Letters

I remember back in 1985 I was having a hard day.  I remember now because this week, I came across a handwritten note that I have kept all these years.

It said, (in Japanese, if that matters),  “Marsha Sensei, I have loved what you have been teaching me about Jesus. My husband was transferred and we’re moving away today. I will never forget you, Mariko.”

That’s all it said.  I found it in my letterbox, no return address, nothing.

The reason I was feeling down was because I had no way of contacting her. I almost felt that she’d orchestrated it that way for a reason and it made me sad. Japanese, as a whole, are very non-confrontational, even concerning their own destinies, and it hurt to see her go.  I couldn’t chase her down and realizing time was short, cram the Gospel into her.

But while I was musing, the doorbell rang and I had a package. It was from a friend back in the States.

Let me tell you about her.  We grew up together in a small Colorado town.  She and I were best friends till I left to go to boarding school as a teenager in Kansas, about 500 miles away.  I graduated and came home, but she had become a hippie, and we soon discovered that now we had little in common.  We both got married and found ourselves at the same university, but clearly, we had no future together.  I remember sadly telling God one day that Janice was now in His hands.

Then one day almost a decade later, I got a letter forwarded to me by the mission board we worked for. It was from my Colorado friend, and said, 

“Marsha, all those things you said growing up finally sank in.  My husband and I were living in a mountain shack smoking pot and living on poached (illegal, not boiled) deer.  One morning, Steve woke up and said, ‘Jannie, we’re going to church today.’  At the shocked look on my face, he explained, ‘You know I grew up in a Christian home, and last night I prayed, Lord either take my life or make something of it’.  And well, here I am.”

Long story short, with our new mutual ministry outlooks, we became good friends again, taking every opportunity to be together when we were in the States.  Before he passed away, Steve served many years as coordinator for the Western Colorado division of the Colorado Baptist Convention. Janice stood beside him, a wonderful and supportive pastor’s wife.

Back to Japan, the package that came in the mail the same day as the devastating letter from Mariko contained a cross-stitched plaque about friendship.  I literally hadn’t spoken to her for years, and it picked this day to arrive. 

I was reminded again that God has got this.  I’ve lost track of the Japanese lady, but I know God hasn’t forgotten her. What a great reunion we’ll have when I see her in Heaven!!

And our friends in Colorado?  I know we’ll see them too on that glorious day.

I came across that beautiful song by Michael W. Smith you may know. When I first heard the words, Tony and I were saying goodbye to some particularly close fellow missionaries that meant so much to us.   For a long time, neither of us could listen to it. 

Now we can, although it still brings tears, it reminds us of the truth.   It’s called “Friends”. 

“Packing up the dreams God planted

In the fertile soil of you

I can’t believe the hopes He’s granted 

Means a chapter in your life is through

But we’ll keep you close as always

It won’t even seem you’re gone 

‘cause our hearts in big and small ways 

will keep the love that keeps us strong

And a friend’s a friend forever

If the Lord’s the Lord of them

And a friend will not say “Never”

Cause the welcome will not end

Though it’s hard to let you go

In the Father’s hands we know

That a lifetime’s not too long 

To live as friends.”

Love. Cya soon … here or there!

Marsha

And we’re still friends!