Marsha's Blog

Good Morning Friends, Thank you again for keeping up with us during this travel-time. And I hope you’ve been able to follow my “thought trains” as I’ve rambled along, trying to craft this wonderful language we call English. I am so grateful to have been born in a country where necessity had decreed that everything I undertake, from mealtime to worship has to be in English if I am to survive. Otherwise, I’m afraid life would have turned out much differently than it has. I say this because lately as we find ourselves in a new country almost every other day, I’ve gained a greater respect for those who have had to learn the challenges of speaking to people like me. And as a tribute to those intrepid interpreters, I’d like to remind them that from time to time, we native English speakers don’t do much better. What better place to find examples than in our own daily diatribes?  Here are a few illustrations taken from letters sent to various government offices over the years.  So her...

 Good Morning All, Well, you may not know it, but you’ve been reading a pre-programmed blog for the last four weeks. I didn’t mean to abandon you, but wasn’t sure if I’d have internet, so I set it up before we left to make sure we’d be covered. Now it really is the 31st of May (at least where we are, in transit from South Africa to Armenia). I think we were a little ‘weirder’ than we thought when we started this trip a month ago. We have been battling with some issues (not bad but sort of confusing and draining), and I think we needed some help. When we got onboard the Oceana cruise ship Regatta, we were immediately hit with the opportunity to lead both the sea-day Bible studies along with the Sunday services.  Tony even got to help in some of the Catholic gatherings and has had some real “heart to hearts” with folks from the Jewish community here. He was in heaven, doing what he loves to do among ‘like-minded’ people; but for both of us, it’s been a real healing experience. A...

 With Memorial Day just around the corner, I'd like to tell you a story about someone most of us would have considered 'the enemy'. His name was Kojima and he was a Japanese soldier.  He was rough and brutish, the perfect stereotype of those killing machines we knew either from actual experience or the war campaigns that were popular at the time. He had a wife.  It had been an arranged marriage, and he pretty much hated her.  But the feeling was mutual, and as she stayed behind in the home of her in-laws, she was forced to gather with them every morning before the family shrine and pray for his safety. On the outside, she was the obedient wife, but in her heart as they prayed, she always murmured under her breath, “Let him be killed, and make it painful.” But we didn't know Kojima then.  We only met him as he and his wife were volunteer custodians at our first church in Yokohama. He was sitting with MY father, also a veteran, eating watermelon and praising God t...

 Way back in 1981, we had settled into our new career in Japan and had finally finished our requisite two years of language school. With great fanfare, we were deemed “fit to do life and ministry in a Japanese world".  I have to confess that to this day, I haven’t been able to fully understand all the big words on my graduation certificate, but I don’t want to talk about that. We moved north, out of Tokyo and up to a nice little town of one million people.  Keep in mind that we were moving from Tokyo, population about 40 million, so to us it was like a quaint village by comparison. It's about halfway to the top of the main island of Honshu, and it goes by the name of Sendai.   We had been assigned to start student ministries, so with thirteen major colleges and universities, Sendai was the natural choice.  Our sons Trevor and Nathan came with us, of course, and that set the course of their lives.  Five-year-old Trevor was enrolled into preschool, and e...

Many years ago, Tony bought a hat. It was 1991, the year we spent in Colorado while our son Trevor was being treated for leukemia. After several weeks sitting by his bedside, a friend came and 'kidnapped' Tony, taking him up to the mountains to go skiing. Tony protested, insisting that he couldn’t be away that long, and besides, what father would do something like that while his son suffered?  He ended up going, and by evening, he told me that it probably saved his life. What a blessing, to step away from reality, if only for a few hours. Every time we see our friend (whose name is Mark), we thank him for the way God used him that day.  At the ski lodge that day, Tony bought a hat, similar to what he used to wear all the time when he lived in Texas. He and Mark agreed that it was good to look back at those days once in awhile.  Years passed. Many years. After eight months in hell, we said goodbye to Trevor, took his ashes back to Japan as per his wish, and tried to carry ...

 I'd like to talk about siblings for a moment.  I have one sister and Tony has none. But actually, he did have “siblings”, in a way, because Tony's folks had a love for young people and always had a few 'strays' living with them.  As a result, I've never seen any aspects of him being an only child, but I'll let him tell you about all that. I have a sister, Sherry, just 6 years older than me. Sometimes blessing, sometime pain, but always part of our loving family, as I’d like to think you would agree when thinking about your own siblings. I have lots of memories of wanting to be 'big' and get to do 'big girl things' like she did.  She got to go to movies with friends, sometimes spend whole summers with the cousins etc.  One year she even 'got' to go to boarding school, although in thinking back, I’m not sure it was a mutually agreed decision at the time.   But it turned out to be a good thing, with the result that when I got to go 4 years ...