Two Lists

Special bonding time between grandma and grandson

I’m into lists. Shopping lists. To do lists. Address lists. Birthday lists. All kinds of lists. Today I’m thinking about two other lists: Things I Wish I Hadn’t Done and Things I’m Glad I Did. For the sake of brevity, only four items are in each category, although I’m well aware that there are many more I could mention, especially in the first list.

Things I Wish I Hadn’t Done . . .

1) I was standing in the school lunch line one day when I was in the seventh grade. A classmate stuck her index finger into my open mouth as I was saying something. As irritated as I was by that, I wish I hadn’t chomped down on her finger. It brought blood. Fortunately, she didn’t report me or develop rabies.

2) In our early days in Japan, Bernie had a great idea for raising ministry funds in our churches. We spent hours creating posters by hand to encourage giving the cost of a cup of coffee a day. I wish we hadn’t. Those posters and the campaign we envisioned were tossed out because we hadn’t practiced nemawashi, Japanese for “going around the roots.” (Japanese cultivate support on a one-to-one basis ahead of a meeting so that when you present the plan you know for sure that you have the necessary support. And if you don’t, you keep at nemawashi until you get it. Then—and only then—do you launch your new idea that, by this time, isn’t new at all; it just looks that way. Too bad we didn’t know this then.)

3) Around the same time, I met with the officers of a national women’s organization in the absence of their advisor to ask questions and probe their vision. It was completely innocent on my part. Honestly. But it must have seemed like I was attempting a coup. I wish I’d not asked for this meeting. It was a long time before my ignorance was forgiven and trust was rebuilt.

4) Not so long ago, we were running late to church. The warning bells were ringing and the train doors were closing just as we reached the bottom of the stairs onto the platform. I wish I hadn’t stabbed my umbrella into the closing doors. They opened again and we jumped on the train, but Bernie was so embarrassed—and my red umbrella now is permanently dented and difficult to open. We did get to church on time, but maybe it would have been better to have missed the train. Impulsiveness can be dangerous!

Things I’m Glad I Did . . .

1) Give my heart to Jesus. It’s been a wonderful, although challenging adventure ever since. (I could never have imagined living in Japan for thirty years!)

2) Marry Bernie 32 years ago. He’s my biggest fan, my most faithful encourager, and the one who reminds me to lighten up (and sometimes his jokes are even funny!).

3) Help Stephanie through labor that began at 3 A.M. on January 29 and ended with the birth of our grandson, Little Ben, at 1:22 A.M., January 30. Sometimes Stephanie’s pain brought tears to my eyes because there was so little I could do for her, but what a special bonding experience for mother and daughter. I’m grateful to have shared it.

4) Put my work away (mostly) to enjoy the first 3 ½ weeks of my grandson’s life—to cuddle, rock, bathe, dress, comfort, and even change him. Little Ben will never remember this precious time, but I will. He’s gone home now (and home is in another country), and I’m back to my work in a very quiet apartment. So I should be making great progress on some major writing deadlines. Instead, I’m finding my thoughts running to him as forcefully as a river cascading into a waterfall. I’m so glad I chose time with him while I had the opportunity.

Too Close for Comfort

This could have been the fate of the library books.

“Remember those books I left at your house that I said you could have?” my friend on the other end of the line asked me after I answered the phone.

Indeed, I did. In fact, I’d just thrown them into the trash a little earlier. They weren’t books I wanted to read, and I’d been on a “de-cluttering” binge.

“I’m sorry, but I made a mistake,” he continued. “Those were borrowed from the library and we have to return them.”

Beads of sweat suddenly popped out on my head, although I answered confidently, “No problem. They’re right here.”

But were they “right here” and covered in tea leaves? After all, I’d cleaned out my tea pot that morning. I could hardly wait to get off the telephone and begin digging through the garbage to find out the fate of the five paperbacks. Were tea leaves now affixed to their covers or caught between their pages? How was I going to explain to my friend?

Fortunately, the tea leaves hadn’t yet sifted to the bottom of the trash can where the books were buried. I breathed a tremendous sigh of relief and wiped my forehead, glad to have narrowly averted a disaster. It wasn’t the first time.

We were living in Kobe then. I’d been working in the pastor’s office when the telephone rang. It was a woman in our church who wanted me to come to her house, if possible. She’d just discovered that the family’s pet hamster wasn’t breathing—or so she thought. Would I come down and check it out? (Pastors field some interesting requests!)

Chuckling to myself, I made my way to the parishioner’s house. Although I’m not a coroner, I confirmed that the beloved pet—already gripped by rigor mortis—had indeed died. But suddenly it occurred to me: was I now going to be asked to conduct a pet funeral? As much as I cared for this woman and her two young daughters who would learn the sad news when they got home from school, I had never officiated at a pet funeral and wasn’t about to start now. But how could I tell her that without risking offending her?

Fortunately, a funeral for the fur ball was not what she had in mind. Instead, she asked me to carry him back to the church and bury it on the property since she, an apartment-dweller, had no land in which to lay him to rest. Thrilled at the simple request, I returned home, toting Toto-chan in my backpack. En route, I decided it would be simpler just to throw the little creature over the edge of the steep slope at the back of the building than to dig a grave in the frozen ground of February. What would it matter anyway?

I’m happy to say that my conscience got control of me before I got home. A promise is a promise—and I’d told her I would bury her pet. I was duty-bound to do so, no matter what. So I did. There were no frills in this committal, just a simple, shallow hole with a couple of spadefuls of dirt over the top, and it was finished. But at least I’d kept my word.

Imagine my relief three hours later when the phone rang and I learned that my friend was bringing her daughter to lay flowers at the hamster’s grave! As with the paperbacks, I was suddenly drenched in sweat over the close call. It was too close for comfort, but I’d survived.

On Random Questions, Part 2

Another random question: Why do Japanese babies

have so much hair when Caucasian babies are bald?

(Or at least mine were.)

Back in July 2007, I raised the first of many random questions that come to my mind as we live and work in Tokyo. Here are a few others:

*In a city with so many foreigners (nearly 18% of Tokyo’s population is non-native), why is the English so atrocious here? Two of the top five foreign populations are native English speakers (American and British), so why don’t Japanese get help with their English? One of the worst examples is this sign I see regularly on the awning of a restaurant called Oriental Diner: “Your cheek is greeted to live.” What in the world does that mean? Then, on the train the other day, saw a young man wearing his trendy clothes with obvious delight. His shirt read, “Pursuing Poopularity.” The joke’s on him!

*Why would you name a steakhouse the “B&M Steak House?” We ate there recently and asked that very question to the friendly man who seemed to be in charge. He told us, “B stands for happiness, as in bluebird. M stands for market reader, as being one to bring change for the better to a neighborhood.” So, what in the world does this have to do with steak and the cowboy décor of the restaurant? I don’t know. I will say, however, that the food was pretty good, although pricey. Guess it could have been pricey and no good at all. And Bernie did enjoy the country/western fare playing as background music and the cowboy and Indian posters tacked on the walls.

*Every day when I open the newspaper, it’s not a question of IF there has been a suicide bomber, but only how many people have died since the day before because of this or some other terrorist activity somewhere in the world. When is this going to stop?

*A few days ago there was a two-story house on a lot near to where we live in Jiyugaoka. Today, when I walked by on my way to the grocery store, I discovered the lot has become a parking lot. It’s only big enough for two cars! True, it was a small house, but so small that only two cars can park there now? No wonder Japanese homes are often called rabbit hutches.

*How do girls put their makeup on while riding on a moving train without poking their eyes out or at least drawing all over their faces—especially when Japanese don’t have much of an eyelid anyway? Sometimes I can hardly manage just to stay on my feet as I ride the swaying trains.

*The other day, I saw a Japanese young man all dressed up in a sport coat, shirt, and hat. He was primping in a plate glass store window. I wondered if he knew there were rips in the back of his jeans. Of course, he knew. So my real question is, why does he think that’s a fashion statement? It’s more like a poverty statement to me, yet he probably paid a whole lot of money at some exclusive shop to dress like that. Unbelievable!

*One last question: How can I possibly write this blog without commenting on my grandson, Little Ben? Obviously, I can’t!

On God's Good Gifts

Passport picture taken at three days old.

Thanking God
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights
. . .” (James 1:17, NIV).

We’re a little late in getting out our monthly newsletter, but we know you’ll forgive us and understand why when we tell you about the birth of Benjamin Donbor Lyngdoh, our first grandchild. Our daughter, Stephanie, gave birth to Little Ben on January 30, 2008, here in Tokyo. As we wrote about this miracle baby in our blog of last week, “Ten fingers. Ten toes. Nose and eyes like his Papa. Lips like his Mama. Brown hair, the synthesis of both Papa’s black and Mama’s light brown. Already and forever our lives have been changed by this tiny bundle of love.” Yes, our hearts are full of praise to God for this “good and perfect gift,” especially when we remember that there was never any certainty that Stephanie would be able to become pregnant in the first place.

We also remember the anxious time one week before Little Ben’s birth when Stephanie and Donald became concerned that the very active baby hadn’t moved for as much as 12 hours. And when the doctor agreed that he should check things out, the nearly hour-long drive to the hospital seemed like an eternity. After the fetal heart monitor showed that Little Ben was fine, we all breathed sighs of relief as we gave thanks to God. We were reminded that life is a gift—one of God’s good gifts—and that it should never be taken for granted.

Prayer concerns
At only five days old, Little Ben was presented at the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo to apply for his passport. The embassy official indicated he may be the youngest child ever brought in for a passport. (It is a requirement that he appear in person, but at least they didn’t expect him to answer questions!) We do have some concern about whether the passport will be forthcoming in enough time to allow for his visa to be processed so that Stephanie can return on February 24 to the country where she and Donald teach at an international school. (Donald will return on February 16.) Please remember this concern in your prayers.

Please also remember the following prayer concerns that are uppermost in our prayers and hearts:

1) Tarumi Church in its pastoral search. It has been nearly five years since we left Kobe to move to Tokyo, and the church has continued without a pastor. Many people are quite tired and discouraged;
2) The Church of God missions history book project on which Cheryl is working with her father, that she can get back to working on it quickly (when she’d rather be holding Little Ben); and,
3) The Church of God in Japan as it prepares to celebrate its 100th birthday in August. Pray especially that the church will gain a new vision for what God desires of it in its second hundred years.

Thank you for being among God's good gifts to us.

The Drawer

Moments after delivery, January 30, 2008

Little Ben in his new bed from February 1, 2008

Although it often feels like our Tokyo apartment is only the size of a doll house, there’s at least one very positive thing I can say about it (since I was never that fond of playing dolls anyhow). This three-room, kitchen, bath, toilet, and walk-in closet has an amazing amount of storage space in it—as long as it’s not people you’re trying to store! Shelves and cabinets line the entry hall; cabinets are built in above doorways and closets, so high up that I can only access them by a step stool; and our dining room area has one entire wall with built in shelves where some of our most precious knickknacks and family photographs are displayed.

On top of these, the living room has two large closets, each with three drawers built in underneath. Until yesterday, the three drawers under the closet I use for my hanging clothes were full of photographs and photo albums, testimony to my love of traveling. In the bottom drawer there were photos from India, Egypt, Israel, and Europe, memories of wonderful visits in those countries between 1991 and 1994.

I smile to recall some of the photographs I have taken over the years. Children are my favorites. One choice shot shows a two-year-old Filipino girl, her hands folded together in belated prayer over her breakfast, some of which already bulges her cheeks. It hangs in our dining room and reminds us to be grateful to God for his good gifts. Another photograph of a Tanzanian baby boy will grace the cover of a book I compiled and edited for publishing in June. “Pretty as a picture” is a wonderful simile to use with many of these photographs I have taken of children around the world. Indeed there were many pretty pictures stored in those living room drawers, but none as beautiful and awe-inspiring as what is there today.

Lined with two quilts, one boasting Winnie the Pooh characters, the bottom drawer is now a bassinette. Its precious cargo is our grandson, Benjamin Donbor Lyngdoh, born on January 30 here in Tokyo. Six pounds, three ounces (2748 grams) and nineteen inches long (48.2 centimeters), Little Ben fits the drawer easily since he’s way too small for his 0-3 month-size clothes. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Nose and eyes like his Papa. Lips like his Mama. Brown hair, the synthesis of both Papa’s black and Mama’s light brown. Already and forever our lives have been changed by this tiny bundle of love. Prettier than any child’s picture ever held in that drawer. Amazing. Truly amazing.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above . . .” (James 1:17). “Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15).

The only thing left to say is don’t close the drawer!