I am an MK (missionary kid) and mother of two grown children. Altho' my husband is Japanese (from Koriyama), and we speak Japanese at home, my education (elementary-university) has been in English, so most of my reading and writing is in English too. Last year, we moved to Okinawa and now live in the house my Dad built. I was born in Okinawa--it's been a long time, but I've come home...at last. 2025 August posts are publications put out by wildlife of a Saitama park in 2019.

Archive

September 14, 2010

Grampa Never Graduated?

Just to keep you interested and praying as the book takes form, here are some excerpts from the first few chapters (astericks are for terms to be explained in the glossary.) Remember, it's my Dad narrating the story.

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You could call him a draft dodger. To avoid being drafted into the Japanese imperial army, my father, Kamasuke, left Okinawa just before graduating from high school in 1907.
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But WWII began in 1939, and the 1941 Pearl Harbor attack resulted in Japanese Canadians being seen as "enemy aliens". All Japanese students were told they could continue college studies only until the end of the year. Then the War-Time Measures Act* enforced the mass exodus of all Japanese on the coast. The Oshiro family could: evacuate to internment camps in interior British Columbia, cross the Rockies to the sugarbeet farms of Alberta, or move clear across the country to the eastern provinces of Canada.
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Roy Riding Water Buffalo in Okinawa
Mrs. Wakelin made her presence in the room known by correcting us with a clear declaration: "To the child of God, there is no such thing as 'too bad'." She went on to explain how God makes all things in our lives work together for the best possible. No God could be more loving, more wise, or more powerful than our God. Therefore nothing, she insisted, could be called "too bad" for those of us who belong to Him.
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I had been a university student, a worker on the sugarbeet farm, a student once again in teacher's training, a teacher, a Bible School student, and had now become a missionary. For most of that time, I had thought I was beating out a path for myself; but God had been navigating my way, directing the currents that flowed in my life.
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pic: You've seen this picture before, lined up with other photos at the entryway of Dad's home in Okinawa (Aug. 31, 2010 post, "macaroni & cheese").
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There was one person I had been praying about, a Nisei* missionary from Hawaii (whose ancestry was from Okinawa), who had just returned to Japan for her second term* of missionary service.

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That leads to the story of the Forbidden City Rendezvous, but that will have to wait until another post, when I finish writing the drafts for the next four chapters.