A Whisper of Home in the Heart of Japan

 

A Whisper of Home in the Heart of Japan

This past weekend, my heart took a gentle turn inward—back home. The kind of nostalgia that sneaks in when you least expect it, wrapped in the warmth of old memories and the wonder of new surroundings. I hopped on a journey to Ibaraki Prefecture to visit a dear friend who lives in the peaceful countryside of Sakuragawa. Each time I visit her, it feels like a deep exhale—a retreat from the fast-paced city life into a pocket of serenity where nature speaks louder than noise.

Sakuragawa is cradled by majestic mountains, flowing rivers, and fields that dance in the wind. There, you're not just visiting nature—you’re embraced by it. My friend and I spent the weekend basking in this tranquility. One moment that deeply moved me was a bus ride we took to Tsukuba. As the scenery unfolded through the windows—the lush greenery, sprawling rice fields, and towering trees—I was transported thousands of miles away, back to Zimbabwe.

Suddenly, I was a little girl again, driving with my family through the Eastern Highlands of Manicaland, to Mutare. The winding roads flanked by mountains, the peace of untouched land, the simple joy of being one with nature—it all came flooding back. The Japanese countryside reminded me that nature doesn’t belong to any one place; it belongs to all of us, and it speaks the same language no matter where we are.

Sitting quietly at the Tsukuba bus station, I found myself admiring Mount Tsukuba, its presence still and awe-inspiring. That mountain felt like a spiritual anchor—a reminder of the power of God in the stillness. In that moment, I was deeply moved by how God's creation is meant to heal us, ground us, and realign us. Nature isn’t just beautiful; it’s divine. It carries whispers of Eden, reminding us of how we were always meant to live—in harmony with the earth and its creatures.

As I soaked in the rolling views and crisp countryside air, I felt gratitude wash over me. I get to live in a place where I can touch both the electric energy of the city and the calming embrace of the countryside. That balance is such a blessing—one I don’t take lightly.

That bus ride was more than a commute—it was a sacred moment. A tender collision of memory and present. Of Zimbabwe and Japan. Of home and here. Of God’s hand, ever present in the rustle of leaves and the echo of mountains.

"Nature is the handwriting of God; in every leaf, stream, and mountain, He leaves us a love letter of peace."