Hello everyone,

Hair Salon names: ‘Pigtail’ ‘Moo Hair’

First I must mention that this date is one of those famous dates that will live in history, like September 11 or December 7. A date that won’t be forgotten. A date everyone in Japan can remember exactly what they were doing and where they were---or where they were not.

I was not in Rikuzentakata at the time of the earthquake and tsunami but I had a chance to go there with Cydne and see the devastation. We were humbled as we sorted through pieces of people’s lives. We realized how fragile life is and how quickly things can change.

The honorable Japanese people are picking up the pieces of their lives and they are continuing to move forward. Still much to do.

In the Japan Times the last few days, they have been doing articles every day about Japan’s recovery. They feature different places and people that are working to bring order to their world. A couple of days ago I read about a group of people in that same town Cydne and I were in. They have been planting a row of sakura (cherry) trees at the water line of the tsunami. They show where the water rose to. They said they are doing this as a warning so the people now and in generations to come, will know where the line of safety was for them.

I thought of how that is just like the prophets in the Bible and Book of Mormon. They saw things they never wanted their children and future generations to be unprepared for again. They received knowledge from the Lord to help and strengthen them. Is there any question? Of course the scriptures are true! That’s how we educate and love our posterity. How we’re protected by the Lord. Just as the people of Rikuzentakata are issuing a warning by planting trees, prophets have recorded their experiences to help us. Warning lines to keep us safe.

I wish I could be part of that tree planting project. I can’t travel to Sendai, there’s much to do here in Nagoya. What I can be part of, is this great missionary effort. To help people learn about the past, so we can improve our future. We can help them learn about principles that will make a difference and change their lives forever. I love the beautiful project of Rikuzentakata sakura trees. Some day I’ll travel there again and see this generation’s line of warning and safety.

We had the opportunity to attend Brother Masuda’s funeral last Thursday. Brother Masuda was the sweetest, kindest man. He’s amazing. He loves Bonsai trees and has some of the most beautiful specimens outside his home. They are stunning. He was the member in Yokkaichi that wanted to have a blessing by President Baird. Some of you may remember me writing about him before. He has good home teachers and a wonderful bishop but he wanted Scott to give him a blessing because he wanted his wife to hear the Mission President. He wanted him to help her. She’s not a member. He’s been a faithful member for almost 40 yrs. Sister Masuda was a little cool at that first meeting.

Brother Masuda had cancer and didn’t have much time to live. They had also lost a son when he was 7 years old. He knew he was dying and wanted so desperately to have his family sealed together.

Scott talked with them and then gave him a blessing. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. That sweet man got up and just clung to Scott and sobbed. His wife did the same to me. We have been sweet friends since that moment. His wife is taking the lessons but her biggest set back is smoking. I hate that crazy stuff. I saw what it did to my family. I ate breakfast every morning as far away from my father as I could so I wouldn’t smell like smoke at school---of course my effort were futile, I still smelled like I had hung out behind the gym with the kids that were usually in detention. I heard my father cough and choke hourly. It shortened his life. Well I could go on and on but I will get back to Brother Masuda.

When we arrived at the funeral home Sister Masuda came running over and flung her arms around both of us and started to cry. Japanese people don’t usually put their arms around you. That’s a gaijin (foreigner) thing.

I wanted to share a little about a Japanese funeral. This will be my usual ‘Cultural Tip of the Week’ for this letter: I’ve been to several funerals here. Some strictly Buddhist, some part-member families so it was Buddhist/Mormon. This one however, was strictly Japanese Mormon. I would expect that of Brother Masuda even if some of his family isn’t members. He is devout.

It is tradition to give the family a monetary donation. You use ‘used’ bills for funerals (unlike weddings where you always use ‘unused’ bills and it must always be an amount that cannot be divided equally, that’s bad luck). You put the money in a special sympathy card. It’s folded in a certain way and the ties on the outside of the card must always face up. The money faces to the back of the envelope. You write on the card in gray pen. The men wear black suits and black ties. The women wear all black with maybe a string of pearls. It would be very uncomfortable if you dressed differently. When you arrive at the funeral home there is a counter where people in uniform wearing white gloves take your donation then they give you a little booklet. I think you get different booklets depending on the amount of your donation. You then take it over to another counter and pick from the booklet the gift you would like to receive. We received two tins of delicious cookies, of course wrapped and presented beautifully because that’s how the Japanese do everything. They also give you another gift, a small towel, again wrapped beautifully.

The funeral home was full. So many people there---many members, but mostly his friends and family of the Buddhist religion. We sang LDS hymns. The prayers and talks were given my members with the exceptions of his son-in-law and grandson. The printed program even had a picture of the Salt Lake Temple’s spires and Angel Moroni.

The front of the room was incredible. The photos I’ve attached to this email don't do it justice. I took them after the services and they had taken out many of the flowers and turned off the overhead lights. When I first viewed it, it about took my breath away. It was like a field of flowers with valleys and hills. . Each row was a different variety of flowers. Usually all the flowers for a funeral are white but this time there were purples and yellows woven in.

When his wife met us in the foyer she asked Scott if he would speak. (That’s one thing I’ve learned here, always be prepared to talk whether your on the program or not. Many times we have not been formally asked, they just assume we know we will be speaking. For me who is not a gifted speaker and hyperventilates before every talk, it’s unnerving. We’ve had this happen frequently, including stake conference). Usually after the speakers conclude they have all the guests come up one at a time. Traditional Buddhist funeral goes something like this: You bow to the family, then you clap your hands, then bow to the deceased, then step to the table and take something (looks like salts or ashes) from one bowl with your fingers and put it in another bowl, then step back and bow again to the deceased, then clap again, then bow to the family again, then return to your seat. Whew, I’m not sure I got that right but you get the idea. I’m always nervous I’ll mess up. On one occasion one of our elders went to a funeral and put his fingers in the burning incents instead of the correct bowl and burned his himself. He quickly stuck his fingers in his month to cool. He got a panicked look on his face and asked his companion if he thought it might be the deceased ashes. Comedy of errors. It wasn’t his ashes because the body is there in a beautiful white casket. Everyone is cremated here. It’s a law. There isn’t enough land to bury people. The caskets have a lid that comes all the way off. In the top of the lid there is a little window that folds open where you can view the deceased face.

At Brother Masuda’s services instead of doing the incents ceremony, they gave everyone a white carnation. You still went up one by one and bowed to the family, stepped up to the table, then bowed to his casket and picture, and then you put the flower on a table, stepped back and bowed again to him and then turned and bowed to his family.

When that part was completed they did something I’ve never seen done. It was so beautiful. They brought the casket from in front of the flowers and turned it vertical. They removed the lid. Then they had everyone come up again, one by one. They had taken some of the flowers from the beautiful display and had them on trays. They gave us each another flower (lilies, carnations, Gerber daisies, etc) and one by one we put our flower in the casket with Brother Masuda. It was so beautiful and so touching. He looked like he was in his element. All his life he had worked around, grown, and loved flowers. And there he was in his temple whites, lying in a blanket of beautiful flowers. It made we cry—no, it made me sob.

I was so proud of the four missionaries that were there, Elders Horne, Gathier, Ellsworth and Arrington. They handled themselves so well; I know the Lord was pleased. Pleased with them. Pleased with Brother Masuda’s most amazing spirit and life. His grandson (non member) said in his talk that he knew his grandfather was there, he could feel him. I know he was right.

Love from the land of strength and recovery,

Sister Baird, Bonnie, mom or grandma