Grace Upon Grace

Grace Upon Grace

More Musings on... A Joyous Anticipation
by Grant Christensen March 25, 2019
	The dread would begin Saturday night while lying in my bed, the dread of having to say goodbye to my parents for another week. Sunday morning we’d awake to a hot breakfast of waffles or pancakes or scrambled eggs. We still had the buffer of Sunday school and church and Sunday dinner before we’d have to leave. After dinner was over, I’d pack my suitcase. I would then ride the three hours by train to Christian Academy in Japan, followed by five lonely nights in my bed, longing for home, longing to be home with my parents. When my brother, sister and I were younger my father would accompany us on the trip. On those occasions my father would say goodbye to me at the dormitory genkan. I would race back to my room to catch one last glimpse of him as he headed back to the train station. When my father served on the CAJ board, we would leave with him early Monday morning, driving by car from Maebashi City in Gunma Prefecture. Mamma would have fixed for us raspberry jam sandwiches on pasty white bread with lumps of cold butter to eat on the way; a lump would seemingly get stuck in my throat and stay with me throughout the day.
When school was out for the day, I’d run down to the main entrance of the school building. Just to the left of the door was the conference room where the CAJ board met. I would stand on tippy toes, peering over the top of the frosted glass trying to catch a glimpse of Daddy. Sometimes I would wait more than two hours for him to finish their meeting. When he came out, he seldom stayed for dinner because of a long commute home through heavy rush hour traffic. I’d walk with him to his car, giving him one last hug, and then watch his car drive away until I could no longer see. When Harry was old enough to take us on the trains by himself, Mamma and Daddy would take us to the train station in Shin-Maebashi. They would help us board the train and then stand outside our window until the train began to pull away. My father would then begin jogging alongside the window, running faster and faster until he had broken into a full run, then stopping suddenly at the end of the train platform. My sister and I would press our faces hard against the glass trying to see him for as long as we could. Daddy would always carry three pressed, white handkerchiefs on him, one for himself and one each for Eleanor and me. Before boarding the train, we’d ask him for a handkerchief. Stowing it safely in our pockets, we would later put it under our pillows ready for the coming nights. When the lights had been turned off, we’d pull out the handkerchief, holding it to our noses, finding comfort in the lingering scent of my father. The anticipation would begin Thursday night while lying in my bed, the anticipation of going home the next day! On Friday morning my anticipation would have to wait through breakfast, then build throughout the day—while dragging on like the ticking of the school clock—one moment eyes glancing to my homework and the next eyes riveted on the clock. Class dismissal seemed to take forever! After class was out, I’d race back to the dormitory, pack my suitcase, and then wait for Daddy’s arrival. When he came, I’d run into his strong arms, burying my face in his chest, once again breathing in his scent. We rode three trains back to Maebashi City, all along anticipating running into Mamma’s soft embrace—held for long moments on the train platform. She always fixed our favorite meals for us on Friday nights, hot dogs or cheeseburgers or homemade pizza made of pie dough, hamburger in spaghetti sauce, green peppers and onions, drizzled over with a thick layer of melted cheddar cheese. Over the weekend she’d treat us like royalty, fixing our favorite meals, playing games with us, catching up on our week at school. But then the dread would always come, beginning again on Saturday night.

This past January, after a series of scans, my family received the difficult news that I have been diagnosed with stage-4b prostate cancer. Having had a radical prostatectomy in October, we were reassured when my doctor told us that he had removed the entire tumor. However, unbeknownst to us, the cancer had already spread through biochemical transfer to a bone in my pelvis. I am responding well to the hormone blocking therapy and will start radiation treatments sometime in early May. Once again, I find myself in the tension, caught between the Saturday night dread and the Thursday night anticipation. The thought of having to say goodbye to my wife, Nancy, to my daughters, Sarah and Nicole, to my sister, Eleanor, and to my brother, Harry, along with the rest of my family is beyond words difficult; the thought of running home into arms long awaiting, looking into the kind and loving eyes of Jesus, falling into his embrace, and once again finding myself in the strong arms of my father and the soft embrace of my mother, makes me long for home, filling me with a joyous anticipation.
© 2022 by Grant Christensen. "Freely you have received, freely give." (Matthew 10:8b NIV) You are free to share—copy and redistribute in any medium or format—as long as you don't change the content and don't use commercially without permission of the author or author's family.