I had a good experience at my host parents' Korean Presbyterian church last week, but I was not shy in asking for their help in finding an English-speaking one I could attend on a more regular basis.
They understood my request and eagerly collaborated with Sookhee to find me such a community in the area. Tens of phone calls and countless inquiries later, Sookhee had found me a church that welcomed foreigners.
The church is called Holy Joy Center, and it sits facing Lotte Department Store at the tip of Yeong Island, right before you cross the bridge.
Its proximity to our apartment makes it convenient for me to attend. As if this weren't enough, my host parents also coordinated for me to receive rides to and from the church with the deacons.
AN INTERNATIONAL GATHERING OF BELIEVERS
The afternoon service starts at 2:00 p.m. and is pastored by a Bangladeshi, and attended by many Koreans, a couple of Americans (including myself), a Ghanaian, as well as a handful of Filipinos. This last bit made me very excited!
David, the deacon who my host parents had contacted, greeted me warmly and immediately introduced me to a Filipino man there named Russel. Russel, he said, was to be my friend. He finished shaking my hand brusquely and left a slightly confused-looking Russel on the same table where my host parents and I were seated.
Later, during prayer-time, we were asked to get up and form a circle, holding hands. I was sandwiched between two
ajummas (older women) firmly holding both my hands when, suddenly, Russel came flying out of nowhere, grabbed one of my hands, and then belatedly apologized to the older lady he had cut with a smile. I had time to swallow a smirk before I closed my eyes for the actual prayer.
The actual service itself was very different in style and delivery from my home church in the states. My thoughts were scattered. I fought very hard to stay awake, and, once awake, not to compare Holy Joy with Puyallup Foursquare. One of the more agonizing things I experienced during this time was finding myself without a notebook and a pen to take notes with. Note-taking keeps me awake. Fingers from my right hand curled around an invisible pen and, in slow motion, drew invisible messages on the table. I bore a hole through the projector screen trying to concentrate on the texts that were there.
After the prayer and before the message, my host parents quietly excused themselves to attend to other things.
I was on my own.
FINDING COMFORT IN THE DISCOMFORT OF BEING A FOREIGNER
Though I was new at the place, I could tell that there were
others who likewise didn't quite feel like they belonged. It was obvious when
they were also asked to give a brief self-introduction in front of the church,
but it also showed in the way they stood, clasped their hands, and held their
cups of Korean rice juice in the hour or so that we had to mingle.
Seeing that
I wasn't the only one colliding with simultaneous feelings of newness helped me
feel …more comfortable.
The worship pastor and his wife gave me a ride back home. We
picked up their two young children on the way up the island. It seemed like a
perfectly normal family – one that also just happened to regularly encounter
the not-so-normal ebb and flow of new foreign faces. Perceiving these very
subtle “disturbances” in the lives of other people further helped make me feel
more comfortable.
What is so comforting about feelings of not quite belonging
and perceiving disturbances in others’ lives?
Perhaps it’s in knowing that I’m not the only one facing an
onslaught of changes (though mine may be in a more obvious form). Perhaps it’s
in seeing the grace with which other people are handling their own encounters
with change.
THREE-HOUR NAPS CONTINUE TO RENDER MY DAYS SHORT
After church, I remember changing out of my blue dress, and tucking myself
in for a “short” nap. Three hours later, I woke up very groggy, confused that
sunlight was absent between my blinds.
Host dad came home shortly after and asked how church had
been. I Google translated my first impressions of the church, mostly telling
him and host mom about how welcoming and nice everyone had been. They were very pleased to hear this.
MY HOST PARENTS CONTINUE THEIR GIFT-GIVING
Without any sort of preliminaries, my host dad presented me with a pair of white sneakers.
They were brand-new and fit quite snuggly. Him and host mom must have noticed
that I hadn’t brought any sneakers with me from the states. I thanked them
profusely, and then found out we were going out just then.
Oh, right now?...Like at this very moment?...Gotit. Hold on, let me just put. This. On. Done. Let’s go!
GOING TO A CHINESE RESTAURANT AND EATING…KOREAN FOOD
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| The food on the bottom left is Seoyeon's meal! |
The ocean breeze tickled my nose and played with my hair all
the way over to a Chinese restaurant we drove to and dined at. I knew that
eating out was reserved for very unusual days because, every night it seems,
host dad is telling me about how much he loves host mom’s cooking, and how much
the quality of her meals trumps those from any restaurant we could possibly ever
go to.
Host dad: Mom tired
Seoyeon: Dad says mom is tired tonight
Me: Ah!
I glance over at host mom, who is smiling back at me and
trying to be subtle about massaging her forearms.
It seems everything we ordered tonight was Korean food. I
ordered seafood fried rice. It was decent, though I had expected a lot more. It
was basically a plate full of yellow-looking rice with little bits and pieces
of shrimp and crab meat. The seafood to fried rice ratio was definitely nothing
to blog about, so I will stop now.
CASUALLY DROOLING OVER SOMEBODY ELSE’S MEAL
Seoyeon’s meal, however, was something else. If there is
such a thing as casually drooling over somebody else’s meal – well, there has
to be because that’s pretty much an accurate description of what I did over
dinner.
EVENING STROLL ON OUR WAY TO THE GYM
Afterwards, we headed down the island and enjoyed a nice
walk right by the sea on our way to the gym (apparently, this was why I needed
the sneakers).
I enjoyed the walk so
much that when we discovered that the gym was actually closed, I didn’t mind very much. There were families camping outside on little patches of grass,
huddled together over meals they had brought as picnic food; there were
children tumbling over, stumbling over chasing each other, chasing bubbles in
the air. There were sparklers, and a fire show (which reminded me of Gasworks
Park in Seattle), and there were fishermen casting their nets into the dark
sea.
And then there was my host family.
It was delightful to
see my host parents walking together – ahead of us or behind us – holding
hands, telling each other jokes and
laughing quietly between the two of them, giggling over something that likely
didn’t concern me or Seoyeon next to me.
It was just delightful. By the end of the day, I felt peace holding my hand, slowly tugging - inviting me to let it do its work.
