In the unsettled aftermath of all that has happened, I struggle to find words to express both the severity of what has happened, and how much my own heart breaks to see all the suffering which the Japanese are enduring. For the first 3-4 days, I nearly cried myself tearless and prayed myself wordless. Every time a Japanese face flashes across the screen, my heart heaves. And alliteration still fails me. I want so much to be there and to help out, to comfort them or weep with them, to do something. The details are still a bit up in the air, but I’m still planning on going. Of all the times there are, I want to go now.
I find myself caught in a paradox of both mourning and rejoicing. Before, Gaijin’s Dream meant the dream that I’ve always had, to be there, to be with the Japanese. It brought me great joy. And the recent disaster has left me with a new great sorrow. I may mourn that for a long while yet. But I refuse to give up my joy. I believe in a God who loves and brings joy and hope into the world. He wants to help them rebuild, to show them that tomorrow can be better than today. His heart breaks for Japanese, too; I know it does. And I’m not sure exactly how I would right now, but I want to go there and bring them that hope. I’ve been waiting my whole life not just to be with the Japanese, but to love them. This is Gaijin’s Dream, redefined.