I don't like the word anxiety. I think it is fiercely overused in western culture and often a cover for worry. Please don't misunderstand me, I think that some people do have anxiety disorders, genuine medical conditions that are often helped with medication, therapy, and so forth. However, for most of us, although we've never been to a medical professional for "anxiety" issues or seen a therapist, we can be found on a daily basis saying, "that gives me such anxiety," or "oh my gosh I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack." I'm guilty of using the term far too often. I have the same opinion of the term "bullying" but that is another story for another day.
But for the moment, I will say my bathroom gives me a touch of anxiety. Actually, when I walk in and see our Japanese toilet, just that visual makes my breath catch and I find myself needing to consciously calm my mind and my breath. P.S. our bathroom is clean and mostly not stinky.
Tomorrow will be three weeks since we arrived back in Japan. Two weeks spent in mandatory quarantine, which wasn't so bad with the help of friends and online shopping. Plus, I'm an introvert so I was okay with solitude, mostly. In all honesty it was a nice way to resettle in our apartment here in Osaka and get over the dreaded jet lag. Just three weeks ago we were arriving by plane in Tokyo, taking our Covid tests and waiting around for an hour or so for our negative results (PTL), we continued on to immigration and were finally cleared to enter the country. (A huge shout out to my younger brother for not only going through so much health wise but then working so hard alongside us to get the needed paperwork for us to be able to reenter Japan. Basically he submitted his entire life's story. We had to prove he was really sick and in a medical emergency and our relationship via birth certificates.) After all that I've never been so glad and thankful to walk out those immigration exit doors to some waiting friends of ours who drove 7 hours to pick us up! Did we help them drive the 7 hours back? Nope, we were utterly useless.
I honestly don't remember the first few days back. Some friends and teammates had left food in our fridge, which was a huge blessing and within the mandatory quarantine, one of us was allowed to go out for groceries. We checked our temperature daily, tried to get good sleep, answered the phone calls from the Osaka health department and unpacked.
Probably the third or fourth day I remember walking into our tiny toilet room (yes it only holds the toilet and a small sink) and looking at all the funky buttons on the side panel. It took my breath away. Just that panel alone was a stark and harsh reminder that I was no longer with family, no longer in my own culture and over 6,000 miles away. Even though I hadn't stepped foot outside, seeing that foreign object caused the outside to come crashing in. We were back in Japan, actually we had fought really hard, prayed really hard to be back here. We'd chosen once again to be obedient to what we felt and feel like God has called us to, but along with my luggage I'd brought back emotions, doubts, worries and reflections of past struggles. In that miniature bathroom, the reality of it all came in like a flood.
So what do you do when the flood comes rushing in? The flood you prayed for? Oops! The doubts and worries and counter-culture world you are not prepared to navigate. Yes, we have been here before, but it does not mean that days are somehow easier or weeks feel lighter. I wonder sometimes if God hadn't promised Noah that there would be no more great floods, how Noah would've felt? And what if another great flood had come within ol' Noah's lifetime? Would the memories, stress and worries come back as a great wave? Or would Noah have been stronger, more prepared? Maybe he would have chosen a different, thicker pitch, made more room for the rhinos, or built a bigger window. I have no idea what Noah's thoughts were or what he would have done differently the second time around.
For me, I have no choice but to get in the boat. I knew in that moment that I'd have to fight, to battle here every. single. day. We have friends and teammates here who truly enjoy the culture of Japan. They are settled and consider this a home for many years to come. I've never found that ease, that settling. I'm sure they struggle in other areas that I cannot see, but for us every day is a battle. A battle for joy, hope for the people here, a fight to not become overly frustrated with culture, exhausted from daily expectations and life, a war against sin and temptation, a fight for strength to do what He has asked us to do. And the ONLY way I can do it is through prayer and surrounding myself with His word and His truth through sermons, songs, Scripture, and so on. Some days it seems I need that almost every moment.
And when I look at that toilet, sometimes I tear up a little, sometimes I catch my breath, but always I walk in the boat again, hold my head up, smile and realize He didn't build the boat for just me. He built it for the world, He asked Noah to step in the boat so that the story could continue and so that His promises, His covenant could be carried to all people.
Three weeks down and a bit over 52 to go. I have no idea what the future beyond the boat holds, I have no idea what tomorrow holds, but I will keep holding to the Redeemer who will bring the rainbow at the end.
I will sing of my Redeemer
And His wondrous love to me;
On the cruel cross he suffered
From the curse to set me free.
I will tell the wondrous story,
How my lost estate to save,
In His boundless love and mercy,
He the ransom freely gave.
I will praise my dear Redeemer,
His triumphant pow'r I'll tell,
How the victory He giveth
Over sin, and death, and hell.
I will sing of my Redeemer,
And His heav'nly love to me;
He from death to life hath brought me,
Son of God with Him to be."
Beautiful Feet
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