Only One First Term

I must have been emitting “I’m new here” vibes. With our 11-month-old in a carrier on my back and her 3-year-old brother in a stroller, I ventured forth from the chaos of unpacking after moving to pick up some essentials at the grocery store closest to our new home. Fresh out of language school, we were up to our eyeballs in Japanese community life and wondering what God had in store during this two-year ministry internship.

You know how it is when you’re learning a new supermarket layout, scanning and searching high and low for items on your list. You have to wander up and down every aisle, often more than once. Kids are not particularly patient with this process.

As I rounded a corner (perhaps for the second or third time), a middle-aged woman stopped me and asked how long I’d been in town and if I had any friends. “Just a few days and not many yet,” I responded.

“Good,” she said, “you can be friends with my daughter-in-law.” She proceeded to give me contact information, and just like that, I was looking forward to getting in touch with a potential new friend. I thanked her and continued with my shopping. As the kids and I finished at the register, I saw the woman again, and she motioned me to come over. She then handed me her phone, and I was suddenly chatting with her daughter-in-law and promising to text her later that evening!

Much is made of the challenges that first-term missionaries in Japan face: the language is hard, the culture is inscrutable, and the people are not interested in Christianity. But I’m discovering there are some real advantages to being a newcomer.

For example, perceived (or actual!) helplessness attracts helpful people. The woman I met at the supermarket pegged me right away for a lonely newbie in need of friends. Our new neighbors carefully explained the local garbage collection protocol to us. Members of our new church helped with sewing and other tasks to get supplies ready for our son to start kindergarten.

If I were in my second or third term, people might expect more of me. They might expect better language skills or a more nuanced understanding of nonverbal communication. They might expect me to know the ropes of Japanese school culture. But since I’m still (relatively) new, I am afforded grace upon grace.

As much as I want to demonstrate my own competence, I must admit that I really do need help. My situation requires humility and vulnerability. These character traits draw people not only to me, but also to our Savior, whose gentle humility drew people from all walks of life.

Another advantage is not necessarily limited to first-termers, but I’d wager many of us experience it. Our young children are attention magnets and provide instant connections to other moms. My children keep me from studying Japanese as much as I’d like, keep me from sleeping as long as I’d like, keep home from being as tidy I’d like. This is an exhausting season of life. But there’s no easier way to strike up a conversation with a stranger in public than to wheel up beside another stroller-pushing mom and compare the ages of our respective cooing cherubs.

Once our kids are all school-aged, I’ll probably have more free time and more sleep. But I will have lost the camaraderie of the league of bleary-eyed mothers of wee ones. These few precious years afford opportunities to establish long-term friendships unlike any time to come.

So, yes, having young children and being in our first term as missionaries in Japan is hard. So hard. I’m always tired and frequently frustrated by my still-developing Japanese skills. Most days, I have to choose whether to spend my time engaging with Japanese people or keeping the house from falling apart. I misunderstand both subtle social cues and explicit announcements and instructions. I look forward to the day when reading notes sent home from school requires less time in the Japanese-English dictionary and more time just checking the family calendar to avoid scheduling conflicts.

However, there is also a singular sweetness of these years that will ebb the longer we’re in Japan. Certainly the Lord will bring new joys as we continue to serve Him here, but I don’t want to miss the privileges of newness that we can experience for just a short while. Please remind me of this the next time I’m collapsed in a heap, worn out from spending all day communicating in Japanese and keeping my children clothed and fed. We get only one first term. 

“Mother” graphic designed by Aha-Soft from the thenounproject.com