Pressing On

"...[O]ne thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind 

and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, 

I press toward the goal for the prize 

of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."  

--Phil. 3:13b-14

If I have learned nothing else this past year, it is that I have the ability to change.  And with it the God-given responsibility to do so.

"How many of you make New Year's Resolutions?" I heard the young preacher ask the last Saturday of 2012 as I sat squirming in the middle of the meager congregation.  He had just read from Phillipians 3 about the Apostle Paul pressing onward to lay hold of his prize.  From this passage, the preacher had built a solid argument for why we should both use our time wisely and not cling to what was left in the past.  This meant that procrastination and self-pity, two of my worst nemeses, were no longer an option.

"I know some people out there don't set New Years Resolutions," he continued--I being chief among them.   My reasoning was thus:  Wasn't having a resolution just a meaningless ritual that was never followed through?  These things were for the unbeliever anyway; it was for them to turn over the new leaf, not us, because we already have new life in Christ.  And if this new life were all about grace, why try to pull yourself up by your bootstraps through your own good efforts?

What I failed to see was that these sorts of "meaningless rituals" could actually be a vehicle for the life God calls us to.  "I would encourage yo to [make these resolutions] and to make your goals measurable," the preacher went on.  "Do you feel like God is calling you to start a business?  Take steps to make that happen.  There is very little that happens in your life that you cannot control.  It matters what you do with what you're given."

I've seen much in my life in 2012 that needs changing--be it attitude adjustments, worn-out habits, or my limited field of view.  This may not be an exhaustive list--and at the end of 2013 not all of it may have been accomplished--but the following provides at least a snapshot for where I want to go in the coming year and what in my life I can truly change.

Goals for 2013

*Publish my first book

*Pen the first completed draft of my grandfather's biography

*Provide for myself by means of regular work and my own house

*Publish 1-2 blog entries/articles a week

*Pray systematically and consistently

*Set up regular dates with close family and friends

*Exercise 3 times a week

*Add three songs to my clarinet repertoire and make them concert-ready

*Finish one crochet project a month

*Finish a queen-sized quilt by hand

*Start a master's degree program

*Earn my teaching certificate

The last thing the preacher said that night still rings in my ears: "Don't allow your past to cripple you and make you worthless for God."  The past doesn't necessarily mean the absolute-worst-thing-I've-ever-done; it could just be the way I've always done things.  If I were honest, I might say that the way I've always done it has never quite worked, and continuing to do things that way just perpetuates the cycle and puts me that much farther behind.  I don't want to give myself a handicap before I even step inside the starting block.

Rain

"Oh, how great is Your goodness,

which You have laid up for those who fear You,

which You have prepared for those who trust in You,

in the presence of the sons of men!"

--Psalm 31:19

The plastic rain gauge on our soggy wooden porch reads just above 3.5 inches, its bottom covered in fuzzy brown algae. It hasn't been dumped out in two weeks or more, but there really hasn't been time for that. Before this week's rain, the San Antonio area got an unexpected 7.5 inches of rainfall for the first six weeks of 2012. Now, just after week seven, thirty-day totals for the Alamo City read 9.25 inches. Our little rain gauge has had its beaker full.

This is an unexpected boon, to say the least.

As I returned to San Antonio late last June, the city was in the middle of a severe drought which began the previous summer. Blazing wildfires and stage four water restrictions kept conditions life-threatening and left residents begging for relief. "The percentage of exceptional drought [in Texas] was the highest in the State" in ten years, records Wikipedia. Though averaging 33 inches of rainfall a year, this portion of the state would only see two inches for all of 2011 combined.

The 2012 Farmer's Almanac shows long-range forecasts that expect similar amounts to persist well into summer 2012. "Winter temperatures will be milder than normal, on average, with much-below-normal rainfall," it predicts. The publication goes on to suggest that the southern portions of Texas will continue to receive inadequate precipitation, "with drought a threat." And yet every day as I pull out of the driveway with my father's truck, the tires eat away at more and more soft sod because there's more moisture on the ground than the soil can absorb.

It's highly unusual, local weather forecasters claim. This year is a La Nina climate pattern, one in which oceanic temperatures are lower by as much as 10 degrees, causing conditions in Texas to be dry and warm this time of year. Even the almanac predictions take the La Nina phenomenon into account, assuming only 2.5 inches of rainfall for the months of February and March. That's 2.13 inches LESS than what February has already received.

For all this upset in climatology, I have only one person to blame: me.

Five weeks ago, in the middle of the first month of the year, my pastor issued a challenge to his congregation. He dared us to give this new year--with all of its problems and potentialities--over to the LORD. There would be four days of dedication, he said, to "commit our way" to Him, just as it commands in Psalm 37. The church would be open to come and pray on those nights. Having twelve months of uncertainty ahead of me, I went.

The morning of the first day, Sunday, January 15, our pastor directed us to Psalm 31:19. In the verse, King David describes what good things the righteous have coming to them: a measure of the LORD's favor that has been set aside for some future time. "There is a moment when the stored up blessings will be poured out," the pastor explained. "[So m]aybe it's gonna rain on you... And maybe it's gonna be soon. Maybe this [year] will be the end of barrenness or drought."

His statement rings oddly prophetic in my life, the full effects of which I know have yet to be realized. Just since September, I've felt sprinkles of God's blessings. Though nothing enough to satiate the need, I consider them a sort of first fruits of what is surely to come. More recently I've felt the showers getting stronger. As I watch the rain clouds of favor gathering on the horizon, my heart swells with overwhelming thankfulness.

"On the eve of 2012," I wrote in my prayer journal on December 30, "there are so many questions--so many hopes, so many fulfillments of dreams--and I don't have answers for any of them. Help me to trust You, Lord, and step out in faith in this new year."

Fighting the Break of Dawn

"Save tonight

and fight the break of dawn.

Come tomorrow,

tomorrow I'll be gone."

--Eagle Eye Cherry

"I read your article," Dad told me over the phone this morning, his Wednesday night, referring to my recent publication on Examiner.com. I had newly applied to be a layman reporter with the organization and just this week began producing material for the site. "Your grandma read it, too. It felt like I was there--and now I want to go to that cell phone store. I don't know about your other two, because I don't remember them."

As I started to recount what I had written about this past week, he stopped me. "But that's not what I want to talk about." There was pressing news about the family that just couldn't wait until morning.

Grandpa had been put back in the hospital two weeks ago when his cancer resurfaced and was now in ICU, Dad informed me. Dad himself had been there with the family for some time--and would stay all night if need be. "Your grandfather is very weak," he said gravely. "The doctor came in just a few moments ago and informed us of his condition. Grandma said we needed to give Grandpa every chance we could and wants to keep him on the breathing machine; the doctor said he'd do what she asked."

It was the first time I had heard the words breathing machine and Grandpa in such a weighty context. Surely that didn't mean the machine? Further along in the conversation, gulping back my tears I braved the question. "What do you want me to do, Dad, if something happens?"

It wouldn't do any good in the end, he noted, my coming home. "We know that you care about us," he replied tenderly, "but it's a very long trip. You have made friends there--get hugs from them. People in South Korea would suffer [if you left] because you still have work to do."

Informed of the new turn of events, we said our goodbyes and I left for school--but it was all I could do to focus on my students today. At random moments throughout, I couldn't help but dwelling on my grandfather's news and at one point I found myself nearly in tears as I was explaining what the phrase "bid farewell" meant. Even now my heart breaks as I sit on my ondol-heated flooring tonight, wishing with all my heart I were there with my family.

I read something this morning which gives me great comfort in the midst of the struggle. In Psalm 91, the LORD promises His faithfulness and protection to his servants. Part of verse fifteen reads in Spanish, "Estaré con él en momentos de angustia"--which in English says that He will be with us during our utter grief and pain. In this season of utmost sorrow for my family, I know He will comfort those who mourn.

"Jen, I am sure your spirit is with [your family] right now, though your flesh is not," my friend Young Hee messaged me tonight through Skype.

"My spirit can't be anywhere but my body right now," I quickly replied. "But the Spirit of Jesus hovers over them like a gentle, powerful father. And He has not left them orphans--He WILL COME to them in their anguish."

Yes, LORD, and Amen!

Full Circle

I was listening to KLove last night as I sat working on a blog post in my apartment. I had been tuned into the American radio station off and on throughout the day while doing chores, home due to Korea's Independence Day, Samil.

Around eight that night--five a.m., Central Standard Time--the morning show hosts took the air and issued a challenge to their listeners: As it was bright and early on the first day of March 2011, there must be some people out there having anxiously anticipated this day for a long time--some, perhaps, their whole lives. They referenced a young man in Tennessee (Kentucky?) named Tyler who would soon be taking the entrance exam for med school, and later this week marrying the love of his life. What, the co-hosts wondered, have you been waiting for?

After it was said, I thought nothing of the question and went back to blogging. This morning, however, was another matter. You see, I have been waiting: waiting to finish what began on August 1, 2009. That was the day the LORD put the word "challenge" on my heart, and effectively started this journey to South Korea. Six months later, after a devastating loss less than half-way through my first job offer, something else was started. And today marks its end.

One year ago today, I wore brown stockings just like I am now. I had a freshly cut 'do styled similar to the one I had done last week. I was also wearing blue long sleeves--belonging to my denim dress rather than the turtleneck I currently have on. I quietly cried through our school-wide tour, overwhelmed at yet another change in my life in just a few short months. One year ago today, I began my second year-long contract.

Much has changed in the Land of the Morning Calm in the time the Earth took to make its annual circuit around the sun. I've seen a total of three directors assume the role of headmaster, the final one taking control only as of January. I've also witnessed six full-time teachers quit, finish contracts, or be let go due to downsizing and economic loss. Standing with them at the ever-revolving elevator door of our fifth floor hagwon, have been four office staff members and half a dozen bus drivers--to let alone the growing number of students to leave our school.

I've also seen my share of financial ups and downs this year. Frustrated with the run-around I was getting from management several months ago, I wrote to my former colleagues, Andy and Brandon, about the problem. "I don't really know what's going on," I told them through Facebook. "The more I think about how matters stand, the more I don't want to sign up for another round."

Yet even in my frustration, it was clear I would stay to the end. Come what may, I had given my word--and a promise is a promise, no matter the circumstance. But above honor, I knew it was right in the eyes of the LORD to suffer for doing good (ref. I Pet. 2:20). "I have enough saved for a ticket home were it to come to that," I told the guys, "but I would really like to finish one of the two contracts I signed this year."

Others were also witness to my persistence. "I have to finish what James and I started ten months ago," I told Grace Teacher rigidly, as we faced yet more adjustments to schedules and policies earlier in January. I couldn't give up when I was so close!

Slowly, steadily, this day has crept into view, furthered along by two national holidays, yet more students leaving, and--the crowning joy--K-2's energetic, timely graduation last Friday morning. At the close of the day, nothing more is certain for the future of the hagwon but my continued presence in it, for as long as Jesus would have me stay there.

"What day is today?" I asked James tonight over the phone.

"Today is Wednesday."

No, no. He was thinking about the question wrong. "What date is it today?"

Contemplating the inquiry more deeply, he ventured another guess. "Today is Wednesday, March second."

I just knew he would piece it together this time. "So what day is it?" I asked expectantly. The voice in my head screamed out the date, even as recognition of its significance escaped my teacher-friend.

After a pause devoid of the answer I sought, I kept going. "We finished, James. We made it to contract!"

Yes, indeed, James Teacher, we have.

Sah Kyehjole: Interlude

My childhood home: 3407 Ackerman Rd.

One thing that living abroad has allowed many ex-pats to do is to take trips around the South Pacific and other parts of Asia. Among other benefits, these short furloughs allow an interlude from the fast-paced life of Korea and a chance to experience other seasons around the world. However for me, instead of travelling to another country, I chose to take my break from Korea back in Texas to experience a season of a different kind--my brother getting married and adding not one, but two new members to the family. Along with sharing in my brother's joy, I was able to spend some time with some very dear friends of mine and make some new ones. It was hard leaving for Korea in the beginning, harder still the second time around. In some ways, it feels as if I left my heart back home with many of my loved ones.

April 2010: Interlude

Makgan 막간

Meet Kristin: She was the Christian woman who sat with me on the 9+ hour plane ride from Tokyo to Los Angeles. Come to find out, she was best friends with the sister of one of my friends from Chungju! We had the chance to encourage each other in the LORD.

Faces from House Church. Top to Bottom: Lizzie, Firoozeh, and Sharam; Sam and Christina; Firoozeh; Lizzie. These are the people that were in my life just prior to leaving to Korea. It was sweet to see them and be encouraged by what God's been working in their lives.

The Tolliver Gang! I met Mary-Ellen (far left) four years ago during my last year at TLU, and she has been a precious friend ever since. Here we are with her beau, Stephen, and her older brother Adrick at a Mexican restaurant in Seguin.

This is Toastmasters International, a Christian organization which seeks to give its members ample opportunities to give speeches in front of crowds; participating in it has become one of my dad's hobbies. It became a wonderful time to spend with my parents while I was home. That night, I had a chance to try my skills at public speaking with an impromptu exposition about my favorite meal in Korea, dokkgalbi.

My best friend Heidi and her sweet boys, Brody (the older one) and Nikki. Without her support, I would have never made it here in Korea.

These are my closest, oldest friends back home. L to R: Carla, Kamil, me, Amy, Matt, Kim, and Kamil's wife, Darcy. While I was home, they took me to dinner at Blanco Cafe, a modest but popular Mexican restaurant in the middle of town. After dinner, we went to hear Cleto Rodriguez, a Christian comedian who used to attend my home church.

Rehearsal and Dinner: The night before the wedding became a sweet time for me to spend with my family before having to journey back to Korea the following week.

The day after the wedding, we gathered together at Christy's parents' house for lunch, fellowship, and to watch them open their wedding presents.

Along with a gift for the couple, I brought other gifts from the Land of the Morning Calm to pass out to my family--which my mom thoroughly enjoyed.

This is a group of people--my family, really--to whom I have stayed close since graduating high school and joining their "college group." Brenda (top), her husband, and children have ministered to me greatly over the years, along with my dear friend Carla (bottom). As I rode with Carla back home one night, she told me, "It was a big thing that you left and it matters that you came back."

The night before I caught my plane flight back to Korea, Kim (above) asked if we could get some late-night dinner at the local IHOP and catch up, "since you're probably not gonna get sleep tonight anyway." As it was the last time I'd get to see her for a while, how could I refuse?

Sah Kyejole: Spring

My student Annie's response to her journal topic, "What does a teacher do?"

Springime came slowly for the inhabitants of the Land of the Morning Calm in 2010. Just as Brandon had predicted, it was still thick-coat-and-tall-boot weather the week I moved to Suwon at the beginning of March. Aside from the blossoming buds I began to notice around church, I was unaware of any real change in season as the weeks progressed. "The only difference between Korean winter and spring," I remember writing on Facebook three weeks after my move, "is that now the flowers are cold."

Though the mercury on the the thermometer changed little that season, creeping ever-so slowly towards warmth, many changes in my life were ushered in with the intervening months between winter and summer: Not only did I change jobs and cities in a foreign country; sign a second contract which extended my stay by four months; and leave the support base of friends that I had come to cherish. I also saw two of those friends, Andy and Laura, depart Korea for good shortly after I left. But even as they did, I began to see the LORD populating my life with a rich group of women from SIBC, and even at my workplace, who were strong in faith and steadfast in love.

"It's a good step for you," I remember Brandon commenting as we helped pack Laura's one-room apartment in the middle of March. "You'll be surrounded by like-minded people," he said. As I reflect on the manifold blessings the LORD has given me through the people I have come to cherish here, I can see he was right. If I really had wanted to stay in Korea, coming to Suwon was the best move I could have made.

* * *

Spring: Bome-cheol 봄철 2010

March saw Frankie and me settle into one apartment, only to have to transfer to another four weeks later. All in all, the move was convenient: it brought us closer to the station, within walking distance of a small Korean grocery store, and only three blocks away from the nearest bus stop.

In the middle of the month, I went to Seoul to see a friend from Chungju and was caught in a soggy winter storm. I didn't even have any stockings on underneath my pants because I thuought it would be warm! After leaving my friend, I stood an hour in line with the Koreans as we huddled at the station awaiting our turn to hail a cab.

The ladies of SIBC took me out one warmer Sunday afternoon for bokembab in Insadong, followed by a lovely chat at a nearby tea room, the Old Tea Shop, which was populated by tiny finches and sparrows. It was quite a romantic, relaxing day.

On the second of March, I started working with James (L) and Grace (R), among the other staff members of ILS Dongtan.

For St. Patrick's Day, the "Irish of the Orient" treated me to the best Patty's party I've ever attended: Green was in abundance, dancing was the flavor of the day, and St. Patrick (a.k.a. Our James Teacher) himself graced us with his celebrated presence.

On the fiftth of April, the day Koreans celebrate Arbor Day, my kindergarten students went for a short field trip to a local park to plant tree seeds. The air was fresh, the weather breezy, and the sun warm--the makings of a fine spring day by Texas standards. The Koreans, however, didn't seem to be expecting it: My students came dressed for the elements that day, complete with jackets, warm-up suits, and three layers underneath. My K-1 student, Harry, looked at me after he had just been running around in all those clothes and said, "Teacher, hot." Why, naturally.

A friend of mine and I went for a nature walk/hike through Dongtan's famed Central Park just weeks before I left for the States. It took an hour to traverse, but overall was quite a pleasant experience.

Springtime was also when I met my friend December, a Christian woman who lives near where I work. She invites me out to the movies or dinner from time to time. On this occasion, she introduced me to Pho Mein, an elegant Vietnamese-style chain whose cuisine is some of the tastiest I've had this side of the States.

Enter Daniel Barnett. He effectively replaced me as the other foreign teacher at Learning Well. Brandon introduced me to him during Easter weekend when they came up to Seoul to visit my church and he proved very instrumental in the LORD's direction later that summer.