I Go to Flahiff!

Thursday, I set out on my walk.  Ken was already home from his.  I usually only walk for about a half hour.  I told him I would be back in a few minutes.  I determined to walk to the church and back- that should take about ½ hour.  I made it fine to the church, but then I made a bad mistake.  I remembered Ken saying that if you went down that road, it was a shortcut home.  I was cold so I thought a shortcut sounded like a great idea.  So I set off merrily down the road.  The road was much longer than I remembered, but I just kept walking and walking.  I could see a highway way out in the distance, and I felt sure that was the highway near our home.  I finally got to the highway, but didn’t recognize anything.  I went left, thinking I would come to the drug store near our home.  No drugstore.  So I went right and walked and walked.  No drug store.  I realized I was lost.  Ken had told me if I ever get lost, to ask someone where McDonald’s is because it is near our home and I can find my way from there.  So I stopped a grandma and asked her, “McDonalds?”  She rattled off some Japanese and smiled.  I smiled back, bowed, and thanked her in Japanese.  Great advice, dear.  That didn’t work.  I was getting kind of scared.  No, I was getting really scared.  I had memorized the two buildings I came between to get on the highway, so I thought, I’ll just have to go back and walk the long way back to the church.  By now, I was so cold.  I only had leggings on my legs and they were freezing.  I had an umbrella with me, and Tsuruoka’s weather changes in an instant from rain to sun to sleet to snow to clouds.  And oh how the wind does blow!   The umbrella protected me when needed.   I was praying hard.  Then I remembered a funny story my dad (who was a doctor) used to tell.  One day, one of his older patients pulled out of his breast pocket a hand-scribbled note that he said he always kept there.  He opened it and my dad read, “I go to Flahiff.”  There were two funeral homes in Caldwell: Dakin and Flahiff.  My dad just laughed and laughed about that.  I guess the man thought if he dropped dead on the street, it would be good to have a note telling people which mortuary to take him to.  It made me smile as I realized I didn’t even have my missionary name tag on.  No one would know where to take me when I dropped dead.  I could picture Japanese people standing over my dead, cold body trying to decide what to do with the lost American.  But I did correctly remember the barber shop (though they are on every corner, it seems) and the pink flower building and went back between them down that long road.  I was relieved as I would see familiar things as I walked, and, indeed, I did get to the church.  From there, it’s about a 20 minute walk home.  I was nearly frozen, but at least I knew where I was.  I envisioned Ken pacing the floor, or out looking for me.  I was sure he would have a hot bath and hot herbal tea ready for me when I got home.  The thought kept me trudging along.  When I approached our apartment, Ken was indeed outside.  “Oh, he’s worried sick,” I thought.  So I called out weakly to him, “Ken.”  He glanced up, then motioned me over to look at a crow he had been feeding.  WHAT?  Your wife is about to expire and you’re thinking about a crow????  He had hardly even missed me.  I couldn’t believe it.  So I made my own hot bath, and he humbly repented.  Later, he showed me on the map what I had done.  There are two roads that go from the church.  I had taken the wrong one that led me away from our apartment (it’s probably needless to say, but I was not blessed with a sense of direction.  I just have to memorize my way.  Sometimes it doesn’t work so well!)  It wasn’t our highway at all, but another one.  From now on: I wear two pair of pants and I always take my name tag, and I don’t take shortcuts.