I Have No Words.

I Have No Words.

Today, is March 15, 2011.  I have no words.  David has been taking hourly readings throughout the day and first thing in the morning when we wake up.  They are normal.  Normal...to who? It has been four days since the 9.0 magnitude earthquake hit, along with an historical tsunami that has wiped out a minimum of 10,000 people in one town alone -  Sendei is gone.  Normal, it is not.  Oliver, my dog, keeps me busy and it's because of him that I know things are not normal.  Our daily walk along the river are now silent. Gone are the daily walkers; I don't know who they are or where they live, but  I miss them.  Gone are my new friends with their dogs. The ones who try to speak English to me as we let our dogs sniff and play. I wonder how they are.  Gone are the multiple birds along the river bank, did they leave?  Perhaps they've taking their cue by the absence of people.  This is not normal.

Normal.  I feel safe.  I am not alarmed.   I Skype my mother, my sister, my father regularly, my Facebook page is filled with concerns.  All is well in my household, we are safe.  Normal.  I have faith in the Lord, he will provide, reassure and comfort where man cannot.  I have faith that our military leadership will provide accurate information and care for us if the time comes.  Japan is in a very calm panic, If I may describe it that way.  The store shelves are bare of everyday items - rice, milk, bread, tofu.  There is no gas.  Our neighborhood driveways are lined with cars that no longer move, their owners are being frugal with what's left in the tank.  People are now riding their bikes to work or walking.  The majority of vehicles on the road now are commercial - delivery trucks, semi's, construction, etc.  I drove to base today to do my normal grocery shopping and I felt guilty.  Guilty, because I could drive, there's plenty of gas on base.  Guilty, because I could buy food, the shelves are well-stocked.  I purchased a 20lb bag of rice, just in case.  Just in case we starve? No, just in case we had to leave...I could provide something for my new friends Junko-San and her family and Fumiko-san, our shop keeper.  They have brought joy and laughter into this foreigners life and have made me feel more welcome here than I could have ever imagined.  I hope I do not have to say, "Sayonara".

My heart is overwhelmed by the multiple well wishes, thoughts and prayers;  more so, for the people of Japan.  I can only imagine what they think, or can I?  This natural disaster has affected their town, prefecture - their nation.  Even though we sit SAFE some 200 miles away, I've not seen a soul, they must be inside grieving. Grieving for the loss of their loved ones, the unexpected, for what might have been.  Or, perhaps they are being cautious for the "just-in-case" and are choosing to stay inside and conserve energy.  Twice, there was notice of a blackout. Twice it was cancelled.  The nation has done well conserving energy as their government, along with the United States and other nations assist in stopping a nuclear meltdown. We  were rewarded with the cancellation.  Tonight, there is a call for another one, perhaps that will be cancelled, too. 

David and I have no television or cable.  We obtain all our news from the internet, however, I've chosen to limit myself.  It's too much.  Too much grief, too much sensationalized journalism, it's just too much.  Every few hours a giant voice is speaking. It reminds of the exercises that I participated in with the Air Force, and on my deployment.  I wish I could understand Japanese...I hear Kudasai (please), arrigato (thank you), onagyshimas (I think that's "I repeat or I say again" - I've butchered the spelling, I know).  This is when I search the news for updated information.  This is when I am, again, confronted with what has happened.  I read the articles, I see the photos. I am overwhelmed with emotion -  I feel guilty, I have food.  I am safe.

I have no words.