The glossy black book jacket has an ornate letter "S" across the front, but when you remove the book, you find a simple, gray, worn-looking library book from 1949: The Ships of Theseus by V.M. Straka.
Opening the book, you can't help but do a double-take, because the margins are filled with scribblings in black and blue ink: a written conversation between two strangers who have found the book and are trying to get to the bottom of the enigmatic circumstances surrounding Straka, about whom there are many theories.
Meet "S": the protagonist in The Ships of Theseus, an amnesiac man on a quest to discover his identity.
Meet Straka: the author and suspected anarchist whose identity is shrouded in mystery, the only apparent clues to which have been left behind in his writings.
Meet F.X. Caldiera: Straka's translator and editor who seems to be leaving coded messages in the footnotes.
Most importantly, meet Jen and Eric. She's a college senior who found the book during her shift working in the library, and he's the Straka-obsessed ex-graduate student who left the book. Read along with Jen and Eric as they puzzle through the novel, the footnotes and the dozen supplemental materials they've left in the book, including a clipping from the college newspaper, postcards from a faraway place, a napkin with a map sketched on it, and much more. Watch as the duo realizes that the mysteries surrounding Straka are much more sinister than they ever imagined, even to their own endangerment.
Truly J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst have done something special here. Abrams, of course, is best known as the TV producer and filmmaker responsible for creating "LOST", as well as directing the recent "Star Trek" films, not to mention the upcoming "Star Wars" sequel. While Abrams' film credentials may be a turn-off for some avid readers, it is clear that he has a deep and abiding appreciation for the written word. In an interview, Abrams revealed that the inspiration for S came from an airport layover years ago where he picked up a book that had been left on a seat at the boarding gate, and found a written message inside instructing whoever found the book to enjoy it and then leave it for someone else. In Doug Dorst, novelist and professor of creative writing at Texas State University, Abrams found the right writer to realize his vision.
The reading experience is richly layered: one story unfolding in the text, another in the footnotes, another in the margins, and all three somehow connected. The Ships of Theseus itself is a surreal and at-times creepy polemic against heartless corporations, rich with subtext that is not always immediately decipherable. The footnotes are alternatively informative and fallacious, and serve to paint a back-story not only for Straka, but also for Caldiera, the editor. Jen and Eric's conversation in the margins helps to illuminate both the novel and the footnotes as they immerse themselves in the collective body of Straka's works, researching what they can about the author and the editor and sharing their findings in several passes through the book. The reader can even tell the chronology of the margin notes based on the color of ink used by Jen and Eric. First, blue and black, next green and orange, etc.
I found it impossible to put the book down, but unlike Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I was unable to finish this in one sitting. In fact, it took me 10 days to finish S. Though it is not a particularly long book (at roughly 450 pages), it is a long read. Each page spread took between 5 and 10 minutes to read, depending whether or not there were footnotes, and on the amount of margin notes. It does not take long for the reader to become immersed in the mysteries around Straka, just as Jen and Eric have, and that makes the time and effort seem worthwhile.
I rarely write book reviews, and I tend to only do so when I find a concept creative and worth commending. The last review I wrote was for David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas several years ago. Like Cloud Atlas, S presents the reader with an imaginative and brilliant premise which involves versatile writing on the author's part. Each piece of the book is so distinct: Straka's personality comes through in his novel, Caldiera's personality comes through in the footnotes, and Jen's personality comes through in her loopy cursive script and Eric's personality comes through in his neat and orderly handwriting. As someone who takes a deep joy in writing, I cannot help but admire a work such as this one, imaginative, thoughtfully planned and versatilely written as it is.
I would highly recommend S to anybody who loves reading for the sake of reading, or writing for the sake of writing. It will not disappoint.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Tactile Unit Planning: A "Vlog"
I spent most of the morning and early afternoon working on my English 11 curriculum. I was excited by the progress I made (one and a half units in four hours), so I decided to do a brief video blog showing and telling about what has worked for me. If you're not a teacher, this might not interest you; if you are a teacher and you have other ideas about what has worked for you while planning, please feel free to sound off in the comments! I hope this is helpful!
Part One: Introduction
Part Two: Tactile Planning in Action
Saturday, June 7, 2014
EDUC 505: A Window's View
I have just started my online education courses for the summer. For EDUC 505, which is about inclusion of students with special needs in the classroom, we were asked to introduce ourselves by talking about a view from a window that is special to us. Using a word-picture, we were asked to share a bit about ourselves. Here's what I wrote:
***
I've tried to count the buildings. Tried, I say, because I've never succeeded. Somewhere along the way, I always lose count: "Did I already count that short skyscraper?" "Is that just one building with two towers, or two separate buildings?" "I don't think I can even distinguish individual buildings on the horizon."
The city-scape stretches all around me in a dazzling panorama of office windows, pinprick taillights and headlights, radio towers and neon signs. This is what I see from the living room of the 22nd floor apartment where my wife, Tomomi, lived before we got married in December. After our wedding, she moved into my apartment in Higashi Kurume, the quiet Tokyo suburb, which is home to the Christian Academy in Japan, the international school where I've taught high school English and History for five years. Higashi Kurume is about an hour's train ride away from the Tokyo waterfront, where Tomomi had been house-sitting for some missionaries from our church, while they were on home-assignment in America. In Higashi Kurume, it's easy to forget that I am living in the biggest city in the world, but in Tsukishima, the evidence is always there, just outside the living room window.
The view is an odd mixture of tranquility and bustling activity. Tranquility, because 22 floors up, very little noise from the street level reaches the balcony. The twinkling city lights and their shimmery twins reflected in the bay may as well be stars in a vast night sky--endless, uncountable, and silent. Yet the view is also bustling, because the reality is that inside each of those illuminated windows are offices full of salary men and women working late. Behind those neon signs are clubs and bars where the night has only just begun. The pointillist painting of taillights and headlights indicate cars, taxis and buses filled with commuters. Within my range of vision, millions upon millions of people are living their lives.
I'm so far from the kitchen window of the home I grew up in just outside of Lynden, Washington, with our old red barn, the fields where my family's horses are grazing, and snow-capped Mount Baker watching vigilantly, a silent sentinel.
I miss the countryside sometimes. Yet as I look out over Tokyo, I know I am where I need to be. This is a nation in need. Less than 1% of the population identify as Christian, and of that number, only a small percentage regularly attend a church. The city lights remind me of the many people in Tokyo who are lonely, hopeless and lost. In 2012, over 27,000 Japanese people took their own lives. Somewhere between 500,000 and 1 million young people have withdrawn from society altogether, rarely leaving their parents' homes or even their bedroom. The city lights remind me of the tremendous devastation of the 2011 triple-disaster in which thousands died, and thousands more lost their homes and livelihood. I'm just a country boy. My time at Dordt, living in North Hall, Covenant Hall and finally Southview represented the most populous community I'd lived in up until that point. On paper, I do not seem a likely candidate to live and work in Tokyo. Yet, God uses us despite our weakness. He alone gives us strength, and that strength is always sufficient for the work He calls us to. I sigh as I look out over the vast city that has become my home. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that I would live here.
***
I've tried to count the buildings. Tried, I say, because I've never succeeded. Somewhere along the way, I always lose count: "Did I already count that short skyscraper?" "Is that just one building with two towers, or two separate buildings?" "I don't think I can even distinguish individual buildings on the horizon."
The city-scape stretches all around me in a dazzling panorama of office windows, pinprick taillights and headlights, radio towers and neon signs. This is what I see from the living room of the 22nd floor apartment where my wife, Tomomi, lived before we got married in December. After our wedding, she moved into my apartment in Higashi Kurume, the quiet Tokyo suburb, which is home to the Christian Academy in Japan, the international school where I've taught high school English and History for five years. Higashi Kurume is about an hour's train ride away from the Tokyo waterfront, where Tomomi had been house-sitting for some missionaries from our church, while they were on home-assignment in America. In Higashi Kurume, it's easy to forget that I am living in the biggest city in the world, but in Tsukishima, the evidence is always there, just outside the living room window.
The view is an odd mixture of tranquility and bustling activity. Tranquility, because 22 floors up, very little noise from the street level reaches the balcony. The twinkling city lights and their shimmery twins reflected in the bay may as well be stars in a vast night sky--endless, uncountable, and silent. Yet the view is also bustling, because the reality is that inside each of those illuminated windows are offices full of salary men and women working late. Behind those neon signs are clubs and bars where the night has only just begun. The pointillist painting of taillights and headlights indicate cars, taxis and buses filled with commuters. Within my range of vision, millions upon millions of people are living their lives.
I'm so far from the kitchen window of the home I grew up in just outside of Lynden, Washington, with our old red barn, the fields where my family's horses are grazing, and snow-capped Mount Baker watching vigilantly, a silent sentinel.
I miss the countryside sometimes. Yet as I look out over Tokyo, I know I am where I need to be. This is a nation in need. Less than 1% of the population identify as Christian, and of that number, only a small percentage regularly attend a church. The city lights remind me of the many people in Tokyo who are lonely, hopeless and lost. In 2012, over 27,000 Japanese people took their own lives. Somewhere between 500,000 and 1 million young people have withdrawn from society altogether, rarely leaving their parents' homes or even their bedroom. The city lights remind me of the tremendous devastation of the 2011 triple-disaster in which thousands died, and thousands more lost their homes and livelihood. I'm just a country boy. My time at Dordt, living in North Hall, Covenant Hall and finally Southview represented the most populous community I'd lived in up until that point. On paper, I do not seem a likely candidate to live and work in Tokyo. Yet, God uses us despite our weakness. He alone gives us strength, and that strength is always sufficient for the work He calls us to. I sigh as I look out over the vast city that has become my home. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that I would live here.
Teaching With Integrity
One quirk of a teacher's world is that December 31st is only the end of the year in an honorary sense. We all know very well that the year really ends in June.
This means that our new year's eve is two months long, and like the evening of December 31, it is a time marked by celebration of the year that has ended, anticipation of the year to come, and also introspection. I have now completed my 5th full year of teaching. During the year, I made the transition from 'young, single teacher' to 'young, married teacher'. I also spent this past year teaching in the light of Master's courses, which I started last summer. With graduation past, grading mostly finished, and only one round of presentations left to hear, I cannot help but wonder what I, myself, have learned this year. Indeed, I believe I learned more in this year of teaching than in any other since that dreaded first year. This year, I was challenged to rediscover my identity in the classroom, a process which has been crucial to my integrity as a teacher.
Last summer, I read The Courage to Teach by Parker J. Palmer. In this book, Palmer carries forward threads of thought started in To Know As We Are Known, perhaps his most famous work, and certainly a favorite of my headmaster and principal. Palmer argues that before a teacher can know his students and engage them in the dance of truth in a "subject-centered classroom", a teacher must first know himself. He must teach in line with his values and gifts. This, by Palmer's definition is integrity. Integrity is lost when a teacher tries to be something they are not. It occurred to me during the course of this year that I have not been teaching with integrity to who I am. In fact, I've worked very hard to suppress who I am.
Who am I? I am a performer. I love doing voices, I love giving speeches, I love making up songs, I love telling stories, I love playing characters, I love parody. This is me. And over the past two years in the classroom, I had actively been fighting back that side of myself. I rationalized: "I'm too weird, my students won't get me"; "My students should be the ones 'on stage', I should be behind the scenes"; "A constructivist classroom is best practice, anyway."
Like any of the lies we tell ourselves, mine were injected with half-truths: Yes, I am weird. No, not all of my students will "get" my weirdness. Yes, my students do need to be "on stage", and no, I shouldn't make myself the star of the show. Yes, constructivist learning is an important life skill and no, I shouldn't just tell my students what to think.
Unfortunately, I was marching into my constructivist classroom having left behind my weapons, my shield, my helmet, my armor, and ultimately, myself. That was not always the case, though! One story of many comes to mind: In my 2nd year of teaching, I staged a performance in the classroom where I interviewed myself (in a pre-recorded video clip, wearing a cowboy hat and speaking in a bad Texan accent) on the Mexican-American War. I am pretty sure my students thought I was a little crazy, but to this day that class environment remains the best I've worked in. Maybe because I was being authentic, the students felt at ease being authentic, themselves. I'm not sure when, but somewhere along the road, self-consciousness sunk its talons into me and I lost my authenticity.
While I'll grant that I shouldn't always be in the spotlight, that my classroom should not be "The Gibby Show", I absolutely do need to be on stage, performing. If my job consists primarily of supervising my students at work or answering questions as they come up, I'll wither. I know. I have withered. Worse still, my students won't invest their fullest. Students have a radar for B.S. They might not even completely realize that what they are seeing is a facade, but something--some intangible thing--will strike them as not-quite-right. It's the same reason why I can't just waltz into the classroom and do a spot-on impression on some of my own excellent teachers from my school days (which, trust me, I am perfectly capable of doing) and expect to impact my students: it's just not me.
To use a metaphor close to my heart as a singer, I am the high tenor voice. Everyone hears the high tenor part, everyone knows it is there, and if it is done well, the audience will "ooh" and "ah". But the high tenor part mostly functions to make the lead singer sound better. Without the lead, the high tenor is stranded, without a melody to attach to. It's precisely why Art Garfunkel's solo career was unsuccessful, while Paul Simon made a name for himself on his own. That's me as a teacher. I need to be visible, need to perform, need to do my (quirky) thing. At the end of the day, though, it's about bringing out the best in my students. They are Paul Simon, I am Art Garfunkel. I'm pitching in the high notes until they embark on a solo career or find a new band to be a part of.
I need to embrace this about myself. In March, I asked my Juniors to give me honest feedback on my teaching. One boy said he wished I would lecture more often, and his classmates all made noises of agreement at this statement. At the time, I mentally dismissed it with the excuse of "my students just want to be told what to think." However, in giving it some thought, and weighing it back against what I'd so admired in Palmer, I realized my student was touching upon something more true than he perhaps knew.
My resolution for the new year is not to lecture more. Nor is it to do more independent learning activities. My resolution for next year is simply to teach with integrity. To teach not according to who I think I should be or who I think my students want me to be, but according to who I really am. This means letting my creativity roam free, letting it take me where it takes me. God gave me these unique gifts for a reason, and if I am not using them in my teaching, they become little more than decoration. I look back not with regret, but with gratitude at what I've learned. I look ahead not with trepidation, but with excitement at what the new year holds.
Friday, June 6, 2014
I'm Not Dead!
I'm not. I promise. It's just been a while since I posted. It turns out that married life pretty much doubles the speed at which time passes; not a complaint--the time Tomomi and I get to spend together in the course of a typical week is precious to me, and of course the moment we decide a certain time is precious, the faster it seems to pass by. Factoring in work, and a newly discovered sense of duty toward household chores (particularly cooking), it has been very easy to let certain healthy habits like blogging and exercise go. The effects of one of these lapses has been more noticeable than the other.
It happens that today, Tomomi is required to be at work. Saturday is usually our date day; either we go for a walk, or we settle in a quiet cafe together, so needless to say, this was an unwelcome disruption. Her company will have a 飲み会--drinking party--tonight and in addition to working at the office today, she is expected to make the arrangements and reservations ahead of time. She is also required to actually BE at the drinking party, which will go until 9 or 10 pm. And, she will not receive a compensatory day off for coming in today. This is the point in the blog-post where I made several starts at a lengthy, raging rant against Japan's company culture. Nothing I verbalized could adequately capture my frustration, though it's worth noting that the words 'counter-productive', 'misogynistic', and 'unjust' came up in every iteration. **sigh** I love Japan dearly and so much is good here, but this is something that is just... backwards. If you find it upon your heart to pray for Japan, please take some extra time to pray for the working culture, which I believe to be the catalyst for many other significant social issues in this country.
Anyway, Tomomi being away working leaves me with a choice: either I spend the day stewing in a pot of loneliness and bitterness at the work culture here, or I spend the day exercising muscles I haven't exercised in a while. Since it's raining hard, I am opting for creative exercise over literal exercise. I will get some grading done, and hopefully do a bit of writing, too. Stay tuned!
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
On the other side
The last week was a blur. Actually, the last year was a bit of a blur--all of 2013--but no part moreso than its final week.
I guess the reason is as good as any: I got married! 2013 will always be, in my mind, defined by my relationship with my wife. Though we met late in 2012, we got to know each other in January, went on our first date in February, became a couple in March, became engaged in May, decided upon our wedding date in August, and spent the next few months planning and preparing for our wedding, which was this past Saturday. We went from friends to more-than-friends, to a dating couple, to engaged, to married in the course of this wonderful year! Some might call that fast, but I've learned not to question God's timing.
As I write this on the evening of January 1st, 2014, one week ago was the most unusual Christmas Day of my life. I spent the day alone in Japan--no family, no Christmas tree, no ambiguous Pacific Northwest skies that taunt the possibility of a white Christmas before providing a wet Christmas instead. My main task was getting my apartment organized and cleaned up. The only thing remotely Christmas-y about the day was the fact that I had a playlist of Sufjan Stevens, Bing Crosby and Mannheim Steamroller playing on my speakers while I cleaned. While it was a lonely day, perhaps the solitude helped me to focus on what was important without the other features that I hold so dear: in the birth of Christ, God became man to take on our sinful and broken condition and pay the debt of our wickedness. Why? So that we might live again in relationship with God! Not a single part of life is untouched by this mysterious and wonderful act of the Nativity: marriage, too, is fortified and upheld by God's abundant grace. I think I needed to reflect on that truth on Wednesday.
Thursday saw me all over the Kanto Plains: I traveled out to Yokota for breakfast with my good friends Cody and his wife Jess in the morning and then out to Narita in the afternoon to meet my parents and sister who flew in from Seattle at 3:00 and my brother who flew in from Denver via Los Angeles at 4:00.
Friday saw my parents shopping with the Vanderhaaks at Costco in the morning, while Ben, Lea and I did some shopping for my kitchen before meeting with Tomomi to start decorating at the church with Tomomi's friends. Of course, we were only able to help for a while because we needed to head downtown for our rehearsal dinner with my family, Tomomi's family and our pastor, Seima Aoyagi and his wife. Tomomi's roommate Ellie also came! We went to a Spanish restaurant where we were waited on by a man from Morocco who spoke 7 languages. The highlight of the evening was "Paella time"--the moment went the Paella was finished--which merited loud music, and the entire restaurant staff cheering and marching the Paella around the whole restaurant, both floors, from table to table, to show everyone the finished product. It was, in every possible sense, a multi-cultural experience!
On Saturday, I got married. This was perhaps the blurriest of the blurry days, so I will just leave it there. I do remember that my shoes hurt like hell. Oh, and my bride was gorgeous :) The 2nd memory more than makes up for the first one.
(Plus, I'll cover a lot of wedding stuff in the thank-you's later, I think...)
We stayed in Ikebukuro that night and on Sunday, met up with my family for lunch in Yurakucho. We went for a lovely walk near the Imperial Palace before taking them to church at Grace City and having dinner afterward.
On Monday, we came back to Higashikurume just in time to say goodbye to my family before they left for Narita to fly back to America (quick trip!), repacked and caught the train up to Nikko (getting lost along the way, of course).
We came home from Nikko today, and have enjoyed our first evening at home--no place to be, no responsibilities. Truly a moment of peace before we return to our jobs next week.
Though the past week was a frenzy of activity, and the start of something completely new both to Tomomi and to myself, I cannot help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude as I look back on it.
I am grateful to my family for making the long trip, even though it meant sacrificing five days of their precious Christmas vacation (more if you count the jet-lag) for a very rushed trip on which they did not actually get to spend much time with me, all told. This, in my mind, sums up sacrificial love--love which gives with no expectation of receiving anything in return. It inspires me and challenges me to love my family in this same way, particularly Tomomi, my new wife, now my closest family member by nothing short of a Covenantal vow.
I am grateful to the council at Kurume Christ Church for allowing us to use their beautiful facilities and for being so accommodating at every turn.
I am grateful to Rick Seely, Kurachi-san and Tada-san for acting as supervisors, and super-encouragers (and Rick for his ever-present camera and sharp eye for pictures).
I am grateful for the the Vanderhaaks--lifelong friends who underlined the sacrificial love of my family by giving up their own vacation and family time to help shop for supplies and food, to prepare the food, to drive food/supplies back and forth from CAJ. This felt like a neat book-end to Brian and Bette's daughter Emily's wedding, which was held at my family's farm in Summer 2011, and which my family helped to organize. However, I know that the Vanderhaaks would have given and helped tirelessly regardless of whether I'd helped with Emily's wedding. The family embodies quiet, determined service.
I am grateful for our Grace City friends who helped... ah, who am I kidding?! PLANNED the decorations and agenda for the reception. Momoko, Rie, Yukiko, Emi, Aco, Lindsay, Kurachi-san and Yoshimi made sure we had everything we needed, and that everything looked good. I am so grateful for their tireless work, especially with not much time available to do the setting up. Truly, the wedding would not have looked as spectacular without them.
I am grateful for the Aoyagis. From our first counseling session in May, Seima and Naoko's gentle guidance and wisdom has meant much to Tomomi and myself, and their friendship (which spans many years for Tomomi) is a treasure to us. We appreciate the model that they provide for us in their own marriage and family, their generosity and their hospitality. We are particularly grateful for the wonderful ceremony that Seima put together and for his willingness to do something extraordinarily taxing and difficult in interpreting into English from Japanese on the spot. We are also very grateful for their daughter, Akari, who was a wildly popular and cute flower girl!
I am grateful for Ellie, who played beautifully during the ceremony and reception, but more than that, has been a tremendous friend, support and encouragement to us as Tomomi's roommate since July.
I am grateful for my brother and sister for their lovely gift in song at the reception (not to mention Keiko for emcee-ing, Peter for playing piano, and Shio and Stephanie for interpreting). Ben's speech was just the perfect balance between hilarious and serious, and left so many (my whole family and myself included) in tears at the reminder that I do, indeed, live in the legacy of my Grandma Emma, whose birthday was Dec. 28, and who would have loved to have met Tomomi, and attended the ceremony.
I am grateful for my friends Cody, Jess and Ryan. What a blessing to have friends not only from the same small high school of Lynden Christian, but also the same class, and even the same close group of friends, living within an hour or so of me on the other side of the world. Since Ryan's assignment in Japan will end up having been just over a year, and Cody and Jess' assignment, roughly three years, the specialness of this blessing is not lost on any of us. I appreciate Cody and Jess for driving Tomomi and I to Ikebukuro after the ceremony with a Post-it decorated car, a bottle of Champagne, and well-selected music for the hour-long ride. I appreciate Ryan for his servant spirit in staying to help clean up at the church.
I am grateful for Tomomi's family--though we are not able to communicate much without Tomomi's help in interpreting, I am so fortunate that they have accepted me and given me their blessing as a worthy husband for their daughter. I hope to get to know them better as the years go on and my ability to speak and understand Japanese deepens.
I am grateful for David, who took photos for us, sometimes having to fight through a crowd of guests who saw fit to bring their own expensive cameras. I will post those photos on Facebook for sure! I am also grateful to Ikemoto-san, Tomomi's colleague, who took hours of video footage during set-up, rehearsal, the ceremony and the reception and has made a very beautiful video (as well as making our slideshow of childhood photos the week before the ceremony!)
I am grateful for the encouragement and prayers of my colleagues from CAJ over the past few months. I am grateful for the prayers of my Community Group and other friends from Grace City. I am grateful to each and every guest who attended our wedding.
I am grateful to Tomomi, my wife, for her love, her encouragement, her prayers and her patience. She has kept me focused on what is truly important. Though there have indeed been stressful moments for both of us, we have been able to support each other and remind each other that God will see us through.
Most of all, I am grateful to God. Truly this wedding was a product of His power and grace, as He blessed us with such wonderful family and friends, and gave them the exact variety of gifts that we needed to put this wedding together. I hope and pray that Tomomi and I will make God the center, the foundation, the cornerstone of our marriage each and every day. To God be the glory, now and forever!
Happy New Year!!!
I guess the reason is as good as any: I got married! 2013 will always be, in my mind, defined by my relationship with my wife. Though we met late in 2012, we got to know each other in January, went on our first date in February, became a couple in March, became engaged in May, decided upon our wedding date in August, and spent the next few months planning and preparing for our wedding, which was this past Saturday. We went from friends to more-than-friends, to a dating couple, to engaged, to married in the course of this wonderful year! Some might call that fast, but I've learned not to question God's timing.
As I write this on the evening of January 1st, 2014, one week ago was the most unusual Christmas Day of my life. I spent the day alone in Japan--no family, no Christmas tree, no ambiguous Pacific Northwest skies that taunt the possibility of a white Christmas before providing a wet Christmas instead. My main task was getting my apartment organized and cleaned up. The only thing remotely Christmas-y about the day was the fact that I had a playlist of Sufjan Stevens, Bing Crosby and Mannheim Steamroller playing on my speakers while I cleaned. While it was a lonely day, perhaps the solitude helped me to focus on what was important without the other features that I hold so dear: in the birth of Christ, God became man to take on our sinful and broken condition and pay the debt of our wickedness. Why? So that we might live again in relationship with God! Not a single part of life is untouched by this mysterious and wonderful act of the Nativity: marriage, too, is fortified and upheld by God's abundant grace. I think I needed to reflect on that truth on Wednesday.
Thursday saw me all over the Kanto Plains: I traveled out to Yokota for breakfast with my good friends Cody and his wife Jess in the morning and then out to Narita in the afternoon to meet my parents and sister who flew in from Seattle at 3:00 and my brother who flew in from Denver via Los Angeles at 4:00.
Friday saw my parents shopping with the Vanderhaaks at Costco in the morning, while Ben, Lea and I did some shopping for my kitchen before meeting with Tomomi to start decorating at the church with Tomomi's friends. Of course, we were only able to help for a while because we needed to head downtown for our rehearsal dinner with my family, Tomomi's family and our pastor, Seima Aoyagi and his wife. Tomomi's roommate Ellie also came! We went to a Spanish restaurant where we were waited on by a man from Morocco who spoke 7 languages. The highlight of the evening was "Paella time"--the moment went the Paella was finished--which merited loud music, and the entire restaurant staff cheering and marching the Paella around the whole restaurant, both floors, from table to table, to show everyone the finished product. It was, in every possible sense, a multi-cultural experience!
On Saturday, I got married. This was perhaps the blurriest of the blurry days, so I will just leave it there. I do remember that my shoes hurt like hell. Oh, and my bride was gorgeous :) The 2nd memory more than makes up for the first one.
(Plus, I'll cover a lot of wedding stuff in the thank-you's later, I think...)
We stayed in Ikebukuro that night and on Sunday, met up with my family for lunch in Yurakucho. We went for a lovely walk near the Imperial Palace before taking them to church at Grace City and having dinner afterward.
On Monday, we came back to Higashikurume just in time to say goodbye to my family before they left for Narita to fly back to America (quick trip!), repacked and caught the train up to Nikko (getting lost along the way, of course).
We came home from Nikko today, and have enjoyed our first evening at home--no place to be, no responsibilities. Truly a moment of peace before we return to our jobs next week.
Though the past week was a frenzy of activity, and the start of something completely new both to Tomomi and to myself, I cannot help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude as I look back on it.
I am grateful to my family for making the long trip, even though it meant sacrificing five days of their precious Christmas vacation (more if you count the jet-lag) for a very rushed trip on which they did not actually get to spend much time with me, all told. This, in my mind, sums up sacrificial love--love which gives with no expectation of receiving anything in return. It inspires me and challenges me to love my family in this same way, particularly Tomomi, my new wife, now my closest family member by nothing short of a Covenantal vow.
I am grateful to the council at Kurume Christ Church for allowing us to use their beautiful facilities and for being so accommodating at every turn.
I am grateful to Rick Seely, Kurachi-san and Tada-san for acting as supervisors, and super-encouragers (and Rick for his ever-present camera and sharp eye for pictures).
I am grateful for the the Vanderhaaks--lifelong friends who underlined the sacrificial love of my family by giving up their own vacation and family time to help shop for supplies and food, to prepare the food, to drive food/supplies back and forth from CAJ. This felt like a neat book-end to Brian and Bette's daughter Emily's wedding, which was held at my family's farm in Summer 2011, and which my family helped to organize. However, I know that the Vanderhaaks would have given and helped tirelessly regardless of whether I'd helped with Emily's wedding. The family embodies quiet, determined service.
I am grateful for our Grace City friends who helped... ah, who am I kidding?! PLANNED the decorations and agenda for the reception. Momoko, Rie, Yukiko, Emi, Aco, Lindsay, Kurachi-san and Yoshimi made sure we had everything we needed, and that everything looked good. I am so grateful for their tireless work, especially with not much time available to do the setting up. Truly, the wedding would not have looked as spectacular without them.
I am grateful for the Aoyagis. From our first counseling session in May, Seima and Naoko's gentle guidance and wisdom has meant much to Tomomi and myself, and their friendship (which spans many years for Tomomi) is a treasure to us. We appreciate the model that they provide for us in their own marriage and family, their generosity and their hospitality. We are particularly grateful for the wonderful ceremony that Seima put together and for his willingness to do something extraordinarily taxing and difficult in interpreting into English from Japanese on the spot. We are also very grateful for their daughter, Akari, who was a wildly popular and cute flower girl!
I am grateful for Ellie, who played beautifully during the ceremony and reception, but more than that, has been a tremendous friend, support and encouragement to us as Tomomi's roommate since July.
I am grateful for my brother and sister for their lovely gift in song at the reception (not to mention Keiko for emcee-ing, Peter for playing piano, and Shio and Stephanie for interpreting). Ben's speech was just the perfect balance between hilarious and serious, and left so many (my whole family and myself included) in tears at the reminder that I do, indeed, live in the legacy of my Grandma Emma, whose birthday was Dec. 28, and who would have loved to have met Tomomi, and attended the ceremony.
I am grateful for my friends Cody, Jess and Ryan. What a blessing to have friends not only from the same small high school of Lynden Christian, but also the same class, and even the same close group of friends, living within an hour or so of me on the other side of the world. Since Ryan's assignment in Japan will end up having been just over a year, and Cody and Jess' assignment, roughly three years, the specialness of this blessing is not lost on any of us. I appreciate Cody and Jess for driving Tomomi and I to Ikebukuro after the ceremony with a Post-it decorated car, a bottle of Champagne, and well-selected music for the hour-long ride. I appreciate Ryan for his servant spirit in staying to help clean up at the church.
I am grateful for Tomomi's family--though we are not able to communicate much without Tomomi's help in interpreting, I am so fortunate that they have accepted me and given me their blessing as a worthy husband for their daughter. I hope to get to know them better as the years go on and my ability to speak and understand Japanese deepens.
I am grateful for David, who took photos for us, sometimes having to fight through a crowd of guests who saw fit to bring their own expensive cameras. I will post those photos on Facebook for sure! I am also grateful to Ikemoto-san, Tomomi's colleague, who took hours of video footage during set-up, rehearsal, the ceremony and the reception and has made a very beautiful video (as well as making our slideshow of childhood photos the week before the ceremony!)
I am grateful for the encouragement and prayers of my colleagues from CAJ over the past few months. I am grateful for the prayers of my Community Group and other friends from Grace City. I am grateful to each and every guest who attended our wedding.
I am grateful to Tomomi, my wife, for her love, her encouragement, her prayers and her patience. She has kept me focused on what is truly important. Though there have indeed been stressful moments for both of us, we have been able to support each other and remind each other that God will see us through.
Most of all, I am grateful to God. Truly this wedding was a product of His power and grace, as He blessed us with such wonderful family and friends, and gave them the exact variety of gifts that we needed to put this wedding together. I hope and pray that Tomomi and I will make God the center, the foundation, the cornerstone of our marriage each and every day. To God be the glory, now and forever!
Happy New Year!!!
Saturday, November 16, 2013
One of my last posts as an unmarried man
"This train will stop at every station from Hibarigaoka." That's what I heard. Or at least, that's what I understood--the announcement was in Japanese: 「ひばりヶ丘から各駅に止まります。」 I cannot even begin to guess how many times I had heard the Japanese phrase without comprehending, waiting for the inevitable English translation, but tonight for the first time, I was thinking in Japanese and paying attention at just the right moment and I understood the phrase as it was being spoken--not even a moment's lag for my brain to translate or catch up. I couldn't suppress my smile.
It has been a long time since I have posted anything, and even longer since I've posted regularly. This is a statement of fact, yet not an apology--my life has gone and is going through a major metamorphosis this year.
Two years ago, on November 22, 2011, I wrote this post. One year ago, on November 18, 2012, I went to a "singles party" after church. The host had intended to introduce me to a young lady who was a friend of the family (and I mean "introduce" in the only way that it can possibly be interpreted in the context of an after-church singles party). However, God had other plans and I ended up sitting on the other side of the room in the middle of a conversation that I could not follow, as it was all in Japanese. Of course, instead of my lack of understanding making me invisible, it apparently made me a target for questions. I tried valiantly, but unsuccessfully, to keep up. The young woman sitting next to me must have recognized my confusion, and she began to translate for me.
I'd seen her at church before, and at a home party a month earlier. I'd thought she was pretty and that she seemed nice, but I'd never properly met her or spoken to her. She seemed a bit shy, and I could be a bit shy, too. And, I had simply assumed she did not speak English. But all of a sudden, here she was, swooping to my rescue and tossing me a lifeline. I was grateful and very much relieved. After I'd answered the questions that had been posed to me (through my rescuer's translation, of course), we met officially for the first time: her name was Tomomi.
As I said, that meeting happened on November 18, 2012.
In exactly six weeks, Tomomi and I will marry each other, and start our lives together.
The past year has been the story of our meeting, our friendship, and our courtship. We began to spend time together in group settings in January. We went on our first date to see Les Miserables at the beginning of February. And, on March 16 (8 months ago), after going out almost every week since we saw Les Mis, we officially became a couple. Less than two months later, we were engaged.
We both feel sometimes as though we're living someone else's lives, that this is all so unreal. Perhaps this is because it has happened so naturally--there was no thunderbolt from heaven when we met. Neither of us parted ways that evening thinking that the other was "the one". We simply found ourselves in situations where we could spend time together and get to know each other. It was in no way dramatic, and it was so unlike all of the adolescent crushes that had dotted my teen years and early 20s. Those were intense and emotional, and I suffered from an inability to act naturally around whoever it was I happened to have a crush on at that moment. I'd try too hard to be funny or cool, and would come across as nervous, awkward or so over-eager as to be off-putting. My friendship with Tomomi was (and is) steady and comfortable despite all odds saying it shouldn't have been: language gaps, cultural differences, a 4 year, 11 month age difference, and the fact that neither of us really does small talk would seem daunting on paper. Yet, we found ourselves at ease with each other from the start. I can be myself when I'm with her, honest, vulnerable and real. Perhaps because of this, I'm inspired to become the best version of myself that I can be, seeking to abandon my selfishness, striving to serve, and praying over our relationship constantly. It's a journey that has made me much more keenly aware of my shortcomings, but I am blessed to be with someone who accepts me anyway, and who reminds me frequently of God's mercy, forgiveness and love. It's a journey that has made me a better person. Of course, the real journey, the journey of matrimony, has yet to begin and I can do no better than to rely on the grace of Him who has brought us this far.
This may be the last time I write before my wedding day, and I wanted merely to express what is on my mind and heart at this unique time between chapters in my life, and to express my joy and gratitude for the goodness of God and His plans.
When I wrote that letter to my future wife (linked above) two years ago, I was forcing myself to trust God's plans despite my own impatience and frustration. We cannot predict God's timing, but we can trust in God's goodness and His faithfulness. He has allowed me to experience frustration, anger, annoyance, heartbreak, pain and impatience over the course of my lifetime, but He has never abandoned me nor failed me. I pray that I can recognize this, trust in this and rejoice in this every day as a husband; that we can take joy in this every day as a couple.
Amen.
It has been a long time since I have posted anything, and even longer since I've posted regularly. This is a statement of fact, yet not an apology--my life has gone and is going through a major metamorphosis this year.
Two years ago, on November 22, 2011, I wrote this post. One year ago, on November 18, 2012, I went to a "singles party" after church. The host had intended to introduce me to a young lady who was a friend of the family (and I mean "introduce" in the only way that it can possibly be interpreted in the context of an after-church singles party). However, God had other plans and I ended up sitting on the other side of the room in the middle of a conversation that I could not follow, as it was all in Japanese. Of course, instead of my lack of understanding making me invisible, it apparently made me a target for questions. I tried valiantly, but unsuccessfully, to keep up. The young woman sitting next to me must have recognized my confusion, and she began to translate for me.
I'd seen her at church before, and at a home party a month earlier. I'd thought she was pretty and that she seemed nice, but I'd never properly met her or spoken to her. She seemed a bit shy, and I could be a bit shy, too. And, I had simply assumed she did not speak English. But all of a sudden, here she was, swooping to my rescue and tossing me a lifeline. I was grateful and very much relieved. After I'd answered the questions that had been posed to me (through my rescuer's translation, of course), we met officially for the first time: her name was Tomomi.
As I said, that meeting happened on November 18, 2012.
In exactly six weeks, Tomomi and I will marry each other, and start our lives together.
The past year has been the story of our meeting, our friendship, and our courtship. We began to spend time together in group settings in January. We went on our first date to see Les Miserables at the beginning of February. And, on March 16 (8 months ago), after going out almost every week since we saw Les Mis, we officially became a couple. Less than two months later, we were engaged.
We both feel sometimes as though we're living someone else's lives, that this is all so unreal. Perhaps this is because it has happened so naturally--there was no thunderbolt from heaven when we met. Neither of us parted ways that evening thinking that the other was "the one". We simply found ourselves in situations where we could spend time together and get to know each other. It was in no way dramatic, and it was so unlike all of the adolescent crushes that had dotted my teen years and early 20s. Those were intense and emotional, and I suffered from an inability to act naturally around whoever it was I happened to have a crush on at that moment. I'd try too hard to be funny or cool, and would come across as nervous, awkward or so over-eager as to be off-putting. My friendship with Tomomi was (and is) steady and comfortable despite all odds saying it shouldn't have been: language gaps, cultural differences, a 4 year, 11 month age difference, and the fact that neither of us really does small talk would seem daunting on paper. Yet, we found ourselves at ease with each other from the start. I can be myself when I'm with her, honest, vulnerable and real. Perhaps because of this, I'm inspired to become the best version of myself that I can be, seeking to abandon my selfishness, striving to serve, and praying over our relationship constantly. It's a journey that has made me much more keenly aware of my shortcomings, but I am blessed to be with someone who accepts me anyway, and who reminds me frequently of God's mercy, forgiveness and love. It's a journey that has made me a better person. Of course, the real journey, the journey of matrimony, has yet to begin and I can do no better than to rely on the grace of Him who has brought us this far.
This may be the last time I write before my wedding day, and I wanted merely to express what is on my mind and heart at this unique time between chapters in my life, and to express my joy and gratitude for the goodness of God and His plans.
When I wrote that letter to my future wife (linked above) two years ago, I was forcing myself to trust God's plans despite my own impatience and frustration. We cannot predict God's timing, but we can trust in God's goodness and His faithfulness. He has allowed me to experience frustration, anger, annoyance, heartbreak, pain and impatience over the course of my lifetime, but He has never abandoned me nor failed me. I pray that I can recognize this, trust in this and rejoice in this every day as a husband; that we can take joy in this every day as a couple.
Amen.
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