Yesterday, we got the shocking news that one of the members of our organization had been accidentally pierced in the eye with a stick of bamboo while weeding out a plot of land and was currently at the emergency room.
What was originally planned as a night of song and worship turned into an evening of fellowship, song, and prayer for AK. I realized, through the course of this night, that I had never really dealt with tragedy on such a personal level before. Even though I was working in Ishinomaki, where earlier that day a woman had just been telling me about how only five of her neighbors remain after the tsunami, somehow a year and a half later these stories seem worn out on the tongues of the tellers. The lady told us her story without pause or reflection. In stark contrast, the developments about AK were pouring in and the everyone's emotions were etched on their faces.
We parted into circles (Japanese circle, English circle) and prayed for each other and for AK. The English circle was small and when my turn came I gave my first, faltering prayer. The initial catch in my throat traveled to my eyes and down my face as I tried my best to pray for AK, and pray that all of us would all find our place, realize our purpose, and seek the truth--whatever the truth may mean. At the end (amen) we looked up and everyone had a red tinge to their eyes.
The Japanese circle concluded their prayers soon thereafter and T, one of my roommates, scooted her chair over and said that she wanted to pray for me. I was surprised but bowed my head and she began (in Japanese, translated by M). Even today, a day later, I only vaguely remember the exact words; all I can remember is the initial strain in her voice as she fought back tears, and the outpouring of love that I felt from her. We had hung out a lot these past weeks and gotten really close despite the language barrier--she had told me about her troubled past and I had confided in her my insecurities about the future. At that moment, as she prayed for me, I felt loved and extremely thankful.
This morning we heard that AK's surgery went well, but she had to lose her right eye in the process. I could not even fathom the loss of sight in an eye. A mixed bag, I thought, until I saw an email from the organization's leader (her husband) saying that said her only prayer request was to praise Jesus in all things. Attached at the bottom was a picture of her on a hospital bed, with a bandaged eye, a smile, and a peace sign.
This (post)Thanksgiving season I am thankful for the amazing people in my life.
What was originally planned as a night of song and worship turned into an evening of fellowship, song, and prayer for AK. I realized, through the course of this night, that I had never really dealt with tragedy on such a personal level before. Even though I was working in Ishinomaki, where earlier that day a woman had just been telling me about how only five of her neighbors remain after the tsunami, somehow a year and a half later these stories seem worn out on the tongues of the tellers. The lady told us her story without pause or reflection. In stark contrast, the developments about AK were pouring in and the everyone's emotions were etched on their faces.
We parted into circles (Japanese circle, English circle) and prayed for each other and for AK. The English circle was small and when my turn came I gave my first, faltering prayer. The initial catch in my throat traveled to my eyes and down my face as I tried my best to pray for AK, and pray that all of us would all find our place, realize our purpose, and seek the truth--whatever the truth may mean. At the end (amen) we looked up and everyone had a red tinge to their eyes.
The Japanese circle concluded their prayers soon thereafter and T, one of my roommates, scooted her chair over and said that she wanted to pray for me. I was surprised but bowed my head and she began (in Japanese, translated by M). Even today, a day later, I only vaguely remember the exact words; all I can remember is the initial strain in her voice as she fought back tears, and the outpouring of love that I felt from her. We had hung out a lot these past weeks and gotten really close despite the language barrier--she had told me about her troubled past and I had confided in her my insecurities about the future. At that moment, as she prayed for me, I felt loved and extremely thankful.
This morning we heard that AK's surgery went well, but she had to lose her right eye in the process. I could not even fathom the loss of sight in an eye. A mixed bag, I thought, until I saw an email from the organization's leader (her husband) saying that said her only prayer request was to praise Jesus in all things. Attached at the bottom was a picture of her on a hospital bed, with a bandaged eye, a smile, and a peace sign.
This (post)Thanksgiving season I am thankful for the amazing people in my life.
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