When the earthquake hit on March 11, I was at home alone working on an art assignment. I felt a little rumble and decided to go outside just in case the shaking got worse. That was definitely the right decision. The moment I stepped out the front door, the ground started to shake and shift so hard, I was forced into a kneeling position to keep my balance. I had a flashback of news reports from the earthquake in New Zealand the month before, in which a building collapsed on a group of Japanese exchange students. Since I was already in the right position, I felt it the perfect time to start praying. I have to admit, even though I was praying, I felt scared stiff at the time.

The first two weeks after the earthquake were weeks that tried my patience. The earthquake did not heavily affect Ayashi, the town we live in. Ayashi is far inland and hilly, so we were a safe distance from the tsunami. It was hard because I knew I lived relatively close to the tsunami-stricken area, but there was no way to get there. All forms of transportation, the trains, busses and subway, were shut down. There was no electricity so the gasoline stations couldn’t pump gas. It was agonizing to know that only people on the outside (from non-effected areas) with access to gas were able to go help.

My dad was the first of my family to get out to the disaster zone. Unfortunately, the team he went with had only one extra seat at first, which left no room for me in the van. This came as a big disappointment, but in the meantime I was able to find things to do to help out around the neighborhood and at church. The church became a hangout spot for kids and teens while school was canceled. I would say the average Japanese teen is usually not accustomed to hugs, but you could tell everyone was looking for the extra affection.

Each night my dad brought back photos and stories of where he had been, whom he had met, and what (horrific things) he had seen. I felt very restless, but he kept telling me, “You’ll get plenty of opportunities; remember, we’ll be in this for the long run.” This became part of my prayer. “Dear Jesus, please give me an opportunity to help soon. Please show me what I can do when the right time comes.”

Five year old Souta, showing off his toys and his tool kit. His home was damaged in the Tsunami. (photo by J. Bengtson)

On March 22, I got my first opportunity. I joined a team as a translator for an American couple who came to provide water purifiers to evacuation centers. This kind of help was right down my alley. In the weeks to come (now months past), just as my dad said, I had plenty of opportunities. I helped with unloading, packaging, and reloading supplies at the Samaritan’s Purse warehouse for a while. I went along on many trips to distribute relief supplies such as food, blankets, tools, etc. to local churches. And most recently, I have been helping with cleaning up and mudding out houses in the neighborhood of Shintate in Ishinomaki. One thing is for sure; I have not been bored!

I feel very blessed to be in the position I’m in. God protected our church, both the building and the whole congregation. I get the great privilege of passing out all these donated supplies. And I have a warm home to come home to after I’m done working. The people that we are helping have to live in this mess 24-7, and they sleep on cots in crowded gymnasiums. The rich and the poor, now everyone is equal, everyone has nothing. It’s a great comfort to know that I’m in God’s hands, that my citizenship is in heaven, and that my identity lies in him, not in worldly belongings. Please pray that my family members and I, along with other Christians in the area, will have many chances to share this comfort with the people of Tohoku (Northeastern) Japan.

Joshua Bengtson is the son of Dean and Linda Bengtson, missionaries in Sendai, Japan. He is currently attending college in Japan.

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