tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57195891969586550012024-03-22T00:27:48.467+09:00Tea and Dangoeating, praying, and loving my way into the heart of Japan.Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-84372242812093851582022-10-10T00:03:00.001+09:002022-10-10T00:03:14.072+09:00Autumn Afternoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-13291991370172387462019-09-18T12:41:00.001+09:002019-09-18T13:13:16.825+09:00On Waiting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"You're past your due date, right?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"Still not out yet?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"Do you feel like he's coming soon?"</i></div>
<br />
My due date has come and gone.<br />
<br />
Only by three days... but that's enough to be bombarded by questions like these from well-meaning friends & family members. (If you're one of the people that has asked these questions, it's okay. We're cool. I know you're just as excited as I am to meet this little guy.)<br />
<br />
The waiting is, I will be honest, unpleasant. Even though I know that 80% of babies are born within the two weeks <i>on either side</i> of their due date, every day that etches by, I start to wonder the above, too.<br />
<br />
<i>Will he ever arrive?</i><br />
<br />
My dear friend & sister-in-law sent me an image with this caption:<br />
"Waiting for a baby is like picking someone up from the airport, but you don't know who they are or what time their flight comes in."<br />
<br />
SO. TRUE.<br />
<br />
In my own pondering on the matter, I could only think of two situations in life which are similar in nature to this particular type of waiting: our time of death, and the time of Jesus' return. You know it will happen - you just have no idea <i>how</i> or <i>when</i>.<br />
<br />
In the waiting, it's easy to get impatient, irritated, and start to lose hope that things will go the way I've planned. I chose a midwife centre for my birth, and I'm only able to give birth there if things progress naturally before I turn 42 weeks.<br />
<br />
So with all this in my mind, I read the following verse in a whole new way today:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change."</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Every good and perfect gift - like this child - is from the Lord. My Father.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />This Father does not change. There is no "shadow" - no part of Him that is not wholly, indescribably, explicitly good.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">This means the same Goodness that gave this child in the first place, that has supported the entire pregnancy, that has blessed us through the generous blessing of so. many. people...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">This same goodness, this light, will carry through birth. In its timing, its unfolding, in the way it runs its course for me, my husband and the son we're waiting on.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">There will be no shifting that casts a variation, a dark spot, over the way and the time that he comes </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">into the world.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Whenever it is, however it unfolds - whether that is exactly how I imagine in my mind or (much more likely!) much differently from it...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">It will be beautiful. And drenched in the Light of this good, good Father.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">I read often about people having an image or a certain item that defines their birth experience. (Maybe this is quite a recent thing?) A flower that bloomed during their pregnancy, an image of themselves in a way they feel strong. I wondered if I would find an image like this for my birth and labour, and I think I finally did.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">木漏れ日。</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">This is my favourite Japanese word. <i>Komorebi</i>. It means the dappled sunlight coming through tree </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">leaves. (Beautiful, right?)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">I need not fear the chill or sudden grey of the sun being covered by cloud as I walk through the forest. This warm, dappled sunlight will keep shining, in beautiful little spots through backlit green leaves. No variation. No change.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />So in the waiting, I enjoy this light. It has covered me till now, and will continue to cover me and my family all the days of my life.</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="verse v6" data-usfm="PSA.23.6" style="box-sizing: inherit; transition: background-color 0.75s cubic-bezier(0.42, 1, 0.16, 0.93);">"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me </span><span style="text-indent: -1em;">all the days of my life, </span><span class="content" style="box-sizing: inherit; cursor: pointer; text-indent: -2em;">and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord </span><span style="text-indent: -1em;">forever."</span></span></blockquote>
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-17010929440455858262019-05-20T14:11:00.000+09:002019-05-20T14:24:17.599+09:00Maternity... Yoga? & Weight Gain in Pregnancy<i>Being a foreign mother-to-be is an exciting, interesting, and sometimes stressful experience. Advice considered standard in your birth country is seen as outrageous to the native population. Or, the opposite - you hear doctors and midwives give you advice that would be laughable if you mentioned it back home! In the months leading up to the birth of our firstborn in Japan, I'll be posting my experiences; simply to help me process them, and also for the information of anyone else who may be about to go through the same!</i><br />
<br />
I chose to give birth, if all goes well, in a little midwife centre in Nagoya. My midwife is practical, professional, and fun. She offers free maternity yoga classes to all patients, so last week I decided to go along. The experience was interesting, to say the least!<br />
<br />
The class took place in a tatami room upstairs. The smell of the straw mats and the breeze coming through the open windows were very refreshing. There was only one other attendee, and our "yoga" instructor (more about that later) was a midwife from another clinic. After I got settled, we began the class.<br />
<br />
First, we did self-introductions. Our name, due date, and whether we had any physical symptoms to complain of. The other lady went first: her due date was close to mine, and she mentioned that she was gaining more weight than she wanted to.<br />
<br />
This is where things got interesting.<br />
<br />
A short explanation, first of all: Japan is known for its strict weight gain guidelines for pregnant women. A recent <a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2019/04/01/health/japan-pregnancy-weight-gain-intl/index.html" target="_blank">article</a> discusses how too little weight gain, and consequently small birth weight for babies, may be impacting the general health of the nation. I won't discuss the health & science behind it, but I also was advised to watch my weight gain. My midwife was more generous than some, it seems: she said that no more than 7 kilograms is recommended, but then looked at me and said, "You're small. Up to 10kg is fine."<br />
<br />
Thank you, good doctor.<br />
<br />
Back to yoga class: after introductions, the instructor took the other pregnant lady's weight lament as a springboard for a 10 minute lecture on weight gain. She said that more than 6 kilograms means you're just getting fat. It will be hard to give birth to the baby and you won't lose weight afterwards. Also, it's better to keep your baby small. Little weight gain will help that too. Birth small, raise big.<br />
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Her lecture also included, as an example, an overweight patient of hers who gained no more than 5kg throughout the entire pregnancy. Her secret? Her only snack was beans. Dried beans. (Let's just say I felt extremely guilty about taking the cookie that was offered as an after-class snack...)<br />
<br />
This lecture didn't surprise me, but it did offend me a little, coming from a country where the general advice for <a href="https://www.babycentre.co.uk/a554810/weight-gain-in-pregnancy" target="_blank">weight gain in pregnancy</a> is 10 to 12.5kg. I also felt some righteous anger on behalf of the poor mom beside me getting weight-shamed. She was cute and pretty and, to me, looked like a normal pregnant lady. Not cool, man.<br />
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After the lecture finished, with us feeling sufficiently somber about our weight and me trying to remember if I had dried beans anywhere in the house to snack on, we started the "yoga".<br />
<br />
The quotation marks are for a reason. Maybe I should say, foot yoga? Reflexology yoga?<br />
<br />
The majority of the 2 hour class involved twirling our toes around, massaging pressure points in our feet, and stretching our ankles. As our instructor watched us manipulate our toes one-at-a-time, she would comment on our general health based on how well our toes stretched. You must have backaches, no? Clearly you have constipation. The little toe will help with that. You can't see your toe knuckles? That's no good. Here are some exercises to fix that.<br />
<br />
Amused, bewildered, and wondering at the science behind it all, my feet actually felt great after the session. It was like a self-given foot massage. Whether it cured my constipation or tense shoulders... not so certain.<br />
<br />
The final part of the class was spent on breathing exercises. This was what I found the most useful (and relaxing!). We were taught how to breathe deeply, with our stomachs instead of our chests, and practised breathing for labour. (I've read that breathing exercises lose their thrill after about 16 hours of contractions, but I'll give it my best shot.) We were also told to feel our stomachs and see how tense they were, and then learn how to relax the muscles.<br />
<br />
Class finished with tea and cookies. Did I mention how guilt-inducing those cookies were? If it had been beans, I would have understood.<br />
<br />
On the whole, it wasn't a bad experience. It was a bit uncomfortable emotionally and the effectiveness of the techniques is still debatable (any expert info on that would be greatly appreciated). When I described the "foot yoga" to my husband, he was more annoyed than I had been, since his only concern during pregnancy has been me staying fit by getting enough exercise.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow there is another yoga class, which may or may not be offered by the same instructor. If it involves more toe-twirling... I may turn to Teacher YouTube for maternity yoga instead!Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-84235984526067012882018-08-01T22:50:00.001+09:002018-08-02T11:32:07.181+09:00Yukata + Kakuozan MatsuriLast weekend, my husband and I took some friends to the Kakuozan Matsuri, a festival we try to attend each year. Kakuozan is a suburb of Nagoya with delicious cafes, beautiful shops and a Thai temple. The festival is always well attended. A stage hosts performances (including one by our friend's hula students, one of the reasons we go) and booths showcase a variety of trinkets and snacks. Last year we saw everything from dry flowers to a 'make your own plastic dessert' station.<br />
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I always wear yukata (the summer version of a kimono) to these festivals. This year, thanks to some kimono lessons I took, I was able to get dressed better and more quickly than before. Husband took some nice pictures at a nearby park before we headed off to the festival.<br />
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Unfortunately this time, an incoming typhoon warning cancelled the festival just as we arrived! Yet not all was lost; instead, we got to spend the afternoon in various shops and restaurants along the main pedestrian street. Here are our top three (all food-related... oops) recommendations!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Hale Lani Terrace</span><br />
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This breezy Hawaiian cafe is owned by the mother of a good friend of ours. A glass-fronted shop that twinkles beautifully with fairy lights at night, the inside is decorated in a serene beach theme that transports you to the Pacific island for the duration of your stay. Best of all, the food is mouth-wateringly delicious. My favourites include their signature salad, homemade bread, and fresh ahi poke. The last is what I ordered for lunch, and it was fabulous.<br />
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<b>Hale Lani Terrace</b><br />
<a href="http://halelaniterrace.com">http://halelaniterrace.com</a><br />
名古屋市千種区覚王山通り9-16-3 La’a Kea 覚王山 1F<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. Zarame</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.zarame.co.jp/store/nagoya/index.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
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The exterior of this shop looks like an antique store, which means many are surprised as they walk in to find an array of donuts and a chalkboard coffee menu. This cafe is a bit hipster in its decor, and doesn’t feel much like Japan apart from the friendly staff behind the counter. The glass case of donuts is tempting - unfortunately, we chose a Red Velvet that looked better than it tasted. I recommend their original glazed. And the coffee got my husband’s seal of approval: something he doesn’t hand out lightly, so you can rest assured it’s good here. <br />
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<b>Zarame</b><br />
<a href="http://www.zarame.co.jp/store/nagoya/index.html">http://www.zarame.co.jp/store/nagoya</a><br />
2-36 Sanmon-cho, Chikusa-ku, Nagoya<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Ichi-rin (庭園ギャラリーいち輪)</span><br />
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The final spot of the day was a new place for us, and may actually become an all-time favourite. This Japanese-style cafe/restaurant overlooks a beautiful garden, and the cafe itself is an old remodelled house. We chose the tatami mat room for afternoon tea.<br />
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Each order came out on a tray with a little vase of flowers and a small snack. The drinks themselves were excellent, and very reasonably priced. We ended up staying for a couple hours, so comfortable was the atmosphere. Shelves with items for sale lined the entrance hallway. As we left, the owner gave my friend and I some cute knitted mushrooms that caught our eye! She also graciously let us use the garden for photos.<br />
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For a traditional Japanese tea house that feels like stepping into Kamakura, I cannot recommend this place more. Their lunch options looked delicious as well!<br />
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<b>Ichi-rin</b><br />
<a href="https://tabelog.com/aichi/A2301/A230107/23003976/">https://tabelog.com/aichi/ichirin</a><br />
名古屋市千種区西山元町1-58<br />
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These three were some of our favourites for food and drink. Besides these, there was a glass shop with miniature Girls’ Day and Children’s Day decorations, a flower shop with pots of herbs for sale outside, and a charming old house, the front of which we borrowed for pictures. If you’re looking for a relaxing, non-touristy day out in Nagoya, Kakuozan is the place to go!<br />
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-10464150180274020882018-04-06T10:39:00.000+09:002018-04-06T10:39:35.052+09:00To Me, three years ago<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Three years ago today, I went on my first date with the man who is now my husband.<br />
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This was what is known in some circles as a 'coffee date': a chance to go out one-on-one and find out more about each other, before asking & agreeing to officially start dating.<br />
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On this coffee date (which actually ended up being lunch, a walk by the river and coffee), I was both too shy and too cautious to take a photo together. So the above photo is my only memory from that day.<br />
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In those early days of courtship, dates, conversations & <i>so</i> much thinking, I remember the questions that constantly bombarded my mind.<br />
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Is this going to work?<br />
Are we a good match?<br />
Do I really like him?<br />
Is he <i style="font-weight: bold;">the one</i>?<br />
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After that date, we entered a year of long-distance. At the time, as I slowly found that the answers to the above questions were becoming <i>yes</i>, I hated being apart. Although Tokyo and Nagoya are only separated by a 6-hour bus journey, with our schedules and commitments, we would only see each other every other month. But now, as I look back, I'm thankful for that time. It forced us to <b>talk</b>. It forced us to concentrate on simply getting to know each other, and figuring out if we would be a good team in life, without getting too giddy about our newfound relationship. It forced us to devote most of our time and effort to <b>ourselves</b>, spending time with our friends and the people who were investing in us. I think I pursued God the most that year. It was a good test run of what it means to rely on <b>Him</b>, even when I had someone else I was falling madly in love with.<br />
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The Me of three years ago was so full of questions and doubts and cautious excitement. I wondered if we were going too fast or too slow. I wanted to shout to the world that I was in love, while simultaneously questioning if I truly was. I remember my emotions were turbulent, my fears real, and our blossoming relationship was beautiful.<br />
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The day we went for a walk by the river, the cherry blossoms were just beginning to fall. Little did I know, as I snapped that photo of the little white blossoms in the cafe, that two years later they would adorn the trees above us on our wedding day.<br />
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So, if I could write a letter to Me, three years ago, this is what I would say.<br />
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Dear Julia, </blockquote>
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Right now you are in the bliss & torment of newfound love. You're a bit clueless and constantly wondering whether to accelerate full-speed ahead, or slam on the brakes. You have no idea where this will go, and doubt if you're doing any of it right. But there is Someone who does know. </blockquote>
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<b><i>Trust God.</i></b></blockquote>
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He knows the future. He has the wisdom you don't. He has the patience you don't. He has the courage you don't. Give it all to Him, resting assured that it's safest when it's in His hands. As Elisabeth Elliot said, "His promises of guidance may be fully counted upon. Does it make sense to believe that the Shepherd would care less about getting His sheep where He wants them to go than they care about getting there?" Enjoy the journey, treasure the relationships around you, and make the most of every second you have alone with Jesus. </blockquote>
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Love,<br />
you in three years' time, about to celebrate your first wedding anniversary.</blockquote>
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-54016837318636872102018-04-03T10:50:00.002+09:002018-04-03T10:50:27.227+09:00Chicken Soup & Lessons in Humility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last week, my husband wasn’t feeling well. (Cue sad violin.) It’s never fun when someone else is sick, especially when you live with them and eat with them and go to bed with them every night. So, as a loving, caring, worrying wife, I tried my best to make nice food and do what I could for him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Unfortunately... it </span>didn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> work out as I planned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I made delicious dinners and offered tea and did so much of what I thought would help him. However, nothing really seemed to work. I started actually getting frustrated - was there something else wrong? Were we finally losing the romance of our honeymoon stage?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, in a moment of honesty, he pinpointed the problem. “You’re making all these efforts to love me, but you aren’t checking what I really need... you’re just guessing based on what you would want.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My little heart. It hurt, but it was true. I had assumed he would be overjoyed with a garlicky tomato pasta dish, when all he wanted was udon with egg soup. All because I hadn't taken a moment to check with him, convinced I could read his mind. (Spoilers, I can't.) If you've ever read <i>The Five Love Languages</i> by Gary Chapman, you'll remember that what some of us receive as love isn't actually how others best receive it. In friendship and in marriage, we have to learn which 'language' means the most to the other person. I had done my best communicating in my language, but hadn’t made any efforts to speak his.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had to humble myself and realise I don’t know everything about my husband yet. I can’t read his mind. I need to ask him to help me help him. So finally, the next night, I asked if chicken soup sounded good for dinner. He said yes, he’d love that, and gave a couple of requests. And this beautiful soup was born, of love and humility and gratitude that God teaches us things even in bouts of sickness. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The garlicky tomato pasta on the side was all mine. My husband got <i>okayu</i>, pictured at the top - a Japanese rice porridge often eaten when sick.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I mostly followed this recipe from Harumi’s book, tossing in some grated ginger, subsituting asparagus for the <i>ud</i></span><i>o</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">, and adding in chicken and some shredded cabbage we had in the fridge. Delicious, warming, and comforting for unwell days. Enjoy serving it to someone you love! (Or yourself for that matter, it's certainly good enough.)</span></div>
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-59174651204969606772018-03-29T23:01:00.005+09:002018-03-29T23:01:58.360+09:00Cooking through HarumiWhen I was fifteen, I had a Japanese 'homestay family' of sorts. I made a friend at my school whose family had moved to Edinburgh for her father's work. When she discovered that I was studying Japanese and in love with her country, her family sort of adopted me. They had me over for dinners, afternoons, and once, a three-night mini-homestay. My friend and her family possibly prepared me for Japan better than all the years of study that followed.<br />
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Her mother taught me the basics of Japanese cooking: how to wash rice, pack a <i>bento</i>, and make <i>tamago-yaki</i> (something at which I still fail miserably!). At one point, she gave me a present: a Japanese cookbook by the cooking goddess Kurihara Harumi.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1262210.Harumi_s_Japanese_Home_Cooking" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="398" height="400" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1182346702l/1262210.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her second book, and the one I fell in love with</td></tr>
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I scoured the book for recipes to try on my family; ones which were both doable without specific Japanese ingredients, and tame enough that my family would be willing to sample. (About half my family run away at the mention of raw fish.) I tried several and found a few favourites, but the work involved in cooking for eight people from a cuisine with which I had little experience soon wore me out. Chickpea curry and spaghetti bolognese slowly shouldered their way past the <i>karaage </i>and <i>miso shiru </i>when it was my night to cook.<br />
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Over ten years later, now as the wife of a Japanese man, with access to Japanese ingredients and a year of constant cooking under my belt, I picked it up again. I was looking for something to bolster my <i>washoku</i> recipe repertoire. Nostalgia trickled in as I turned the pages to see all these post-it notes written in a high schooler's handwriting. "Nice to see you again, Harumi." Slowly but surely, I'm cooking my way through her book again.<br />
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The first recipe I tried is one of her most popular: carrot & tuna salad. It's slightly vinegary and delicious. I mixed it up last week by substituting lemon juice for the mustard - my husband <i>loves</i> lemon and he approved. It's so fun loving him with food like this. (I also fashioned some of the carrots into little flower shapes. Just because.) Enjoy!<br />
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<br />Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-32869456781914445412018-03-22T22:46:00.000+09:002018-03-22T23:06:57.912+09:00A Discourse on White Day<style> .indented { padding-left: 50pt; padding-right: 50pt; } </style>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">In Japan, after items from New Year’s are cleared away, Valentine’s Day decorations take their place. Hearts and red and chocolates abound. However... it comes with a twist. Ladies, put aside your wishes for a bouquet of red roses or a fancy dinner out. Here, Valentine’s Day is for the gentlemen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://matcha-jp.com/en/5663" target="_blank">One article</a> dates the unique twist on Valentine’s Day back to the 1950s. It was considered improper for a woman to confess her feelings to a man first. Thus, when Valentine’s Day was imported from the United States, it became an acceptable opportunity for that. (A bit like the Leap Day proposal tradition in Ireland, perhaps?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Nowadays, ladies tend to buy chocolate for male colleagues and friends, as well as painstakingly making beautiful chocolates, truffles or likewise for their one true love - whether already in a relationship, or by means of confessing their love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">“What about something for the ladies?” you may ask. Well, men are given a day on which they should reciprocate any gifts received. This falls on March 14th, a month after Valentine’s, and is called White Day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Why white was chosen as a colour, I am still unsure. But true to colour, the theme for this holiday is anything white. White chocolates. Butter cookies. Lemon tea in white boxes. Flowers and relaxation items such as bath salts are also common. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">My husband, being a romantic and a gift-giver, treated me to <b>two</b> White Day presents this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">The first, a White Day gift package from one of my favourite stores. It featured tea with a heart shaped lemon piece, a silver teaspoon, and a handkerchief. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">The second, since he had noticed how tired I was recently, an essential oil massage treatment. What a man!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">I enjoyed both of these gifts tremendously, and felt so much love from my husband with them. However, it did get me thinking about the whole Valentine’s/White Day custom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">I want to believe women give chocolates simply because they love their partner, and men likewise out of love and gratitude. However, I feel like it’s easy to let ulterior motives or obligation slip in to this gift-giving practice. Such as:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I hope when he receives this chocolate, he’ll want to go out with me.”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">“She gave me a nice Valentine’s gift, I need to give her something back.”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">“He’s probably expecting something, and it should probably be homemade... I guess I should make the effort.”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">“If I get her something nice for White Day, that should make her feel appreciated.”</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Christmas can be the same, I feel. We let social customs become the norm and lose the true meaning behind them: thankfulness, love and the joy of giving. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">For me, it always helps to go back to the ultimate reason. Why do we do all of this?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><i>“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: </i></span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.”</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><i>“Love one another with brotherly affection. </i></span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Outdo one another in showing honor.”</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><i>“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, </i></span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">coming down from the Father of lights, </i><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">James 1:17</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">We give because we were first given to. We love because we were first loved. There isn’t any pressure, obligation or fear in this. There is simply joy, thankfulness and an earnest desire to give to the other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">So whether you are an employee giving your best efforts to your boss, a mother giving your time to your children, or a husband giving love to your wife, remember that you have first been given to. You have first been loved. And let your giving flow out of that well of love in your heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">It’s time to make a White Day gift in return for my husband; not because of pressure or social obligation, but simply because of love. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch together after my massage session. Happy White Day, babe.</td></tr>
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-71133429778288212852018-01-16T22:14:00.005+09:002018-01-16T22:22:08.282+09:00Chicken, Peer Pressure and Unconditional LoveLast Sunday night, my husband and I went to a new <i>izakaya</i> (Japanese pub) which opened in our area. Their specialty? Chicken! We ordered an appetiser, a tray of juicy fried chicken and finished with <i>ochazuke</i> - rice with various toppings and broth poured over. It was a delicious and casual end to our busy week.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I forgot to take a photo at the beginning (oops) so here are the last two pieces of chicken before we devoured them all.</i></td></tr>
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However, what caught my attention more than the food were the pub staff. When we entered and sat down, the waitress who showed us to our table called out, "These two customers are dining with us tonight! Ready..." To which, at the top of their lungs, every other single staff member shouted out, "Welcome to our store!" The sheer volume of it took me by surprise. It stands in sharp contrast to the idea of a high-class French restaurant, quietly and discreetly leading the diners to their table. Looking at the faces of other Japanese customers, I could tell they were surprised, too. Here it is in action:<br />
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This is a step up from the usual Japanese "<i>Irasshaimase!</i>" (Welcome!) called out as you enter any store or restaurant in Japan. Maybe being a new shop, they wanted to make a big first impression. It was fun watching all these lively college students doing their best to welcome their customers.<br />
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Talking to Kazu about it, however, he mentioned a darker side to cultural aspects like this. He could imagine a lot of peer pressure taking place behind the scenes, whereby anyone who isn't loud or enthusiastic enough is asked, "What's wrong? Why aren't you as energetic as the rest of us?" The truth is, many Japanese people aren't able to keep up with or fit into their culture. Maybe they're quiet or shy-natured people. Maybe they're just a bit different from everyone else. This can lead many times to alienation, or feeling left out.<br />
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This is a feeling I think we all have experienced at some point or another in our lives. We've all had days of trying to be someone we're not, or bending to pressure to make someone else happy. Watching those students and pondering all of this, I was left thankful that our God doesn't accept us based on what we achieve. His love doesn't change with my daily performance. No matter whether we're able to handle everything life throws at us, or couldn't even get out of bed in the morning, God thinks of us just the same. The way He looks at us doesn't change. His love is unconditional.<br />
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So next weekend, enjoy some crispy chicken at <a href="http://gabuchiki.com/">Gaburi Chicken</a>, and even when you can't keep up, remember how deeply loved you are by Jesus, for simply being you.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>New Year's light display in the park on our way home.</i></td></tr>
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<br />Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-72116069351538713762017-11-06T20:54:00.001+09:002017-11-10T18:39:22.022+09:00IKEA長久手 ー Japanese IKEA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last Friday was a national holiday (Culture Day), and so some friends and I did a very culturally Japanese thing and went to IKEA! (I hope my humour came across there.)<br />
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IKEA is a place I have always loved going to. My mom and I did all the shopping for my university apartment there. We enjoyed one of our last meals together before I came to Japan having Swedish meatballs there. Many hours have I spent crying and sweating and, finally, rejoicing over some piece of IKEA furniture. Many more hours have I spent looking through their magazines, sighing at the beautiful Scandinavian-inspired interiors.<br />
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Recently, an IKEA finally opened up in Aichi prefecture. So a couple friends and I went and made a day out of it! Anticipating crowds, we went early and arrived just after opening time. However, we did not expect to see this when we exited the station:<br />
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People were lining up to get inside IKEA. Seriously, it felt like Disneyland... except for an emporium of Swedish interior design goods. We ended up queueing for 40 minutes before we were let in. Thankfully, it was sunny and a very comfortable temperature. We amused ourselves by taking photos and commenting on how calm and polite the Japanese people were lining up.<br />
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Once inside, we went straight to grab lunch. We waited in line again, and then got our Swedish meatballs and found a table. In Japan, the meatballs come with edamame beans sprinkled on top. A much-appreciated touch of green.<br />
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The rest of our time was spent enjoying the show rooms, taking cheesy pictures, and practising self-restraint in the market downstairs. We ended our day by lining up one last time for some free ice cream (provided for anyone who came by train!) and hot dogs before heading home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>IKEA caters for businesses now as well. Who knew?</i></td></tr>
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All in all, it was a wonderful day with lovely friends, great food and (mostly) wise shopping choices.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My beautiful friends! Photos used with their kind permission.</i></td></tr>
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This IKEA in Nagakute was so easy to get to by train. It took about an hour door-to-door from my house, and the IKEA is a two minute walk from the station. I can't wait to go back for Christmas decorations in a month!<br />
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Have you ever been to IKEA in Japan? Was it different or was it like a small taste of home?Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-68195233535130062942017-10-16T18:23:00.002+09:002017-10-16T18:27:17.645+09:00The Seasons of MarriageIt's hard to believe we've been married for six months already.<br />
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Years and years ago, it feels like, when we were doing our pre-marital counselling, the book we were going through (the Alpha Marriage Course, highly recommended) mentioned different seasons of marriage. Spring, when a young married couple is in the blissful budding phase of their relationship. Summer, when children happen and life gets hot and fun and busy. Fall, when the leaves are turning and children are growing and you begin to harvest the fruit of what you planted before. And finally, winter, when children are leaving the nest and it's just the two of you; you my have lost the youthful passion of romance, but instead are enjoying comfortable, cosy days together.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Celebrating half a year with an onsen date, complete with milk afterwards.</i></td></tr>
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Our pastor taking us through the course mentioned that these seasons also happen recurrently in a marriage. You're in love and romancing each other. You're enjoying life together. You begin to struggle with some withering branches. You have to be proactive to ensure you don't freeze in the chill that may have settled over your passion for each other. There are different seasons, but the object is the same: figuring out how and <i>choosing</i> to love and serve each other in that season.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bento I made for my husband to show my love. He ate it at home, but still... it's the thought that counts.</i></td></tr>
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Up until this point, I'll be honest, our marriage has been pretty smooth sailing. We've enjoyed a spring and summer with just a few freezing winter moments. But recently, with a temporary change in my husband's work schedule, the season is shifting. Usually, his work hours are something like 9:30 to 18:00. This is unheard of in Japan, and we are so blessed by his boss and company. However, for a couple months this autumn, his work schedule involves leaving the house at 6:15am and getting home around seven or eight in the evening, including Saturdays.<br />
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This change has meant several things for us.<br />
<ol>
<li>I am growing in my capacity to handle work and home (and free time...) without him.</li>
<li>We are getting better at time management, realising that if we don't create intentional, concentrated time for each other, it will never happen.</li>
<li>I am becoming increasingly thankful for his regular work hours.</li>
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This season is helping me to understand more of what most Japanese wives go through on a daily basis. (Bravo, to all of you. Hands down respect over here.) Due to the standards of Japanese corporate life, it's common for working spouses to be away from home 12-14 hours a day. I finally can say I have experienced what that's like. The other day, I got a text from him saying,<br />
'I get to leave work early! I'll be home around 5!'<br />
The joy I felt was indescribable. A whole evening with my husband! And I realised then how much grace we experience daily in our lives, and never realise until it's taken away.<br />
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At our wedding, my dad gave the wedding sermon. He talked about Jesus' miracle at the wedding in Cana. He said that in the hard times of our marriage, when we have run out of wine, we can trust Jesus to take whatever water we have and turn it into wine for us. That is the miracle of His grace. And that is what I have decided to call this season. Not winter, fall or spring: but a season of grace.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>More time to spend with friends in this season. This too is grace!</i></td></tr>
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-64609312024895355202017-10-02T21:02:00.001+09:002017-10-02T21:06:37.951+09:00A Japanese Wedding: An Insider Perspective<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They say that you don't just marry a person, you marry a family, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, half a year ago when I married my husband, I also gained his fun, loving family. A couple weeks ago, we all made the journey up to Fukushima to attend his relative's wedding.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This was actually my fifth Japanese wedding, but my first as a family member. This meant that for one rare and blissful moment which seems to occur so rarely in this very homogenous society, I was <i>uchi</i>, not <i>soto</i>. (For a full look at what those terms imply, please check out Wikipedia or your closest university library.) To put it simply: I was on the inside this time. Goodbye happily smiling yet clueless outsider. (Well, maybe there was still some of that.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When hosting a wedding in Japan, you are always asked if you have any relatives who plan on wearing kimono. If so, it is considered polite to pay for <i>okitsuke, </i>for someone to dress help them get dressed. This is because a) most people aren't able to put on kimono by themselves any more, and b) wedding kimono are often more extravagant than your average kind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was fortunate enough to be offered okitsuke, hair and makeup if I wanted to wear kimono. As a not-so-secret kimono lover, of course I accepted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The hair and makeup ladies got overly excited to be in charge of the white girl wearing kimono, and went all-out Japanese style. There was even a braided flower in my hair; can you find it?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkcaZ3slrLimC_pOYnHqT_kpQTzSTOw8viTG-CiJC2yCXOynHELwO3wzypXwLWjBrZUoX2jrhH7DQML_8N-cmTOOxJ6emw2h3HOvw1lF-_ISBfMRVqO8sWRqUyd4r_6RRIuY5LCeRL9ng/s1600/FullSizeRender-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkcaZ3slrLimC_pOYnHqT_kpQTzSTOw8viTG-CiJC2yCXOynHELwO3wzypXwLWjBrZUoX2jrhH7DQML_8N-cmTOOxJ6emw2h3HOvw1lF-_ISBfMRVqO8sWRqUyd4r_6RRIuY5LCeRL9ng/s640/FullSizeRender-5.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHL_DqwTCrSlkxfFfdOZPWkMWz9_p5sfRokkvzgaCoNTqvh4IMtM9jAw5Y_CYY1pcM9dzhRUSzrreFHxU0GlE0AI8bytNez1UnWtUxMure4RLIrINoDr7wnkc-MBwl5TQ_b1WaPpZu7LlV/s1600/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHL_DqwTCrSlkxfFfdOZPWkMWz9_p5sfRokkvzgaCoNTqvh4IMtM9jAw5Y_CYY1pcM9dzhRUSzrreFHxU0GlE0AI8bytNez1UnWtUxMure4RLIrINoDr7wnkc-MBwl5TQ_b1WaPpZu7LlV/s640/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The kimono itself was my mother-in-law's, and was matched with a beautiful gold obi (belt). The kimono lady tied it in a beautiful, unique knot at the back. It was an experience I'll never forget!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After getting dressed, the first function of the day was a relatives' meet and greet. It involved the bride and groom's families sitting on opposite sides of a room, and the father of the families introducing each member by name, who then stood up, bowed, and said the equivalent of "thank you for welcoming me to the family." We then got to just hang out in that room until the ceremony started, provided with free tea and rice crackers. My favourite was the hot cherry blossom water. This room was a huge perk of being a family member!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGsmD-OyAqaMfOObjPz1EZmLyYaCKtxub4uSVXx1De_uyHRxh545ASwXKL0LyS-Tm6ELb4abR1hGF-cedvMsgciALf4Mh-Y8nj3Gpnbx3l4dkB0nS9bRPeGm7JofA5UwvInpjniRGyVWB/s1600/FullSizeRender-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGsmD-OyAqaMfOObjPz1EZmLyYaCKtxub4uSVXx1De_uyHRxh545ASwXKL0LyS-Tm6ELb4abR1hGF-cedvMsgciALf4Mh-Y8nj3Gpnbx3l4dkB0nS9bRPeGm7JofA5UwvInpjniRGyVWB/s640/FullSizeRender-8.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The ceremony was beautiful, held in the venue's chapel in an imitation of Christian weddings. After that, it was back to the family room to chill until the reception.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The reception itself was typical Japanese style, with welcome bears made by the bride's aunt, the bride changing dresses & hairstyles halfway through (the bear changed with her), and lots of letter-reading and crying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One element of receptions common to Japanese weddings is a candlelight service. The bride and groom go from table to table lighting a candle at each one. The bride was by now in her second dress, a beautiful light blue that made her look like a living Cinderella.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXCoWeLhpfX9FeKfcx9zYsq3j-UKTw12nBDcK5Roowow8nY-SQAoJNU5QExpJPYkaHsif-ZT7_z8b2-L-0jb9ZS6u2FnTqR4lGbKm4a0RDQ5H58u43TksT6lpSEng9XjqFRuN7NgSkz95L/s1600/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBajXYMHfaXC_P998F5w75lCJhsLLlY8Ap7oklRH5_8Owmd0gN_-Q2B1nH7KWGWUeJoRcaRlqXkoMNYpGsmtihFBvVc9pEVXqq0h1La9k_8KdjQHLc7VbHBdbOD_FyNj7kTAQDCEe1c65p/s1600/FullSizeRender-9.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBajXYMHfaXC_P998F5w75lCJhsLLlY8Ap7oklRH5_8Owmd0gN_-Q2B1nH7KWGWUeJoRcaRlqXkoMNYpGsmtihFBvVc9pEVXqq0h1La9k_8KdjQHLc7VbHBdbOD_FyNj7kTAQDCEe1c65p/s640/FullSizeRender-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One thing I particularly liked about this reception was a plate of appetisers waiting at each person's place for them when they entered, so they could snack until the bride and groom arrived. (It's under the little hat on the plate.) Another unique point: the main (meat) dish was served very early on, and the rest of the dishes came after. Apparently this was due to complaints from wedding attendees that they were either too full for the main course, or they always ate it cold because it's served right at the time everyone is getting photos with the bride and groom. Personally, I really enjoyed the slow transition from the heaviest to lighter courses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After the reception, we skipped the receiving line to head straight to our hotel. We were on the 10th floor with a view overlooking central Fukushima city, and were greeted in the morning with a rainbow. We texted K's cousin to tell them it was a symbol of God's promises. It was a beautiful end to the wedding weekend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Have you ever attended a Japanese wedding? What additional expectations or duties have you encountered when a relative of the bride or groom?</span></div>
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-1063735629362469462017-09-15T20:22:00.002+09:002017-09-15T20:23:59.588+09:00Kushikatsu<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After living in Japan for 3 years, there aren’t many foods that I haven’t tried. Last week, however, I went out for the first time to a </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">kushikatsu</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> restaurant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The place my friends and I visited was a chain shop known for their unique <i>kushikatsu</i> options. <i>Kushikatsu</i> is basically pieces of meat or vegetables put on a skewer, coated in breadcrumbs and fried, then dipped in a light sauce and eaten.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-4DpTB5sMKsuzXRsQfz_1EyE_vqW-9ukHYZIe-baHJ-agZ5sqj4GRaf51N7_XbuC4acdxOrc8JYYMu_K3qx9ahrjxqbNlpgGgtmdOYPzENQOOq6bLt8z7-k5DG1P79KHrMB_EoBN2x0q/s1600/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-4DpTB5sMKsuzXRsQfz_1EyE_vqW-9ukHYZIe-baHJ-agZ5sqj4GRaf51N7_XbuC4acdxOrc8JYYMu_K3qx9ahrjxqbNlpgGgtmdOYPzENQOOq6bLt8z7-k5DG1P79KHrMB_EoBN2x0q/s640/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you decide to try this fried delicacy of debatable health impact, there are several rules to keep in mind.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">① A <i>kushikatsu</i> skewer gets dipped (or dunked) in the sauce <b>before</b> going on your plate.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">② No double dipping. Ever. They use the same container of sauce for all customers, for the entire day. If you want more sauce, the done thing is to use a piece of cabbage (provided free of charge) and scoop more onto your plate.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">③ Order a drink. At many places (like ours) they have a one-drink system.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Once you’ve got these in place, it’s time to order! At the restaurant we visited, there were many vegetarian-friendly options: lotus root, <i>shishitou</i> (a kind of mild chili pepper), red pickled ginger, eggplant, asparagus, quail egg, cheese, as well as meat options like pork and beef. Order your skewers, then dip and eat. They even had fried Oreo cookies at this restaurant; a delicious dessert.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJX9pMQAtN6S6XV2A3xEtX5bE__m1UTz51DT_csOGTrMoiqBoj3eh2rwKA_i8DM0BhLc8U81c6Q-I6vJD8qR_7PEEF_wIsS4qnI47AyxYLCaUfyHnXvx19YyB7uKE3HtY8WXOHT-QlNp_/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJX9pMQAtN6S6XV2A3xEtX5bE__m1UTz51DT_csOGTrMoiqBoj3eh2rwKA_i8DM0BhLc8U81c6Q-I6vJD8qR_7PEEF_wIsS4qnI47AyxYLCaUfyHnXvx19YyB7uKE3HtY8WXOHT-QlNp_/s640/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Price-wise, if you’re very hungry, <i>kushikatsu</i> can be pretty expensive. The different varieties are assigned different prices, and can add up quite quickly. Ordering enough sticks to fill an empty stomach plus a drink could be around 2000 yen. However, it’s worth it for the fried goodness. So save up a little bit and take yourself out for a nice dinner of <i>kushikatsu</i>!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My friends! Aren't they beautiful?! And yes, that is a bottle of chocolate sauce for the fried bananas.</i></td></tr>
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Have you ever tried <i>kushikatsu</i>? What's the most deliciously unhealthy food you've had in Japan, that many people may not know about?</div>
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-80902849707058947392017-09-03T18:44:00.000+09:002017-09-03T19:00:00.406+09:00House Tour: Master Bedroom<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Our home, as is typical of many young married couples in Japan, is a 1LDK. This means there is a living room, dining room, kitchen, and one bedroom. However, since married couples always have a master bedroom, I am calling our one and only bedroom, "the master bedroom".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">I actually wasn't planning to post this until our room was completely finished. The frames still don't hold photos from our wedding, there are bags of clothes I need to give away, and our duvet covers are not yet the matching ones I hope to get. However, I realised that with our homes, and in the same way with our lives, we often don't want to show the imperfect. We only post photos of the "perfect" moments, the completed snapshots; always the after, never the before. While in reality, most of life is imperfect. Who are we even trying to kid? Why do we envy all those perfect pictures on social media, and strive to post the same kind of pictures - when our life doesn't look anything like that normally, and neither does anyone else's? So, just like I try to be authentic and admit my imperfection in life, I am disclosing the incompleteness of our bedroom. Welcome to our imperfect, unfinished, yet beautiful and comfortable home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">I hope that with your life, just like these photos, you won't be afraid of the imperfection and instead embrace the beautiful. Be real with the messiness that makes you human. People love you, no matter whether your duvet covers are matching or not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">(Speaking of duvets, do any other married couples out there use two singles instead of a double? We have done that since Day One - simply for lack of a double duvet - but have found it so easy and fight-preventing, we've decided to keep it this way. Any other fights or arguments you've circumvented with a little creativity?)</span></div>
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-35302879502449696952017-08-26T13:15:00.000+09:002017-08-26T13:15:12.221+09:00A Japanese Wedding Gift<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">This spring, I married a Japanese man, in Japan, in a Japanese wedding. It was heavily influenced by American/Scottish culture, but we still retained many traditional aspects of modern Japanese weddings. One of the most foreign (to Americans/Brits) and potentially most famous differences being:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">As per Japanese custom, we were given money instead of gifts at our reception. Our guests all blessed us with beautiful envelopes filled with varying amounts of Japanese yen. For those of you who a) are invited to a friend’s wedding in Japan and are clueless about what to do, or b) are simply curious, I’ll introduce this practice here.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">The tradition of bringing money is not unique to Japan, but many of my American friends met the idea with horror. “How can you expect guests to pay for their own meal?” Similar disbelief was shown (mostly by my relatives) towards the fact that <i>guests</i> receive a gift at the wedding reception, instead of the bride and groom.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: normal;">However, b</span><span style="font-kerning: none;">oth of these practices have fairly good reasoning behind them. First, the young couple (or their family) is spending no small amount to host a wedding party that, let’s be honest, is designed to meet their guests’ expectations. Thus, friends and relatives bring the bride and groom monetary gifts that help them start their new life together. Because of this, traditionally, often only the heads of families attended the wedding party. (The more guests that come, the more money they are expected to bring…) In return, they received a gift of food from the wedding feast that could be taken back to family members who had remained at home. This practice has morphed into the modern-day custom of guests bringing envelopes of money, and walking away with gifts of food, designer crockery, or catalogues to pick a gift of their choice.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Although today there are strict rules regarding how much a guest is obliged to bring (thirty thousand yen for single friends, fifty thousand for couples, possibly more for relatives), it is still a kind custom that helps many couples at least break even for their wedding.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">At our wedding, we received many envelopes of various colours and styles, based on our relationship with the guest, the amount of money included, and the giver’s own personal preference.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Here is a selection of some of our favourite envelopes. I have divided them into the categories below: </span></span></div>
<ul><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">traditional</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">extravagant traditional</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">more contemporary</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">masculine/modern</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">feminine/seasonal (pink was a recurring theme, since we got married in the season of cherry blossoms)</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Looking through all the envelopes was an enjoyable post-wedding event. We could tangibly feel how much we were loved by the people who attended.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To all of the dear friends and family who came to our wedding, thank you. Your presence meant more than we can put into words, and your presents (whether monetary or otherwise) were received with joy and gratitude. Thank you for being in our lives!</span></div>
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-59062124039453726732016-12-22T15:22:00.001+09:002017-09-03T18:48:53.048+09:00A gift to give a King<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px;">Everyone knows I’m a highly emotional person. I cry at movies, books, music, cute babies. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been touched by different things, as they take on a new meaning or make sense in a new way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This year, for the first time, I cried as I listened to “Little Drummer Boy”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I listened to the song, the lyrics hit my heart.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have no gift to bring</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">That’s fit to give a king</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Shall I play for you</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">On my drum?</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I played my drum for Him</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I played my best for Him</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then He smiled at me</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Me and my drum.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How often do I feel like the Little Drummer Boy? Insignificant next to the wise men. Unimportant next to the shepherds. I see my own emptiness, my unworthiness. I look down in my hands and see nothing I can give, nothing I could bear to give, that would be worthy of the majesty and splendour of the King before me. I look down and all I see is a drum. Not even a gift. But will I dare to play it before my King? Will I muster the courage to take whatever I have, however small or unworthy it may seem, and offer it to him?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The boy in this song took that courage. He took the only thing he had and offered it to the King. He did his best for Him. He played with all his might. And that King smiled at him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whatever gifts we have, no matter how small or big, how grand or insignificant, we can offer them up. For I know a King who will smile and accept them as the most precious gift in the world.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgHEDMR5-yO5xavoSi9PikaRi-zvShFATZO5IamiyvSISfZJkU7wNeSQ-yVd9eu-bZf0xENyidFGV9fagpWJWZBk-pHQVfQY0FZKIKYkUi8XtnlxU-Tu9KH8RUGFg3D89LKDGzOnMMpNJ/s1600/IMG_3402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgHEDMR5-yO5xavoSi9PikaRi-zvShFATZO5IamiyvSISfZJkU7wNeSQ-yVd9eu-bZf0xENyidFGV9fagpWJWZBk-pHQVfQY0FZKIKYkUi8XtnlxU-Tu9KH8RUGFg3D89LKDGzOnMMpNJ/s400/IMG_3402.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Our Christmas gift this year.</span></i></td></tr>
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-426157386965521072016-11-14T18:34:00.004+09:002016-11-14T18:36:13.410+09:00Fast Food ThanksgivingToday, I am thankful for Yoshinoya.<br />
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I am thankful for this fast food chain which allows me to take home a big bowl of rice and delicious, tender pork stir-fried with onions and ginger, on a day when I am tired and stressed, for a mere ¥450 (£3.50).<br />
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I am thankful for the young people, maybe uni students, who work there, and made me this delicious bowl of semi-healthy comfort food.<br />
I am thankful to the company for keeping their prices reasonable.<br />
I am thankful to Japan for being a country of <i>such delicious food.</i><br />
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Today, I am thankful.Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-78443978308915413832015-12-18T23:59:00.001+09:002015-12-18T23:59:32.577+09:00Classroom MomentsMy 5/6 grade students were already waiting in the classroom when I came in today. (This class consists of four 10-11 year old girls.) They excitedly directed my attention to the whiteboard, where they had drawn doodles and pictures with the words 'Engrish Class' in big letters in the centre. They were devastated when I told them of their spelling mistake. Among the artwork were phrases such as '#we love English' and 'we are peace makers'. <div><br></div><div>Sometimes, I love my job.</div>Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-18434779516031948342015-10-22T23:52:00.001+09:002015-10-23T00:18:20.488+09:00Food SpotlightRecently, I finally worked out how I can still cook and enjoy meals at home even with my challenging work schedule.<br />
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Two words: fast & easy.</div>
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I've been using the Ajinomoto recipe website (called <a href="http://park.ajinomoto.co.jp/">Ajinomoto Park</a>) since it's full of simple meals that don't take much time.</div>
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Recent dishes: prawn pilaf (picture only depicting the half-completed stage, apologies), vegetable soup and <i>gyoza</i> (Chinese dumpling) soup.</div>
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As you can tell, hot soup dishes have been a favourite recently. Mostly because autumn chills have finally set into Tokyo (it was down to 14°C the other day - freezing, I know).<br />
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Some other recent culinary experiences which happened outwith the domestic sphere:</div>
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Beef and mushroom curry at a cafe called "Okie-dokei" near my work. Was being promoted as part of Shimokitazawa's annual curry festival.</div>
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Pumpkin caramel croissant <i>taiyaki </i>(fried pastry in the shape of a fish) from a shop on the ground floor of the building our church meets in.</div>
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I am ready to welcome autumn with hot soups, hearty curries and pumpkin-flavoured everything.</div>
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And maybe a thick woolly scarf or two.</div>
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-28696174211394487262015-09-05T00:32:00.002+09:002015-09-05T21:20:43.439+09:00HomeIt’s been almost seven months since the cold, early February day that I moved here.<br />
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I often get asked the question.<br />
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"How long are you planning on staying in Japan?"<br />
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My answer, most of the time, is something vaguely along the lines of, “For the indefinite future.” In other words, I neither have a set time period that I am planning to stay, nor do I have any plans to leave.<br />
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I say something like, “I’ve chosen Japan as my home."<br />
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Reactions to this answer range from surprise to incredulity to flat-out disapproval. And are generally accompanied by the question, “Why?"<br />
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Of course there are things I dislike, or that even make me angry.<br />
Of course there are days when I pine for a time I could walk into a store and hear English all around me, and not get nervous at just the idea of asking the shop staff for help.<br />
Of course there are mornings I wake up, realising that I am a recent university graduate literally living alone in a foreign country, and think, "Dear Lord, what have I done?"<br />
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But at the end of the day, none of that really matters.<br />
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To me, it’s home.<br />
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The food.<br />
The trains.<br />
The language.<br />
The politeness of service staff and generally everyone.<br />
The convenience (of Tokyo).<br />
The traditions.<br />
The history.<br />
The tiny children with leather rucksacks on their backs and yellow caps on their heads, walking to school.<br />
The glimmering pools of water with little green shoots of growing rice sticking up out of the mirrored sky.<br />
The pink clouds of cherry blossoms lining the roads in spring.<br />
The way the cicadas chirp on sultry summer evenings.<br />
Fiery autumn leaves.<br />
The cold, brisk air of sunny winter mornings.<br />
Baths and hot springs.<br />
Streets where no two houses look alike.<br />
The quiet of a centuries-old Shinto shrine.<br />
The way the housewives, both young and old, stop to chat with their neighbours outside.<br />
The kindness of strangers.<br />
The profuse gratitude of strangers when kindness is shown to them.<br />
The custom of bringing a gift for everyone, always.<br />
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And a million countless other things, big and small, that it would take me hours to put into words.
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But, more than anything else, it is the deep knowing in my heart that this is where God wants me to be. This is part of the path He has set out for me. I feel a deep sense of abiding in His will when I am here in this country. For, when we simply want what God wants for our lives, I believe He gives us the same desires, the same heart, that He has. He gives us the same dreams and vision and purpose. And when we walk in His will, He gives us the grace to see it through.<br />
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People don’t understand this. They can’t. "I just don’t understand you" is a common reply, expected even. They can’t fathom the seeming abandonment of one’s home country, one’s family, old lifestyle, familiar comforts. They can’t understand why a single 23-year-old female would launch herself into a country that is not her own, committing, perhaps, to be there for life.<br />
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It is beyond their comprehension.<br />
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They just don’t understand.<br />
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And I don’t expect them to.<br />
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But every time someone shakes their head, looks at me aghast, or with a worried expression starts listing all the things I should be concerned about, the things I clearly haven’t considered in this sweeping declaration of commitment...<br />
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...the whisper of God comes bringing peace to my heart.<br />
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This is home.<br />
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And until He tells me to go elsewhere or do otherwise, it is here that I stay.<br />
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For being in His will is what makes it the safest, most beautiful place to be.<br />
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And His grace is new. Every. Single. Morning.<br />
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<i>'"Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes. For you will spread abroad to the right and to the left, and your offspring will possess the nations and will people the desolate cities.</i><br />
<i>...For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you.' </i><br />
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<i>Isaiah 54:2-3, 10</i></div>
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-6108728569984790282015-04-03T22:31:00.002+09:002015-04-03T22:36:28.734+09:00The Majesty of a King<div>
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I have come to the conclusion that we are devoid of true majesty in this world.</div>
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Our postmodern life has been stripped of anything resembling glory, anything that we would still view as truly awe-inspiring.</div>
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There are still kings. There are still princes, emperors. But they are seen as figure-heads, tourist bait, drains on precious revenue that could be used better elsewhere by our debt-laden government budgets.</div>
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There are actresses and actors whom, if we saw them on the street, we might start screaming at and wildly snapping photos of - like overexcited children at the zoo would towards some exotic animal.</div>
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There are impressive monuments, respected world leaders, breathtaking pieces of art or music captured by some genius on paper.</div>
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But there is scarce little <b>majesty</b> left in this world.</div>
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The closest we come is through what can be found in nature. Niagara Falls. The Grand Canyon. The Northern Lights. The sight of Mount Fuji, snow-capped and framed across the lake by light pink blossoms at the height of their season. A sunset so glorious we stop, whatever we're doing, wherever we are, and just stare, until it sinks below the purple-rimmed clouds and is lost in a flurry of dark gold. A storm cloud so vast we are dumbstruck at its size, glued to our screens in awe-ridden terror as we watch its descent. </div>
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But we don't - most of us - fall down in speechless wonder and worship when we behold these sights.</div>
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Maybe this is why, in our individualistic, equality-seeking modern world of the self-made man, we find it difficult to approach God as King. </div>
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To find gravity in the meaning of our prayers when we address Him as Lord.</div>
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To understand the weight of glory possessed by the One to whom we are speaking. To understand the radiant majesty of Yahweh, whom we now call so often by His Name, one which ancient people dared not even write fully on paper.</div>
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For we have been given access behind the curtain, been invited into the innermost chamber. We have been adopted as sons. And this is beautiful. But in and amongst all this privilege and grace, maybe we have lost sight of God's awe-inspiring glory. His wonder. His fierce beauty. His utter perfection.</div>
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It is hard to see his Majesty when, I can't help but think, we're not even sure what that word means anymore.</div>
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-4234736050341032442015-02-13T00:31:00.001+09:002015-09-05T21:36:19.945+09:00Beginnings.<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It has been two weeks since I landed in Japan for the second time in my life.</span><br />
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I'll be honest, that morning while I was packing last minute things and then whiling away time at the airport, I didn't feel very excited. Even on the planes, in Heathrow airport, I didn't <i>feel </i>anything. I was just going through the motions and getting things done for a plan that had been in place for months.</div>
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A lot of it probably came down to the fact that I was nervous about coming back to Japan. I had such a good time on my year abroad, living student life in Tokyo, spending all my free time in cafés and going out with friends nearly every day. I had such a good time that, when I went back to Scotland, I started painting a beautifully rose-coloured image of Japan in my head. An image of the country that I wanted to go back to. So, as I prepared to leave this time, I was afraid I would come back and everything would be disappointing. It wouldn't meet my expectations, would be different from the mental image I had created. I started becoming anxious about culture shock, something I didn't experience the last time. I'll be honest, I started having moments where I wondered if it would all just be easier if I stayed in Scotland.</div>
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So, all that combined, I didn't feel very excited as I made my way across seas and continents over the 11.5 hour plane journey from London Heathrow to Tokyo Haneda Airport.</div>
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Until Japan came in sight. Until I saw the checkerboard outline of fields and forests and mountains, far down below, from the plane window. That's when the huge grin started creeping over my face.</div>
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Waiting for baggage, going through Customs, trying to send baggage and get to a hotel room that night while being very, very tired lessened that feeling a little bit. The next day, a day of waiting around and buses as we were all herded together to get to our training centre, I didn't feel much either. </div>
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But the next day, as I walked outside into sunny, winter Japan, admiring the houses of which no two are remotely alike...</div>
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As I walked into the nearby supermarket, part of a chain which I frequented during my year abroad, and was able to hand over my long unused point card at the till...</div>
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As I navigated the Tokyo subway system once again and stepped into Kichijouji to meet Moriah, browsing through the LOFT department store, eating delicious ramen at a cosy shop with friendly staff, taking <i>purikura</i> and laughing over how ridiculous yet cute we looked in them...</div>
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The feeling started. The feeling of <b>home</b>.</div>
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It's different than what I expected. It's a quiet feeling. It's a feeling of everything around me feeling completely normal, almost as if I never left for a day, yet at the same time, having moments of deep exhilaration as it hits me in some profound way that I'm once again in Japan.</div>
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I moved into my apartment today, finally, after two weeks of work training. I went outside into my balcony, smelled the air which forboded rain was on the way, and just gazed out at my city. And I put into cohesive thought the thing I've come to realise over the last couple weeks:</div>
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It isn't about the feeling. Feelings come and go. You're elated one day and despairing the next. You're 100% confident today, and tomorrow you have no idea why you considered this crazy idea in the first place. It isn't about feelings - because they're changeable, transient.</div>
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It's about knowing your purpose, knowing your mission, and living it out. It's about every day reminding yourself of the deeper reasons. Especially on the days where you feel like you've made one huge mistake: you remind your soul that this is right. And it's not about the feelings.</div>
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But the good thing is, as you live it out whether you feel it or not, the feelings start to come too. Quietly. Not as something you're seeking, not as a high you're chasing after, but almost as an afterthought. A bonus.</div>
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And when you realise that feelings don't dictate reality, freedom comes. And allows a grin to start spreading over your face.</div>
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<i>'The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps.' (Proverbs 16:9)</i></div>
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Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-9772949921685867482015-01-22T06:57:00.001+09:002015-01-22T07:25:04.644+09:00When Life Throws Curveballs<div>
Even a little one. Like being told by your company that you have to stay in a hotel near the airport the first night you arrive, and watching your plans of staying at your pastor's apartment, surrounded by places you're familiar with and people you love, go flying out the window.</div>
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Realising that your first night in the country to which you're dedicating the next season of your life won't be spent in the beautiful company of people you've missed for months. That you won't get to go to a restaurant nearby, a favourite haunt of days past, and smile happily through jet-lagged weariness. That instead, you'll be going to bed in a strange hotel room, waking up in the same, getting meals by yourself, and not getting to see some of these dear friends for another week.</div>
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Your realise this and get swept up, startlingly, in waves of anger and frustration and disappointment. As you watch all your planning from the last month be laid waste.</div>
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And you start formulating in your head the most curt, abrupt, teeming-with-hidden-resentment reply that you can think of to answer the email that brought you the above requirements.</div>
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And then your heart sinks, because you remember that you've just told them you were going to be staying with your pastor. They know now that you go to church. They know you're a Christian, in some way shape or form. And your response will be viewed in light of this.</div>
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And you swallow as all your ideas of bitter words and snarky responses melt into the floor.</div>
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You have to reply in a way that mirrors the character of the King you serve. You have to reply with love and grace and understanding. You have to choose words of kindness, when you want to choose words of hate.</div>
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And as you smother your pride, you begin to realise that you don't know the situations that have led to instructions like these being enforced. You don't know the hopes they've placed on people who have suddenly, for no reason whatsoever, not shown up. You don't know the effort to which they've gone to bring people to Japan, only to then have them not arrive when and where they're supposed to. You don't know the hours they've waited, anxiously, glancing at their watch, while time ticks by and someone is late, all because they thought they could manage themselves and the company let them, only to find that they've become lost in the maze that is Tokyo.</div>
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You don't know the hopes dashed, the stress caused, the anger directed towards employees because it was assigned as their responsibility to make sure these teachers arrived safely for training, and through no fault of their own, some of said teachers have now disappeared into thin air.</div>
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A hundred arguments spring to mind about how each of these isn't the case for me. A hundred reasons why I would be an exception, and they should realise it as such. But precedent creates practice, and why should they expect you to be different?</div>
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So you pick up your pen (or electronic device), and lovingly reply that you will work it out as they have asked.</div>
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Choose the hills that are worth dying on.<br />
Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-50554220332015759232014-12-20T08:17:00.001+09:002014-12-20T08:17:42.586+09:00就職完成 - The Valley's End<div>I suppose I should make the news official.
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<div>In October, I had an interview with AEON, an English teaching company in Japan. They offered me a job. I accepted. Not only that, but the school they found for me is in an area of Tokyo called Shimokitazawa, apparently a very hipster area only a short distance from the centre. And I'm moving there on the 8th of February to start work as an English teacher.</div>
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<div>Our God is so faithful.</div>
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<div>As the days go by and I think back to all the afternoons I was sitting at the table in my parents' kitchen, praying for a job in Japan, feeling like it would be years before I could go back, wallowing in the depths of despair at my intense longing to return to the people there... I smile. It feels like standing on top of the mountain, turning back, and surveying the valley below that you have just come from. Looking at the dark places and the close trees in murky forests, but from here, being able to see the sunlight glistening green on the ceiling of leaves below. Being able to look back at the rocks you've climbed, the winds in the path you've taken, and smiling because you almost can't believe that you've finally reached the top.</div>
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<div>There will be trials and challenges in Japan as well. Many, I'm sure. Moving across the sea to another country and taking up employment there is not a feat undertaken likely. But from here, being able to look out at the vista of mountains and the sun shimmering behind the clouds in radiant colours of pink and gold...</div>
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<div>It is beautiful. And it is with thankfulness, eagerness and anticipation that I prepare for my last 7 weeks here.</div>Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5719589196958655001.post-63686289505241952112014-10-14T05:57:00.001+09:002014-10-14T05:57:49.486+09:00On Luke 12:22-31What if, instead of worrying about the future, we were just excited to see how God was going to work everything out?<div><br></div><div>What if, instead of worrying about how He was going to provide for us, we reminded ourselves that we are His <i>children</i> and he loves us and fathers give <i>good</i> gifts to their children, and rested on that knowledge?</div><div><br></div><div>What if we literally couldn't <i>wait</i> for things to get crazy and impossible and ridiculous, because then God would come through and get every single ounce of glory for it?</div><div><br></div><div>What if we approached our stressful, uncertainty-laden lives with that mentality and just stopped <i>worrying</i> about everything?</div><div><br></div><div>Just some food for thought.</div><div><br></div><div><i>'The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.' (Philippians 4:5-7)</i></div>Julia G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14197102830414008921noreply@blogger.com0