IT WAS JUST A LAYMAN'S LETTER

Robert Neyman and his wife had visited our home in Tonokura then written to his church in the U.S. about the visit. The letter got circulated to other churches, and I guess you could say in today's YouTube terminology, it "went viral"...well, I exaggerate...maybe it "went bacterial"?

At any rate, it resulted in funds being sent enabling our family to move. (We later found out that wooden house was probably unfit for human habitation, torn down the day after we left.)

I found this letter and was going to post excerpts from it--the whole thing is two-pages--then decided to post the entire thing.  Readers can choose themselves which portions they want to keep for their own memories. (I found Daddy's photos and attached them.)

***************

THE UNIVERSITY OF THE RYUKYUS

Naha Okinawa, Ryukyu Islands

May 9, 1963

Dear Friend,

Not long ago, I visited with Kimiko and Roy Oshiro. Roy had invited me to give my testimony at the church under his supervision. He also invited my wife and I to Sunday evening dinner before church. As we arrived, I clearly remember backing my car in between the close crowded buildings of this Oriental city. Then as we went into the house, Roy joked.

"Which side do you want, the men's or the women's? The men go this way through this door. The women go that way through that door."

I looked at him in puzzlement. My wife didn’t relish leaving her escort in a strange city. 

Roy laughed. “This used to be an old bath house. Let’s take the left door.” 

As we stooped through the door, Roy commented, “This is where our church meets.” 

“No benches? Only tatami mats?” I asked gazing at the straw mats.

“Yes,” he said, “If we put benches in the room, it wouldn’t be big enough to hold all the people.”

I thereupon pointed out that one of my young Okinawan friends didn’t like sitting on tatami mats. He pointed out that at school Okinawans sit in chairs, on buses they sit on chairs, and that in many Okinawan homes chairs are now used.

“We have no alternative,” Roy said. “There’s not enough room. In fact, when visitors come, we have to sleep them out here in the church.”

By the end of that discussion, we were through the church, and into the cramped living quarters. At Roy’s invitation we pulled up chairs to the table. I noticed that two of the chairs were Army quartermaster issue and two were obviously local. After the flurry of introducing and seating three vivacious little daughters, Roy started the usual (or unusual) dining table conversation.

“We sleep over there,” Roy said, pointing across my shoulder.

“No beds?” I queried.

“No room,” Roy answered. “There’s not enough room for five beds in there.”

I surveyed the approximately 9 by 12 foot room, and couldn’t help but agree.

“Besides, if we had beds in there we wouldn’t have room for the children to play on wet days.” Every evening, I have to pull the mattresses out and make up beds. Sometimes it’s very hard when I come home tired in the evening after a day of evangelizing in the country.”

Just about that time, I caught sight of welts and scars on their second daughter (June’s) arm. Noticing my curiosity, Roy said,

“Some of them are insect bites from a year ago, some quite recent. She’s very sensitive to them.”

“The tatami mats are infested with fleas,” Kimiko added. “ It’s impossible to get them out.”

“Can’t you do anything about them?”

“We put insecticide on the girls every night, but it wears off by morning. Western type beds are the only answer.”

Dropping that, the conversation shifted to the weather.

“How does the building hold up in typhoons?” I asked.

“So far, so good,” Roy answered, “but the termites have got into it. See that window? It opens only 6 inches. The building is sagging. The window over there doesn’t open at all. We’re going to have to move out before the termites make the building fall on top of us.”

When one of the children interrupted dinner for that inevitable trip to the bathroom, I asked if they had a flush toilet.

“No,” was the answer. “just a local benjo.”

Later on, when coffee making time came around, Kimiko walked over to the single faucet, turned it on, but not a single drop of water came out.

“Oh, oh; no water,” she said. 

“I guess I’ll have to go out and turn the other catchment tank on,” Roy added.

I thought to myself how unnecessary this was. The American government has installed an integrated water system for Okinawa but these Americans cannot hook into it because of a shortage of funds. 

Then I thought of the scriptures, “And when one member suffer, all the members suffer with it...”(I Cor. 12:26) And I suffered all through the night.

Here were some wonderful Christian people, obviously doing a good job, but they were doing it under unnecessarily difficult conditions because Christians such as myself were not fulfilling our obligation to them. That’s why I’ve written this letter now.

In Christ Jesus,

James. W. Ney

English Consultant

*******

I think Dec. that year Daddy unloaded a truckload of Christmas presents from Stateside churches, and soon we found ourselves moving to a place called North Bayview Ojana, into a house made of concrete (we didn't have to play by plucking off the wings of termites infesting the woodwork anymore). And we had beds, running water, toilets that flushed, air conditioning! Our move was so fast, our bed frames hadn't arrived that first night. We slept on mattresses on the floor and watched the beautiful design the kerosene stove cast on our new house's CEMENT wall thanking God for such unexpected blessing.

Ojana kitchen, dining area 

OUTRIGGER-- We won't get that wet

I wonder whatever became of that article I wrote once about our outrigger ride. I'd written one quite a few years ago.

*****

The summer between my 9th and 10th grades, we took another furlough (went to the U.S. from Okinawa), so had a stopover in Hawaii. On our last day there--all our things had been packed and readied for our trip out to the mainland--my mother had been planning to have the family spend a restful, final day at home.

Her youngest sister came over with her daughter, wanting to take her nieces out for a last fun day at Waikiki. Mommy didn't like the idea.

"You want to go to the Beach? But they'll need a change of clothes, and everything's already been packed..."

"Oh, we won't get that wet, we'll just be walking around." Mommy let us go. Reluctantly, but she let us go.

Aunty Sally took us to Waikiki Beach, where tourists went outrigger surfing on the waves. Our Aunt, her daughter, Joyce, Janice, myself, and several beach boys all clambered aboard a long canoe, taking off our flip flops and tossing them in the bottom of the boat.

We sat, holding the paddles, carefully listening to the leader up front calling out when to paddle, when to change sides, when to lift paddles out of the water, and gradually moved the vessel out where the larger waves were and then let the water turn the boat around so we were facing the shore. 

In other words, most of us could not see the waves coming at us anymore; only the leader, who was facing the back, could. He let some other large waves go by, but seemed to want us to ride a REALLY BIG one.

"Here it comes--got your paddles ready?" he said. All of us felt excited. "NOW! Paddle!"

But I think it was a second too late. Or the wave was a little faster than we thought. Instead of riding in front of the wave, we found ourselves right under it. The leader could see it.

"IT'S GONNA BREAK!" we heard. SPLOOSH! When I opened my eyes, all of us were sitting in the canoe, floating about a foot...underwater? (I remember our chests, shoulders, heads were above water, but the boat we were sitting in was submerged!)

"I...am...SO SORRY," the leader was saying; "We've had an accident...These canoes are unsinkable; but they CAN flip over. Can you get out and hold onto the outriggers while some of us bail out the water?"

We did. Joyce not only got onto the back outrigger but stretched out her cheerleader's leg onto the outside float as well. I hear Janice hoisted herself up around that outrigger pole and was quietly quoting scripture.

Joyce and Janice were on the back rod, and I decided to cling to the front one with my Aunt and her daughter. She said later how Mommy had told her about my epilepsy. Altho' her own daughter was next to her, I was now in her safekeeping, and Aunty felt she could not face Mommy if she let anything happen to me. 

2 of the beach boys were constantly swimming around us, making sure we were all right; 2 others were constantly checking to make sure the canoe didn't capsize, and of course, 2 others continued to bail out the water until all of us could get back in and head back to shore, with relieved laughs and an unexpected souvenir story from Waikiki!

I suppose experienced writers would end the story here.  But I wanted to add some miscellaneous thoughts from that time:

the outrigger leader: some onlooking surfers jeered that the call was mis-timed, that the tourists would sue the beach!

Aunty Sally: "I told Kimiko I'd take her girls only walking around Waikiki, and I almost got them drowned!"

Janice giggling to cousin Lisa: "We're too wet for this to happen from just walking!" who replied, "Tell them we sweat a lot."

Joyce: (looking at her now-drenched watch) "I'd asked, just before the outrigger ride, if I needed to take this off, and I was told, 'Oh no; you won't get that wet.'"

MISS POWELL CAME

Ding Dong. "Miss Powell's at the door!" a high school memory revived while reading through what I'd written. This is another one of those behind-the-scene thingys that won't make the book...

Joyce during elementary

My sister Joyce began her musical career on the ivories of the pump organ while crawling around in our first Tonokura, Okinawa, wooden house--that former public bathhouse. She'd gone onto the regular piano and quickly learned to play both by sight and ear, easily transposing keys as necessary. We didn't realize how much raw musical talent God had endowed her with until our furlough years in the U.S. when, in a public high school music competition in Michigan, she was given a superior rating awarded only the top 40 students in the state, who were extended invitation to study at any state university completely free.

Joyce in 12th grade

We loved Oak Park High's head music teacher, Alice Powell. And she was excited that Joyce had done so well. But what was this--she heard students say Joyce was going to a Christian College down south? She made a special trip to the house to explain to Joyce's parents their daughter had offer of scholarships to any Michigan school; it must be they do not understand and are making their daughter attend a religious institution.

Joyce in university

It took a while, but Alice Powell heard that Joyce had decided it was "God's will" to "go to Bob Jones University" to train to become a missionary and told her parents that is where she wanted to go in the fall; they were not the ones making her go there! I think, by the time she left the house, she understood. At least, we maintained a very good relationship with Miss Powell. (In fact, I requested private piano with her the next year when we ended up extending our U.S. stay.)

Joyce as missionary

So Joyce went on to BJU and missions, and probably, the music department head marveled at such a waste of talent. Please don't get me wrong; I am not saying all scholarships must be rejected--by no means! God can provide through means of human grants but doesn't need them and can operate separately of them as well. I'm just relating what happened this time!

(It just hit me: but maybe this is why God made sure there were so many other financial blessings all through our college education...I think about them now...There were 3 of us in school, with not-rich missionary parents, yet when we graduated, we did not owe the school a single penny!)

FROM AN 11TH GRADE MEMORY

 "Mr. Giles, I think I got something in my eye..." a classmate started to say.

That's all he had to say. The chemistry teacher leaped into action as if someone had pressed a switch. He grabbed the student, without a word hauled him over to one of the counter sinks, then held him there face up under the running water--all within a few seconds.

Mr. Giles wasn't saying anything then, but his face was all desperation. That student had been using sulfuric acid. If it had gotten in his eye, he could go blind. MUST WASH IT ALL OUT! Other than the shuffle, bang, and sploosh, the classroom went completely silent. But after those words uttered by the student a few moments earlier, the place felt full with unspoken energy.

That student didn't lose his eye, to his relief and family's huge gratitude, thanks to the teacher's quick actions.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Last weekend, I "happened" to read about a boy born to African Christians, whose Japanese kanjis I'd chosen. That was 2, 3 years ago--I wondered how he was doing, praying lightly, "God, bless him."

Can you imagine how it made me feel when the very next Sunday afternoon, I heard how Tendo had had a situation earlier that week in the hospital he couldn't breathe and had required prayer? God had alerted me to pray...and all I had said was, "God, bless him"!

But it wasn't my prayer. All it took were a few words--like that chemistry student--and God did the rest. And Tendo didn't lose his life, much to his relief, his parents' gratitude, because of God's quick action. GREAT IS HIS FAITHFULNESS.

"He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us" (Ephe. 3:20)

INTERESTS

Today is my son's B-day. I want to do something special for him today. When I asked him several years ago what he was interested in, I remember he put his finger in the shape of a gun and let me know it was computer games, where they shoot stuff down on the screen. This year, I didn't ask him.

1 Keima's Interest...FPS?

Cockroaches showed me what they were interested in...and I hadn't even asked them for their opinion, I mused, frustrated, as I scrubbed the kitchen corner, determined that my son's birthday would NOT be ruined by an unwelcome appearance by a shiny brown intruder with long antennas!

2 Scrubbing Interest                                   3 Because of a Buggy Interest...

I'd grown up in hot, humid Okinawa where I was used to seeing these six-legged critters; but Keima definitely wasn't, and altho' he was usually a cool cucumber like his father, I heard him scream when he spotted those greasy brown fellers. They should make computer games of shooting down murderous pests with spray guns!

4 Interesting Cake!

Hey...Thank You God, for the idea, and drew a "Mini Beast" character on an index card, cut him out and stood him up on the front rim of my son's chocolate Birthday Cake the next day. Keima was then handed a certificate recognizing him as an Expert Ex-man (Extinguisher), told he was now qualified to claim his cake back from the critter....

Sometimes we mothers get kinda silly to find ideas for our children. But I realized this morning when Keima gave me this funny look, he's in his 30's now! Oh, June...

HEAVEN'S FRUIT

A fruity no-eat memory from a family meal in childhood days revived when my sister Joyce shared some fruit with me the other day, saying her friend told her not to eat it right now because it wasn't ripe yet. This is another "non-bookable" incident.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Daddy saw I'd left my slice of golden peach untouched and asked me, "Junie, you don't want your peach?" At that time, my parents were speaking to us in only Japanese, so this was in Japanese.  I'd answered the Japanese way, which is responding to the QUESTION. "No." (In my mind, that meant, No; I DO want my peach!)

Daddy heard, "No; I don't want the peach." Well, you can imagine when, to my horror, he said, "Oh! Well, I'll just" and scooped the slice into his mouth!" I screamed and cried I was saving it and Mommy came running into the room. It took a while before everything got all cleared up, and we figured out what had happened.

Revelation 22:2 speaks of the tree in heaven that bears fruit every month of the year, whose leaves were for the healing of the nations. I am a fruit person. I have always loved fruit more than cake, chocolates, or ice cream. But I wonder what heavenly fruit will taste like.

And...I wonder what language we'll be speaking up there. I am sure, when we get to Heaven, there won't be any misunderstandings or communication tangles, like Daddy and I had! I am so looking forward to that. Aren't we all?

MOTHERS CAN BE CONSTERNATING

I'm pretty sure I wrote about this a l-o-n-g time ago. I mean, like in a "Come Into An MK's Kitchen" blog post back in 2002-ish. But I can't find a trace of it, and I've finished my Japanese writing about the old house, so...here goes.

I think all little folks find ways of weasling through those years when Mommy tells you to eat foods that make you develop facial wrinkles. My sisters and I did. There were 3 of us, and we thought we could outsmart our mother; there was only 1 of her. 

We couldn't be excused from the table until we'd eaten all our food. Well, I had the least dislikes, so I'd leave first; make some kind of excuse; and find some way to duck under the table, where my sisters handed me my sippy cup. I sat there with open mouth, and my sisters spoonfed me most of the foodstuff they didn't like. Oh to be sure, they didn't give me ALL of it; that would've been too obvious, and Mommy would've caught on right away. They just gave me enough to say they were finished with their meal so they could get up from the table. Besides, I had been washing everything down with my milk so would get much too full if they had given me more!

But one afternoon, Mommy asked us to help with the housecleaning too. I was clearing out the stuff under the kitchen table when I noticed a sippy cup...with cheesy substance inside...on closer investigation...phew! I'd forgotten it after one of my escapades and left it there! Mommy had seen it but had feigned ignorance and made me clean it up!

What could I do but take it the sink, spill out the putrid stuff, and admit my offense? Mommy thanked me for finding, showing, and telling her about it, but I'm sure she just wanted me to be the one to say...I tell you, sometimes, Mothers can be consternating.

Isn't that the way God is with us though? He waits and waits and waits for us to see and confess to our failings instead of accusing us of our woes immediately. We finite human beings would never survive if He'd treated us the way we deserved. It's not consternation; it's Grace.

THEY WEREN'T FORGOTTEN EITHER

Bouganvanilla;          Iwatsuki Iris

I found a folder of photos of flowers from the Iwatsuki Park. Now that we're down in Okinawa, I think these are going to get thrown away--but that'd be a crying shame! So is it okay if I post about something completely unrelated while showing these? The "completely unrelated" topic? It had to do with the tray Kinya brought in for my meal. Yes, it's getting to be that time of year my medicine mandates I stay in my air-conditioned room, where Kinya will be bringing my meals.

Let me take a little detour. The mirror section was removed from the old vanity, and it's been moved to the bedside to set the meal tray on. When I'm not eating, it's used for my laptop, Bible. journal, or reading/writing.

Popcorn Tree;          "Use even me Lord!" Morning Glory

It seems portions get smaller and smaller now; I can't consume as much as I used to when I was younger. But the important thing is to eat first whatever I like most. I used to leave it until last, until I read that's a sure way to gain weight, because your mind makes you eat everything else even if you really don't want it because it somehow equates that with getting what you really want, which you've saved for last.

Tulip Tonsils;          Trumpet Ruffles

So I decided, whatever I like most gets eaten first. That way, even if I leave anything, I will have gotten what I REALLY wanted. Besides, things taste better when you're hungry then after you're mostly full.

Post-Typhoon Photo

I didn't know about posting this last photo, since it's been posted many times before, and it's not a flower. When I got back to Iwatsuki, I saw how one blade of grass had been blown, by typhoon winds, to stand upright in one of the holes of a rock in the middle of the pond. Another blade of grass had split and fastened itself to it, resulting in a cross.

WHY CANDLESTICK？

I'm back in Revelation again. I was in the Gospel of John for a little bit. (I plan on doing Romans, Acts, and John in the future so am biting off portions of some of the longer, interesting chapters now so I won't have to do all of it then! I mean, have you seen how long some of those chapters are?! Hebrews and Revelations are long BOOKS, but most of their CHAPTERS are much shorter so easier to do.)

Right now, I'm staring at the words "two candlesticks" in Rev.11:4, reworded "lampstands". Something in me wants to stick to the original expression. NOT because I insist it's more accurate; it probably is closer to "lampstand" today, if expert linguists say that's the better word to use. But there are different reasons I want to learn "candlestick" instead. Can I share them here, in my personal blog?

Candles feel smaller, weaker, kinda like they might give off light more feebly than lamps, right? Well, I don't think there's a Christian around who hasn't felt too little to make a difference in this big, cruel world. What's one little candle? But God says let it shine. And the mental image that gets me all woozy is of the Loving Owner of the flame holding up a candlestick with his left hand, cupping it with His right as if to shelter it against any draft.

I don't get the same feeling with the word "lampstand". It's personal, not doctrinal; I won't disassociate with any Christian on the basis of this.

Seriously tho'. The other personal reason I prefer "candlestick" is because that word is used in verses elsewhere all over the Bible too, and I hear echoes in my mind when that verse is sounded, using "candlesticks", reminding me of the golden candlesticks of the tabernacle, how we aren't to hide candlesticks under a bushel but set it on a hill for all to see its light, how Ephesus was to be God's candlestick of truth, etc.... Can't "hear" those verses if the modern word "lampstand", altho' more accurate, is used. Like I said, it's just personal preference.

Candlestick or lampstand--whichever one will best help in our walk Home--just learn it! Either way, I've heard your grades at school improve when you do Bible memory. Don't ask me how it works, but altho' rote memory and creative powers seem to work diametrically opposed to each other, my times of greatest unfettered imagination in writing and drawing have been parallel to adherence with scripture memorization! And those who fear loss of mental clarity in senior years--hiding God's Word in the heart proves to be a treasure and a safeguard--CANDLESTICK OR LAMPSTAND!

*Disclaimer: I'm not advocating "using" memorization for these extras; God sees if real desire is to get scriptural truth or if the actual aim is for fringe benefits. But the heart focused solely on "getting God" can end up given some surprising perks.

It happened again. I was going to blog about Rev. 11:4 and ended up talking about memory work. Oh well; I guess God's agenda is more important than mine.

ALLOW THEM THE BLESSING OF GIVING TOO

 "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

Jesus went one step further. I see a lot of "acts of kindness" videos, and I think most humans--even Christians--limit the Love of God. Jesus realized true giving wasn't providing material needs alone but also giving out blessedness which included helping the recipient give! He approached the woman at the well with the request: please give me water. He knew this would result in her being blessed, and He wanted this for her.

Most acts of charity involve the giver "benefiting" needy person unilaterally.

It is comparatively easy for church folk to visit shut-ins and make them receive flowers or things to eat--this activity lets givers feel blessed. It is harder (thus almost never heard of) to spend time and energy thinking of a way to get that shut-in to then give his God-given abilities and serve God and let him share in the blessing!

Come--we need you!

By all means we should never stop giving out needed fish and bread. But by saying, "please", can't we do what Jesus did for the Samaritan woman at the well: reach out to others that they would receive the blessing of giving?

AWESOME AUTHOR

Ooh! The last English post I've done was May 11!? No, I haven't forgotten. It's just that I've been spending quite a bit of time with compiling material for my Japanese autobiography. I found over 60 pages I'd handwritten for a Japanese friend over 30 years ago and I have been reading through it, not only for the content but also to correct some of it linguistically to the extent I now know plus to put it into digital format. 

Would you pray with me in the making of this too? I say "too" remembering what a big struggle it was to do the family one in English. More than the mechanical, technical, linguistic aspects of putting this out, tho', the area MOST NEEDING OF YOUR PRAYERS is the constant pressure and wisdom to walk in the light. There are some issues...how should they be handled and be communicated about if at all, and if not, how to go about honestly saying nothing about it, if that would be ethically possible.

But, to brighten things up: as with our family history, I'll do the same thing now too. Back then, when I came across documents or photographs, things that reminded me of some things not necessarily "book material", I went ahead and shared it here on the blog--so you got a lot of extra explanation stories. As I've been writing, I've remembered other things I know will NOT go into the book.

So guess where you'll see them? Here.

Gotta say--this may sound ridiculously trite, but I am awed by how Great our Creator, Manager, Ruler God is. I get a headache writing one silly little book in one language under one hundred pages in one generation.

But He didn't even have to snap His Fingers to get files lined up and pages and chapters and covers organized into planets and solar systems and universes and eons and...well, then He chose to dip into one of those folders and wink the "Bible" into existence so we humans --other created beings--would have needed help; and THIS book (actually a volume of 66 books) involved utilizing not one, but 44 human authors, over hundreds of years and spanning countless generations-languages-cultures ...AND IT'S RELEVANT, APPLICABLE, LIVING, TODAY!

And God isn't even tired after putting out such a masterpiece. Isn't our God...unbelievably wow? I know. I stop trying to be a good writer sometimes, stop trying to pick good words, when I get floored by God.

OKINAWAN CAKE WRAP?!

I took these photos April 4, intending to do a photo story, then promptly forgot to post them--sorry!

1 Pastor Ishikawa brought Chiffon Cake...

2 Wait a minute...

3 Aren't those Shi-sahs...

4 Whale Shark...Angelfish

5 That's the Yanbaru Kuina!

INCLINES

Just a tiny marble rolling around on a slanted floor. Have you seen those toys where you try to get all the little marbles to fall in the right places by tilting the board?

Sometimes, I think I'm really BIG STUFF, dedicated to living for God. Then I have to laugh at myself. Unless God actually inclines my heart to want to seek Him, I'd probably seek to put myself forward, and that's all I'd think about! Who do I think I am?!

One of my favorite verses in the Bible is...well, the very beginning of the verse of I Kings 8:58: "That he may incline our hearts unto him..." prayed by Solomon, when he dedicated the temple before anyone even stepped foot into it.

Speaking of "inclines"...this isn't the verb, but the noun "incline". Here are pics of that incline where I had my spill last Oct., as well as the vending machine nearby with the Shi-kwa-sah drink.