread”; I tend to agree with that. There is an online forum I visit once in a while for information gathering. It’s run by a non-Christian, and a lot of housewives visit this site. Most visitors are non-Christians, but there are some Christians among the visitors and sometimes there are lively discussions about their faith. More than six months ago, some woman made an entry about the difficulty she was having. She was earnestly sharing the various hardships she was going through in her life, and how she was hurt and struggling from the experience. In response to that entry, a regular visitor of that site, who is Christian, shared her testimony with quotes from the Bible. At the end she wrote something like “Would you want to believe in Jesus and give him all of your burdens?”

When I read this, I thought, what a wonderful testimony! This person is shining as the light of the world… I was impressed. But the reply to this comment was, “But I want to be saved by a living human. It’s human who hurt other human, and it’s also human who help other human. However misdirected it might be, I would rather hear the voice of human in flesh, rather than Jesus, who I can’t touch or see.”　

I was somewhat shaken by this. No, actually, I was very much in shock. What looked like wonderful words of testimony to me were merely insipid to her. What she was looking for was the freshly baked bread, and not the recipe. But this Christian woman (and in a sense I, too) was satisfied with just giving the recipe. The recipe might have come from a professional baker, or written on a beautiful recipe card with a picture, but it would still be just a recipe, and will not be able to fill people’s hunger. 　

　 There was a story in “12 ‘Christian’ Beliefs That Can Drive You Crazy” (will be published in Japan on 3/10). When a child was going to bed at night, he became peevish and didn’t want to sleep alone, because he was afraid of the dark. His mother told him, “You will be fine, because Jesus is with you.” Then the child replied, “But I want somebody to be next to me and hold my hand”…

God knew very well about the human needs; that our hunger cannot be filled by recipe. He knew of the need, which makes us want somebody to actually hold our hands, to be saved by human in flesh. Because he knew, Jesus, who is God, took upon the flesh and came to this world. Because he knew, “The Word became flesh, and made his dwelling among us (John 1:14).” And now, we Christians are called to bake the bread of “the Word incarnated” and send forth the fragrance of Jesus, the freshly baked bread, through our daily lives. May each of us be the provider of the bread, and not of the recipe to this world. May this body in flesh be used to manifest Christ. 　

(It's my writing from here on)

Since I came to Vineyard, I’ve received so many freshly baked breads. It’s simply amazing how many bread bakers there are in that place. But that hasn’t always been my experience in the past. There were many instances I’ve given the recipe and not the bread. I think a lot of times people (including myself) don’t know how to give bread, or are not in the place where they can do that. Of course I don’t want to lose balance and think human interactions are all we need. But I see a lot of validity in giving bread rather than the recipe, to people who are not Christians, or Christians who are in distress. And it’s imperative for me to learn the recipe very well in order to produce quality breads to give to others…