Trust
There is a special serenity in entrusting your fate to the hands of others. I’m not particularly good at it. I do trust in God, but I’ve always had my big stick, too. I don’t like the loss of control when I step onto an airplane, the act of faith required to surrender my sovereignty to the man who checked that the bolts were tightened and there was enough fuel to get to our destination without falling from the sky. But I do it. And I make a hundred other decisions without thinking about it every day that require me to trust that others are protecting my best interests and all will be well.
I never doubted my husband had our best interests at heart when he floated the idea of come here. Not once. (He is laughing and disagreeing here, but knows that the secret to a good marriage is a selective memory.) It was daunting, but not impossible. We’ve done crazier things. He is really good at seeing the big picture; I’m better at minutia. He can see the way to capture the kingdom; I make sure we have nails for the horses’ shoes. We trust each other to cover our backs, to stand in accord, to bolster flagging sprits in times of stress. To not gnash teeth and pull hair when the other spouse’s hastily stashed a half full water bottle unknowingly put in the carry on luggage moments before going through a security screening results in stink eye from the TSA lady to the fully innocent party. That is true love, and faith, and trust.
We’ve been especially fortunate on this trip to work with people who have put their trust in us. I have no idea why Jin and Taji thought it was a great idea to spend the rest of their grant to bring John here (Ok, I do- because his work is awesome), or why all of them thought it perfectly reasonable to include not just me, but the kids as well. Honestly, what were they thinking? Not sure I will ever know, but I’ll do my best to prove to them it was a good idea. There are probably wheels within wheels, but I can only trust that it will be ok.
Yesterday was the most serene day of all. Shortly after the luggage arrived, so did Jin. He is man in his 50’s with the slightly distracted and impatient air of the professor who would rather be thinking Great Thoughts than dealing with you on the earthly plane. From the moment he met us at the exit to immigration, and shepherded us onto the train to Hamamatsu, we’ve been trying to keep up with him. He is kind, funny, and while his manner to the various officials we have encountered sometimes seems deferentially clueless, he gets what he wants with a smile. A good person to have at your side.
He caught up to us yesterday after returning from Toyko where he gave a lecture the evening after meeting us. We loaded all our baggage into two cars and came to the residence where we will live for the next few months. Small, stark, and smelling of dried fish, it will do, but it pretty much is what you would expect for $300 a month. Before we could even process it, we were whisked off in the car again, with no idea where we were going, except that we had to go now and we had to go quickly. I learned fast to identify Jin’s back in the crowd. The one smart thing I did was pack the baby carrier because Jim does not move at the pace of a three year old’s legs. So glad Jane still fits and my skill at whipping her into it hasn’t diminished. Jin talked his way into parking for free at a lot in the city center, then we chased after him until arriving at a big steel and glass building. There, we found we had to register the kids for school with the local Ministry of Education. No discussion, just do it.
For months, we had talked with the kids, their teachers and friends who had lived in Japan, and with Jin about whether or not to send them to school here. We thought we had decided that the time would be too short and with the internet, we could keep up well enough with the school back home. It didn’t seem too sensible to ask them to sit through an 8 hour day that would be largely incomprehensible. Apparently, though, that is not the Japanese Way. There is no tradition of homeschooling, you send them to school, public or private and that is that. Will and Katy trusted us to make a good decision for them and here we were, blowing it on day one. Luckily, they trusted us enough not to lose it in the government office. And of course, smiling, Jin kept talking long enough to get the officials to admit that it was a short time, and we would not need to formally register after all. Indeed we couldn’t since we hadn’t registered with the prefecture as resident aliens yet. Well, it was decided, just register as aliens, then go to the local school and see what they want to do, it will be fine.
On to the next government office, where I signed on the line, smiling with no idea what I was doing. A quick lunch (rice ball with spicy fish eggs or cold udon? Tough decisions), then off to the school. Our kids were fairly shell shocked and we had a fiercely whispered conversation in the back seat about the necessity of following local laws and how It Will All Be OK, then on to the school. And, it was nice. The teachers were pleasant and Katy’s exuded that warmth you want to see in a grade school teacher. Pride kicked in the kids were now indignant that they would have to each go a grade lower than at home due to different birthday cut offs. After talking with the teachers and principal, it was determined that our kids will be with the class for art and music and PE but can bring their own work for the rest of the time. They are not allowed in general to bring electronics to school, but will make an exception for the Kindle so Will can read his assigned books. They decide that the Japanese school day would be too long for Will, so he can go home when Katy’s class gets out at 2:50. Will has enough sense not to be indignant at this. I am secretly thinking this will be a great solution. The kids will be occupied all day, Katy at least will make friends, and Will will have the structure he needs to get his work done in a timely fashion.
We are now whisked on to a series of banks where we can’t open accounts (some paperwork is missing?) and to a dollar store which Jin just wanted to show us, but where he doesn’t actually want us to buy anything. I didn’t even have time to figure out what, other than beds, we had in our apartment (answer: washing machine, rice cooker, microwave, stove top, no pots, pans, plates, or cutlery). Finally, Jin takes pity on the kids (or realizes he doesn’t need me anymore and that he can cover more ground with just John), and drops us back at the apartment. We trusted Jin to navigate to legalities of schools, government, bank accounts, how to get internet access, and deal with the land lord and have been well repaid. I’m so serene I could fall asleep. But not yet.
Knowing that the kids are fading fast, I propose a walk to the nearby grocery store. We can see it, but getting to it is more of a problem. Once there, we find your average, bright, clean grocery, just like back home. We pick out some necessities (ice cream: no; cleaning supplies and TP: yes!) and head for the checkout line. All is well until I realize that I have no bag to carry it all home. Didn’t realize I needed to buy one, but I see some cloth bags hanging near the service counter. My cluelessness apparent, a really nice lady helps interpret and finding that the bag I want can only be bought with points you earn from shopping, she uses her store card and gets one for me. She tries to help me get my own magic yellow card, but my naivety extends to not even knowing my address. Bless the person who takes pity on the less fortunate stranger. She mediates and tells me to bring it next time and they will help me at the counter. She writes down her name and number if I need help again. Saved by trusting a stranger.
We come home, unpack, figure out that the mysterious huge cardboard boxes Jim brought are futons for the kid’s bunk bed and a random assortment of sheets and blankets. As I am assessing this and putting up the curtains, John comes back looking stunned and exhausted. He has no idea what just happened, except that since we are missing a document from our IRS, we can’t yet get paid. Jin has loaned us enough money to get by until it comes. Jane fell asleep after the shopping trip and we now get an hour and a half of sobbing when we try to wake and feed her. We all crash by 7:30 pm, trusting that we have a place to live, a way to get food, and a plan for the coming weeks.
The quickest way to get over fear of flying is to fly with your children. They trust you completely and you have to live up to that. Your own fear isn’t relevant anymore. When you come to a foreign country, you become the child and trust that those around you will keep you safe. It is an innocence that most of us don’t feel in our everyday lives anymore- we have seen too much. But, the peace from putting your life in other’s hands is refreshing. And right now, that trust is all we have.
