"I hope your country feels better soon..."

This morning, after we finally had word that our best friends in Japan were as okay as anyone in Japan can be right now, I asked the kids to make some cards to send to their friends, Taiki and Keita, and Ayumu and Fuuka.  I think *I* wanted to do something to help the people of Japan, and not knowing what else to do at this point, I thought at least our friends might enjoy getting mail (when the mail systems are back in place, I suppose).

So the kids got to work, and Katie drew a picture of a Pokemon character for Ayumu, who just turned six and lived around the corner from us in Sapporo. Then she dictated to me what she wanted to say:

"Dear Ayumu, I hope your country feels better soon. Love, Katie"

Oh Katie, I thought. I hope so too.

I heard about the quake late Thursday night, when my cousin Mary, whose husband is in the Air Force and who lives south of Tokyo with their four awesome kids, wrote about the quake on Facebook. That's Japan for you, I thought. And I was sure they'd all be OK.

The next morning, we woke up to pictures of skyscrapers swaying like flowers in a field. And I still wasn't worried... if anything, I was in awe of Japan's strict building regulations and feeling grateful that there wasn't more damage... those skyscrapers stood, after all. How bad could it be? I wrote our Sapporo friends anyway, just to see if they felt the quake, but still... I wasn't worried.

Then we heard about the tsunami... and how far-reaching the quake was... and how much destruction the water brought with it. And then I started to worry. Sendai, where so much of the damage seemed to be, is in northeast Japan. Sapporo, where we lived in 2008, is in northwest Japan. Could the damage have extended to Sapporo? Were any of our friends traveling on the mainland? How did our lovely city fair? And more importantly, were our friends OK?

We heard from Hiromi first. She is the friend who lived around the corner from us, who took me to the grocery store and showed me the "good" spinach and debated at length with the rice salesman about which kind of rice would be best for our family, who answered questions about everything from school supplies to head wounds to how Katie and Livie could respond to classmates who took their toys without resorting to spitting. While we were there, she gave birth to her sweet little girl, Fuuka, and so we got to learn about all the wonderful traditions and rituals that surround the welcoming of a new baby.

She sent one short email on Friday saying simply "We are OK!". Later, she wrote:  "In Sapporo, there was fortunately no damage. However, damage is cruel in other places."

I was still waiting to hear from Tomoko, though, the friend I met at the kids' school. She kept me posted on all important school events, came over for a breakfast of French toast and maple syrup, had us for an incredible dinner at her house, and, like Hiromi, made our time in Japan so much more memorable and meaningful. When she didn't reply the second day, I started to worry. Her husband used to work in Sendai -- had he gone back to work there? Worry, worry, worry. And then yesterday afternoon, I had a wonderful email from her. She, too, wrote that they were okay and that Sapporo was on solid ground... but that north Japan, on the Pacific side, was a tragedy.

Her husband was trying to get in touch with friends in Sendai but had not been able to make contact. People are worrying about the nuclear power plants. And although much help is needed in northeast Japan (everything from diapers to water to blankets and food, she said), the systems for distributing aid aren't set up fully yet. 

We feel so helpless. And so worried.

Having lived in Japan definitely makes this natural (and, given the state of the nuclear power plants, possible man-made) disaster more real for all of us. And more worrisome. The faces of the victims could be friends of our friends, their cousins or college roommates or former coworkers. Their losses are now our losses too. I suppose some would say that this is a kind of benefit of the travel we have done... the ability to see that the joys and sorrows of people around the world are our joys and sorrows, too.


It is definitely more meaningful to our kids. We talked about the earthquake in Haiti last year, and the one recently in New Zealand. But I don't think they understood the real idea of the losses people are facing until we talked about how much we were hoping to have an email from Hiromi and Tomoko, about how real kids, their friends and second cousins, felt the ground shake. I suppose that is a good lesson, too, in its own way.


But the feeling of helplessness persists. Although Katie has the right idea, it doesn't seem like enough to say "I hope your country feels better soon" (although those thoughts certainly don't hurt). I have asked Hiromi and Tomoko to let me know if they hear of organizations that need help -- if there is anything to be done from here to help our friends over there.


In the meantime, we've spent a lot of hours these last days thinking about, talking about, and remembering our wonderful Sapporo experience. What a wonderful country. What wonderful people. And what heartbreaking disaster they (and we... because it is a small world) are facing now.