ok...so this is what grieving feels like...i feel like it just got more difficult. i really am away from my family...in another country...God...You are the one i must cling to...You are the one I will cling to...

the ambiguity of grieving

When someone passes away, its hard to know what should do or how you should behave. Especially being out here, where I have felt a little powerless to do anything, the process of grieving and dealing with my grief has changed a little.

When I found out my grandpa passed away on Saturday night, my reaction was one of shock and disbelief. What was I supposed to do? After a long, teary conversation with a close friend and my parents, I began to calm down, hear myself think again, and begin to journal and try to understand what God was trying to say through this situation. Sometimes, when someone passes away we expect to react in a way that God has stolen something from us. While I have felt kind of an emptiness inside these last few days, my grieving process has changed from being passive to a kind of active grieving. Being away from my family I think has caused this reaction.

I've been writing a letter to my grandfather to be read at the funeral. Asking my parents questions about what happened. Journalling. Asking more questions. Sending flowers to my grandma. Doing more journalling. Taking a long ride on my bicycle.

Grieving is a strange thing. You don't really know what you should do with yourself. You cry a little. Laugh a little. Get mad. You cry alot. Laugh alot. And then cry again...you get the picture. But you always seem to feel ambiguous about everything. I have had relatives pass away before, but I was always surrounded by family, and I could see their faces and hold their hand. But, not having them here, has been difficult. But, it has also challenged me to again cling to God. To really cling, and to try to listen more attentively to what He is saying through all this. Maybe, this whole experience is about trusting him. To just let go of myself, and to trust Him. If anything, in the last 10 months, a reoccuring theme has been trust. And learning that God really does have all of us in his hands.

This song has been repeatedly in my head these last few days. I hope that where ever you are at, that you can find some truth in it,

When everything is wrong
The day has passed and nothing's done
And the whole world seems against me
When I'm rolling in my bed, there's a storm in my head
I'm afraid of sinking in despair

Teach me, Lord to have faith
In what you're bringing me will
Change my life and bring you glory

There on the storm I am learning to let go
Of the will that I so long to control
There may I be in your arms eternally
I thank you, Lord,
you are the calmer of the storm.

You rebuke the wind and the waves
Once again I find I'm amazed & the power of your will
Cuz I'm a child of little faith
I feel the wind and forget your grace
And you say, "Peace, be still."

There on the storm I am learning to let go
The white wave's high, it's crashing o'er the deck
And I don't know where I go
Where are you Lord, is my ship going down?
The mast is gone so throw the anchor
Should I jump and try to swim to land?

There on the storm, teach me God to understand
Of the Will that I just cannot control
There may I see all your love protecting me
I thank you Lord, you are the calmer of the storm
(Calmer of the Storm, Downhere)

to my grandpa...

Mom, here are my thoughts for grandpas funeral. I hope this is ok. Its so hard to sum him up in one word.


Dear Grandpa,

I can remember as kids, Julie and always had good memories of you. Whether it was playing in our backyard at Glenmore, being chased up the stairs by you, or being given those whisker rubs that we claimed we always hated (but really, now that I think about it they made us laugh). And your joy-filled laughter still echoes in my mind, as I recall sitting on your lap numerous times during Christmas holidays. And you never hesitated to dish out the tickle attacks on Julie and I.

One thing that will always remain etched in my mind was your ability to make anything with your hands. So intricitely. So carefully. Anything that you ever made for Julie and I, you signed it, you left your mark somehow. So there was no mistaking who made it. We have countless doll houses, a rocking horse and numberous miniature figures that you always wrote a note on and signed. There is evidence of you all around. I can still smell the fresh wood shavings of your shop in the garage, when we would come over to you and grandmas house. You have made your stamp on my childhood, and your memory will be engraved in my heart forever.

It breaks my heart that I can't be there today to celebrate your life, and to think about all that you have done and accomplished. I think what I have learned being here in Japan and having this experience, is that life is to be treasured and not taken for granted. Especially, remembering to value those we care about. You are one of those people. And to hold them close. Like a special charm in our pocket that we always carry with us.

So Grandpa, I guess this is goodbye for now. Until we meet again. I love you.

Jane

fragile lives

Today, I found out that a girl I went to high school with, Jennifer, has passed away, due to a long battle with cancer. And she was the same age as many of my friends and the people I went to high school with. She died May 6th of this year. Somehow the small problems of my day seem to all drift away at the thought of this.

I never knew her personally, I only knew her face from seeing her in the hallways, and hearing her name called by friends. Maybe our lives are more fragile and valuable than we think. Maybe we just aught to treat each day as a valuable treasure. One that is kept close and held dear. But most of all, a treasure that is to be shared with others. In close and supportive community.

Sometimes, I wonder why life is cut short. Like a switch. Sometimes without warning. And sometimes death awaits us, as we anticipate its knock on our door. As my family is currently experiencing with my grandfather... waiting...wondering when the day will be.

Maybe its times like these where we just aught to stop...sit...and be thankful for our lives. To take a deep breath. Not to fear death, but just to realize that with each passing day comes another chance to grow, experience, and breath. Maybe, this is what life is about.

As Jenn was my age, this is a sobering thought. So, here I will sit and think about her fragile and valuable life. And everything else melts away...

continual impressions

to where the wind calls my name...

Kinkauji Temple in Kyoto with my parents.
The Nunobiki Herb Park in Kobe
Visiting a tea house at the Koko-en gardens in Himeji
Trying a outdoor footspa at Arashiyama Station, in Kyoto
My friend Emi, who I do language exchange with, took my family for a day in Kyoto. She met us in Osaka in the morning, wearing her kimono!
----

Why is it that when you are with the people you love the most, that time passes the quickest? Why is it that the moments seem to fly right over your head, before you have the chance to realize?

Having the chance to share this country with my family was perhaps the most wonderful thing. To share with them the things I have seen, the people I have met and the way I live day to day, meant so much.

There are moments from the past 2 weeks that I want to stay etched in my mind for the rest of my life. Some moments seem epically surreal, others seem perhaps more small and personal. Both share equal significance for me. Whether it was strolling through the Imperial Palace in Kyoto;walking along the shores of Miyajima Island; having few words while standing the Peace Park of Hiroshima; gazing at the golden beauty of Kinkakuji Temple; introducing the joy of kushikatsu; taking my sister to kareoke; going shopping with my mom; or just sitting and having a long talk with my dad. Every moment was memorable. Every moment special.

Most of my travels over the last nine months, have been about self discovery. Each place seemingly revealling its own secret to me. Each place being a gift to unwrap. Having the chance to share this gift with my family, brought a new sort of discovery and perspective on my experience here. I had the chance to re-visit the places that I have grown to love, and to see them again through fresh and impressionable eyes. And seeing new things together as a family, allowed us to share in the joy of discovering uncharted territory.

Having my family visit also helped me understand how Japan has changed and it changing me. How it has shaped my thinking about life, about family, about priorities, and what I choose to live for. Most of all, it seems that the simple things have become of greatest significance for me. Seeing the sun set and rise, always having a project to dedicate myself to, having music in my ears, and my journal by my side.

Although this country continually impresses its images on me and changes me, one thing always remains a constant: the companionship of someone greater than me. The ear that is always listening to my thoughts. And the once quiet whisper that has now become a voice that resonates in my heart and mind.

I can't help but think that the last 9 months have been like somewhat of a pregnant (is this the word I want to use?) pause in my life. A break, but also a time of preparation and expectation. And a time that has birthed new things in my life. This family visit allowed me to become even more conscious of the beauty and mystery that exists here. But, maybe more importantly, the beauty and mystery that can exist in all of our lives. Maybe we just need to tap into it. Or that this mystery is just waiting to tap into us.

As I said goodbye to my family yesterday, this time until Christmas, the words of a familiar song echoed in my ear:

"I want to go where the mountains are high enough to echo my song... I want to go where the stars shine bright enough to show me the way... I want to go where the wind calls my name."

To my family: your are on my mind as I sit here on my futon. And as the rain pours outside my window. In this big city.