Day 12 In Okinawa

I don't know if Japanese milk has changed, or if I somehow got used to it after not having had it in 14 years, but it is pretty acceptable.  It used to taste like it as produced in America (or some other far off place), set on a shelf until it expired, then put on a slow boat for Japan, finally arriving in the  refrigerated section of the local Sane for consumption by the poor locals who didn't know that milk isn't supposed to taste that bad.  At least, that was my theory as I was trying to reconcile my love for breakfast cereal and my disdain for Japanese milk.  (The milk lost, and the cereal got the bench for 2 years.)  But now, it's not so bad.  I'm not sure what happened to it, but no matter, I like it now.So, talking in Japanese church is a challenge when you really haven't spoken much Japanese since the beginning of President Clinton's second term.  But, going into it, I was feeling pretty good about things because I had spent almost two weeks in Okinawa speaking Japanese with Miwa's parents, Obaas on gateball fields, and teenagers working at Family Marts.  I figured I would be fairly well prepared for the task at hand if I just took the time to think through my topic (one which was not assigned to me; I had to come up with it), consider how I would say it, and go forth with faith.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the "Amen" of the talk  First, Miwa spoke before me on a principle that, while completely in concert with my topic, can seem a little contradictory at first glance without a lengthy explanation involving more linguistic capability than I had at my disposal.  I realized this as she was wrapping up her comments, and I began to flip through my scriptures for another topic for me to speak on.  I quickly came up with something, and concluded it in my mind just as she said "amen."

Now, normally, this is no problem.  I can get up with a few bullet points and shoot from the hip.  I've done it many times in front of audiences large and small, far and wide.  But in preparing my initial game plan, I had actually thought through how I was going to say what I wanted to say.  The grammar and the vocabulary.  Now, I had very little of that preparation available to me.  But, I got up and gave it a shot.

As I said "amen", I realized another important thing about speaking to an audience versus having a conversation with someone.  that is, in conversations, one rarely actually constructs complete sentences.  I've spent the last two weeks conversing with folks, cleverly hiding my poor Japanese skills by reserving my utterances for thoughts that can (and often were) finished by the other conversationalist.  But, giving a speak, shooting from the hip - that's another story. 

The one thing I did do that had one redeeming quality, I thought, was bore my testimony of what I knew.  There is a very basic grammar structure involved with doing this that has been burned into the minds of every missionary serving in Japan.  So when I sat down, I thought to myself, "at least they understood that."

The compliments after the meeting flowed like milk and honey in the land of milk and honey.  I had a hard time figuring out if they were just being Japanese (meaning, "polite") of if there was a bit of divine intervention.  My wife assured me that I did a good job, and that she wasn't being Japanese about it.

Which reminds me of something I have often noted throughout my life.  That is, despite my being a doofus, divine intervention is the cause and reason for most successes in my life, be it landing a hot wife, or giving a discernible talk in a Japanese church.

Waiting for the tsunami.

Shortly after the intervention, Miwa and I hit the road for Yagaji Island and Kouri Island up near Nakijin.  The weather was spectacular today, and the sparkling turquoise waters hovering over the coral reef promised to be...spectacular.  On our way up, we heard of the tsunami sent hurling our way from the 8.8 in Chile, and as we arrived at Yagaji Island, the cops were there to greet us and tell us not to go on the beaches because we'd all die.  Not really, but the prediction was a 3 meter tsunami wave, and that we had about an hour before it hit.

So, taking heed of the counsel, then quickly blowing it off, we went to a beach without cops, waded in the water, joined some other morons enjoying the great weather, water, and view for a few minutes before we left for higher ground (the Kosoku doro) as a means to get back to Nishihara.  It turns out that the wave was only 10 centimeters high, and arrived a couple hours later than the predicted time.