January 30, 2007
In memory of Miyuki Shirane
...they will welcome you into eternal dwellings.
Luke 16:9b
More than 6,000 people lost their lives in the earthquake that
struck Kobe on January 17, 1995.
At the time of the 1995 Great Kobe Earthquake, we were living
in missionary housing on the Kwansei Gakuin University campus.
The campus was built on a huge rock shelf, so no campus building
(our home included) suffered more than cracks in the walls. However,
down in the Nigawa River valley below us, house after house tumbled
over. Many people were left homeless.
While riding In a taxi a year and a half later, I saw a homeless
woman pushing a baby buggy up the small drive past the missionary
houses. Her hair was pulled neatly back into a bun, and the buggy
was filled with all her worldly belongings. Stopping the taxi,
I handed her ¥1000 (about $10). I hoped to locate her when
we returned from church, but I could not find her.
Miyuki Shirane was a friend of the Carricks who died suddenly
while the Carricks were in the United States in 2005.
Another year passed, and I saw a weather-exposed woman with unkempt
hair staggering along a path near our home. Something about her
reminded me of the other woman, but I couldn't be sure. I stopped
her and asked if she remembered me. She suddenly smiled and said
she did. I asked her if she would like some work cutting weeds
in our yard. We agreed she would start the next morning. I told
her to bring her laundry, which she washed in our machine. That
afternoon, as she put the clean, dry pile of folded clothes into
her bags, I prayed, “Lord, I don’t know how to ask
her if she’d like to stay, because of Japanese sensitivities,
but please make it possible.” Suddenly, what had been a
blue sky all day instantly turned dark. As the loud downpour made
it impossible for her to leave, I asked, “Would you like
to spend the night?” She looked outside, then back at me.
“I sure would.”
Miyuki took up residence in an extra bedroom. “Miyuki”
(mee-YOU-key) means “beautiful snowflake,” and “Shirane”
(shi-LAH-neigh) means “white cat.”
The next day, a neighbor said, “Did you see that strange
cloud appear out of nowhere yesterday? It was a perfectly blue,
sunny sky, and that cloud suddenly came above just our houses
and let loose. It was very strange.” I suddenly couldn’t
talk.
Shirane stayed with us for about three months. Then a well-meaning
soul told her, condescendingly, “You should be grateful
for what these missionaries are doing for you.” Miyuki suddenly
left.
Two months later, she called us from a mental hospital, and a
month later we coaxed her back. Using our address, she was able
to apply for aid, and the government gave her the past two years’
worth of aid. This made it possible for her to put down key money
to rent her own apartment. She paid rent from the monthly social
security the government gave her.
She attended church with us regularly. She enjoyed worship. She
laughed, she smiled, she sang. And she took Communion. I talked
with the pastor about that, and suggested he speak specifically
about the meaning of Communion next time. Meanwhile, I spoke with
her about her faith. She said she did believe, but absolutely
refused to be baptized. She felt she was not good enough, and
besides, she categorically would not have everyone focus on her
up front. Next time we had Communion, the pastor spoke quite directly
about its meaning—that Communion was only for those with
a total commitment to Jesus. She heard him, and she continued
to take Communion. Yes, she had limited knowledge of all the theological
issues, but God forbid that I would snuff out the spark that she
held in her heart.
One Sunday, though, some nosey person found out she had been
homeless and said something to her. I have no idea what that church
person said, but Miyuki refused to ever attend again.
In the fall of 2005, after we went to the States for medical
leave, she fell in the entrance to her apartment and was found
several days later. We did not find out till we came back to Japan
in the spring of 2006. Last fall, I wrote a memorial to remember
the anniversary of her death, but my hard drive crashed, destroying
everything, including the priceless photos.
I have no idea where Miyuki was buried. Her siblings, who spurned
her, and whom I never met, apparently had her cremated, but I
have no idea where (or even if) her ashes were buried.
She’s kin—she doted on our kids, brightening up whenever
she saw them. Now that she is gone, I await the day when it is
my time to go. And we look forward to staying with her in her
New Home.
With love in Christ,
Andy and Judy Carrick
The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 249
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