In our 20+ years in our home in the suburbs of Nagoya, one constant in our life has been Mrs. O. Well, maybe constant isn't the right word. But one blessing and treasured relationship has been this dear friend who lives across the street. She has loved our family well over these many years. She was one of the first visitors in the hospital when each of the kids were born. She has celebrated their birthdays with gifts of food, money and shopping trips. She has patiently returned balls that have flown over her fence; endured little (okay, big) bumps to her car from our basketball. She really showed the kids the love of a surrogate grandparent or favorite aunt over the years.
As for me, I have learned so much about Japan, housewives, Japanese marriage and family, cooking, neighbor etiquette, and life from this woman. Every year she orders the first harvest of rice from the region of Japan known as the best rice producer in Japan (the world??). She always would bring a big bowl of this rice over--steaming hot, and sit and watch me eat it. In the early years, I kind of thought it was silly...I mean, rice is rice, right? But oh no, as time passed, I began to understand the difference--that first, fresh harvest of Koshihikari from Niigata is truly one of the most delicious things I've ever tasted.
When our kids were young and attended kindergarten, some years Mrs. O would get up early on the morning of their sports day, and begin preparing our picnic lunch. Only other mothers of kids in Japan understand the pressure surrounding the sports day lunch. I guess it's an opportunity to show off your culinary talents to all the other mothers--I've been known to go to the grocery store and buy prepared foods in lunch boxes, bring it home, take it out and put it into my own boxes to look homemade. :-) (Yes, I am a victim of this ridiculous competitive pressure in Japan. My only defense is that I sometimes get so weary of being the foreigner who stands out, I just want to blend in anyway I can--a nice, traditional sports day lunch is one small way to do this.) But those times when Mrs. O made our lunch, it not only looked great, but tasted delicious and spared me the 5:00 a.m. start to an exhausting day of cheering for hours out in the hot sun.
We have spent countless hours talking with Mrs. O about spiritual things too. She had a hard childhood. Her father was a journalist in the pre-WWII years, and they lived in Taiwan--probably living a very nice life. After the war, when Japan was defeated and disgraced, her family was sent back home on a ship, and were forced to live on the ship for sometime after arrival. Her parents became ill due to the unsanitary conditions of the ship and post-war Japan, and died of TB (I think). She then scrapped and survived, with her younger brother's education and success as her driving motivation. She became a nurse, and one of her greatest sources of pride was that she was able to help send her brother to the top school in Japan, Tokyo University. That pride and other topics were part of what we spent many hours discussing. As a young woman, she was actually baptized in the Catholic Church, though by the time we knew her, she no longer was involved at all. We could see in her a great desire for the freedom of being united with Christ, and yet an inability to let go of her own efforts and righteousness to receive his mercy and grace. In many ways, she is typical of many in her generation...but that is a topic for another time.
While we were on our home assignment five years ago, we learned that Mrs. O had suffered a stroke. This news was shocking to us--she had always been so strong, so capable, had nursed her husband during times of grave illness...how could it be! Yet, from what we could understand, she was actually recovering well, and would hopefully be back to normal soon.
Upon our return to Japan, one of our first priorities was to see Mrs. O. At first, we were thrilled to see that she did seem to have recovered! She was walking normally and seemed like herself. But very quickly we realized she wasn't the same. Her husband explained that the stroke had damaged not the part of her brain that controls the physical functions, but the center of the brain, where personality and emotions are housed. She was physically functioning but she literally didn't seem like the same person. In some ways, she is softer and sweeter now. But the Mrs. O we know--sharp, talkative, inquisitive, opinionated--is gone. The post-stroke Mrs. O doesn't interact with us much anymore. She often watches us from her second floor window--I see her sitting in the window gazing down as we come and go. Sometimes I look up and wave at her; that seems to be okay on some days, and other days it's too much, and she draws back without returning the wave.
These last few years have been lonelier in our neighborhood. Mrs. O was close to others too--she and Mrs. S spent hours everyday chatting over the fence that separates their yards. Mrs. S misses her too. Mr. O has become the caretaker of his wife and while it's made him a better man, I know it's been a hard road for him to walk.
I often remember when I see Mrs. O (or don't see her and miss her), that this is another reminder of the brokenness we experience in our lives that was never supposed to be. This frailty of body, the fragility of life, the loss of relationship and resulting loneliness...none of that was part of God's original creation, and is all the continuing result of sin and the fall. The reality of that just sometimes overwhelms me with sadness and grief. It's especially painful when I realize that 99% of the people around me in Japan haven't yet experienced the newness of life in Christ, and the beginning of being remade and prepared for the future glory where there will be no more tears and sadness.
When I see Mrs. O standing at her window, I am moved to long for heaven. But not to pray, "Lord, come quickly." My prayer is, "Lord send your Spirit to Japan in a new, fresh and powerful way--quicken the hearts of millions of Japanese to receive your offer of grace and salvation and new life and eternity in glory with you." Only after that great movement in Japan, can those of us who love the Mrs. Os in our lives pray, "Lord Jesus, please come."
