Skype--almost like being there in personI’ve been eating a whole bunch of vegetables and fruits lately—all that good cancer-fighting stuff—and one thing is certain: my grandma bragging rights have been nourished and are in top form. Yes, it’s another Little Ben story, but please don’t hold that against either of us, and please do keep reading.
Thanks to the computer and Skype, we’re watching our grandson grow up even though we’re separated by oceans and nations. Amazing! During our early time in Japan more than thirty years ago, we had a two-color television (purple and green, and even those colors were iffy on the set we’d retrieved from the trash); no telephone in our two-room apartment (and cell phones didn’t yet exist); and a pit toilet in an attached building. We wrote letters by hand that took seven days to reach America. If someone on the other end was an eager letter-writer (unfortunately, most of our friends and many of our family were not), we received a reply in another week on top of that. When Bernie’s grandmother died unexpectedly of a heart attack, a telegram brought the sad news in choppy sentences written to conserve words and money while still conveying the essential message. The thought of making an international telephone call was akin to dialing the moon or even going there; it just wasn’t done. Today we call our children and grandson at least daily.
And when we do, we hear a cute little voice, “Coco? Papaw?” (Little Ben’s names for us.) We may hear this numerous times and with growing insistence and impatience until our computers finally get in sync. Then suddenly, when Little Ben sees our faces, his voice rises with excitement as he rejoices, nearly singing, “Hiiiiiiiii.” It’s as if he’s been waiting to see us for an eternity—which, in the time understanding of a 20-month-old, it may be. His longing to see us quickly satisfied, Little Ben scoots down off his mother’s lap and is gone in an instant to other more pressing matters.
In the meantime, our hearts have melted yet again. How could we be so lucky as to be there (in China) while we are yet here (in Japan)? We’d love to run next door for a hug—if he lived that close—but considering our own experience of thirty years ago and how wonderfully different it is today, we have no complaints at all about this arrangement that allows us to be there, here.
We’re also rejoicing as we experience being here, there. What an incredible year this has been for us as the word cancer has morphed from being someone else’s encounter to being ours, up close and personal. We have obeyed the instructions of James 5:15, “Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up.”
We’ve learned that people all over the world also are obeying James’ directions on our behalf. Though proxies who have stood in our place, we have continued being here as we are there, being anointed and prayed for countless times for healing. With Little Ben, it’s technology that makes it possible to be there, here. As amazing as that is, it is nothing in comparison to the incredible family of God as it unifies to pray, keeping us here, where God has placed us, while allowing us to be there where we are supported and comforted by the loving embrace of the family. Why would we desire anything else?
Thanks to the computer and Skype, we’re watching our grandson grow up even though we’re separated by oceans and nations. Amazing! During our early time in Japan more than thirty years ago, we had a two-color television (purple and green, and even those colors were iffy on the set we’d retrieved from the trash); no telephone in our two-room apartment (and cell phones didn’t yet exist); and a pit toilet in an attached building. We wrote letters by hand that took seven days to reach America. If someone on the other end was an eager letter-writer (unfortunately, most of our friends and many of our family were not), we received a reply in another week on top of that. When Bernie’s grandmother died unexpectedly of a heart attack, a telegram brought the sad news in choppy sentences written to conserve words and money while still conveying the essential message. The thought of making an international telephone call was akin to dialing the moon or even going there; it just wasn’t done. Today we call our children and grandson at least daily.
And when we do, we hear a cute little voice, “Coco? Papaw?” (Little Ben’s names for us.) We may hear this numerous times and with growing insistence and impatience until our computers finally get in sync. Then suddenly, when Little Ben sees our faces, his voice rises with excitement as he rejoices, nearly singing, “Hiiiiiiiii.” It’s as if he’s been waiting to see us for an eternity—which, in the time understanding of a 20-month-old, it may be. His longing to see us quickly satisfied, Little Ben scoots down off his mother’s lap and is gone in an instant to other more pressing matters.
In the meantime, our hearts have melted yet again. How could we be so lucky as to be there (in China) while we are yet here (in Japan)? We’d love to run next door for a hug—if he lived that close—but considering our own experience of thirty years ago and how wonderfully different it is today, we have no complaints at all about this arrangement that allows us to be there, here.
We’re also rejoicing as we experience being here, there. What an incredible year this has been for us as the word cancer has morphed from being someone else’s encounter to being ours, up close and personal. We have obeyed the instructions of James 5:15, “Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up.”
We’ve learned that people all over the world also are obeying James’ directions on our behalf. Though proxies who have stood in our place, we have continued being here as we are there, being anointed and prayed for countless times for healing. With Little Ben, it’s technology that makes it possible to be there, here. As amazing as that is, it is nothing in comparison to the incredible family of God as it unifies to pray, keeping us here, where God has placed us, while allowing us to be there where we are supported and comforted by the loving embrace of the family. Why would we desire anything else?
