Eight months

It's eight months tomorrow since the quake and tsunami struck. And bodies are still being found. Unfortunately, sometimes by family members instead of by government workers. The grief must be unimaginable, yet the closure of finding their loved one is important for their healing.

Iwaki, where I spent the summer, has seen its population increase by 20,000 people. Another 10,000 are expected. In the aftermath of the disaster, they're facing an unlikely problem: gambling and the unrest that comes with it. While the local tsunami victims already got their one-time payment from the government, the nuclear evacuees are receiving continual monthly payments for each member of the household. They have shopping money and gambling money, and a mentality that they're in a holding pattern (translation: spending pattern) until their towns are reopened. There's tension between the local tsunami victims and who they see as rich and lazy imports. Fights break out.

It's not all bad news. Scotch-tape granny will have her eyelid operation soon. A gentle friend is settled into her new apartment with her whole family living together again, and is studying the Bible with quite an appetite. Pastor Mori remains busy but his passion remains strong for long-term work in his changing city. Several of the most gung-ho volunteers I've ever met have outright moved to Iwaki. It's far from peachy, but hearts are mending and even thriving.

I'm on the bullet train heading to Morioka City. It's inland, and quite a drive from the coast. But that hasn't stopped Pastor Kondo from getting involved and staying involved with relief work in the area. I'm heading to his church to join other volunteers.

That's all I know for sure. Well, and that the need is huge along the coast. My task is simple: love the person in front of me. And watch for signs that Life is still winning, despite the fatigue and the length of time that has passed.

Glad you're along.