Yes, we are still alive...

... buried under a pile of homework and clothes which need to be folded and put away. Along with many other things that need doing, like our prayer letter which is long overdue. (Sorry.)

Here's a quick overview of the kinds of stuff we've been doing in the last month and a half since we arrived in Sapporo.

Moving...

 

Watching the sunset. We have a great vantage point from our 4th floor apartment.

Eating yakiniku (Japanese bbq) at the park with friends

Visiting our old church (on potluck Sunday... and my friend's mom got baptized!)

Eating ramen at our favorite shop

Grocery shopping (right from the source)

Making Brazilian food for my friend's birthday

Buying an oven... and making lasagna!

And last, but certainly not least, STUDYING JAPANESE. Here is a sample of my homework (a short "essay" about karaoke), since I don't have any pictures yet. I recommend Google Translate for a good laugh.

カラオケ

私は小学生の時、数学大会にさんかしました。　さんかする子供のために、ピザ・パーティーが行われました。　その時、初めて「カラオケ」をしました。　しかし、アメリカのカラオケはあまり楽しくなかったです。　知らない人の前でばかみたいにしなければなりませんでした。　私はとても恥ずかしかったです。　もうカラオケをしない方がいい、と思いました。

二十年間位後で、日本へ来てから、　友達が私達をカラオケに誘いました。　最初に行きたくなかったですが、少し日本のカラオケについて習いました。　日本とアメリカのカラオケは全然違います。　日本では、友達が一緒に小さい部屋で歌ったり、お菓子を食べたりします。　壁は厚いですから、知らない人にはあまり聞こえません。

私は大きい声でビートルズの歌やトトロの歌などを歌いました。　とても楽しかったですが、次の日に、のどがいたかったです。

Japan Disaster Relief

I (Keith) have written several pages of reflection, and each time I go back to summarize, I end up writing another page. I've decided to make a fresh start and see where it gets me. Celia and I were in Miyako to help with relief work Aug. 5-18. After a month of reflecting back, I still say these were some of the most profound experiences I've ever had. The work there was so meaningful, and more received there than anywhere I've ever ministered. I did not want to leave, and even now I want to go back.

We worked with a couple who had a small child, and the majority of what we did was run a mobile cafe. The Japanese government has been quick to supply the basic needs of food and housing but has done very little for emotional and spiritual needs, so this mobile cafe allowed people to gather for some free iced coffee and sweets, and then talk and share fellowship. Each time we did this even I was able to contribute with the limited Japanese that I had. These people have suffered so much, and they were eager to talk. This eagerness was what really surprised me, and they freely accepted prayer, which is something I've never seen in Japan before.

Temporary housing units (kasetsujutaku) where tsunami survivors are now living

Indoor cafe on a rainy day

Celia was able to play during the mobile cafe while I talked with people and served them drinks and food. Playing music in the middle of the temporary housing units was really all the advertising we needed. As soon as she started, people would come to listen to music, have a drink, and talk. Some people would stay for several hours, and would even help us take down the tents and tables after we finished. This sense of reciprocating is very strong even among these people who have lost everything. Perhaps it is especially strong among them. I have found that to be a gracious receiver of Japanese reciprocating is as important as being a gracious giver. One time, a person stayed inside his temporary housing unit during the whole cafe, and only afterwards, came out to give Celia a melon in thanks for the music that she was playing.

The local chiropractor, also a member of Miyako Community Church, provided massage therapy during one cafe.

Celia with her melon, against the backdrop of our Miyako short-termer apartment's baking station

We also visited a couple of elementary school after-school programs, where we did mini-concerts and games.

Day in and day out there was plenty to do. Short term teams were always coming and going, and the apartment we were renting was in need of constant cleaning and upkeep, and supplies for the cafe were in a constant state of chaos. I felt for Iwatsuka-sensei, the pastor of the local church, who was trying to do follow up with every place that we visited. Some times there were three mobile cafes, and this pastor spent the whole day driving between them. His church (Miyako Community Church) of about 15 members and a small Catholic church nearby are the only churches in about a 90 km radius. We had amazing times of fellowship, praise, and prayer with them.

Hanging out after church... and yes, those are the same cafe tables.

Laura-Jane preaching, upstaged by her son

We did not want to leave. There was so much work to do and we were very eager to do this work. At the same time, we were very much aware of the lack of language skills we had. If we really wanted to be effective, we need to be able to answer a question like, "Why do you Christians come here to do this?" For the first time, I also understand how Christian work can take over a person's life, where the work becomes more important than the source or reason of the work. Even Christian service can become an idol because it does feel good to be needed and to contribute. So after our time was over, we left feeling more changed by Miyako than the changes we had hoped to make there. We need to know Japanese better, and now we have motivation behind our year plus of language learning that we still have to do.

We continue to cherish these experiences in Miyako and to pray for what God is doing there now. Please follow this link to read more from Keith journal; Celia's journal is coming soon. (Keith makes no promises as to correct punctuation or coherent thought; much of it is written in shorthand. ;)

Severe Beauty

We're in the city of Miyako, Iwate prefecture, on the east coast of Japan, doing relief work among the people affected by the March 11 tsunami. Here's a quick update now that we're finished with our first week here.

One thing that especially strikes me about being here is just how incredibly beautiful it is: the rugged, rocky coastline with fjord-like inlets, the tree-covered hills, the clear skies, and the birds. The areas where tsunami came are relatively small, but unfortunately, the tsunami came to the flat areas right on the coast, where most of the people are living--right up the inlets and into the villages.

Jodogahama beach

Yesterday I was sitting under a cherry tree, playing my cello for the outdoor café we set up at one of the temporary housing facilities. I admired the trees on the mountain, and watched a couple of large birds soaring against the backdrop of the clear blue sky. If I turned around, I could see the ocean, calm and sparkling in the sunlight--behind a swath of destroyed houses and a huge mound of trash. In other places we visited, a completely undamaged house could be right next to an empty foundation of another house. Some places sunflowers are growing out of the wrecks of houses.

Yamada

Also Yamada: surviving house next to destroyed houses

Akamae: trash heaps being sorted. The picture just doesn't do justice to the magnitude of the trash pile...

Akamae: destroyed houses, green hills

This place is full of these kinds of contrasts. As I watched the café guests talking happily and sipping their drinks, I feel a deep sense of peace and contentment. Yet we also hear stories of people reliving the day of the tsunami every night in their dreams.

First café location: Taro

Playing for other relief workers after delivering children's tables and chairs to a shelter in Yamada. The chairs are very sturdy. :)

This café location was in Miyako, only a couple of blocks from where we're staying.

Some people listened from inside their apartments. One such person came out at the end and gave us a melon to thank us for the music.

This mother and daughter stayed for the whole afternoon.

At this café, I talked about music with some of the children. They even chose a piece for me to play. :)

The aforementioned location with the cherry tree, Akamae

This place is a gift from God. I pray that the people here see God's face through the beauty of the land and through the acts of service of God's people who have come to be here with them.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good--his steadfast love endures forever.

Eating in Singapore

We're in Japan now. (YAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!) But before we give a Japan update, let's talk about what we ate in Singapore. One of the things I was most hoping to do while we were there was to eat well. :)

We had many food suggestions before we got to Singapore. One of them was high tea at the Raffles Hotel. We went there for our anniversary. In addition to the delicious spread of sweets and tea sandwiches, there were tropical fruits and Chinese dumplings.

We went out for lunch on three consecutive Sundays with our friends, Mei and Francis, whom we met in Boston through our IVCF group. Mei and I used to play in the band for the student worship events. We ate Chinese dumplings, Malay food, and Turkish food. They also got us hooked on Cendol... so delicious and refreshing!

In Chinatown with Mei and Francis

Some things we ate at the Turkish restaurant.

Classic cendol: shaved ice with palm sugar, condensed milk, green rice noodles... and kidney beans.

A slightly less traditional cendol. This one had corn and bits of jello-like substance.

Mei and Francis made one more suggestion before we said goodbye to them: chili crab, a Singaporean specialty. We got some at a hawker stall in Chinatown. We also got "carrot cake," a savory "cake" made with daikon radish and egg. Both were delicious. The crab was extremely messy.

Keith enjoys food. I enjoy watching him enjoy his food. Here he is eating chili crab.

"Carrot" cake

But there was one delicacy which we preferred not to try...

July Newsletter

Seasons
Keith and Celia Olson
Newsletter #13
July 27, 2011

Dear Friends and Family,

Greetings from hot and humid Singapore! We hope this letter finds each of you well... and in air conditioning.

We are in a season of transition. We left Seattle on July 1, spent July 2-5 in Tokyo, and since July 5 we’ve been in Singapore at OMF International Headquarters, attending Orientation Course. This seems almost settled compared to the rushing around we did before we left Seattle--packing, sorting, cleaning, last minute speaking engagements and goodbye parties, and visits to Iowa, North Dakota, Boston, and Vancouver to say goodbye to family and friends. This has been a rich and meaningful time, but emotionally draining. To say that we are looking forward to being at home in our own apartment in Sapporo would be a vast understatement.

Our harpsichord is traveling to Japan in a specially built box which will double as a bookshelf!

In Tokyo, our friend, Yoshitaka took us to some of his favourite places (in the photo we’re at Meiji Jingu)… and we enjoyed eating a lot of great food!

The next few weeks hold even more transitions, as we return to Tokyo for a few days of rest and preparation (July 31-August 4), then head north for relief work in the Tohoku region (August 5-18), and then on to Sapporo on August 22. Please keep us in your prayers for the next several weeks--for safety in travel, and for patience and flexibility, and for us to see God at work even in difficult circumstances.
***

Coming Home

As we’ve been in the process of transitioning back into life in Japan, I (Celia) have been thinking a lot about “home.” (This month’s banner celebrates all the places we’ve both called home--except for Seattle, which has been featured in all of our recent newsletters.) I used to think that home is where I have people whom I love and who love me--but as I make friends in all of the places I have lived, and as these friends further spread out to various places around the world, this becomes something of a challenge. How can I be at home anywhere when I am constantly grieving the people left behind? Maybe I need to re-think my definition of “home,” since my deep desire is to put down roots in a specific place and community--the place and community where God wants me to be.

Remember the story I told in the August 2010 newsletter? To summarize: as I rode my bike to the farmer’s market in Sapporo, I saw the bountiful land and the people working it, and I was filled with a sense of thankfulness and peace. I would consider this experience to be the confirmation of my calling as a missionary to Japan. As I have continued to reflect on what happened that day, something struck me as odd. Why were my experiences of God’s love for the people of Japan more “normal”--consistent and everyday--while my experience of God’s love for the land of Japan--for a place--was like getting a bucket of water over my head? I’m not talking about the country or the political structure--I mean the land itself. My experience on my bike that day was remarkably similar to what happened when I discovered Keith was a Christian--it wasn’t exactly “love at first sight,” since I’d seen him before--and yet I didn’t really see him until that moment. I guess that day on my bike was my “love at first sight moment” with Japan. God opened my eyes once again to that which he wants me to love.

But honestly, why the land? In one sense, this is fitting--John 3:16 says in the Greek that God sent his Son for the love of the Cosmos--not only the people, but the whole universe, and everything in it. That’s how big God’s love is. Romans 8 speaks of creation groaning with us as we wait for renewal. Yet I still feel a bit jealous of Keith’s experiences when God showed him his love for the Japanese people. When the tsunami happened, I cried for the tremendous loss of life and the suffering of the people--but I also cried for the pristine beaches littered with trash, the topsoil washed away, and the crops polluted by radiation.

I have yet to discover exactly why God has given me this burning love for the land of Japan, but I have a good guess. I think God wants me to love the land because the Japanese love the land. As someone God called to reach out to the Japanese, I need to love the things that they love, to rejoice with them when they rejoice, and to weep with them when they weep. I long to tell the Japanese people that this land, which they love, is a gift from our creator God. My heart breaks that so many of them don’t know him. God is calling me to point the Japanese to their creator, who loves them, and who loves their land. The whole world is his--including this precious place in which we will have the privilege of living and working for the next four years and beyond. This place is sacred ground.

We cried on the plane home from Japan in April of last year, then I cried as I watched Seattle slip away beneath the plane, and again when the plane dropped through the clouds and I saw the lush green landscape of Japan. I wanted to jump out of my seat and tell everyone on the plane that I was HOME! ただ今 (tadaima)! Home is a place--and for this season of our lives, that place is Japan.
***

A few Singapore experiences...

Celebrating our 6th anniversary with high tea

Francis and Mei, friends from grad school in Boston, brought us to their church and lunch afterwards! We had Chinese dumplings, Malay cuisine from Mei's hometown, and Turkish food!

Francis and Mei got us hooked on Cendol.

Did we mention it's humid here?

***

Prayer Points

• Praise God for safe travels, a hassle free visa process, and no problems with luggage (specifically cello) so far!
• Please pray for Celia for her cello practice in Tokyo (Aug. 1-4) and concerts in Tohoku (Aug. 5-18), which is the area hit by the March 11 tsunami. Please also pray for Laura-Jane and Ho Meas who are coordinating our work schedule, and for us to use this time well--listening to people’s stories and showing them the love of God even through our broken Japanese.
• Praise God for sorting out our housing situation. Rijke, a fellow OMF missionary, is graduating from language school at the end of October, and we will move into her place, which is a spacious apartment excellent for hosting friends. It also has thick walls, so hopefully our instruments won’t bother the neighbors. Until she moves out, we will be staying in the same place we lived before (the OMF guest home).
• Please pray with us as we work with our supervisors about a church placement. As much as we wanted to attend Satsunae Lighthouse, our previous church, OMF does not want to burden the church with too many new missionaries; also, for the sake of our education, we will be learning from a difference pastor and congregation. We are praying about attending a church outside of Sapporo, but our main concern is whether we will be able to be engaged in a church which is so far away.

***

An Opportunity to Serve

OMF Japan is looking for childcare workers to care for the children of missionaries studying at OMF’s Japanese Language Center in Sapporo. This is an urgent and ongoing need, as well as a great opportunity for short-term service that also provides a chance to experience Japan and see what missionary life is like. We had two childcare workers as our housemates when we were short-termers. If you are interested, please contact Christine Lau at ServeJapan@omf.net.
***

Finance Update: Stay Tuned!

No, don’t worry; we’re not in the red just yet. Actually, we had a talk with OMF Japan’s financial manager, and as we considered our ministry needs, we were thinking about how we should go about  lugging our instruments around Sapporo. Currently, we are considering the possibility of budgeting for a car, and so we trust that if we can more effectively carry out our ministry with a car, then God will supply the funds necessary for purchase and upkeep. (In Japan, the cost to do mandatory service checks on a four year old car is often so expensive that many people just buy a new one, so the cost of upkeep is a big consideration.) Please pray with us about this decision, and we will keep you posted.
***

Engrish Corner

Does dog-wiz really make the forest happy? In case you were wondering, “Dog-Wiz” is a shop selling goods for pampered dogs.

For those of you just joining us, “Engrish” is the funny English often found in Japan and in other places too. We love it… and at the same time we realize that we make similar mistakes in Japanese. When we find something good (either Japanese “Engrish” or our own mistakes), we’ll include it in our newsletter.
***

Quiz time!

We will mail a package of Japanese green tea to the first person to correctly identify what is happening in this picture.
***

We have been encouraged to meet with so many of you before we left, so now it’s your turn to come visit us in Japan and tell us what you are up to (just give us a year to get settled in first). In the meantime, we’re praying for you too!
           
Love in Christ,
Keith and Celia

Why Japan

My friend Melissa has asked an interesting question that perhaps I should address on this blog: why Japan? Celia has explained a bit about her history with Japanese people growing up with Japanese friends, teachers, exchange students. Seattle has Japanese people in it. North Dakota does not. Growing up, my experience with Japanese culture was limited to translated video games and anime cartoons. I was somewhat interested in learning Japanese so that I could play the Final Fantasy games in their original languages, so much so that I even bought a Japanese to English dictionary. I failed. I also tried to take a college course on Japanese history while I was still in high school, which is perhaps my darkest academic secret because I ended up withdrawing from the course. I just didn't have the motivation. I also had no aspirations of being a missionary, and as far as I was concerned, foreign countries had little to nothing to do with me. I didn't even see the ocean until I was over 20 years old, I didn't like flying (still don't), and I had planned on being a doctor so that I could make a lot of money.

So what happened since high school? Well, I have a story that helps explain a bit about my personality, which you might remember, Melissa, because you were there. I was walking through the music building in college, and I looked inside a classroom to see professor Whitney teaching an aural skills class with her students who were sitting in a circle on the floor doing rhythm exercises like in elementary school. Whitney was a fun and great teacher, the class looked interesting, and it was just what I needed in response to the awful experience I had with my dreary calculus 3 class. Thus I joined the study group called Theory Junkyz (I think that's how we spelled it, but only with a backwards z). Lame? Yes, but fun. That started my journey to a music degree.

The point of the story is that I am prone to the snowball effect. Something refreshingly new caught me, and before I knew it, I was hooked. That's how I ended up taking so much Koine Greek at Regent College and learning how to play ultimate frisbee. These are small passions of mine, but ministry with Japanese people is a passion that is still ballooning. My friend Izumi somehow got a commitment out of Celia and me in the 2008-2009 academic year to help lead English conversation with Japanese working-visa holders. I dreaded cramming another obligation into my way to full schedule, but as the weeks went by, I found the Wednesday night broken English conversations to be the most compelling thing of the week. Celia and I found so much solace doing that ministry that we decided to check out Japan. Nine months in Japan was more than enough time for us to determine this was going to be a life long passion. Even in the last year of doing another TalkTime ministry with Japanese, I have found this passion of befriending Japanese people and helping them to understand a loving God who would send his son for us, to be so strong that it can hurt.

So I guess the short answer to why Japan is that it took me by surprise and I can do nothing for it but go. I have felt thankful many times, and I have said as much, that Celia and I have this same passion. It is such a gift from God to be united in like-minded ministry with my wife to reach the Japanese with the love of Christ, and it is as much a confirmation of God calling us together as a couple as it is God calling us to Japan.

There you have it. Thanks for asking the question and leaving us a comment, Melissa. Also, if you happen to have a picture of the Junkyz, could you email that to me?

Cool stuff I found, and reflections on growing up

I'm in the process of organizing and packing my stuff. Two weeks from today, we will get on a plane with a 1-way ticket to Japan. It's hard to believe, really.

On a whim I started going through boxes of stuff. I meticulously kept every school paper, every drawing, every piece of photocopied music, every certificate or award, every letter and postcard I received. It added up to something like 4 file boxes of stuff. I think I've managed to pare it down to about 1 1/2 boxes, all of which fits safely into our filing cabinet. I still don't know how much stuff we are leaving behind, but now in our closet I have 4 boxes worth of space more than I had 2 days ago.

A doodle my stand partner and I did on the back of our music in middle school orchestra (Jarod the bassist was my best friend)

I don't mean to sound like this process was easy. It wasn't. I put on some moody Rachmaninoff to accompany the process and cranked the volume quite a bit louder than the volume at which I would normally choose to listen music. I played Rachmaninoff's second symphony at summer camp between my junior and senior years of high school. I hated the piece at first--it sounds a bit like lounge music before you get to know it. After an intense week of rehearsals and teenage drama (my boyfriend left for college), Rachmaninoff's second symphony became the beloved piece which symbolized for me the transition to adulthood, as well as the end of a beautiful summer, the loss of my childhood, and the loss of my first love.

I rather like this guy. I call him "green coffee bean man." I'm pretty sure I painted him in the craft room at that same summer camp, because I didn't do much painting anywhere else during high school.

I felt like I was throwing away my childhood--especially my dreams of becoming an orchestral cellist. I don't want to be an orchestral cellist any more, but giving up that dream was still painful.

I love chamber music and Bach's unaccompanied cello suites. I especially love chamber music because of the rehearsal process--a small group of musicians shares ideas with each other and works closely to present a performance which reflects the group's interpretation, while allowing each of the individuals to express their own voice. As an orchestral cellist, my duty was to blend with the other cellists and not to stand out. Still, being part of a good orchestra is an unbelievably powerful experience. Every member contributes their own sound to make something so much bigger. I think I took this experience for granted. Now I don't know if I will ever have another chance to play Brahms or Mahler or Rachmaninoff symphonies. I guess I had always been clinging to the hope that I would play them again, but yesterday as I put my carefully archived orchestral parts in the recycling bin, it felt like I was killing that hope once and for all. I have moved on. I'm a chamber musician, a missionary, a student of Japanese language; I don't have time, or space, or opportunities to be fooling around with orchestra.

I also listened to Rachmaninoff's 2nd piano concerto during the sorting process. I guess there's a Rachmaninoff piece for each of my major life transitions--this one became important to me in the last year while we've been waiting to go back to Japan. I played it (as an orchestral cellist, of course) during college, but it was brought to memory, oddly enough, by a wildly popular Japanese TV show about two pianists, which Keith and I watched last year. The Rachmaninoff 2nd piano concerto is a recurring theme throughout the show, and it is the piece that causes major life changes for both of the lead characters as they rediscover the joy of playing the piano. (We highly recommend this anime for our fellow music dorks--it's called Nodame Cantabile. We both loved it.) I rediscovered the joy of playing the cello while I was in Japan. I am excited to be reunited with my musical friends there, and to work on my Japanese so we can communicate better.

I found a lot of other great stuff while I was rifling around through my old papers. I was amazed to find a little slip of paper among my elementary school stuff with Psalm 37:7 written on it--on one side in English, and on the other side in Japanese. I have no idea where it came from, but it's been the theme verse of my life this last year, so I tucked it inside my planner. I also found evidence of my first efforts at learning Japanese:

We hosted a Japanese exchange student, Ayumi, the summer before I started middle school. She diligently taught me hiragana and a few kanji, which I promptly forgot. I am amazed yet again to see the way God wove Japanese people, language, and culture into my life, even though I was completely unaware of it. Among other things, I was reminded of what a great teacher my Japanese-American 3rd and 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Mise, was. I was a little snot with a big head (there was ample evidence of that among my papers), but she didn't let me get away with shoddy work. She always expected me to do my best work in every subject.

We got to try Japanese brush painting in Mrs. Mise's class. I call this one "Flower painting with faux Japanese." If you don't know what I'm talking about, look at the upper left corner.

I'll close this very long-winded post with a couple more of my favorite things from my childhood papers.

I liked to write little "poems" like this on my dad's new computer when I was about 6. I wonder if I would like something called "pizza rice casserole" (or should I say "caserole"?) now that I am snobby about rice?

There were many little notes like this one. I think my parents were very proud of me. My mom is good at encouraging, even for small things.