A Multitude of Faces

Here I am again... writing in a state of semi-drowsiness. I've been in school or studying for the last ten hours straight, not counting a break for lunch. This hasn't been an abnormal day, really, but for some reason I'm feeling it more now than I usually do, so I don't know how much I'll get written before my mind entirely shuts down.

This morning I learned my favorite Korean word to date: '토킹아바우트'. The Romanization of that would be 'tokingabaut', stolen, of course, from the English phrase, 'talking about'. English words with a Korean twist, and it's really good for a laugh when one begins to conjugate that with suffixes and infixes.

The weather had begun to be beautiful a few weeks ago, but the day that Mary Horn arrived it clouded over, and has been chilly ever since. The weather in no way interfered with her visit, though, and we had a grand time exploring those parts of Seoul that I only see when I have visitors. The places are worth visiting more often, but I really haven't the motivation to go 'yogi jogi' ('here and there') alone. Some things simply require two.

One very pleasant part of going 'round, was that by it I was able to measure my Korean improvement. Every time I go to Namdaemun Market, for example, I'm able to ask questions of the vendors, or make comments on their wares that I had wanted to speak of the previous time, but had been unable to do. I understand a lot more of the conversations around me, and am able to interact on, if not a deeper level, at least a more specific and thorough one. Very motivating, needless to say.

One of the things we did was something of an adventure, based as it was upon mere speculation. I told Mary about the 'Spectacular Musical Water Fountain', which I had seen last year. The name provides for itself a fairly accurate description: it is spectacular, it is musical, and it is a water fountain. She had seen a similar fountain while in China, and we agreed that it would fun to go see this one together. The only hitch was that it was outside of Seoul, and I didn't know how to get there. I tried to get a hold of Boyeun, who would have been able to provide me with a bus number, but she was unreachable. So I explored a subway map, and saw way off in the left had corner: 'Lake Park'. I was pretty sure that that was the name of the place that sported the fountain, so we decided to gamble an hour subway ride, each way, against the chance of my being right. And I was.

The first time I saw the fountain, it provoked me to record in my journal, "It really was remarkably beautiful. It made me think of Jesus, and I marveled at His nature which is not beautiful, but Beauty itself. My prayer is that I will see, and always be aware of the depths of the beauty of my God."

There is something about living things, or things that resemble life, that resonates with me. Perhaps therein lies my obsession with candles and plants and fish. When I watch the water shooting into the air, and whirling and dancing it time to music and lights, my heart soars with it, and for a time I'm lost to everything around me.

One thing that has struck me, lately, is how very creative God is.
I challenge you to recreate 6 billion of any one item, applying these restrictions:
1. All items must be constructed with the same features.
2. The features of each item must be of relatively similar proportion and size.
3. The same color scheme must be applied to every item, allowing only for variation of shade.
When I see the multitude of faces around me, I see that each of these restrictions has been adhered to, without any one person looking so like his neighbor as to be indistinguishable, or even nearly so. How is that possible? And how great, then, must be the individual value of each man's soul, where so much more creativity and variety have been applied! What a shame that even one should be lost!

Last Sunday I visited the public bath house near my house. My back has been so tight lately, that I'm in almost perpetual pain. I thought that perhaps the saunas and bath jets might help to loosen the muscles enough for my back to return to its normal state. After an hour and a half of almost nauseating heat, my back felt very much better, and I came home with only a very small cramp left in my shoulder. But the effect didn't last long, unfortunately, and all through my upper back and over my right shoulder feels on fire. It's worse than it has been in a long time, and has begun to interrupt my sleep, so I ask you to please be praying for me.

A few weeks ago I was talking to God about my future. It all seems so vague. I have a general idea of where I think I'm going to end up, but no real plan of how to get there. I believe that God will show me what the next step is, when the time is right, and usually I'm perfectly at peace with not knowing. But on the particular night of which I write, I was battling that old feeling of restlessness that always seems to settle upon me after I've remained in one place for any length of time. I was struggling to express to God the feeling of helpless drifting that had begun to possess me, and found that I was unable to do so verbally. So I began to write my prayer, instead, and ended up with a poem, which I have since altered to read as follows:

With no clear call, and no specific thrust,
Footstep follows step, as in a dream.
I am a leaf born on a flitting autumn gust,
I am a bubble on the surface of a stream.
I cannot grasp what spurs me on my way.
Footstep follows step, as in a dream,
And each is swallowed up with every day.

You are my Call, my soul may breathe relief.
My feet are sure, You are the Path I trek.
Your Spirit is the Wind that flits the leaf,
You are the coursing Water of the beck.
Your purpose spurs my life along its Way.
My feet are sure, You are the Path I trek,
And Christ, Your Son, the Dawn of every day.

I look very forward to seeing you soon,
Elisabeth