GREAT RED DRAGONfly

Whew. I've typed my handwritten Japanese memoirs into 112 pages of digital text, and I'm tired. They'd been written in pencil on inexpensive notebook paper about 45 years ago, with the hope much of it would fade away, but most of it lasted, altho' now I have to strain a bit to read it. But I'm going follow the example of our first century church leaders, and "come aside and rest awhile," okay? (I almost wrote: "come apart and rest awhile"!)

I happened to find this picture among my things. It was sketched in 2023 when I was looking at the pond and saw a Brilliant Goldfish looking at a branch poking up from the water. A Strong-looking Turtle swimming nearby happened to be examining the same stick too, so when he turned his head to the side, the two were staring at each other. I saw them glaring at each other, neither refusing to turn away or back down. oh-oh.

After a while, it looked like we were going to have a fight to see who was the King of the Pond. A bright crimson dragonfly alit at the top of the branch above the water, looking almost like he would referee the fight. Just then, it started to rain, and everything melted away. It actually looked to me that's what they all wanted.

The name of the "referee?" I happen to be memorizing in Rev. 12, and the Great Red Dragon appears there. Poetic License. I told you I'm taking a break. This happens when my mind is kind of relaxed.

But it does get me upset that people call little insects that have wings and long tails "dragonflies", and because you can detect them in a short bandwidth of electromagnetic waves, they call them "reality"; whereas if you believe in Creation, Adam and Eve, Angels and "Great Red Dragons", things that may actually exist but human eyes can't detect them, people then look at you cross-eyed and say you believe in "fairy tales".

BICYCLE

The following is from another one of my blogs called, "Why Should It Change?" in which I've posted old devotionals I shared with Daddy way back from 2001. Many of these were posted on this "Come into an MK's Kitchen" blog back then. Since I was reading about this time period (The occurrence written about happened during the 1967 furlough in Warren, Michigan), and I know I won't be writing about this in Japanese, so maybe those who haven't read about it before would enjoy doing so now, and those of you who have seen it would be large-hearted enough to smile along with us anyway? Thank you.

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The time I learned to ride a bicycle (3rd grade), we lived next to a huge parking lot that was a paradise to ride around in. I remember one afternoon, on my bicycle on the sidewalk about to turn the corner and come home, my “mental computer” jammed. I saw a post man—there was no e-mail; we wrote letters back then—walking in my direction. If I turned the corner, I would run straight into him. I COULDN’T!!! My brain froze. Instead of turning the handle, I let the bicycle plow on straight ahead…into the car parked at the curb!

Bonk. (Good thing my child’s bicycle wasn’t going very fast anyway.) The bicycle’s rubber wheels hit the car’s metal fenders, spilling me onto the grass. The mailman came running, questions flying.

“What are you doing? Are you all right? What happened?” 

“I…I saw you…I was going to turn the corner…But if I did, I knew I would run into you, and I didn’t want to do that, so I didn’t know what to do and so kept going straight” (like the time I stayed on the bus and went all the way to the terminal!) 

“Why didn’t you just put on the brakes?”

“I…yeah…uh…I didn’t think about it.” I didn’t know what to say, really.

I think he saw I wasn’t hurt (except my silly pride) and sent me back home reminding me to use the brakes next time. I can’t remember too clearly. That’s a memory I don’t often think about, try to forget, actually; don’t really know why I’m sharing it with you. Perhaps it’s to show if God can choose things this foolish to serve Him and to glorify himself—all He asks is that we say, okay God, YOU DO YOUR THING, because I’ve proven I can make a mess doing mine.

I AIN'T NO SNAKE

It's not only the snake that speaks with a forked tongue. Humans do too. That is, I heard myself doing it today...kinda. Some friends were asking me about my writing, and I found myself first asking for prayer that I wouldn't get discouraged because I knew sometimes I found myself reading about the years of work, and finding myself feeling tired and bitter at the fruitlessness or thanklessness of it...

But the very next moment, I found myself talking about realizing, since I was writing about what I'd seen in a LIFETIME, it included some of these exciting, interesting things:

• I'd seen the Mr. and Mrs. Taba, my missionary parents' first converts, bring their son Takashi to summer camp as a little boy (I was in kindergarten then).
• 
  He didn't become a Christian tho'; in fact, strayed from church and got on the wrong side of the law, ended up in jail, where my Dad visited him. But one night when Takashi despaired of life, he remembered the story of the Cross and Jesus reminded him He gave His life for him--he was saved then.
• He gained electrician certification in prison; which enabled him later to help in the construction of many churches. Our Gushikawa Baptist Church in Tairagawa was among his first projects. Mommy got to see it before she went HOME.
• 
  Takashi did much children's work until an injury from a fall put him in bed (he couldn't move or speak), after which his wife took care of him for his dying years, returning to their workplace for several more years even after that.
• 
  His wife? God "happened to" have someone PERFECT for him. Just when the Tabas came to our first church was when Grampa Nagata (my Mom's uncle who came from Hawaii to help my parents) led to Christ my second cousin--yes, Rumiko. So there are pictures of her at summer camp around that time too, but alas, she strayed from church a good while.
• But to make a long story short, she came back when Grampa Nagata died; and she graduated from Bible School when Takashi got out of prison. There is so much more to this Boaz and Ruth story, but we won't go into that.

It's just that I realized, while talking, God had shown me so many things I should be thankful for having been allowed to see.

And I was feeling sorry for myself for having had to do so much hard work--HA! Silly girl. They do say snakes have wisdom, I think, and I ain't no snake...is that an excuse?

TRUST ME; I'M YOUR FATHER

A friend told me about a post I'd written last year on another blog...I'd completely forgotten about this story, and I thought it might be worth re-posting an excerpt here, so:

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TRUST ME; I'M YOUR FATHER

There was one program about an orphan who'd grown up thinking her parents had been killed in a fire. A wealthy butler-type man finds her, seems to fool her into thinking he may be her father who actually escaped the fire, seems to frame her for his master's murder after which he becomes filthy rich, and she is thrown into jail. The police smell something funny and discover the murder was committed by the man posing to be her father after all, and he is executed, she is given rightful claim to fortune.

The VERY END of the program has a surprise. THAT BUTLER WAS ACTUALLY HER REAL FATHER, WANTING HER BEST, AND HE HAD POSED TO FRAME HER AND BE EXECUTED FOR A CRIME, KNOWING SHE WOULD END UP WITH FORTUNE BECAUSE OF IT! Long story simplified.

Murder and framing are by no means right and noble, and this is not an attempt to justify either. But it got me thinking. Sometimes God may ACT like He's "framing us" because He loves us so much He is willing to be HATED for what He does for us! At the end of the story, the main character recalls the butler's words to her: "Trust me; I'm your father." He hadn't been saying that just to fool her; he really meant it. We need to remember always too to trust God; He's our Father!

"Though he slay me, yet will I trust him" (Job 13:15a)

"Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. (Ps. 103:13)

NOT INSIGNIFICANT...

I thought it was rather insignificant. A conversation I'd had with my cousin, well, I wasn't very good in my Japanese either, so I didn't think it was worth posting about so was going to skip the incident and looked for the next thing to show online readers.

ANSWER IT JUNE!

But the next morning, when my cellphone rang, somehow, the Holy Spirit nudged me something strong like I had to pick up right away, didn't dare let it go to the answering machine. When I picked up, it was the cousin I'd just been reading about.

It felt like God was underlining and putting everything she said in all caps.

That conversation was almost 50 years ago? I'll share excerpts from it:

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I'd opened my Bible to a favorite Psalm and taken it to my saved but deeply depressed cousin, saying to her in my poor Japanese (I hadn't gone to language school yet): "This scripture helps me. When I look at myself, I get depressed. Because I'm a sinner, of course I'm very bad." Was she understanding what I was trying to say? "But when I look up at God like this, I am helped." That was the best I could do then.

But at that time, Rumiko had looked down at the Bible and began reading the words of Psalm 42. Tears fell from her eyes, and she whispered, "This is really good," as she left the room, still reading. "Have you ever wanted to go to Bible School?" I mused out loud, seeing the way she loved the Word.

7-year-old Rumiko

Grampa Nagata, who died several years earlier, had led Rumiko to Christ when she was a little girl. Altho' he died brokenhearted because she had drifted far from God, she'd come back and began changing from barely surviving to living abundantly. Soon Rumiko found herself fulfilling Grampa's dream and...going to Bible School!

Rumiko helping my mom and her sisters

In this week's phone call, Rumiko said the one thing she remembers about that talk 50 years ago was my asking, "Rumiko, have you thought about Bible School?" She says that's when she started really thinking about it. That talk was insignificant, I thought; you never know what God can use.

WHAT HAPPENED TO KITTY？

What happened to Kitty?

Well, you may remember in my June 11 post, the letter referred to my skin sensitivity to mosquitos bites, some scarring into appearance of whip welts. I found out flea bites had a similar effect, and as soon as I saw the heat flaring under my skin, I nearly panicked I would see again what I thought I'd gotten away from when we moved out of that termite-infested house....

Right about then, that Kitty heard its former owners calling and went back, it seemed, because it simply vanished. (That's the explanation Kinya gives me, but I have this feeling HE had a big part in making sure it found its way home, when he saw my fleabite reaction.)

At any rate, a month after the leaving of the cat and of the unwelcome little visitors it brought with it...my ankles look MUCH better, and I am surprised at how good I feel about it all.

I thought I wanted a stray cat. But I realize God knew better. Sometimes we think we want something, but when we don't get it, it's probably because God knows better?

(For me, right now, honestly, I think I'd be much too busy writing to spend time with Kitty, and God knew this would be happening.)

WHO TEACHETH LIKE GOD

This is one I debated about posting in Japanese but decided against, so it's going here. I've done almost 90 pages in a Japanese book so have little time left over to do any posting on this blog! It was the other way around when I was working in English!

Wait...where is that story I decided not to use? Hm. Well, it's a simple one, and it goes like this:

At school, a Christian one started for children of missionary parents, you may remember, I was hearing all sorts of Bible stories. One I understood very well was about Achan and his stolen images.

In family devotions, we'd just been reading the verse, "Be sure your sins will find you out."  (Num. 32:23) From one incident, I learned that verse as, "BEWARE your sins will find you out."

I'd stolen ten pennies in the morning and stacked them up under my pillow--no one ever looked there--and went off to school. That day, for some reason, Mommy came into the room for a talk; sat down on my bed and lifted the pillow onto her lap to talk, exposing the small copper pillar.

Achan's God had found me out!

My mind jammed, and I felt sick. I remember the feeling in my stomach. I wanted to throw that money away. I don't think getting candy with stolen money would've been worth it at all. In fact, from that day on, the thought of acquiring ANYTHING unrightfully never appealed to me.

Some people chuckle about how impressionable children's minds are. Maybe, but I thank God that He in wisdom works with even that in ways men cannot.

How did Job put it?  "Who teacheth like God?" (Job 36:22)

FATHER'S DAY GIFTS

It's Father's Day. Some think of fancy poetry, expensive gifts.

Kinya? I have to draw in my breath, shake my head, and just think, God, the Creator, is Wonderful. Have you ever sat down and tried to think of something original? It is so much easier to come up with maybe something on the good side that's an adaptation of something already in existence...Food companies call it "New and Improved"; Greeting cards call it "The Next Best Thing"; Remodeling establishments compare" Before" and "After" conditions. But only God can create a person so uniquely original yet meeting needs exactly the way He wants.

Especially since my fall last year, Kinya has been quick to fly to my needs. If I look outside, and the weather looks conducive to a short walk, no matter how involved Kinya may've been in browsing the newest line of computers or watching world trading, he will drop everything and shut it all down, jumping up to come with me at a moment's notice; he will not risk my having another spill when out alone.

Altho' wildlife photography used to be my hobby, Kinya is now the one who excitedly spots and tells me about the swimming turtle or the bird hidden in the branches--I don't have to worry about boring him.

And when I asked, last year, if he'd get me the bare minimum push-cart to help me walk, he said he'd seen a bargain at a store quite a distance away and offered to walk to get it--I didn't realize he'd seen online the variety available there and bought me a deluxe type I'd never have purchased myself.

Father's Day gifts. Wait a minute. Aren't they supposed to be gifts bought for Dads, not gifts Dads buy for their families? This blog post was backwards. Oh well; it was about the gift of love anyway--and it goes both ways, hopefully.

I Was at Rev. 11:14 and was told to look back...

Another long blank. Whew. I've been doing so much work in Japanese on that book-blog (I must share sometime how I came on doing it that way); I have little time to do any work in English anymore. Even writing in English for my personal journal has to do with my memory work...right now around Revelation 11:14.

Morning Stroll, Iwatsuki

Some people get a mental allergic reaction to the sound "memorization", and altho' it's the same word, what I'm doing now in my old age is very different from what I did when I was younger. I wake up every morning to take a walk with my Heavenly Father, and our meeting place happens to be in Revelation. There is no set agenda, no work to do or time it has to be done, review, recitation of chapter and verse that must be done. Some people call my way sloppy and undisciplined--but it's NOT STUDY; just a STROLL.

I don't know natural citizens who review their own citizenship rights every year or married people who read their marriage certificates every month. Neither are children of God expected to HAVE TO memorize the truths they possess. It should be something they are free to not do or free to do (I want to throw in both. Some like to throw in legitimate criticism of many who do memorize. Please leave us alone.)

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Actually, since I'd finished verse 14 yesterday, I thought God would have me move onto verse 15 today. But it's like we got up from the boulder we were sitting on to walk on, and He motioned for me to look back between the trees behind us. I'd missed something in verse 13. Can I share what I saw?

Incidentally, I am NOT saying this is accurate scriptural interpretation, not "What it says" by any means. These are just thoughts the Holy Spirit threw into my mind as I was reading here, ok?

"The same hour...the tenth of the city fell...in the earthquake...seven thousand" (Rev. 11:13)

The same hour - sometimes, the very same time God seems to be doing something, He may be doing something else too; and he can operate on multiple levels at one time in ways that man's mind cannot fathom. We can never assume on the mind of God.

the tenth of the city - isn't this a minority? but it's of no consequence to God. Just a corner of a handkerchief or the center of it too, and to a great God, it's still a handkerchief. Perhaps it's called representation. Even the fallen minority can tell God about the heart of the standing majority.  The way God announces His woes or executes His mercies may be according to responses of this minority. Do Christians, the minority, call down God's mercies on fallen man, then turn and cry to the majority, "please, be reconciled to God"?

Fukushima Earthquake, 2011

in the earthquake - make no bones about it, this was an act of God. Recently, I was going back over 2011-3-11 earthquake we had in Fukushima, Japan, and how our family had to move out--all U.S. citizens within a certain radius of the damaged nuclear reactors were encouraged to move then, I remember. And with only what we could carry in our backpacks, we got on a bus moving through a back way--resourceful minds had patched together an exit route for the bus--and left Koriyama City, barely getting out of the metropolis. The Sendai airport was destroyed, train rails were uprooted but the bus--and few of us even managed to get gasoline then, so I don't know how they did it--somehow bounced over those split but manageable roads. Much could be said of that time.

were slain of men - not troubled, lost, or hurt, but killed; pretty final. And God Himself had punctuated the "period" there. And was not man the crowning act of creation, made in the image of the One...Who had killed him? Why?

seven thousand - wait...this was the number, the Holy Spirit seemed to bring to my memory, of faithful prophets who would not bow the knee to worship Baal, wasn't it?

This is just me. I couldn't help but see Moses' and Elijah's corpses from previous verses being infused with life and ascending to Heaven; believers praising God for His undeniable power; the unsaved deciding to shut these faithful Christians up but before they get around to it, a great earthquake comes from Heaven as if to say, "Oh, no you don't; I can get them Home Myself, thank you."

Hospital Window, Okinawa

Perhaps it's the YouTube movie I just viewed. The main character wanted to free her child from an institution and bring her home. Wouldn't that be a Heavenly Father's desire, not to leave His faithful loving children in the dark and broken walls of a cruel earth where they are mistreated, mocked, tortured, not given what they need, labeled hatemongers-criminals of society-minority outcasts?

The institution seemed to want to keep its patients medicated and unable to even recognize-respond to the rightful custodian who could grant her actual freedom. Is this "catatonic" inducement not brought about by the world's allure of social status, material security, and offers of satisfying vindication? Most human beings seem to lose sight of, desire for, Creator God Who can truly liberate and bring beauty out of ashes.

Back to "my vision". I saw a merciful Heavenly God taking His children Home in death, very aware, at the same time, those human creatures who remained and were not His would be terrified and then be given opportunity to give glory to the God of heaven.

We do not know this is what happens in Revelation, of course. But if God were to so choose, to use our deaths to lead unsaved to repentance, how many of us would willingly die for Him?

Garden, Missionary Acres

"And Jesus answered them saying, The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." (John 12:24)

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I am not saying the objective content of a verse is not important. It is important for the Christian to read the Bible praying for God to show the plain reading of any text FIRST, and, of course, a Bible Scholar would be able to give you its accurate meaning. That is, I've heard, for over six decades, wonderful teaching from gifted men of God that should never ever be traded...I hope this kind of post will not be a stumblingblock in any way.

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.)

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.