Photographs and Memories

"Photographs and memories,

Christmas cards you sent to me--

all that I have are these

to remember you..."

--Jim Croce, circa 1973

At 7:45pm Monday, March first, we were making our way to the ticket counter to secure rides back to Chungju. Andy, Brandon, and I had just finished browsing the foreign-language section of the basement bookstore in the Central City bus terminal in Seoul, after a walk around Itaewon and a tasty, filling dinner of vegetarian burritos, chicken asada, and spicy chorrizo and eggs at authentic Taco Amigo. They had spent all day with me, carrying my luggage (and Frankie!) from the Gyeong-in apartment building to my new home in "Modern House," Hwaseong-si, and enduring our miriad hilarious modes of transportation. After settling Frankie into his apartment, we had decided to spend the rest of the day in Seoul. The close of our adventure together that night was the first time I wouldn't be going back to the 'Ju with them.

They were hoping not to have to wait an hour to start back to Chungju. "I'll hang out with y'all until you have to go," I said. "What time does your bus leave?"

Andy looked at me, glanced down at his ticket, and reservedly admitted, "In ten minutes." I stood with them for a moment or two as I let reality flood my senses.

"Let's not make this harder than it has to be," he said a moment later as he opened his arms for me to fill them. I tightly hugged them both and reassured them I'd see them within the next two weeks. My breath caught in my throat as the moment swept quickly by. If I couldn't ride with them back to the Ju, I wanted to stay there for the full ten more minutes I had with them! But on Andy's perceptive advice, my feet reluctantly carried me to the subway terminal and I walked onto the first train headed to Hwasong. Standing in the crowded, too-bright subway, alligator tears rolled down my cheeks like our train coursing down its track, and the African standing beside me awkwardly tried to comfort me. He listened sympathetically as I quietly sniffed my woes.

I finally admitted to them both this last week how much they've come to mean to me. Tuesday night, I said on the phone, "Andy, you and Brandon have been my best friends in Korea." I've never been this close to guys who aren't my brothers, yet I feel like they are just like brothers to me. I confessed to Andy one afternoon in the office that I was kind of glad "there were two of you" because if I worked with only one guy, spending as much time with him as I have with Andy and Brandon might lead to other kinds of attachments. He nodded, paused, and agreed with me.

"I think of you as my older sister," he said. "You can think of me as your younger brother."

"No," I told him, "not even my younger brother." As there is no youngest child in my family, Andy can just be like my twin, a comparrison I consider a much higher honor than merely being a younger brother.

My friend Laura admitted last night on a bus to Seoul that I had a different relationship with my co-workers than she was able to have with her own. "I did," I agreed. "I had it good." The first night I was with them, I walked between Andy and Brandon as we strolled through downtown and I commented, "It feels like I have instant friends." Andy quickly came back with, "Well, I don't know about that..." Despite his feigned reservations, what developed was, indeed, two of the sweetest friendships I've yet known. I remember Brandon's comment to me one night as we stood talking by our apartment building's elevator--that he and Andy had tried to show me the finer points of Korean culture and cuisine. It kind of felt like a joint effort between the two of them these last four months to include me in their lives and in their activities. They paid respectful attention to me in ways I'd never experienced and geniunely listened whenever I felt I had something to say. They also invited me along to most of the things they were doing, whatever they thought I'd be interested in.

They really enjoyed being active and athletic; Andy liked football and "going for a run" and Brandon liked hiking and trail running. I only hiked with Brandon once (and felt like I was holding him back the WHOLE time) and only ran with the two of them for about 2 or 3 hundred yards. But sometimes they'd go play a sports game of some kind and I'd tag along, only to show my pathetic, poor sportsmanship. Once, they stopped off at Chungju's downtown batting cages for a round or two and let me try to hit a few balls, an event which ended in a batting average of zero and throughly embarrassing myself in front of them. My lack of athleticism never seemed to matter to them, however. When I played soccer with them, at first I was incredulous when they choose me for their team. It felt so shocking, in a way, to actually be picked. But apparently they didn't care that I was a girl who couldn't really play the game!

I remember engaging in a comical game of badminton with them beneath the dim lights of Chungju's stadium grounds one night after work: We could only play one-on-one and, as there were three of us, one of us had to sit out every round. I was playing Brandon one round and Andy, instead of saying he wanted to play winner, confidently proclaimed he'd be playing Brandon "after you beat Jennifer."

Many weeknights (when we weren't playing sports or just hanging out in our respective apartments), Andy and I would go out to dinner by ourselves. He single-handedly indoctrinated me into the country's restaurant culture, warning me to stay away from foods like sandwiches and pointing out which places had picture- or English-menus. Most of the time, he was the one picking the place and suggesting what he thought I would like to eat--that's how I found my favorite Korean soup to date (bulgoggi soup served at Yung Oo-dong)! When I first arrived, I was quite impressed with his limited command of the Korean language as he placed our orders. I told him I was thankful for him ordering for me and he admitted that he wasn't going to do that for the next 8 or so months--so I eventually got the hang of it.

I greatly appreciated Andy's company at dinner. He became my son gup sal and dukgalbi partner, the two Korean dishes we ate most frequently together. As Brandon is a vegetarian and both of these have meat in them (or are essentially all meat), he normally wasn't very interested in either of these meals. But just he as predicted, about once a month Andy and I would "get the craving" and go share a pot of spicy dukgalbi together. Although I probably shouldn't make this resolution just yet, I feel like the dish will remain one that I only eat with him. I had son gup sal for the first time without Andy Friday night (March 12) and it felt a little like betrayal. "I can't eat son gup sal," I moaned to myself as I walked into the restaurant with some new foreign friends. "Andy's not here." I ate it, though, if rather reluctantly.

Even though I was bummed some weekends because we had no plans together and there would be two days before I'd see them again, every now and then we would do things on Saturday nights. Brandon and I would often head over to our friend Matt's apartment for a night full of off-the-wall board games and good, clean fun. Andy joined us occasionally, but he prefered not to make too many plans on the weekends. One night, we met Matt at a small coffee shop called Little Prince and Andy mentioned that he'd be along directly. As Brandon and I headed out, he worried that Andy wouldn't be able to find the place, tucked away as it is among dusty apple orchards. He was so worried that when Andy called Matt for directions, Brandon volunteered to go get him. That night we played a fun game of relaxed strategy in which the object is to build as many cities and claim as many fields as one could before running out of pieces. It was hilariously funny and I and my partner Ana won by about 7 points.

I have seen and heard from them both since the night in Seoul: I placed Andy on a bus bound for the Incheon Airport (and effectively for destinations out of Korea) the following Thursday morning, repeating the scene played out at the Central City terminal. He had decided to leave Korea and I was bound and determined not to let him go without saying goodbye! I realized just how tall he was as, on tip-toe, I hugged him one last time and asked the LORD's blessing on his life. I asked him not to make me cry and he said, "Well, I won't see your tears." Just before I turned back to wait for my own bus to Suwon, he chided his last advice, "Get to work on time!" I never had a chance to tell him that I missed being on time by 20 minutes that day.

The following Saturday, I had the opportunity to have breakfast with Brandon as I prepared to pack and haul the rest of my things to Hwaseong. Andy had advised me to get out what I had left in the apartment as soon as I could, as the school would likely toss it all and the apartment manager was in dire need of the key. Brandon and I spent the day repeating the antics of the previous Monday, minus Andy and the cat, and went to Taco Amigo again as part of Brandon's agreement to help me move my things. I saw him again last Saturday (March 13), this time to help someone else move up to Seoul. He said he couldn't go all the way there, but he'd help out as much as he could in Chungju. That day proved to be beautiful, with a shared coconut-banana smoothie, a pleasant (almost warm!) walk to our friend's apartment, and another visit to the batting cages. It ended at Matt's house again, playing another engaging yet complicated good-guy-versus-villan board game.

I feel in some ways that all I have left of Andy's, Brandon's and my time together are photographs and memories. But the LORD has been showing me that, even though it was only three and half months, it was enough. "You only get just one time around," a Christian band called 33 Miles sings. "You only get one shot at this--one chance to find out the one thing that you don't wanna miss." If that was it, that was it! That was my one shot, my one chance! Did I take every opportunity that I had with them to share the love of Christ? Did I take every opportunity to just be their friends and enjoy their company?

I feel all the more sure that I didn't cruise through my days with them having missed what the LORD wanted me to see. I know He has taught and will continue to teach me through their smiling faces and sweet memories. My friend Heidi told me a few weeks ago that she feels as though "God gave me Korea." Though I feel the same, I want to add something to that: In my heart of hearts, I feel as though God gave me Andy and Brandon. They were guardian angels who didn't even know they were on assignment from Heaven, sent to teach, refine, build up and protect one who will profoundly be affected by having had them in her life for a such a sweet, short time.

Andy and Brandon, I am ever thankful to you both for allowing me to tag along on your Korean adventure. Happy Trails!