Salvation and Faith Stories
Salvation and Faith Stories
Contents-part 1
This is the story of a third-grader who almost
died in a traffic accident. It tells of the marvelous blessing
she received through the intense faith of her grandmother and
the resolutions made by her father and relatives.
Mayuko Ueno and her family live in a peaceful rural community, which is nestled among the mountains. Every morning, nine-year-old Mayuko and her eleven-year-old sister, Maki, walk down to the bus stop to join the other children who live nearby. From there, they all walk to school together. The elementary school is located in town, about two kilometers away, so it takes them about forty minutes to get there.
On March 18 of the year, the two sisters went to the bus stop as usual. While waiting for the other children to gather, Mayuko suddenly remembered that she had forgotten something she was supposed to take to school that day. Handing her school bag to her sister, she said: "I have to go home and get something. But don't wait for me. I'll run and catch up with all of you." Then she darted off for home.
Leaving her house for the second time that morning, the only thought in Mayuko's head was that she must hurry to catch up with the others. She decided to take a shortcut, which led her down to the highway. As she was crossing the highway, a compact car came flying at her. The car had more passengers than was permitted by law and was exceeding the speed limit. The car crashed into her. There was dull thud and the car came to a stop, although, as the lack of skid marks showed, the brakes had never even been applied.
Mayuko's mother, Satomi, was immediately informed of the accident
by one of her neighbors. She rushed down to the scene of the accident,
but the horrible sight in front of her prevented her from speaking.
Mayuko was lying in the road, and blood was pouring from her nose
and mouth. Her eyes were frozen wide open. Her breathing had stopped
and her body was already turning cold.
Fortunately, a fireman happened to drive by on his way to work.
He stopped and administered first aid to Mayuko. People who had
seen her lying on the highway were already running through town
telling others: "Mayuko is dead! She was just killed in a
traffic accident."
Utako Mio, fifty-nine years of age, who is Mayuko's grandmother
(on her mother's side), heard this rumor almost right after the
accident had occurred. She ran straight to her Tenrikyo church,
where she threw herself on the floor before the altar and pleaded
with God: "Take my life right now, at this very moment,I
swear I don't mind at all. Please, I beg You, give my remaining
years to Mayuko and let her live."
At the hospital, Mayuko was immediately put into the intensive
care unit. The results of an initial examination showed that she
had sustained multiple fractures of the cranium, though without
any apparent damage to the brain, as well as several broken ribs.
The pressure on her liver had caused it to swell up and the doctors
feared that this might pose a grave danger if it resulted in jaundice.
At one point, her heart stopped beating, but it miraculously began
to beat again at about the same time her grandmother had started
performing a prayer service on her behalf at 8:15 a.m.
* * *
Later that day, her father, Masakatsu, was waiting in the hall outside the intensive care unit. Next to him were his wife and mother-in-law. Masakatsu was silent. He had that empty feeling of helplessness that people find so distasteful. Finally, his mother-in-law, Utako, spoke up: "We have to realize that we can no longer depend on ourselves or on human strength. We can only place our total reliance in God the Parent. Why, it was even God's working that a fireman was there at that very moment. Masakatsu, you must also make a resolution of mind, right here and now!"
Masakatsu, who had always kept himself at a distance from the faith of his wife and her mother, nodded his head in consent. He and his relatives on the Ueno side of the family resolved to attend the Besseki lectures.
A week later, Mayuko opened her mouth for the first time since the accident. On the tenth day, she was moved from the intensive care unit to a regular ward, where she continued to make good progress. There was no longer any danger of permanent liver damage or complications such as jaundice. Her heartbeat, which had been irregular, was now normal. In fact, she was released from the hospital after having spent only twenty-four days there. Following a later check-up, she received a medical certificate that read "No disorder found." On April 20, she was already going back to school.
As she left for the bus stop with her sister, she turned to wave good-bye to her mother and grandmother. They returned the wave with a smile on their lips and a prayer of gratitude to God in their hearts.
This is the story of fifty-five-year-old Haruko
Imamura, a woman who has battled with a degenerative nervous-system
disorder for sixteen years. Given no chance for recovery, she
often contemplated suicide. Yet, an encounter with a Tenrikyo
missionary decisively altered the course of her life. This story
tells how she came to enter Shuyoka,
the three-month Spiritual Development Course offered by Tenrikyo
Church Headquarters, and how her "progressive" disease
is now in "recession."
Haruko Imamura lived a normal life; she was a housewife, a mother of two children, and was employed by an insurance company in downtown Tokyo. At the age of thirty-nine, however, she realized that there was something wrong with her health. While visiting a major construction firm to explain an insurance police, she suddenly found herself unable to articulate her words. This occurred several times during the next few months, leading Haruko to suspect that there was some physical defect with her speech organs. The following year, she went to the hospital for an examination; her condition was diagnosed as "amyotrophic lateral sclerosis."
Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also called Lou Gehrig's disease, is a disease of unknown origin that attacks the motor neurons in the spinal cord and the brain. The degeneration of these neurons, which control muscular movement, causes the muscles to become weak and eventually to atrophy. The muscular weakness and atrophy usually begin in the hands, but slowly creep up the forearms to the shoulders, eventually affecting the throat, tongue, and facial muscles. This causes progressive difficulty in chewing, swallowing, talking, and breathing. The lower limbs also become weak and spastic. The prognosis is grave-death usually occurring within one to five years of onset.
Haruko's family was told by the doctors that she had only six months or a year to live. There was no standard treatment for this disease, and her physical condition deteriorated rapidly. She soon lost her ability to speak; she also lost the use of her arms and legs. Unable to perform even the simplest chores, Haruko felt totally useless as a housewife and as a mother. Faced with the day-by-day progression of the disease, she began to contemplate suicide. Nevertheless, her husband's love gave Haruko the strength to overcome each setback, and she somehow managed to survive in her constant battle with this disease over the course of fifteen years.
Then, in January of last year, Haruko first heard the Tenrikyo teachings from Yoneko Kato, a Yoboku who lived nearby. Yoneko is a dedicated missionary who walks about each day sprinkling the fragrance of the teachings. She visited Haruko twice each week to explain the teachings and administer the Sazuke, the Divine Grant. The vitality and spiritedness of the missionary, a living model of faith, captured Haruko's heart, which by contrast had for years been tormented and depressed.
Haruko's son, Hideaki, twenty-six years old, had never been a follower of any religion. Last September, however, he entered Shuyoka at the urging of Noboru Yokota, a Yoboku who worked at a local sushi bar. Hideaki spent his three months in Shuyoka pushing a wheelchair for an elderly, disabled student.
Thereupon, Haruko resolved to enter Shuyoka herself. Since Haruko was almost totally paralyzed and unable to speak, Yoboku Kato offered to suspend her missionary activities for three months so that she could also attend Shuyoka to serve as Haruko's aide. Yoboku Yokota, taking leave from his job at the sushi bar, also went to Tenri to care for Haruko while she was in Shuyoka. The seeds of sincerity sown by her son, Hideaki, pushing a wheelchair for a fellow student, seem to have borne fruit for Haruko.
Life in Shuyoka was not easy for Haruko, and there were often times when she became depressed. Yet, the constant encouragement of those around her always succeeded in lifting her spirits again. Before long, she began to regret that she had allowed her illness to rob her of the cheer and vitality that had once been hers.
Despite the fact that amyotrophic lateral sclerosis is a "progressive" disease, Haruko's symptoms are presently in "recession." For years, her fingers have been clenched tightly together into a fist; her arms have been bent at the elbow and wrist, held firmly against her chest. Now, however, she is able to extend her arms and open her hands. As a result, she is able to eat by herself. With some support, she can also walk forward. All this has happened since April, when she entered Shuyoka.
Haruko is not yet able to speak, but she can write. In fact, she composed the following sentence to express her present feelings: "I wish to bring joy to God the Parent by doing what I can to spread the teachings-with pride and with the joy of faith." As she put down her pen, Haruko's face beamed brightly with a smile that was more convincing than the words she had written.
Without experiencing illness, it is very difficult
for us to realize that these bodies we suppose we use freely are,
in fact, not our own. Akira Kanechiku, thirty-three years of age,
was also guided through a sudden, serious illness to awaken to
this truth-that the body is something borrowed from God the Parent-and
thus to a new way of life that accords with the teachings. Akira's
story tells of how he gained an understanding of the truth of
a "thing
borrowed" and of
the teaching that what is called illness is really God's guidance
for us since it provides us with an opportunity to reflect upon
our usual way of thinking and feeling.
When he woke up on the morning of July 5 of the year, Akira
found he had lost all feeling in his hands, arms, and legs. He
could not even grab his quilt to move it away, let alone get up.
Akira says: "It shocked me to realize there was something
so seriously wrong with my body. Startled, my mother called some
of my relatives, who then came and hurried me to the hospital.
My case was diagnosed as 'Guillain-Barr syndrome,' which I had
never heard of before. Apparently this is a disease which first
attacks nerves in the limbs and, if left untreated, eventually
affects all the nerves in the entire body, including those in
the neck-a development that impedes breathing and usually results
in death.
"The doctor ordered my immediate hospitalization. For
days I was fed intravenously. I can't even describe how excruciating
the pain was. After some time I was able to spend my days in a
wheelchair, though I still needed the help of a couple of nurses
to transfer me to and from the wheelchair; I couldn't even do
such a simple thing on my own.
"Then my rehabilitation started. I have never been through
anything so horrible. Besides being in pain, I was frustrated
because I couldn't even lift a pen much less walk. Day after day
I repeatedly asked myself why I had to go through all this, but
I never managed to come up with any satisfactory answer."
During this period, his mother came each day to administer the Sazuke, the Divine Grant, to him. The head minister of his Tenrikyo church also traveled long distances to come to administer the Sazuke as frequently as he could. Succumbing to the pains and sufferings the illness caused him, however, Akira would often take out his anxiety and frustration on his mother, rather than quietly reflect on himself.
Nevertheless, the pains in his body began to abate gradually. Then one day, when he woke up from a deep sleep, he found himself overcome by an impulse to read a book about Tenrikyo. He opened one of the books that his mother and the head minister had brought for him, and his eyes became glued to the following verse from the Ofudesaki:
So long as you remain ignorant of the truth that you borrow
your body from God, you can understand nothing at all.
III:137
"In that instant, I recalled what my head minister had
once told me. He had said to me: 'Your body is something borrowed
and so you should use it to work for God or to work for others.'
"'Yes, it's the teaching of a thing lent, a thing borrowed,
which has been explained to me so many times before,' I thought.
'So this is what is meant by this teaching.' I never really understood
the truth of a thing lent, a thing borrowed, or God the Parent's
intention, not even one bit, until I myself became paralyzed in
all of my limbs. I repented never having used this body except
for selfish interests and finally made up my mind to enter Shuyoka, the Spiritual
Development Course."
* * *
There had once been an opportunity for him to enter Shuyoka ten years before. He had been driving a car one day while quite drunk. Failing to negotiate a turn at an intersection, he smashed the car into a brick wall. In this accident, his car had become a worthless wreck and he had suffered fractures in his skull and jawbone. While recovering in the hospital, he had been urged to enter Shuyoka. He resolved to do so, but changed his mind after being released from the hospital.
This time, however, he felt sure that he could not afford to
deny that God was truly hastening his spiritual growth through
this illness. Thus, after a half a year of treatment in the hospital,
he entered Shuyoka, though still unable to move his left leg.
"In Shuyoka I was confused and feeling insecure at first.
I thought I must, above all, keep my mind spirited, regardless
of my physical condition. I walked to and from my classrooms and
took it upon myself to actively participate in the service at
the Main Sanctuary, in practices of the Musical Instruments and
the Dance for the Service, and in hinokishin. I found that I would
often forget myself while I was doing such activities.
"The first three weeks went by very quickly. It was around
then that I suddenly noticed something wonderful-my left leg,
which I had been dragging whenever I walked, was now obeying my
will properly! And to think that the doctor had predicted that
it would still be at least two to three months before my disease
would be completely cured! I now fully realized that in Jiba there
is absolutely no need for theory or for anxiety about the future.
When I went to the Sanctuaries to offer my thanks, I had such
a lump in my throat that I barely managed to say, 'Thank You,
God the Parent. Thank You, Oyasama.'"
Since the beginning of his third month in Shuyoka, Akira has been getting up at three o'clock every morning to clean the wooden corridor that connects the Sanctuaries, making the entire round on his knees. This he decided to do out of his desire to repay God the Parent for the blessings he had received. While engaging in this corridor-cleaning hinokishin, singing the Songs for the Service, his mind becomes filled with joy at being blessed with the gift of life. As his mind thus becomes spirited, so does his body regain its strength.
This is the story of a Tenri Junior Seminary
student. Three years ago, he accidentally fell from the balcony
of his followers dormitory. That he survived the fall was itself
a miracle, but his story relates many more examples of God the
Parent's marvelous blessings. Indeed, this encounter with salvation
bears witness to the teaching that the
Service and the
Sazuke are the means to the path of single-hearted salvation.
Tenri Junior Seminary (the two-year course) held its graduation ceremony on March 9. Among this year's 142 graduates was a young man named Motoharu Asano, twenty-four years of age. During the ceremony, the accident that had threatened to end his life three years earlier flashed into his mind, evoking within him a profound sense of gratitude for the gift of life.
Motoharu's story begins on the night of June 27, just three months after he had entered Tenri Junior Seminary. Late that night, he was by himself on the third-floor balcony of his followers dormitory when he suddenly slipped and fell head first toward the concrete pavement twenty feet below. As it turned out, he crashed into a row of flower pots that had been lined up along the pavement. This was fortunate since it served to cushion his impact. At dawn, he was found lying among the clay fragments of the shattered pots.
He was taken to Ikoi-no-Ie Hospital(a Tenrikyo owned hospital), but little could be done for him. His skull had been fractured in three locations and only a thin layer of skin prevented his brain from oozing out. Since this made surgery impossible, his head was packed in ice to reduce the amount of pressure being exerted by the brain against his skull.
Startled, Motoharu's mother and father rushed to the hospital. There, the doctor told them: "I am going to be honest with you. Even if we manage to save your son's life, it is very probable that he will be what is termed 'a vegetable.' Even if, by some stroke of good fortune, he manages to regain consciousness, I doubt that his brain will ever function normally again. Certainly his memory will never return."
Ten days later, however, Motoharu did indeed regain consciousness. His hemorrhaging had already stopped and his brain had reverted to its normal position. During these ten days, his mother had been praying wholeheartedly, placing in his mouth small bits of food that had been offered to Oyasama. In addition, the head minister of his grand church had been at his bedside day after day to administer the Sazuke, the Divine Grant, to him. Daily prayer services were also being performed for him by the followers at his grand church and by all the students of Tenri Junior Seminary and Tenri Dai-ni Junior Seminary (the five-year course).
Upon regaining consciousness, Motoharu was naturally shocked by the change that had taken place in his physical condition. All he could say was, "What has happened to me?" His vision was blurred and he had great difficulty in trying to speak. He realized that not only was he unable to move his arms and legs, but he had no feeling whatsoever in them. His initial shock gradually turned into fear. At length, he asked, "Will I be like this the rest of my life?"
The doctors had suspected that brain damage was inevitable, but it soon became apparent that Motoharu did not have any such complications. He made quick progress in his recovery and was able to eat before long. Nonetheless, he had suffered a compound fracture of his spinal cord at the back of his neck, and there did not seem to be any hope for regaining the use of his arms. The doctor even went so far as to tell Motoharu's parents, "You should begin having him practice eating with his feet."
When Motoharu's mother returned to his bedside the following morning after attending the morning service, she held his hand gently. Suddenly, she could feel his hand squeezing hers. The results of the X-ray examinations had led the doctors to conclude that Motoharu would never be able to move his hands and arms again. And yet, he had just squeezed her hand! She was beside herself with joy. After a short period of rehabilitation, Motoharu was even able to feed himself with a spoon.
Their joy, however, was short lived. The doctors now confirmed massive hemorrhaging in his internal organs. The doctors inserted a gastrocamera into his body to search for the source of the internal bleeding, but the great quantities of blood prevented them from detecting it. They made three such attempts, but these all resulted in failure. Finally, the doctors decided to make another attempt using a camera that was about twice the size of the previous one. If they failed to locate the source of the bleeding this time, they would have no choice but to open him up.
On the appointed day, Motoharu swallowed the large camera, painful as it was, and the examination began. Throughout the lengthy examination, Motoharu silently repeated the name of God in prayer, "Namu, Tenri-O-no-Mikoto." Afterwards, the doctor shook his head in wonder as he reported the result of the examination. "There is no internal bleeding at all! The hemorrhaging has completely stopped. It's just so strange! No doubt you have been having the Sazuke administered to you. Your body is showing one miracle after another. Young man, you have been saved by God." Motoharu could not hold back his tears.
Truly, miracle after miracle had occurred. The doctors had originally predicted that Motoharu would have to spend from eight to ten years in the hospital. Nonetheless, he was released from the hospital on August 28, only two months after his accident. The following year, he resumed his studies at Tenri Junior Seminary, from which he received his diploma this past March.
The Service and the Sazuke were taught as the means to the path of single-hearted salvation and these were indeed the very means by which Motoharu was shown such marvelous blessings. The prayer services being performed by Motoharu's fellow students of Tenri Junior Seminary and Tenri Dai-ni Junior Seminary were joined by many of the students in Shuyoka, the three-month Spiritual Development Course offered by Tenrikyo Church Headquarters. The fact that these Shuyoka students could offer sincere prayer for someone they had never laid eyes on bears testimony to how deeply the teaching of single-hearted salvation had been engraved in their minds.
Motoharu is well aware of the sincerity shown by so many others on his behalf. His gratitude to them, as well as his desire to repay God the Parent for the blessings he has received, has guided Motoharu to pledge the rest of his life to the work of saving others.
This is the story of Fumio Watanabe, thirty-seven,
a man whose addiction to alcohol set his life on a downward course.
Drinking from morning till night, he often became violent. He
was forced to change jobs time and again, after which he finally
quit working altogether. His marriage ended in divorce, and he
eventually attempted to commit suicide. Then one day he found
Tenrikyo through the guidance of a young Yoboku. This encounter
proved to be a turning point in his life. He started visiting
a Tenrikyo church and later returned to Jiba.
Through a change of attitude„becoming of a mind that seeks the
salvation of others-he managed to overcome his addiction to alcohol
and to discover new joy in his life.
Fumio lost his parents one after the other when he was still fourteen years old. At eighteen, he began to work at a bar. There he met a girl and married her over the staunch objections of her family. For the first two or three years of his marriage, Fumio applied himself to his work. He would have a drink or two after coming home at night but it had not yet become a problem.
Before long, however, he started quarreling with his wife's elder sister. Fumio, who had always been somewhat introverted, now found himself overpowered by his strong-willed sister-in-law. Unable to stand up to her, he sought courage in alcohol. The amount of liquor he consumed gradually increased as their fighting intensified. Drinking himself into a stupor, he would become obnoxious and even resort to violence. He parried his in-laws' criticisms of his drinking by blaming it on them. His wife pleaded with him to stop drinking, but he ignored her completely. Before he knew it, Fumio was suffering from alcoholism.
Now he drank from morning till night, even while he was at work. He screamed and yelled at others and often flew into fits of rage. His wife begged him to quit drinking for their child's sake, but Fumio would only respond: "If I die from drinking, it won't bother me at all. It'll certainly be a fun way to go!" Unable to endure his continual drunkenness and unwilling to suffer the unhappy consequences of it any longer, his wife finally divorced him.
Having completely lost his will to work, Fumio quit his job. At last, he decided to drink himself to death, but he was unable to go through with it. Thereupon, his own sister encouraged him to undergo treatment at the hospital in order to break his addiction to alcohol. He gave this a try but was soon drinking again. In fact, he entered the hospital for treatment on several occasions, but he never managed to abstain for long. The hospital finally gave up on him. This not only left him physically exhausted but turned him into an emotional wreck, a condition in which he spent the next several years.
One day in March, a Yoboku(missionary) from a nearby Tenrikyo
church, finding himself unable to remain indifferent to Fumio's
problem, said to him: "Why don't you come to my church?"
This church had established a "telephone counseling center"
to offer advice and, in the long run, faith to those who were
suffering from one problem or another.
Touched by this Yoboku's sincerity and kindness, Fumio accepted
his invitation to visit the church. Though he went periodically,
Fumio never made any effort to understand what the head minister
told him, for he had made up his mind that religion could never
cure what the doctors had not been able to cure. Even on these
visits to the church, Fumio would drink heavily and become violent.
In May of the following year, Fumio made his second pilgrimage to Jiba. At that time, a significant change began to take place within him. At the Besseki lecture, he heard the teachings "Every seed sown here will sprout" and "The origin of illness lies in your own mind." These words seemed to have a purifying effect on his mind. Thereafter, he was able to listen open-mindedly to the guidance of his head minister and to settle the teachings in his mind.
Fumio felt that he now had the courage to give up alcohol. Besides receiving treatment at the hospital, he joined an association for alcoholics to share his problem with others in the same predicament. Little by little, he was able to stop drinking. Fumio began to attend the evening service and clean the sanctuary at his church each day. This was his way of expressing gratitude to God the Parent and Oyasama. It was also a means to repress his lingering urge to take a drink. He soon found employment, but the added pressure of working led Fumio to start drinking again. This time, however, the encouragement of his head minister and those around him enabled Fumio to give it up rather easily. He has not touched alcohol again to this day.
Some people say that treatment for alcoholism must be continued throughout one's life. No matter how much one may appear to have been cured, there is always a chance that even one drop may be sufficient to send one back to old ways. In some cases, each day is a battle with oneself. Fumio, however, has now discovered the precious joy that gives meaning to life. He has discovered within himself "the mind that is intent on saving others." He attends the daily meeting of the alcoholics' association to help others put an end to the suffering they are going through„a suffering that Fumio once knew all too well. There are also times when he brings some of them to his church.
Fumio is practicing the teaching "You are saved by saving others." He is also finding out what it means to live "a lifetime each day." Even now he visits his church each day to attend the service and to clean the sanctuary. The thin white vestment he wears while cleaning the sanctuary offers little protection against the cold winter temperatures, and the bucket in which he rinses his towel while wiping the dais is filled with icy water. Yet somewhere deep within him, Fumio feels a warm sensation-no doubt the warmth of gratitude and joy.
Mitsutoshi Kusakabe, thirty-two, says: I never
realized what a blessing good health was until I became ill myself.
Frankly, I never gave a thought to people in wheelchairs or to
people suffering from illness. It was only after I became ill
that I was able to make an effort to rely totally on God
the Parent.
After graduating from Kansai University, Mitsutoshi found employment
at a pharmaceutical company. He was in good health and led a quiet
life. Little did he know all that would soon change.
One day I got to a pedestrian crossing just as the light was starting
to blink, so I made a dash to get across the road before it turned
red. It wasn't a very wide street, but by the time I got to the
other side I was completely exhausted. That was my first indication
that something was wrong with my body. But it really didn't bother
me since there was no pain involved. Over the course of the next
two years, however, I realized that there was some-thing strange
about the way I was walking.
Last September I finally went to the hospital to undergo a
series of examinations. After I was kept there for forty days,
the doctor informed me that I had "progressive muscular dystrophy."
He explained that this is a disease that causes increasing weakness
in the muscle tissue, often leading to total disability.
Naturally this diagnosis frightened me. Day in and day out, my
mind dwelled on the gloomy prospect of spending the rest of my
life in a wheelchair or in a bed. Having lost all hope, I began
to feel isolated and frustrated. It was almost as if I were being
strangled-ever so slowly.
Knowing how worried my parents would be to watch my condition
deteriorate, I prayed that the disease would not progress any
further. It was then that the head minister of my Tenrikyo church
encouraged me to enter Shuyoka, the three-month
Spiritual Development Course in Tenri. I hesitated at first, but
later reconsidered since I realized that I should move around
while I could.
I knelt before the
Kanrodai in prayer. I stated my resolution to "reconstruct"
my mind since it is taught that illness comes from the mind. Then
I prayed to receive the blessing of having my health restored
upon the fulfillment of this resolution.
In Shuyoka, I found my fellow students to be very helpful and
encouraging. I took their advice to show my determination by getting
up at four o'clock each morning to go clean the Main Sanctuary.
In the beginning, I was unable to bring myself to tell others
what disease I was suffering from. Eventually, however, I managed
to break out of my shell and open up completely. I really don't
know why, but this relieved me of the great burden I had been
bearing. From that time on, my mind was always calm and peaceful
whenever I faced God
the Parent and Oyasama.
Though Mitsutoshi has trouble walking, he managed to go to
the Main Sanctuary each morning not to mention walking to his
classes each day and participating in hinokishin.
In fact, he walked more than ten kilometers a day without showing
any sign of fatigue.
Each day in Shuyoka seemed to pass by so incredibly fast. There
were often times when I would lose myself in hinokishin, forgetting
completely about my illness. Those were very happy days for me.
I also learned to listen to the teachings with an open mind, and
thus came to be able to place absolute trust in God the Parent.
Now I hope to use what I learned in Shuyoka so that I may serve
in my role as a Yoboku by working with those who are suffering
from illness or other problems, by helping them to live with joy
and gratitude in their hearts.