The Art of Urban Living

Crossing the street safely is one of many urban skills required

for living successfully in Tokyo.

I have only been to Tanzania once, and that was quite a while ago—back in 1992, to be exact. Nevertheless, I retain some deep impressions from that trip sixteen years ago.

Among these, I remember wondering how my colleagues knew their way around the vast, mostly uninhabited, semi-arid countryside that was marked only occasionally by an acacia tree or scrub brush. We were delivering bags of rice to families suffering from drought and famine. My friends drove without hesitation, arriving at each thatch-roofed hut as if road signs had guided them rather than particular rocks or perhaps the incredibly huge ant hills. I was amazed at their skills that had been honed for living in the bush.

Other skills I saw demonstrated included big game hunting; riding atop huge bags of produce in the back of pick up trucks and not falling off even when vehicles bounced into huge, crater-like potholes in the road; and cooking over an open fire—three times a day and not just for fun while camping.

Living in the huge megalopolis of Tokyo requires an entirely different set of skills. I was reminded of this as I rode on a tourist bus a few days ago and felt admiration for our driver as he navigated two-way streets that could barely accommodate one car at a time, much less our bus. Successfully turning corners with houses built to the very edges of these narrow lanes was another skill that required several minutes of successive rounds of inching forwards and backwards before the bus could clear the space. Although he came to within a hair’s breadth, the driver never scraped the bus, not even once. I was awed.

The experience got me to thinking about the art of urban living—and it most definitely is an art. While Japanese don’t specialize in hunting of any kind nor balance themselves atop trucks for rides on bumpy, dirt roads, they do have their own set of survival skills. In addition to driving on the narrowest of streets, they also are amazingly adept at talking on their cell phones while walking, driving cars, or riding bicycles; growing vegetables in gardens tucked away in tiny spots under verandah clothes lines; and sleeping while standing up on trains. This art seems even more astonishing in that Japanese manage to awaken just in time to get off at the correct stop. (This is one skill I have yet to manage. As a result, I’ve traveled some places I never intended to go as I caught up on my sleep!)

Then there’s the whole issue of trash. Reportedly, in less than 30 years there won’t be any land left in Tokyo for garbage, so trash is a serious issue here. Currently, Tokyo has 17 factory-sized incinerators that burn trash around the clock in an attempt to manage the 2.4 pounds of trash each of its citizens produce a day. (By comparison, Americans generate twice this amount daily.) Recognizing this difficult problem, Tokyoites seem to have developed an inborn sense of how to separate burnables, non-burnables, plastics, cans, bottles, electronic goods, and more. This special DNA also programs them to know which days which particular trash must be carted to neighborhood pick-up spots. (In our neighborhood, burnables go out on Mondays and Thursdays, non-burnables on Fridays, and cans, glass, newspapers, and cardboard on Saturdays.)

By contrast, foreigners lacking this special trash sense get in trouble routinely, especially if they don’t find the right trash pile! Five years ago, upon moving to Tokyo, I made the mistake of going to the wrong trash spot. Suddenly a woman raced out of her house to inform me, not even all that politely, that I was committing a grave sin in disposing of my trash in the wrong place. Never mind that I was only half a block down the street from the right pile and that both locations would be collected within minutes of each other. There is a clear-cut right and wrong to trash in Japan, and I definitely was in the wrong.

There’s so much more that could be said about the art of urban living. But based upon this short course, how do you think you’d fare if you lived in Tokyo?

The Softer Side

On Japan's softer side:

a little girl dressed for a summer festival

By now, you can well recite my pet peeves about living in Tokyo, especially the people who treat their dogs better than children and the crowds that assail no matter where you go. But one experience of a few days ago reminded me that there is a much softer side to this country. It is this side of Japan that I love so much. It is this softer side that has made possible our living here for nearly 30 years. We’ve not only survived, mind you, but we’ve really lived in Japan because of this element of its character.

We were en route to Kobe when we decided to take a break at a rest stop with a beautiful view of Mt. Fuji—if it’s not covered in clouds. It was, so we missed the mountain, but I’ll remember the stop anyway. As we approached the restrooms, I wondered at the caution sign and the significant pile of bird droppings between the entrances to the men and women’s sides. My initial reaction—why don’t they clean this up?—soon changed to one of appreciation as I heard the cute cheeping of baby birds and looked up. There, on top of a light fixture, a nest held a couple of babies calling to their mother to hurry up and bring dinner. (My translation, of course.) Then it dawned on me: some very kind-hearted janitor had elected not to clean away the nest and its precious cargo but to allow it to remain until the babies were hatched and out on their own. But to make sure that this didn’t cause any problems for passersby, he or she had conscientiously posted warnings and placed drop cloths appropriately. I smiled as I recognized this signature of a softer side of Japan that I don’t commend often enough.

I’d also been cushioned by that softer side the day before when I went to have the tires changed on our Toyota van in preparation for the seven-hour drive to Kobe. Bernie had loaded the other set of wheels and tires into the back of the vehicle that morning, but had forgotten to include the bag of nuts and bolts. When the mechanic came to the waiting room to tell me, the car was already hoisted into the air. It would take me an hour on foot to go and come again, but I felt awkward asking him to lower the van so that I could drive to retrieve the needed parts more quickly. “No problem,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “I’ll have someone drive you to get them.” And he did. The softer side of Japan, evidenced when people go out of their way to be helpful, touched me again.

I notice it in other ways as well: when you’re given slippers to use in airport security, IF you have to remove your shoes, so your socks and feet won’t get dirty while you’re being inconvenienced; when the electrician comes to repair something and apologizes for troubling you, as if you didn’t call him to serve you in the first place; when an obento shop (Japanese fast food) gives you a ten yen coin to pay for calling them with your order; when a refrigerator shelf breaks and the shop cuts and sands a new piece of glass to replace it—all for free just because you’ve sometimes given them business over the years. “How unlike America,” I’ve thought innumerable times through the years.

It is this softer side of Japan that I experience day in and day out. It has taught me much about kindness and about making and taking time for the little things, for it is often those easy-to-overlook details which frequently determine the quality of life lived to the fullest—whether in Japan, the United States, or anywhere else in the world.

Confessions of a Sometimes Worrywart

"And why do you worry . . . ? See how the lilies of the field grow.

They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon

in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. . . .

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow. . . . Each day

has enough trouble of its own" (Matthew 6:28, 29, 34).

Now there’s something else to worry about.

Last week on the 14-hour ride back to Japan, it was the fact that I was on the window side of three seats in an every-seat-filled airplane. How was I going to get out to the bathroom? (No gritting my teeth and holding it for that long.) I refrained from bothering my neighbors until the whites of my eyes were yellow, and then I crawled over them and back again—literally. To make matters worse, I had to do that twice during the long flight.

Amazingly, the young Thai couple in their twenties didn’t get up even once throughout the half a day-plus that we were at the mercy of Delta Airlines. (I believe this must have something to do with the difference between our ages, but if I think about that too long I’ll have something else to worry about, so I’ll just ignore that thought and return to the original concern that prompted this writing.)

So what has me stewing? It’s the headline in this morning’s newspaper: “Dementia afflicting more younger people.” Suddenly I recall that I can’t get through my day without my “to do” list to remind me of all the important activities I might forget were it not for the memo—if I don’t lose it first. Just in case, I also have the family calendar where both Bernie’s schedule and mine are written, my personal desk calendar, and the absolutely vital date book I always carry in my backpack much as a drowning person grasps onto a floating object in the water to save her from going under. Unless I forget it on the kitchen table, of course.

According to the article, a report from the Health and Welfare Ministry based on data collected in fiscal year 2006 indicated that 3.7 people per 10,000 in Japan are suffering from juvenile dementia, defined as that which affects individuals under 65 years old. I’m barely into my 50s, so I smiled, knowing I was safe—until I read further. Other data collected from 2,000 medical and welfare institutions showed that 302 men and 159 women with an average age of 56 had been diagnosed with juvenile dementia. Ouch! Someone was coming way too close, invading my personal space, and stepping on my 53-year-old toes. Worse yet, the youngest sufferer was 21 years old!

Oh dear! Now those sentences that I can’t complete because I don’t remember what I started to say are blaring at me like the siren of the emergency vehicle that suddenly appeared right behind us yesterday on an impossible-to-pass, bumper-to-bumper Tokyo street. And there are also: misplaced items that show up eventually, but not when I most need them; words—both Japanese and English—that are on the tip of my tongue but refuse to make an appearance; and many times I want to retrieve something in another room, but can’t recall what it is by the time I get there. (I wish I could say that’s because we live in a huge mansion, but three rooms and a walk-in closet just don’t qualify.) Could I be the next card-carrying member of the Juvenile Dementia Club of Japan?

My blood pressure is on the rise and my palms are sweaty—until I remember a very good question Jesus once asked, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” (Matthew 6:27). The answer, of course, is obvious. Properly chastised, I determine yet once again to quit worrying. There are far more enjoyable things to do with my time.

Eyewitness to the World

Bernie, Cheryl, and Little Ben on his baby dedication Sunday

Tell your story!
“Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor,” (Luke 7:22).

When the disciples of John the Baptist approached Jesus to ask whether he was the promised Messiah, Jesus responded, “Go back and tell your story: the story of what you have seen and heard!” Well, he didn’t say that exactly—his precise words are above—but this is what his reply meant.

We are grateful for the opportunity we had last month to tell stories during the North American Convention of the Church of God in Anderson, Indiana. Not only did we share personal stories of God at work in our lives, but we also rejoiced in telling other people’s stories through the “Eyewitness to the World” conference we led; through the Kid’s Place children’s program in which Cheryl was involved; during the Asia-Pacific Conference that Bernie chaired; and in the publication of Yet I Will Rejoice, the 13th international testimonies book that Cheryl has compiled and edited for Church of God Ministries. (By the way, this book is available for sale from Warner Press, Inc. and/or through the Global Missions department of Church of God Ministries.)

While some of these are annual activities, the “Eyewitness to the World” conference was a first-time event. What a joy it was to share stories from Japan, India, Tanzania, Cuba, and Lebanon to the glory of God. While the room was difficult to find, the conference scheduled right after lunch (a dangerous time for afternoon nappers), and with many other choices at the same hour for convention-goers, response was very positive. We hope we’ll have the chance to share again next year. After all, we’ll run out of stories to tell when God runs out of miracles to perform. May we encourage you to open your eyes and ears to what God is doing in and around you so that you can also tell your story?

Kid’s Place: China
As always, participating in the Kid’s Place program was especially thrilling for Cheryl. It was fun to help the children look forward to the Olympics in China next month. Our hope is that whenever they see any coverage, they’ll be prompted to pray for China. Our special joy was to take Choki, our “Chinese daughter,” with us to the convention so that she could become China in person to the children. Since she “only” speaks Chinese, Korean, and Japanese, Cheryl served as translator during the three-day program and was really pleased with the kids’ great questions. They were particularly impressed to learn about the underground church and how it is prospering, that there are 60,000 written characters in the Chinese language, and the fact that Chinese parents place much emphasis on choosing names with special meanings to bless their children.

Perhaps they were most moved by the sharing about China’s tragic earthquake in May. Many children had heard news of this horrific event that killed more than 70,000 people and displaced millions, and they expressed their genuine sadness to Choki. We encouraged them to turn their sadness into prayers for the nation and believe that they will do this. And, as always, we encouraged the kids to remember that God has a special assignment for each one of them—perhaps even for some to become cross-cultural missionaries. It truly is a highlight of Cheryl’s year to share with children at Kid’s Place.

Looking ahead in prayer
Please remember these matters in your prayers:
1) That the Holy Spirit will move in an exciting way on students who participate in Tamagawa Seigakuin’s Bible Camp, July 21-23;
2) For the Church of God in Japan as it celebrates its 100th anniversary August 1-3. Pray that the Holy Spirit will infuse this church with a new vision for the future;
3) For Bernie and Cheryl as they travel in India, August 8-22. Pray that they may be a blessing and encouragement to colleagues there;
4) For our upcoming home assignment, August 25-November 23. Pray that our travel schedule will be worked out smoothly and that these three months will both encourage us and the churches and individuals we visit;
5) For Shigemi Tanaka as she prepares for baptism at Tarumi Church;
6) That all details related to the Sakatas becoming pastors at Tarumi Church will be worked out smoothly and quickly;
7) That summer visits to the States for two special assignment missionaries (Alina Croall and Millie Michael) will encourage and refresh them for their work in the fall; and,
8) For our grandson, Benjamin Donbor Lyngdoh, whom we had the joy of dedicating to the Lord on June 22 in Anderson. Pray that he will grow to become a man of God. Pray also for his parents, Stephanie and Donald, as they begin their third year as special assignment missionaries in Central Asia in August.