Yesterday I sat on the steps of the school, listening to the boys play "Hosanna" on the occarinas while looking off at th mountains in the distance. We all knew the song... as long as no one sang the words. So they played and I hummed, without any sort of linguistic or cultural barrier standing in our way.
As I sit in the cool weather, I stare off into the distance, admiring the beaty of the misty mountains and the city buildings still further off. I think about where I am. It's amazing to be back here in this place; for the rest of my physical body to finally join my heart again, where I left if-- with these students, halfway around the world, so far away from the country and culture I call home.
The word Korea no longer sounds foreign to my ears. No matter how many times I say it...
Of courseI still get plenty of stares because I'm white or because I look lost (or because I really am lost and I'm speaking such broken Korean that all I can do is make people laugh); and everyone may assume that the only thing I ever want to eat is hamburgers or pizza; and people will think I'm dirty because I forget to take my shoes off in the house. It seems I am constantly reminded that I am a foreigner, that I really don't belong.
But for this time and season, God has drawn my heart and called me to be here. Although I may still be foreign to Korea, Korea is no longer foreign to me.