Another Misadventure

Friday, July 23 was the last day for two of our teachers at Apple Tree. As he had finished his contract, Jack was scheduled to leave country Sunday morning. A former student of his had given him a bouquet of roses as a parting gift. "I can't take them with me," he asserted as he looked at me. "Would you like some flowers?"

Another co-worker of mine, Grace, and I were on our way to movie night at her church in Seoul after work that day. I asked if I could stop to pick up a vase and then drop my flowers off at my apartment before heading out. She looked at my profusion of belongings--a sweater I had grabbed because of the coolness of the morning's downpour; my usual large blue travel bag; Jack's bouquet of flowers; and now remnants of the staff party we had had the night before--and said simply, "It's okay. We just be late." I found a short, pretty vase at a store close by and within a few minutes of arriving at home had the flowers soaking in the vase in about five inches of water, with their purple ribbon tied around the middle. I set them between my computer and printer, feeling that it was a secure enough location. Grace commented that visitors would see the lovely flowers nicely where they were--and off we went.

Five hours later, around midnight, I stepped into the apartment again after the engaging night with Grace. Glancing toward my computer, I noticed the flowers had tumbled out of their enclosure and were fanned out in the open space on my dresser. Then I noticed the water: only an inch left in the vase. I gasped. "Frankie!" I bellowed as my cat sat serenely on my washer, enjoying the soft night breeze. I grabbed him and spanked his thigh as hard as I could, twice. "This," I shook him, "is not happening!"

I stomped around the house as I endeavored to clean the mess and salvage what was left of my computer. I had no idea how long the vase had been left lying there or how much water had actually seeped into anything. Most of the water I found had traveled under my computer and sloughed off onto the floor, pooling quietly underneath my armchair. Some of it, however, was left on top of the dresser. Droplets of water leaked out of my computer as I left it to dry on a towel. It wouldn't turn on either time I tried. I slammed the casing down and glared at the cat: "I'm mad at you!" I decided it was a good time for a walk and a little visit to the PC bang.

I felt this nagging peace from the LORD flood my heart, even in my anger. The whole time I saw myself reacting to Frankie's mishap like a good pet owner should, instead of taking stock of my own feelings. Slamming computers and stomping feet was only natural, right? I somehow knew that my actions were wrong and that everything would work out, despite the obvious. As I pretended to huff towards the PC room, I came across a very large crowd of foreigners clustered around two plastic tables in front of GS 25 (a Korean convenience store), around one a man whom I instantly recognized.

"Jennifer?" Jack asked authoritatively. I remember him saying that there'd be a farewell party for him in Byeongjeom that night. Somehow I thought I'd miss it. "Pull up a chair and sit down," he instructed.

As I glanced around at faces, there were few in the crowd I had met or knew personally. Among them was a Scotch named Steven and a woman I had seen with him, Harriet. "This is the first time we've actually seen each other outside Byeongjeom Station, isn't it?" she asked me in her crisp British accent. She had been sitting a good ten feet from the spot I chose to sit in and, when I arrived, decided to get a bit closer. "I actually have a question for you," she said as she took the seat in front of me. "It's probably not the right time to ask this, as I'm drinking and smoking. [But c]an I go to church with you sometime? Possibly this Sunday?"

I was floored. Really? Come on!

Harriet had me hooked from that moment and I forgot all about Frankie, broken computers, and PC bangs. I sat there for an hour listening to her take on Christianity as a whole and her apparent place in it. "I can't call myself a Christian because what defines one is a personal relationship with Jesus and I don't have that. But I feel incredibly drawn to it," she admitted. She talked of loving one another being a central theme in her life and that she wanted to use her life to express God's agape love. She had a surprising amount of knowledge about Christianity in general. I nodded vigorously in understanding as I listened. Lord, I prayed, she's so close! Could she be the reason my computer died?

"Even if I don't come to church with you, I would still like to be your friend," she asserted during our conversation. "Would that be all right?" Again, I was floored. What kind of opportunities was the LORD opening for me that night? I told her I would really like that. "I'd like to have dinner with you," she continued, "maybe sometime this week." We ended the night with her giving me her number and we both promise to check back with each other about the weekend.

She also handed me something else that night. "Are you really cold?" she asked as she watched me hugging my shoulders. "You can wear my scarf because I'm hot." As I tried to object, she took it off and placed the mantel around me. Later when I tried to give it back, she refused. "If you take my second favorite scarf," she said playfully, "then we have to meet up again."

I still have that scarf; it hangs in my kitchen as a reminder of our words together that night and a promise to reconnect. We weren't able to meet for church last week, but I'm hopeful that it can be soon. Yes, indeedy, Harriet, we will have to meet up. Yes, indeed.