Whenever one of us spotted a stamping table, we rushed
over and opened our books to the right page.
Each station had a stamp with a different picture and the name of the
station on it. After stamping our
booklets, we traced our way back to the platform to catch the next train.
One of the stations was larger than the others, and we had to go around several curves before we found the stamp table. Pound. . . Pound . . . Pound. A picture of a train and conductor appeared beside the name “Hakuraku.”
Nadia, Stephen, and I wound our way back to the
platform. We were alarmed when we found no mothers, and no train in
sight!
Stephen was all for running off and searching for them. Since I was older than the other
two, I had to make them stop and think.
I grabbed Stephen by the arm and said, “No, we ought to stay right
here. When kids get lost, their moms are
supposed to come looking for them, not the other way around!”
I looked to Nadia for support, and she nodded
solemnly. “Sharon Rose is right, Stephen. We need to stay here where we saw them
last.”
“Let’s go right over here and sit down,” I continued, “and pray about it.”
So
the three of us sat on a dirty white bench, bowed our heads, and I prayed. “Dear Lord, please help our
moms to find us, and don’t let us be lost here.
Please send someone to help us.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Our answer came quickly. As two construction workers sauntered past,
an idea flashed into my head.
I turned by instinct to Nadia, whom I knew to be the best at speaking and understanding Japanese.
“Of course!” I cried. “All Japanese public places have
loudspeakers! Go tell those men about
what happened and then somebody can announce on the loudspeaker where we
are! Our moms are sure to hear it.”
Nadia immediately recognized this as a workable
plan. She took off after the men,
calling “Sumimasen!” [“Excuse me!]” Stephen and I stayed glued to our seats and
watched her jabber away. The two grubby
men grew concerned. After a short time, Nadia came back over and
said, “I’m going to the office with
them. We’ll come back soon. I think they can help us.”
With that, she marched off, and Stephen and I were left
sitting forlornly in the middle of nowhere — and yet really the middle of
everywhere, with building upon building and swarms of people just outside the
train station.
I began to sing a Patch the Pirate song — to keep Stephen
from worrying, so I thought. Actually, Stephen
is not the type to be worried by anything.
He knows how to keep his chin up.
But the singing kept me from worrying and kept Stephen from becoming
bored.
“Make me a servant, loving servant of all. There’s no greater mission. There’s no higher call. Make me servant of all.”
“Make me a witness like you, dear Lord. Sharing the Word, till all have heard,
serving, whatever the cost. Help me draw
so close to you, that your love comes shining through. Give me, Lord, a servant’s heart.”
As my voice died away on the last note, Stephen looked up
at me. I could see the
admiration in his face. “You know a lot of Patch the Pirate songs.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
I had never thought about it much. I’d been listening to Patch the Pirate
tapes for as long as I could remember.
When my parents and I used to drive all over America,
visiting churches, every car ride included a sing-along-with-Patch
marathon. Truly, I had been blessed.
Although I was vaguely conscious of these
thoughts, my main concern was to stare at the corner around which Nadia had
disappeared not long ago — not so long
ago, but ages and ages ago. Suddenly,
the two green-clad workmen appeared again.
I craned my neck and peered at the sad empty space beyond
them.
They came over and talked to Stephen and me. We soon understood by the men’s carefully
chosen words that we were to stay put and someone would come to ud.
I nodded, and Stephen grunted his
agreement. “Nn. Nn. Wakatta.
[Uh-huh. I gotcha.]”
I said, in a more polite style, “Hai. Wakarimashita. [Yes, we understand.]” I tried to make my eyes look as though, in my mind, I had translated every word they said into
English. Of course, this was not really
the case. However, I wanted to
alleviate the men’s fear for our safety.
We probably looked like poor little lost foreigners — gaijin — to them.
When the men decided we knew enough not to wander around,
they went slowly down the stairs, talking to each other — about the lost kids, I supposed. Those were the stairs we three kids had cheerfully run down to find the stamps some minutes earlier, and
had come back up bewildered and forsaken.
Continuing to chat with Stephen, I discovered
that I wasn’t really worried at all. I
had faith in God’s help in trouble, our moms’ love for us, Nadia’s ability
in Japanese, and the kindness of the Japanese people.
Well, it wasn’t much longer until Nadia skipped around
the corner with her mom in tow. I was so relieved, but I asked, “Where’s my mom?”
I didn’t know if Nadia and Stephen's mother could tell I was
disappointed, but she quickly explained.
“Your mom is waiting at the next station. We’ll go as soon as the next train comes.”
When we entered the pale yellow train, we were again
surrounded by uninterested Japanese people.
When we wanted to know why we got left at the station, the answer was: “I thought you were on the other train! We saw some people with blond hair get on a
couple of cars down, and I thought you had gotten on without telling us.”
“We weren’t likely to do that,” I thought. Appalling as it was to be left behind, it would’ve been worse for us to hop on another train, and then find out that our mothers weren’t there with us!
Actually, before we were separated, we kids had been getting on the
next train car down, away from our mothers, to feel more independent — but after
being lost, we stayed close together for the rest of the journey.
Finally reaching the next stop, we stepped out, and
beautiful sight! There was Mama on a bench. Smiling, she
stood up, and I hugged her.
“So you made it back!
I was worried. What happened?”
she cried. And we told the
whole story over again.
The other kids' mom had her story to add. “I went to the office here, and told the
worker about you, but when I said a junior high-schooler was with you, he
laughed and said you would be fine! He
couldn’t figure out that this was a girl who didn’t ride the trains every
day. He was no help at all! I didn’t want to be a bad testimony, but I
was getting a little mad. So, I remembered
that I had told my kids if they ever got lost to stay put, and I rode back to
find you.”
“That’s what Sharon Rose and I said,” put in Nadia. “Stephen wanted to find you himself, at
first.”
“Well, I said moms were supposed to look for kids, and
not us look for them, so we sat still and prayed about it,” I
added. “I’m sure glad we’re all back
together again!”
WHAT TIME I AM AFRAID, I WILL TRUST IN THEE.
FOR THE SON OF MAN IS COME TO SEEK AND TO SAVE THAT WHICH WAS LOST.
