#5 South Korea Continued: Source of the Spring

In response to a previous post titled, "Transition Number 5" I decided to post the letters that were given to me by my mom and Charles. These are letters given to me as a gift before going to Uganda. During that first endeavor outside of the United States, I lived there in a village community for two years as a teacher. Two key words of reference that have brought resounding encouragements are, 'smile.' from my mom, and 'optimism' from Charles. Here are the letters...  From Mom: Page 1 From Mom: Page 2 From Mom: Page 3 From Mom: Page 4 From Charles: Page 1 From Charles: Page 2 From Charles: Page 3 From Charles: Page 4 From Charles: Page 5 After the passing of Charles, I want to thank everyone who has sent messages, made contact, finances, contributions, prayer, given wisdom, prayed for comfort and God's purposes to be revealed, and simply have been available. Thank you.  At the recent passing of the one who nursed and parented me, I appr...

He died no money, no name, no wife or kids. In a foreign land known by many well known by few. He was renowned in the land of prior, the land of his mom and dad and of their mom and dad. First in his class, he was fresh out of college and about to start his doctor's practice. With a wealthy family background, he inherited much, future bright, and of much interest of the young dazzling damsel. In a dramatic shift of focus of interest, he left it all. Many run from bad surroundings in hope to find a better one, but for this man, he left the good one to settle with the less than. For the groanings of love beckoned him what only could be true gain. On the latter, what Fresh snow after a North Korean fellowship group gathering Land barren, land broken. Streets full of cries were of the norm. The persecution of foreigners was fierce, to the man of no name with the agenda from his commission would be unbearable to all except to the one called. Food was bland, money was scarce, and jobs p...

It didn’t seem long ago that I was on my knees packing and repacking for Uganda. The goal was to fit everything that would be needed for the next 2 years. Even to the extent of looking up YouTube videos about how to fold shirts to create maximum space in the suitcase. Oftentimes my mom would make her rounds around the house to plead her case of being upmost prepared for my first trip outside of the United States. Time and time again I would reject everything she would try to offer me. “How about this shirt Jarid? Isn’t this your favorite shirt?” With each suggestion my tone would become more and more opposed of having another object to bring. In one of our classic family memories, she came in the room crying. “Ok mom, what is it?” She began to explain how she has been researching Uganda, and how they have cans there. Yes, the tin cans. She lifted the object to me, “Jarid, please take this can opener so you can eat the food.” With tears streaming down her face, “Mom, I am not taking tha...

 I have attempted to write this… maybe 7 times, but time and time again the story comes up short. It is choppy, or it didn't fulfill an appeal of a post. I have written it in parts, segments, perspectives and at times run on sentences. Maybe as I prepare for the departure from Korea to the land of the free, home of the brave, maybe this time the story will reach posthood. At the hospital with faithful Baam After two episodes of malaria in a Ugandan refugee camp, it all seemed behind me. The diarrhea, vomiting, cold sweats, it was now left behind, right? Arriving in Korea it was fast paced from the start. A new school, with new faces, there were names to know and a new system to learn. The learning process would cut short. I still remember after eating jja-jang-myun (black bean sauce noodles) with Mr. Ahn laying on the school couch in the teachers’ lounge. Months back my principal and I were eating together in Hawaii. He told me of a comfy couch at the school that I would be abl...

It may have been a year or two after becoming new creation. I would talk of the goodness of God, purity of the Word, and the good news. It was a sorrow to me that the people who have nursed me, cherished me, and provided for me much of my life, there was a now a disconnect. There were misunderstandings, confusion, and a lack of relationship that we used to have. The things I used to enjoy, I know had not enjoyed; the habits I used to have I gave up, and my heart and lifestyle were transformed. It caused sadness in my heart to have such a disconnect within our family. All the more this caused a longing for my family to know Jesus as Lord and Savior, in order that we may share is Christs’ sufferings and glory. Although there was hardship in the division of our family, there would soon come a ray of hope. This is that story. It was Christmas morning. Each family member being there, not one missing. Even to the extent of children from other parts of the family gathered around the tree ...

Every Monday morning meeting is similar with a refreshing word. Either it been in the library with the bright smiling faces of the teachers sitting in a circle, or on Zoom with a face in every square, the message has been consistent. “If only one person gets saved this week, it will be worth it.” The Gospel of Jesus Christ again being ministered to the teachers, and with every teacher the encouragement to deliver this precious powerful message to the students. The epitome of this message becomes manifested in a singular example,  as I ponder the previous years. Although there has been many incredible works, answers to prayer, and the light of Christ that has been seen, heard, and affirmed, there is one story that routes my heart to remembrance.   He was a new student. I was a new teacher. But the story only starts with him. A brother of an older, and a son of a mother and father. All of them worshipers of Jesus Christ, believers of the Way, Followers of Jesus, except 1. Th...