Today our agent was kind enough to take us to meet our neighbors. She translated for us an introduction to who we were and where we were living. While getting ready I put on a long sleeved shirt and a band aid over my tattoo on my wrist. Japan is a country that has a stigma against tattoos, and while it's not uncommon to see a foreigner with one, I wanted to respect their tradition and culture. I'm not ashamed of my tattoo, but I am respectful and try to be as mannerly as possible. Americans are not always welcomed here, and not everyone agrees the U.S. should be on their soil. After I arrived here a Marine was convicted for the rape and murder of a 20 year old woman in Okinawa. My husband and I discussed this at length, I said to him "isn't it a shame that the majority have to suffer because of the minority?" Obviously most Americans and soldiers do not act disrespectfully. But who will you notice on the streets? The quiet people who did as they should, or the loud obnoxious drunk ones?
My husband's response was perfect, "We just have to show them that we're not all like that." And thus, we try extra hard to insert friendliness and respect wherever we go in the country. We are ambassadors here and we choose to represent that part of our country that is often muted. The ones who aren't full of themselves, loud about their opinions, and often times very very wrong about their entire way of life.
I could go on for days about my dislike for the ignorant country the United States has become, but that's neither here nor there. Back to my tattoo...
My 4-year old could not understand why I was covering it. Why would someone be judgmental of this simple thing on my wrist? He said to me, "but mommy I don't want anyone to be mad at you because of your tattoo." I never said the people would be mad, but that's what he took away from my explanation of them not liking tattoos very much.
I found myself struck with that moment of, "if only people could look at the world the way a child does". Children are raised from the beginning to be loving, kind, sharing, accepting, etc. Where do we go wrong? Where do we suddenly decide we are better than someone else? When do we stop the love?
I often joke that I am the hippie of my family and everyone hates when I go on my rants, but it led me to a discussion about church, the Lord, and raising our son with my husband. I feel as though I was put on this Earth, not to judge, but to be a representation of Christ's love in my life. I have felt led to the places I am in now. I know He has loved and blessed me repeatedly. I hope to be an example of Him. I want people to know me and think "she was so kind" and if the fact that I was Christian comes in to play, I'm glad. I don't hide it, because the Lord is the reason I am here today. Not only because of the breath I have been given, but because of the low points I have reached and how He has called me out of the darkness so many times over.
I am not perfect. I do not always have a kind tongue or warm heart. Especially around those I am comfortable with, who know I can be stubborn and down right mean. Those are not characteristics I enjoy about myself. I constantly aim to change my behavior. I want to encourage others, not show them my nasty side.
My neighbors are lovely, and because of the neighborhood I am in, there are multiple family members in each home. I was greeted by the grandparents of both houses today and they were both the kindest, sweetest people. Knowing next to know English, I have little doubt they wouldn't help me if I needed it somehow.
If everyone acted like this, showed the love and stopped passing so much harsh judgement on each other, what would the world be like?
It takes no effort at all to be nasty, so why does it take effort to be nice?
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