Preparedness

Antiseptic hand wash and gargling solution: preparations to ward off the flu

I was glad we weren’t home. I’ve had my share of earthquakes, thank you, and I don’t like them. Not one little bit. But two moderately strong ones that shook Tokyo in August reminded everyone that there are no guarantees against earthquakes. To see this week’s earthquake destruction in Indonesia has only added to the ominous feeling that Tokyoites live with daily. After all, the “big one” has been predicted for years. Scientists say that when it comes (not if), it won’t be a pretty sight. I hope I’m not here, as we weren’t when the earth shook in August.

Naturally, when disaster-management exercises were conducted across the nation as a part of Disaster Preparedness Day (September 1), people took notice. The prediction is that 210,000 people in Tokyo and neighboring areas will be injured if a very strong quake hits—and this estimate says nothing of those who will die.

Although exercises were planned in 30 of Japan’s 47 prefectures, preparedness of another kind took precedence in many regions. Some were battling Typhoon #11, but others were taking precautions against H1N1, the flu strain “born” last spring. Since new flu cases in Japan had reached epidemic proportions by late summer, many government and medical officials feared a dramatic spike in infections as school reopened for second semester. As a result, numerous large public gatherings, including some Disaster Preparedness Day activities, were canceled.

Educational institutions are also wary, conscious that although many schools were closed in the spring to combat the new strain, the disease remained virulent. It was a major concession to the strength of the flu that in many locations opening ceremonies were so scaled down that in some students watched on individual classroom monitors rather than all gathering in an auditorium or gymnasium. If the threat continues, upcoming school festivals and Sports Days—staples of the fall school calendar—are sure to be affected.

On another front, preparations have been made for an expected shortage of flu vaccines in the event of a wildfire spread of the disease. The Health, Labor, and Welfare Ministry has drafted a priority list for who will receive the limited quantities that will be available. The ministry’s basic policy gives priority to 19 million people deemed most at risk. At the top of the list are 1 million medical professionals who must remain healthy in order to help the nation combat this threat. Another 10 million people with chronic diseases like asthma and diabetes are next, and on down the line the plan continues.

Even our church has gotten into making anti-flu contingencies. Anyone with a fever higher than 99.5 degrees is being requested to stay home, whether this means children in the nursery school or congregants on Sundays. Additionally, antiseptic hand wash dispensers will greet all who enter the premises from this week forward.

With all this activity at the forefront of conversations throughout the nation, I’ve thought a lot this week about the subject of preparedness. I can’t help but wonder what it will take for some people to prepare for eternity. The Bible maps out the necessary steps for preparedness, but so many take no notice at all. I’m not a doomsday preacher, but eternity is inevitable for everyone. The question that remains to be answered is this: Who will be prepared?

While There Is Time

Bernie and Cheryl with students at Bible Camp

Three verses of utmost importance
“Teach [God’s words] to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up” (Deuteronomy 11:19, NIV). “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come..." (Ecclesiastes 12:1, NIV). “As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work” (John 9:4, NIV).

George Barna has been called the Christian George Gallup. Consider some of his research findings related to the importance of ministry to children and youth, including the fact that up to age thirteen, children are the most open to conversion. In his book, Transforming Children into Spiritual Champions (Regal, 2003), Barna argues that “ministry to children is the single most strategic ministry in God’s kingdom [and will have]…the greatest possible impact” (p. 14). He also contends that the most critical time in anyone’s life is between the ages of five and twelve because “it is during these crucial years that lifelong habits, values, beliefs and attitudes are formed” (p. 18). Unfortunately, most American congregations devote the bulk of their money and time to adult ministries. It’s no wonder statistics show that the church is losing children and teens at an amazing—no, frightening—rate.

Without the benefit of statisticians or social commentators, the Bible spoke to this dilemma long ago. Three verses of utmost importance should cause us to look at how we are investing ourselves. While there is time, we should be asking the Lord to show us how he could use us to reach the children and youth around us. Of all the investments we will ever make, those that touch the lives of children and youth will have the most returns. God help us to do our parts.

Tamagawa Seigakuin Bible camp
Needless to say, we consider Tamagawa Seigakuin’s summer Bible camp one of our most important activities each year. As you can tell by the photo, we had a great time July 20-22. We are thankful for relationships formed between the 70 girls who attended and the 17 faculty members who were there to encourage them to move closer to committing their lives to Christ “in the days of [their] youth.”

Thank you for your important prayers. Responses at the end of the three days included the following: 28 girls made decisions to believe and receive Jesus Christ (although we don’t know whether all were first-time decisions or not); 8 girls want to be baptized; and 16 students dedicated themselves to serving God.

Your continued prayers are also very important. Seven students indicated that they “don’t really understand” what faith is all about and/or where to go from here. Please remember these girls especially in your prayers. Several will be graduating next spring and leave the nurturing environment of Tamagawa Seigakuin, so the next few months may be especially critical in their faith walk. The camp evangelist will be returning to the school on November 12 for a follow-up meeting with all the students who attended. Between now and then, would you please commit yourself to praying daily that the Holy Spirit will move in an amazing way that day? Please also pray for our deepening relationships with students through the upcoming Fall Festival, September 19 and 21, and our trip to Korea with the entire junior class, October 26-30.

Other prayers
Of course, there are many other matters that need your prayers, including the following:

►We were happy to welcome Japan’s newest special assignment missionary, Tyler Hobbs, on August 19. Please pray for him as he adjusts to his new life that includes teaching English-Bible classes at Tarumi Church, Kobe, and Konoike Church, Osaka. At the same time, Tyler will be involved in a four-month internship through Anderson University School of Theology. Pray for Bernie in his supervisory role.
►We look forward a visit by Stephanie and Little Ben from September 5-12. Stephanie is now more than halfway through her pregnancy. Please pray for the continued healthy development of the baby who will be born in early January in Tokyo.
►Please pray for our deepening relationships with the people of Tamagawa Church, Tokyo, the congregation we began pastoring in April. Pray especially for Tomoko Fujiwara, the associate pastor, as we help her move towards ordination.

Life Sounds

Exiting through a ticket wicket at a train station in Japan

The tuning up of the violin, first one, then two, then more as a university string ensemble—baroque music, no less—begins to warm up. It’s 2 p.m. on Saturday afternoon and the group is using downstairs rooms in our building. They’ll get better as the afternoon lengthens, but sometimes it’s a little screechy to my ears, especially when I want to take a nap. When solitude returns, I'll know its 6 p.m.

Beeping sounds, whirring sounds. A hospital is full of them as machinery feeds, measures, and records life. I never knew much about hospitals until this year, but its sounds are now as familiar as the quiet in and out of Bernie’s breathing beside me in the bed. Life can change momentously in a mere instant.

Putting my ticket into the wicket at the train station, I’m quite nonchalant. But when a bell begins to ring, I morph into one of Pavlov’s famed research assistants. My steps quicken as my legs are propelled into race mode just as the dogs’ salivary glands responded when Pavlov rang a bell. The doors of the train are soon to close and I must be on that train! Never mind that the next one comes in less than five minutes.

Do, mi, la, do. The tones of the xylophone ring out. I know an announcement is about to be made in a school or public building in Japan. It will conclude with the same four notes—do, la, mi, do—in descending order. Reading music in Japan requires a different skill than in America. Japanese do not read C, E, A, C. Prior to living here, I thought only Julie Andrews and the kids on The Sound of Music read music by “Do a dear, a female deer . . . .”

“Sensei, ohayo gozaimasu!” (Good morning, teacher.) The happy voices of children arriving downstairs at the preschool in the church building where we live remind me it’s 9 a.m. Now if they also could tell me what day of the week it is in their daily greetings!

"Nihyaku tasu hyaku ekuwaru san byaku." (200 + 100 = 300) The woman selling fruit and vegetables from the nearby garage sings out the prices of the bananas and tomatoes I’m buying today in a trademark singsong voice, the traditional identifier of a neighborhood vendor. I love it and am in awe of her computation skills that can carry the rhythm without a break even if my purchases are many and she must calculate into the thousands.

Mi mimimimimi. The sound of the semi (cicada), the harbinger of summer in Japan. With all the concrete in Tokyo, it’s amazing that there are any insects at all around us. Happily, there are several parks within walking distance of our apartment and the tree-loving semis have found them. Sometimes the rapturous joy that vibrates from membranes on their abdomen can be almost deafening. It’s as if they are clapping in praise of the summer. When both the tone and volume soften—as they will shortly—one knows that summer is poised to usher in fall.

And so it is that my days are filled with the sounds of life. While Jesus was advising his followers to contemplate his words carefully when he said, “He who has ears, let him hear” (Matthew 11:15), it occurs to me that much of life is missed when we walk through our days neither hearing nor seeing the “daily” that is around us. After all, who would choose to be deaf or blind? Not I. Yet I often fail to taste and appreciate life’s exquisite flavors as I rush through my days intent only upon the next “must do” on my schedule. “He who has ears, let him hear.”

Deja vu!

Helping to feed Little Ben's curiosity through books

Forgive me for yet another story involving my grandson, but this is a grandmother’s privilege.

This morning we had a call from our daughter via Skype. She had a funny incident to relate. Little Ben had gotten into her bedroom and discovered he could open the drawer of Stephanie’s night stand. Inside was a veritable treasure chest of curiosities for a 19-month-old who is intent upon discovering the world before leaving home.

One of the amazing things about motherhood is that a mother can be so different from other females of the species—those who do not have children. Among other things, a mother comes equipped with a built-in alarm system that sounds a bell whenever things have been quiet for too long. So it was with Stephanie who was doing something in the front of their apartment while her little boy was quietly at work in the back. Too quietly at work. Responding to the clanging of the alarm, Stephanie went to see what was up. Perhaps it was only a false alarm? Alas, it wasn’t to be. To her horror, she found that Benjamin had discovered a bottle of lotion in the drawer and, even worse, how to open it. It hadn’t taken him long to spread the creamy substance all over the night stand. He was looking for even more targets to decorate just as she found him.

Déjà vu.

Stephanie was around two years old. I’d been alerted to our bedroom by the same disquieting silence that causes mothers everywhere to lift their heads and listen intently—before running in search of a crime scene they know they're only moments from finding. Plopped atop our pillows, there she was with Vaseline all over her hands, in her hair, on her face, and smeared on our headboard. To be honest, the container was right there in public view for her to dip into, so I really couldn’t blame our little girl for her curiosity. Quickly getting past the initial shock, I’d started laughing. Today, twenty-five years later, with the perpetrator now the victim, I’m still laughing.

Thanks for the memories, Stephanie. Way to go, Little Ben!

An Award-Winning Smile

Bernie and I have just returned from a morning walk with Little Ben, our grandson. This has become an enjoyable daily ritual during our two-week summer vacation. How nice! Except for the sweat, that is—which reminds me of some related thoughts I jotted down last month in the note pad I always carry in my purse:

It must be 120% humidity today in Tokyo! This is the kind of weather that makes ex-pats flee Japan for their lives in July and August. Those who must remain find themselves soaked to the skin with sweat without moving a muscle. The only antidote for this humidity—but this remedy cures for only minutes at best—is to stand in an ice cold shower. The shock effect seems to close sweat pores. However, since this positive effect lasts only a short time, the process must be repeated again and again throughout the day. Of course, one can always learn to live in damp clothes.

One tool I use to survive Japan’s ghastly and exhausting summers is the “sweat rag.” Some people more elegantly call these handkerchiefs, but that word makes me think of the lace and embroidered cloths that my grandmother used to dab her face. What I use are utilitarian, practical, unsightly but still effective squares of gauze or terry cloth material. They sop up sweat like great rags used to clean the kitchen floor after milk has been spilled. They aren’t handkerchiefs; they are definitely sweat rags.

So there I was in Naka Meguro Station, wiping my face, arms, and neck and trying to avoid looking like a drenched runner at the end of a marathon. I’d only walked a short distance and was trying to retain at least a glimpse of respectability in my appearance. Actually, I knew it was a losing battle, especially when I looked at my sweat rag and realized I’d just wiped off all the makeup I’d applied at home only a short time before. “What a waste of makeup,” I thought to myself. “I might as well not have put any on.”

Then, glancing across the subway tracks to the opposite platform, I noticed a billboard that proclaimed, “Smile is the best makeup.” I have no idea what was being advertised because my mind ran with that phrase that stood out in English against the background of Japanese words. It was a gentle reminder for the day, for the hot summer, and indeed for my life. My makeup might not survive the stifling humidity, but I could still smile. That was my choice, and unless I allowed it to do so, my choice to smile could not be affected by the weather or any other circumstances of life.

Suddenly a picture of our grandson came to mind, and I smiled. His hilarious laughing was videoed by our daughter. Little Ben was twirling and swirling (his version of dancing) with his daddy and convulsing with laughter over the sheer joy of this play. I couldn’t watch it without laughing myself. Yes, indeed. A smile is the best makeup.

And now, here I am in China, getting to play every day with the little guy. Even as we eagerly applaud any new developments and the signs of his maturing, there’s one thing I hope never changes: his award-winning smile. It’s his best feature. I’ve decided to switch to his brand of makeup.