Less Laughter. More Applause.

More name-tag reading practice this week. My pronunciation is improving a great deal. My efforts are beginning to be met with less laughter and more applause. Occasionally I even do well enough that the kids don't attempt to correct me. They've finally caught on to the fact that I really do want to learn their language (I wonder what gave them their first clue?), and today they have given me more Korean words than I can ever hope to master in one afternoon. But I am more pleased than I can say at their responding eagerness for communication, and at least these words are being rendered familiar for me.

My own eagerness to learn had begun to be tempered and, if not to abate, at least to be less urgent. However, an incident this morning again provoked in me the desire to be able to communicate in Korean without delay. I was sitting at a table on the roof patio, quite early, reading my Bible. A girl slipped up behind me unnoticed and poked me in the back, startling me. We both had a good laugh, and she sat down across from me. I had a wallet-sized picture of my family that I keep in my Bible, and I pulled it out to show to her. Then I asked about her family. Olivia's English was very poor. It took some time, with me interrupting often, to ask and re-ask very simply phrased questions, to be sure I was understanding her correctly. She explained about her rather difficult family life, which I won't take the time to go into detail about here. A few times her voice broke, and my heart ached for this 16 year old. But it is weakness for a Korean to show emotion, so she swallowed her tears and went on.
One part of the conversation I will relate: though her family isn't religious, she had, in middle school, had a teacher who was a Christian. However her Dad and older sister would get angry at her for asking questions about Christianity, and wouldn't allow her to attend church. Her pretty round face was screwed up in her effort to frame her words correctly.
"I don't understand about Jesus," is my translation, "I want to believe and to be saved, but I don't understand very much. I want Jesus to be my friend, like He is yours. Can you tell me how?"
I began to talk, but her face clouded and she shook her head. She couldn't understand.
"Pray." I said, and she nodded. "Jesus will help you to believe." Again she nodded. "I will pray for you, too."
She smiled and bowed, "Thank you."
But more than that I could not communicate, and I wanted to tear at my hair in frustration. Finally I told her, slowly and with much repetition, "I will ask someone who understands Korean to talk to you. They can help."
She gave me a hug before leaving, and I was later able to ask Joanna, as soon as I could pull her aside, to talk with Olivia at some point, which I trust she will do. I was left, however, with a strange, hollow pain in my heart, and a burning desire to be able to communicate with these people in their own language.

Hopefully this desire can soon begin to be realized. I have discovered the location of a church that I've heard gives free weekend Korean lessons. After consulting my subway map, I figure that the church is only about a half hour ride away. One of the first things I intend to do upon arriving back in Seoul is see if I can't locate the church in practice as well as in theory. This will be good subway practice, as a bonus. I rode it for the first time, and by myself, three days ago, and made it to my destination without too much confused ado. Another time or two should lend me some confidence, and then I shall be felicitously free to use my wings.

I was restless last night, and it drew me outside. I looked up and saw stars in the sky for the first time since being here. It was lovely, and reminded me of God's nearness. And my heart was quieted.

Much love,
Elisabeth