journeywithjustina

[journeywithjustina]

d r y

Ever since I came back to Toronto, the feeling of dryness has made itself a pervasive presence. While central heating is much more comfortable than the humid chill and unheated bathrooms of Tokyo’s winters, it has left my skin cracking and parched. My fingertips are always raw and prickling as I wash dishes after cooking for Tim, clean the apartment I lovingly, easily started calling home, an endless cycle of water and hand cream, water and hand cream. All good things, but it leaves me dry. 

There is the humidifier I always wanted, cheerfully emitting a steady stream of mist by my bedside, but my skin still makes a papery parchment sound when rubbed together, and my newest leafy plant has quickly grown withered and riddled with brown. 

Inside, I feel parched as well, emotions at a whisper like the sound my feet make, cracked soles rustling against the crackling static of my sheets. There is nothing to pour out, for the friends who want to catch up with me, for my parents who have missed their only child, for my future husband who kisses me goodbye in the predawn shadows to go to his job far away. I still feel as if I have only just stepped off the plane whenever the excitement of the season grinds to a half and gives me a moment to breathe. There is an ashy feeling and an acrid taste in my mouth no matter how many times I fill my bottle and drink it all again. Fill and empty, fill and empty. 

I hang up load after load of laundry and it dries almost immediately, but my hands are even drier after going through the wet fabric. I keep trying to mist my plant and water it when the soil is dry to the touch, but the withered patches only increase. One time, we try to make ravioli but the dough dries out too fast and turns from a supple golden sheet into a brittle, cracking disappointment. I try to save it by laying damp paper towels over it, but our ravioli still burst. 

The dryness makes me feel fragile. Everything feels loud and close, and the slightest jostle leaves me ready to break. I bend my finger and the skin at my knuckles cracks a little, the redness of blood startling me. There is a bottle of lotion on every countertop and in every handbag, but I still wake up with my skin stretched so tautly over my body I imagine myself bursting like the ravioli, everything inside me finally spilling out in a kind of release but also never to be whole again. 

Sixty-three: God my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. 

Twenty-three: Lead me beside quiet waters and restore me. 

One: Plant me by streams of water, a tree which yields fruit in its season and whose leaf does not wither.

#text

[journeywithjustina]

Some seasons feel empty and others feel full.

The first half of this year felt hollow and cold, like the smooth insides of an urn, my questions echoing faintly back at me. There was a lull in the work at the project here as some of the staff transitioned out and new ones were transitioning in. Expectations were muddy and the future was uncertain. I spent many cloudy and cold days asking God why he had brought me to Japan at all. In recent years I’ve read and heard my share about the growing advocacy for mental health awareness. I was aware, but of course it’s not the same reading about a storm and feeling it shake your home to its foundations.

I recently worked with a team on the verses in Acts where Stephen preaches that God was with Joseph in Egypt, and rescued him from all his troubles. God did not prevent all his troubles—Joseph still had to go through enslavement, imprisonment, and betrayal before he was raised up to be the Pharaoh’s right hand man. But God was there every step of the way, rescuing Joseph when he needed it most and carrying out a plan that would eventually lead to the people of Israel flourishing under, growing despite of, and being freed from oppression.

He was there with me too in the empty season. I saw him in thoughtful friends, supportive parents, and a patient boyfriend.  God gave me time to fly home for a break, a counsellor who was a good fit and willing to squeeze me in last minute, and small moments with the people I love. Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen (Psalm 77:19).

After the Red Sea the Israelites were far from home free—indeterminable years of wandering in the wilderness awaited. I look down at my plans for the rest of the year, about 5 months all neatly fitting onto one page in my journal. Suddenly, I have a million and one things to do, multiple projects to track, a dozen people to get in touch with, piles of paperwork to fill out, a long list of goals to achieve. It is an almost shocking contrast to the listless first half of the year, but I have learned thankful for fullness and busyness that point me to meaning and purpose.

I feel at once finiteness and infinity—at the end of this year I turn the page only to find reams of blank ones whispering into the unknown, decades of uncharted wilderness. I feel at once vulnerably young and centuries old. How did yet another year almost slip past unnoticed? How have I learned so many lessons only to feel so unready for yet another life stage?

I only pray that I will remember that in a hectic and full season, I am listening for his voice as much as I sought it in the quiet and empty one.

#text

[journeywithjustina]

25 Things I’ve Learned

Last week I turned 25, a whole quarter-century! Don’t worry, no quarter-life crisis yet. However, I thought I would take the chance to do some reflecting and came up with a list of things (of varying importance) that I feel like I’ve learned up until now. Most of them are things I learned more recently rather than during my emotionally erratic adolescent years, but that seems about right. 

Writing things down is so helpful. I started doing bullet journaling last year and especially now that I’m here on my own and I have to keep track of everything between my work and my personal life I either go crazy or forget almost everything if I don’t have it scribbled down somewhere.

Keeping my own space clean is not a boring chore but an important habit: I schedule in time to clean my bathroom and sweep any floors and i have a rule that I don’t keep dirty dishes in the sink at the end of the day.

Sleep is important. Most recently, I’ve worked hard on sleeping at a decent hour (before 11) and waking up around 6:30 (to varying degrees of success). As an adult it’s no longer uncool to go to bed early and it’s nice to have quiet time in the morning to just breathe sometimes, not be rushed in my getting-ready routine before work, and have a window of time to call Toronto where they are 14 hours behind.

It’s ok to recognize my own boundaries when it comes to how I spend my time. It’s easy to laugh and tell people “I’m an introvert” (whatever that means) but I have learned how to take care of myself better— I need to have quiet time alone at home, I need to spend at least around and hour unwinding from the outside world after coming home, etc.

It’s ok to say no to things sometimes, because adult life isn’t like being in school where I was always afraid I’d “get in trouble” if I didn’t do as I was told or didn’t meet expectations. The wisdom to discern when to say no is key. #jomo

It’s also good to say yes sometimes to things iI might feel too lazy or tired for—like making the effort to go out with new friends on the weekend and having a good attitude about it, because sometimes it turns out to be an experience i’m thankful i didn’t miss out on.

I’ve learned to cook a great many things, and learned the joy of cooking for other people. Cooking is one of my favourite stress-relief activities when I need it, and feeding people one of my favourite ways to show love.

I am most proud of learning how to make onsen eggs (drop them into boiling water straight from the fridge, remove from heat and cover for 12-13min and they will be runny and gorgeous!). It’s like magic.

Gas stoves are the best, hands down.

I don’t NEED coffee every day. But I can have some if I really want some.

I also dont NEED to check my phone all the time. Turning off the vibrate has worked very well for me, and being ok with the little red bubble telling me I have things to check later is also fine. And sometimes, when I have nobody I am waiting to hear from or needing to contact, airplane mode is a comforting radio silence. But I can be on my phone if I really miss somebody (or I really want to see if my frog has come home from his trip #tabikaeru)

Now that i’m no longer in school, it’s hard to make friends and even harder to keep them.

But keeping in touch is worth it: make the effort and people will appreciate it. Even if I haven’t been in touch as often as I would have liked, it’s not too late to start the conversation again.

Working on good communication makes all the difference in relationships. I’m in a long-distance relationship now—with pretty much everybody closest to me since I’m living in Japan, and I’ve learned so much about thinking through my own feelings and helping people understand what I mean. I feel that if I hadn’t moved overseas, I might not have learned these communication skills so quickly. 

I am where I am because my parents loved me the best way they knew how. As I grow up they’ve had to grow too, and they’re not perfect any more than I am. 

My mom is indeed always (or at least usually) right— about when I would find the people I can call “my people” for years (university), about what to do when I wanted to hide the fact that I was in love (tell him), about how my thoughts on children and having children would change (that I would grow into maternal instincts I didn’t think i had). Once upon a time I was asked if there was a woman I looked up to, and since I couldn’t think of anyone I just said my mom, and to this day I still can’t think of anyone better and in this life I have resolved to treasure my mom’s advice at every opportunity i can get.

Flowers seem to always be a good idea, and so do surprise gifts of other varieties. One time I had the urge to buy a little bunch of flowers for a friend when I passed the florist in the train station, and even though I thought maybe I’d seem like a weirdo the friend receiving them took joy in it.

Compared to my early high school experimentation, I’ve definitely gotten better at putting makeup on my face. #glowup

I’ve also in the past few years struggled through and developed a healthier relationship with makeup— I can be especially gorgeous, a sight to behold when I put in extra effort, but I am by no means hideous without it. I want makeup to be a ritual to remind myself I am both lovely and beloved, and to give me confidence to face the day.

I don’t always need to apologize when I’ve done nothing wrong. Why did I start statements or questions with sorry? I have been reminded that what I have to offer or say is worthy and even though I am young and female I am allowed to have confidence where it’s due.

I need to forgive myself more often. I am probably, usually, my harshest critic and cruellest judge— you know how they say you would never say to another person the kinds of things you say to yourself? It’s a hard way to grow when I am the one spending the most time with myself.

On that note, I am learning to let people love me and love them back— without suspecting them of judging me constantly. I have been blessed more than I know to have wonderful, caring people in my life and I know they are here to build me up and not tear me down.

It’s true what they say about not needing many friends but instead needing a few very good ones. Growing up I always told my mom I felt like I had “no friends”, no group to “belong to”, nobody to count on. I’m blessed to have found those people now, just a handful, “my people”, my “ride or die”, the women I will always be able to turn to, the ones who I feel will already be there. You know who you are.

Don’t stress too much about the future; 5 years ago I would never have imagined that my life would look the way it looks now, and that’s what it means for God’s ways to be higher than our ways.

Be thankful for right now. I am not quite old enough to have “good old days” to look fondly back on, but the vast expanse of possibility ahead is beyond what I know how to be excited or anxious for. Call it optimism or call it naivety but as I count my blessings at age 25 I seem to have arrived at a liberating realization that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.

#text #birthday post

[journeywithjustina]

a walk in the park

Last Sunday afternoon, I decided to get off at a station I usually just pass by on the express train and I found a big park just a short walk from the station. 

Ok, so I was only out there because I was playing Pokemon GO...somewhat uncool but at any rate, it’s been working as a way to remind me I need to get out and walk more. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, a lot of questions, a lot of fears, a lot of unknowns. But on this perfectly crisp and clear fall afternoon, I realized I had ended up in exactly the place I needed to be. 

Shakujii-koen has a beautiful pond big enough for those swan boats, walkways lined with fall foliage, and another section with a little forest and a marsh with boardwalks. I arrived just as the last of the afternoon sun was shining through the red and orange leaves, and families were out enjoying the weather with dogs and children everywhere and the occasional old man with a fishing rod. There was a sense of eternity to the moment, the kind of beauty that makes you ache for something greater than this world. 

I thought at first, “I wish I had known about this place sooner, I could have come here more to see it in the spring and summer.” But if I had found it earlier I may have tired of it by now, and I may not have made my way here with this sense of wonder that my heavy heart needed. There are so many possibilities between what we know and what we don’t know, but my little walk turned into three hours of wandering slowly through the park, stopping to take pictures and pet friendly dogs and just listen to the crunch of leaves under my feet. And everything I had known or not know just led me to a peaceful, restful, joyful afternoon. 

All those questions, fears, and unknowns are only heavy when I look at them as storm clouds on the horizon, when they might also be new beginnings, blessings still in store, and many more perfect afternoons in parks that I have yet to discover. 

#text

[journeywithjustina]

earthquake//typhoon

Sometime this month, I was awakened early in the morning by an earthquake for the first time. The Japan Meteorological Agency reported it as M3.9, which is not too crazy (I think). My apartment is quite close to the train tracks so actually it shakes a little when trains come through, and sometimes there are smaller earthquakes that I don’t notice. This one was long and I remember lying in bed (on the floor), feeling the tremors through my entire body, listening to the silence because there was, in fact, no train passing. It wasn’t my first earthquake experience ever, but in the vulnerable moment of hearing the windows rattle in the walls in the half-light of dawn I knew I had no way of knowing how long the shaking would last, how strong they might get, and how much time I get to have in this life. How wonderful to know that God has everything in his hands because I certainly don’t. 

Another time, I lay awake late at night as a typhoon passed through. I normally like the white noise of rain against the windowpanes as I’m falling asleep, but this time it was different. Strong wind dashed the rain against the window in sheets, sent objects tumbling in the street below, and sounded like somebody intermittently but persistently banging on the glass. Beyond this din, I heard police sirens in the city and the neighbour’s dog barking across the street. Despite knowing that I was probably not in any danger, every new rush of wind left my heart beating fast and an inexplicable anxiety in my throat. I felt small and alone, like the walls were too thin and the storm too close. I put music on and finally faded into fitful sleep way past midnight, but by morning the skies were clear and the sun shining like none of it had even happened at all. And so it is with a lot of my worries and fears—the night always feels long when I am in it but God is faithful through it and joy comes in the morning.

#text

[journeywithjustina]

Fact: Deaf babies, when exposed to ASL, start to babble with their hands and learn to produce handshapes just as hearing babies do. They proceed through a similar linguistic acquisition process.

Fact: When children have early language input of any type, they later develop better reading skills (in English) then children prohibited from learning language. Children who learn ASL early learn to read better.

Fact: Extended language deprovation causes children to be at risk in other areas of physical and emotional development

Fact: Language development lies at the core of human-emotional and mental development.

Fact: The brain processes signed languages just as spoken language. Signed languages are in no way inferior to spoken languages.

Fact: Just as everyone has the right to speak, everyone has the right to sign.

[journeywithjustina]

Meet Misa

I met Misa at church sometime in June. We just happened to be sitting in the same row and she had just come from New York where she is studying and working on her art degree. It was definitely one of those friendships that seems like a chance encounter but in hindsight was specifically prepared in God’s plan. She left Tokyo soon after to do an artist residency out in Gunma Prefecture, and she invited me to come see her final exhibition at the beginning of August. I don't know much about art but this was something I'm so glad I said yes to! I had such a lovely time going out to the countryside where the cicadas are loud and the mountains are close, and seeing the small but vibrant community of artists working on all kinds of creations. 

Misa is so talented and so hard-working and I especially want to share her work with you because I was inspired and encouraged by her personality, her vitality, and her vision to use her passions for kingdom work. 

Here is a post she graciously wrote for me to feature. Check out her website here (new works updated soon!) and follow her on instagram.

This summer I had the honor of participating in a 7-week long residency in Onishi, Gunma Prefecture of Japan. Working alongside with 9 other artists as we receive the vibrant culture of the local community, I have come to appreciate the social practice nature of art itself.

With the proposal that I came up with, I suggested that my time there would be used to explore what it means to be an artist born of bicultural descent. Raised in Hong Kong and born of Chinese and Japanese descent, I grew up as an outsider for the majority of my life towards both cultures of Hong Kong and Japan. Until seven years ago when I moved to America, I first realized the existence of such a thing called collective experience, or to a larger extent we may call it universal commonality.

Most of my work that came out of the residency spoke about the interchangeable nature of spaces seen and unseen, as well as the inevitable impact of cultural norms and tacit social expectations on the formation of an identity.  Using paintings, drawing, installation and sculpture, I attempted to create a psychological space that people could physically navigate in. As an outcome after the 7-week long vigorous search in Onishi, 6 pieces of work were successfully on display in the exhibition - in which all were created in conjunction to one another.

My proudest moment was an installation piece that I made in a separate space outside of the main exhibition area. Shedding, as I named it, was a self-portrait created in response to the search of one’s voice in an estranged culture and the frailty of all human belief systems [see photo below]. Using the plastic materials to mimic the skin of a human body, it shed light to the duality of life and death of a formed identity. As one bias peels off through the act of unlearning, a new perception regenerates to stand in place of that uncertainty. It was a psychological space that could be navigated physically, allowing the audience to meditate and have a dialogue with themselves. I also had the pleasure to collaborate with musician Naoya Kurosaki, who so giftedly put together a music piece that filled up the space beautifully and bringing the installation to its full potential.

While the time in Onishi was short, I am hoping to continue creating art and expanding my art community here in Japan, for when time is fitting that I may begin an art ministry that serves both Christians and non-Christians in the local community.

-Misato Pang.

[journeywithjustina]

On taking up your cross

After Luke comprehension checks, we took a deep dive into what Jesus meant when he said: If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.

“I always thought it meant that when you become a Christian, you have to give up on what you want, live your life seriously and take responsibility for your actions and your sins. I always imagined that the cross was so heavy on Jesus because God put all the sins of the world on it and Jesus had to experience the pain of bearing that responsibility on his shoulders.”

The cross was more a tool for the public shaming and execution of criminals in that culture, even though it has been imbued with symbolic meanings, and it was heavy mostly because it was a big piece of wood. All the sins of the world were placed on the person of Jesus himself and the pain he bore was not just the physical pain of the heavy cross, but also the spiritual and emotional pain of God the Father turning away from all that sin as Jesus cried out in his last breaths. Jesus the man without sin died as a payment for the sins of others in him, but because he rose from the dead sinless and holy, we are also able to gain life and be made clean. To take up our own crosses is not to bear responsibility for our own sins because Jesus has already done that.

(You would think that at a Bible translation project we would have plenty of chances to explicitly explain the gospel, but this was actually a rare conversation for me to have with a non-Christian translator. Praise the Lord.)

While martyrdom was common in the early churches and continues in many parts of the world today, Jesus is also calling his followers to a constant attitude of self-denial—of seeing life in this world the same way a man already condemned to death sees his walk to the crucifixion. This is what Paul teaches in the attitude of dying to self and sin, counting all as lost so as to gain Christ and, through him, eternal life.

Interestingly, in taking up the attitude of a cross-bearing martyr, we are also letting go of a lot—our own pride (like a criminal mocked on his way to execution), lordship over our lives (like one whose life is in the hands of his accusers), our desires for safety and comfort (like one condemned to an irrevocable death sentence). But in denying himself, Jesus didn’t simply give up all his desires (“if you are willing, remove this cup from me”), he aligned his desires with God’s desires as he desperately prayed, “Not my will, but yours, be done.” When we let go of these things and of desires for our immediate gain, we are free to desire the kingdom.

And that’s not the end of the story, because where we give up our pride Jesus says, “He who humbles himself will be exalted.” Where we give up lordship over our lives, he says, “The kingdom of God belongs to the little children.” Where we give up a striving for comfort he says, “No one who has left home or wife or brothers or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God will fail to receive many times as much in this age, and eternal life in the next.” Following Jesus is not an extra burden to carry for the rest of our lives. It is learning an attitude of sacrifice to do God’s will in his kingdom now, and to wait for eternal treasures in the kingdom to come.

#text

[journeywithjustina]

On Housekeeping

As anybody who’s ever seen a room of mine can attest, I am not a neat or tidy person in general. I think a certain amount of mess makes a place feel cozy, lived-in, home. But now that I am starting to feel that this space is my space, I’ve noticed I’m actually eager to clean up and keep my home looking and feeling the way I want it to.

I straighten my bed every morning, sweep stray hairs off the floor every night, wipe down the kitchen when I’m done cooking, and clean the whole bathroom every Saturday morning. I keep track in my journal of every time I complete these tasks, and get up on Saturday excited to just be at home and slowly clean and tidy ALL the things.

Most workdays I sit in front of the computer and do work that involves only mental effort, reading commentaries, checking drafts, making exegetical notes and explaining them to people. I miss doing things with my hands—that’s why cooking continues to be an unwinding and stress-relieving activity for me. But these days even when I’m too tired to do anything at night, setting a timer for a ten-minute tidy helps me to re-focus and feel like I can tackle the other tasks ahead of me without a literal, visual mess making me feel like my life is also a figurative mess.

While my friends have definitely already been making fun of me for being ~domestic~ even before I started to like cleaning, I am finally understanding the heart of the woman in Proverbs 31. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. I want to grow into a woman who takes joy in making a home, for myself or for others. 

There is something about housework that teaches me to be diligent in taking care of what is put in front of me, and the sense of satisfaction knowing my home is in order gives me strength to have the same attitude in other areas of my life.

#text

[journeywithjustina]

Apartment tour :) It’s not much, but it’s home now. 

Some of my favourites:

-cute retro-looking fridge that was a free hand-me-down from a friend, and also goes nicely with the colours in the room

-my bedsheets ALL MATCH. You can’t see the other layers here but the top futon layer has darker shades of beige with more faint feather motifs, and the bottom layer has just a warm gray. Having matching bedding makes my life feel so fantastic.

-the stem of flowers in the green jar is STILL BLOOMING ever since it grew out of the succulent Cass and Rex got me at the end of April, even though I trimmed it off the mother plant weeks ago to make sure the succulent wouldn’t die from dumping resources into the flower stem. It might still be dying though idk.

-photo corner-- one of the first decoration things that I got for myself even before I had gotten a lot of furniture or household items, because I have always been told that having pictures to remind you of loved ones will make a place feel more like home. 

-the Christmas lights are Pinterest-y but I have had them since I lived in Japan three years ago as an exchange student and they make me happy on quiet nights. 

What do you think?

#photos

[journeywithjustina]

My best friend came to visit for Golden Week and here are some of the things that we saw and ate (2/2)

#photos

[journeywithjustina]

My best friend came to visit for Golden Week and here are some of the things that we saw and ate (1/2)

#photos

[journeywithjustina]

JBF Retreat weekend. 

#photos

[journeywithjustina]

#apartmentgoals

I have always shared about the ministry of my job description: translating the Bible into Japanese Sign Language. What I am excited to share now is the vision I have been praying about for maybe the past year-- how I see myself learning what it’s like to live missionally even in off-work hours during my time in Japan.

For the first time, I will get to look for an apartment all by myself. I’m a big girl now! In university, I lived in houses rented with friends, in a location dictated by the necessity of being close to campus and the bounds of what we called the student ghetto. When I studied abroad, accommodations were always arranged by the schools. The rest of my life, I have always lived at home with my parents in the house where I was raised. 

When I took the IMPACT course two years ago, I heard for the first time about ministries grounded in the simple reality that in most if not all places of abode, one exists in a space with neighbours. The vision of intentional community-building with people who happen to be living nearby seized my attention. Of course, it’s not really by chance. God puts those people there, and God puts us in the neighbourhoods we live in, having prepared good works for us to do there. Now, finally, I am in a position where I can actively seek to take part in this kind of incarnational living. 

Here is what I see:

They say it’s harder for foreigners to find agencies/landlords who will rent to them because of the complicated process of paying for an apartment in Japan. Pray that God will bring me to a suitable location close to work, and to landlords and neighbours who will be gracious to me.

As a foreigner coming in, I hope to have chances to ask people for help and use my newness as an open door to conversation and connection. Pray that I will not be afraid to take those chances, to make the chances myself even when I don’t really need that much help, and pray that I will be able to use this window of being new to the neighbourhood because I don’t look super foreign in Japan and I will be tempted to slide under the radar when I can.

I want to have a place with enough space to realistically have people over, to invite friends or neighbours to share meals and hang out without being crammed into one bedroom. In the past year I have learned a lot about what hospitality means to me, and what it means to invite people to sit at the table together. This is not easy to do in a country like Japan where the in-group and out-group boundaries are so clear, but I think there can be room for countercultural invitations like this. 

This is only what I have dared to dream, from what I have learned and what God has shown me. Many things are uncertain. I don’t know how this will end up looking like once I’m really living on the field. But sometimes, our mission in the world is only that--a desire to make known the Gospel of Christ in our own contexts, the boldness to envision how powerfully God can work in our lives, and the faithfulness to take steps in obedience without knowing for sure. Please pray for me to be effective and humble in all areas of my life, whether it is at ViBi, in my church, in my neighbourhood, or in the other friendships I have built and will be building in Japan.

#steps #impactcourse #text

[journeywithjustina]

叔叔跟我說

「你已經用了你的第一個20年。

你的第二個20年會比你想像中更快地過去。

到了第三個20年，你會發現像我一樣，到時你的身體不會聽你話，你可能再沒有時間做你想要做的事了。

你看，你第一個20年這麽快地過去了。你要好好地用你這第二個20年。只怕有一天到了第三個20年時才��識到你原來可以做得更多。」

這個叔叔很矜持，不多跟我説話。就算平時在他説到激動時刻，也只是雙眼看着自己的手，手機，或是面前的桌子。

這一天，他突然两眼盯着我，並用他那辛勞工作了60年的手指觸摸我的手，更用迫切的聲音告訴我這些事情，是我從來沒聽聞過的。

他説的沒錯，我是已經進入他所指的第二個20年了，並開始第三個十二生肖週期，明年便是25歲的我，將是四分一世纪。有趣的是，用這樣來測量時間使我們感覺缈小。即使大多數時刻我們認為未來延伸在我們面前是何等無邊和廣闊。微小的我們在尋求永恆的國度，將來必會活現降臨。希望將來在回顧每個20年，每12生肖年的週期，每四分一世纪，都能把上帝给予我的恩賜上，盡力做到最好，把最好的獻给神。

(English)

#text

[journeywithjustina]

My Uncle Said

You’ve used your first 20 years already.

Sooner than you think you will have finished your second 20 years.

And by your third 20 years, you will be like me, your body will not always do as you wish, you may not have the time that you need.

See how fast the first 20 years went by? Now is the time to make the most of the second 20. You won’t want to one day realize you’re already on the third 20 and which you had done more.

My uncle is stoic and reserved most of the time, and even in his fiery rants his eyes are usually fixed on his hands, his phone, the edge of the table before him. This time, he looked me in the eye and touched my hand with fingers that have seen almost 60 years of hard work and bitter trial and told me these things with an urgent voice I had never heard from him before.

He’s right. I am in my second set of 20 years by his count, getting started on my third cycle of the Chinese zodiac. In another year I will be a quarter-century, my mid-twenties. Funny how measuring time makes us feel small even though most moments we think the future stretches out before us, boundless and open. In our smallness we seek the eternity that is coming, the kingdom we are only tasting now but will be fully alive in later. I want to look back on every set of twenty, every 12-year cycle, every quarter century, every day and every moment and see that I did what I could to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. 

中文版

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[journeywithjustina]

Today, I am grieving.

In missionary training, they teach you a lot about saying goodbye and allowing yourself space to mourn what you’re losing or leaving. Grieving does not always involve death and we’re supposed to watch out for the unexpected goodbyes, to familiar places, things, people. But sometimes, grieving does involve sickness and death. Of course it does.

 Just like how the most difficult news it the unexpected, the most painful grief the kind that surprises you, often the most meaningful connections we make with people are also the ones we didn’t see coming and sometimes don’t see ending. We don’t always get to choose the people who leave their footprints on our hearts. Here is the story of two humans whose paths crossed with mine, and in that crossing I have learned something precious.

Dear auntie and uncle at the post office, 

It is strange to write a letter to people whose names I don’t even know. I hope you don’t mind. You probably know my name, because you have seen it written dozens, maybe a hundred times—on letters and packages my mother sent me when I was studying abroad, and scribbled into the top left corners of the things I mailed to my friends when I came back. They say that in this age of instant, digital (over-)communication, there is some magic in old-fashioned snail mail. I say that the magic of writing letters and mailing care packages that always tugged at my heart was also what led me to meet you.

To be honest, I always contemplated writing you a thank you card or something, once in a while. We live close by, and whenever I drive past the plaza I always think of you. This is my lesson in not putting off the act of expressing gratitude. I hope it’s not too late. I want to say thank you for the care that you showed to my family. Even if it was something as simple as telling them to buy some candies to add to the package weight, I truly believe that my parents were blessed by your kindness and thoughtfulness during a time when they were struggling with the life stage of me growing up and leaving home. Mailing me things was their way of showing me love, and I feel like you understood that. Whether or not you realized, you showed them love too whenever they were at the post office and missing me terribly. 

When you told us you had sold the business and you were getting ready to retire, I was happy for you. I hoped you would be able to enjoy more free time after working so hard every day for years. But I was also happy to hear that you would still be around in the transition, happy that if I came to mail things I would still see one of you working with the new owners.

I also want to thank you for sharing your lives with us in small ways, even if the last news was bad news. You are a reminder to me that personal connections with other people are some of the most beautiful things in the world, and God puts people in our path to teach us that. I am humbled by the reality that we do not always get to choose when we say goodbye, but also by the blessing that we don’t choose the people who enter into our lives either. Even though I don’t know much about you, I want to tell you that you mean a lot to me and I am praying that as you make yet another transition, God will give you peace and rest.

Uncle, it seems fitting that what I will have to remember you by is the passport picture you took for me at the post office the last time I saw you there. I pray that you will find your strength in God and know that he loves you. I pray that in health and in sickness you will find joy in each new day. I am thankful that I got to meet you, and even more thankful that in this meeting I have been blessed by your friendship.

Happy retirement.

Sincerely, Justina

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