English Camp...

Here's my 3rd grade class. They are a great group of kids. More to come...but now I'm off to ring in the new year. Hey, I'll be in 2009 before any of you. Sweet!!
Leading the best song every written... "I Am the Music Man"

The Bike Accident... (or) The Best Summer of My Life...

Pastor Paul's article in this week's bulletin shared his favorite Christmas memories. It reminded me of some of my own, so I'd like to share one with you.

When I was young, I loved my bike. It was black and gold with a banana seat, high handle bars and that wonderful pedal brake. Now the pedal break is vital if you really want to have fun on your bike. It was great for off-roading at the "dirt hill." And only with a pedal brake can you pop wheelies or power slide at that special spot in the road where the gravel collects. By the time I was 12, I had outgrown my banana seat and desperately wanted a 10 speed. It looked cool and I thought it would make me grown up. However, the thrill wore off quickly. I realized right away that it was much easier to climb hills, but the fun stuff was over. You can't power slide with hand brakes, and those tires are way too thin anyway. I missed my banana seat.

My riding was not without incident. There was the time I was riding the banana seat to the neighborhood pool. I hopped the curb and stood as I coasted down the grassy bank like I had done a hundred times before. I was on the same old trail traveling at the same old speed when a hole that had never been there before grabbed my front wheel and brought the bike to a sudden stop. The bike stopped, but I didn't. Instantly, I was sliding down the hill on my chest and hands. No damage except to my pride. There were other incidents involving scraped knees and torn jeans when my bell bottoms got caught in the chain. That can also be a sudden stop. Remember clothes pinning baseball cards in the spokes? My friends and I were real bikers with that tough bop bop bop bop sound coming from our motors.

The biggest event of my biker career came when I was 9. It was the last day of school, and after supper I went out with some friends to celebrate our freedom. I got separated from the others for some reason but knew where they had gone and where they would show up. So, I decided to have some fun and swoop down from out of nowhere to join them when they turned the corner coming from the pool. I went to the top of the Dupes' driveway and waited. As the seconds passed, my heart began to pound harder and harder. "This is going to be really cool," I thought. Then I saw them. As they turned the corner, I quickly looked both ways and started down. My speed was perfect to make the turn, and I quickly reached the road. I faintly heard one of them cry out my name...then stars...then nothing.

I awoke on my back on the driveway. There were adults gathered around me, and I looked around for my bike. It was about 10 feet away and there seemed to be something wrong with the front wheel. I tried to get up to check it out, but the adults insisted that I stay where I was. That made me a little mad, but then I saw my leg. There was a strange knot on the side of my lower leg, so I decided to do as they said. The short side of the story is that I did not see the VW Bug headed my way. The 19 year old driver never saw me until I was on his hood. My left leg was broken between the knee and ankle, and I had a slight concussion from impacting the windshield. I spent 4 days in the hospital. That was the beginning of my summer vacation.

You might think it was a horrible experience, but I have to disagree. Strangely, I'm thankful for the accident, because it led to the best summer of my life. When I was a child, both my parents were teachers. So, the whole family was all off together. We always did things together, and I remember many things from my childhood. But rarely do I remember when they occurred. That summer, however, stands alone. I'm not sure if my parents were trying to make up for the loss of freedom or if I was just more keenly aware, but it seemed that we spent even more time together as a family. Perhaps I was only receiving the benefits that were always there but had missed by being out in the neighborhood all the time. We had picnics in the back yard, and Daddy started a big project for my room. He had built furniture for my sisters before that, and now it was my turn for a major overhaul.

My full size bed had a headboard with three pocket bookcases built in. Daddy turned it on it's side and made a really cool unit with randomly sized permanent shelves. (He still uses it under the house to store motor oil and such.) We hung that on one wall. For the other wall, we made long shelves, and I learned how to use a chisel to make notches for the supports. We painted them with oil based enamel red, blue, green and yellow and used the same colors in random fashion on the headboard unit. I learned a little about removing oil based paint, too. To replace the bed frame, Daddy made a nice plywood box with an opening at the foot end, which served as storage for games and toys. The really exciting part of the whole thing was the support piece across the middle of the bed frame. It created a secret compartment that was only accessible by lifting the bed and box springs. Of course it wasn't all that secret, because I needed someone else to do the lifting until I was in Middle School. With the shelves, bed frame and a fresh coat of paint, I had a brand new room.

Here I am painting...I wore that plaster cast for eight weeks. Ha, I hadn't noticed before, but you can actually see signatures around the knee. When they cut off the cast a strange thing happened. The technician removed it and told me to swing down from the table. The moment I did, my leg involuntarily lifted off the floor. After carrying the extra weight for a couple of months, my muscles automatically compensated. I was intrigued, but it never happened again. I suppose the brain said, "Oh, well, I'm glad that's gone."

To make up for the lost summer, my parents took me to the beach for a week before school started back. We always camped at Myrtle. That was back in the good old days. Pine trees...lots of families...bamboo fishing poles...Japanese lanterns...Coleman stoves...and bug lights. Daddy, ever the good dollar stretcher had built his own car carrier. In it was our 5 man tent, cots, stove and traveling kitchen. The kitchen was a large wood box with drawers and plenty of room for all the necessities. I think it even had a towel rack, but I'm not certain about that. (I think he still has it under the house, too.) Mama had made special sheets for the cot mattresses, and it felt just like home. And she could really make a good meal at the picnic table. I still occasionally hear what sounds like an old Coleman stove and swear I smell bacon frying.

I'm glad I was reminded of that summer. What could be viewed as tragedy was for me a real blessing...memories I will cherish the rest of my life. Sometimes I question God, "Why did this happen? This is not what I wanted." But I am comforted knowing that He is fully aware of my needs and is never far away. I can trust Him and rely on His promises. I may not see more than a few steps of the trail, but when I follow Him, I find what is best for me. He has promised, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" (Jeremiah 29:11)

Sinusitis...

Doctor's exam & a steroid injection..............$12.05

Five unknown medications..........................$8.03

Humidifier..............................................Free

Waking up to a relatively clear head.........PRICELESS

(This was a 24 hour clinic on Sunday. Imagine what it would have cost in the US.)

Some Random Photos...

I've had these photos and didn't know where to put them. So they go together, I guess.

You think you have cable issues?
Me at the Currency Museum...
Moving Day...
Wash - Rinse - Dry. No kidding.
You must get your paper before you enter. Proper planning is essential.
The Korean version of the "Dollar Tree" (Actually it's more like 75 cents with the exchange rate).

Christmas Morning in Korea...

Choir cantata...worship...celebration...friends...family...the perfect Christmas. During the service, the infant boy next to me reached for me, and his mother handed him over. I held him and bounced my knee as he played with the zipper on my Korean/English Bible. The smell...the sound...the warmth...the feel of his fine hair against my cheek...the delicate fingers wrapped around my pinky...how Joseph must have wondered in awe as he held the Creator of Heaven and Earth in his arms.

About halfway through the music, Yu Na came up from further back in the room and squeezed in under my arm. She's 8. We sat there together until it was over, clapping our hands together in applause. What a wonderful gift I received this Christmas.The soloist is doing double duty.
I think you'll recognize this song.

Christmas at Calvary...

I went to Seoul again today and enjoyed time with my Calvary friends. However, I was reminded once again that if you stand in one place for very long, they will think you have nothing to do and put you to work. So, I helped serve the meal tonight. It was a lot of fun.
Sure, I'll wear that outfit anytime as long as this happens.
Do Rae Mi... I stayed with them Christmas Eve night.
By the way, as I write this it is officially Christmas in Korea. Merry Christmas!!

Living the Language...

I enjoyed a huge victory the other day. I asked about Christian book stores, and one of the staff wrote down the name of one in Hangeul and English. He showed me the location on my bus map, and I started off. I had been in the area before, but wasn't sure where it was. As usual, there were 5 and 6 story buildings all down the block, and each window seemed to have a business sign. I focused on the first two syllables in the name on my paper and compared them to the signs. Within a couple of minutes I had it. Last building, second floor.
Hangeul really isn't that difficult. (Anything can be overwhelming when you see it all at once.) The difficult part is applying sounds to unfamiliar characters. But the structure of words is really pretty simple. Characters are arranged in blocks (left to right first then top to bottom). Each block is a syllable and blocks are put together to form words. I've prepared a little game for you. Below is an alphabet chart. Note that consonants have two possible sounds. The first is for use as the initial character in a syllable. The second is if used to end a syllable. Example: 아 is AH while 상 is SAHNG. Another Hint: ㅅ can be a little frustrating. At the beginning it is "s" or "sh" but at the end it is "t".
Now here's your quiz. Below are signs from several familiar establishments. See if you can figure them out. Don't let the different scripts fool you. Post your answers.

1.
2.
3. Hint: The first letter in the second syllable is actually "ㄱ". (Remember, read left to right then top to bottom.)
4.
5.
6. This one is actually Russian. Found it on the net. Do you know it?

The Old Market...

Luke is a 23 year old Californian who is here for a year teaching English at a local Hagwan. We started attending ANCF at the same time. Saturday, we went to the old market downtown. It's full of shops and outdoor food vendors. We even saw some men playing a game on the sidewalk.

Passion...

God revealed something to me that I had been wondering about since my first encounter with the Korean people in June. Koreans are passionate people, and when they sing, their passion overflows. Many times I've listened as they sing songs I do not know. Each time, I've been compelled to worship despite not understanding the words being sung. Afterward, I've been eager to discover just what they were singing about. Sometimes the song is originally in English and easy to find. Other times the song is uniquely Korean without a translation. That's a bit disappointing, but it reminds me of the most important thing--the worship of these people points my heart toward Jesus. He is the source and object of their passion.

My life should be the same. Jesus must be my passion, and that passion should radiate in every aspect of my life. My work, my play, my conversation, my song...in joy, in sorrow, in peace. Others should see a bold, living relationship and be compelled to discover just what it is I'm so passionate about.

English Class...

A funny thing happened in English class today...

Teaching conversational English is different from any teaching I've done. All other teaching involves explaining facts and concepts that the student has never before considered or heard. These people understand English grammer better than I do. How many of you remember what a past participle is? You are quite skilled at using it, and you do so all the time, but do you remember what it is?

The challenge of this class is not explaining the concepts. It's giving them an opportunity to use English in everyday conversation. Although they can read and right English very well, it seems to be a different area of the brain that carries on conversation. It is sometimes a struggle for them to pull the words out and express themselves. It's a little like me and clothes shopping. I see what other men wear and think, "I really like that combination." Then I go to the store and have no idea where to start.

Many times, it is difficult to understand each other even though we are both speaking English. This morning our lesson was on ordering food, and I was helping them pronounce "croissant". (No kidding Mama.) I helped them pronounce it correctly and then side tracked a bit explaining Crescent Rolls. I used crescent moon as an example and that's when one of the guys suddenly nodded happily. He tried to explain where he had read "crescent" before, but that's where communication broke down. The more he tried to say his English word the funnier it got. Finally, he just started singing, "duh duh...duh duh...duh duh duh duh...." I suddenly realized what it was and burst into laughter. He was doing the "Jaws" theme.

Music really is the universal language...

Halfway...

Today is my 45th day in Korea. Halfway. I've experienced a lot, mostly with everyday living. I've really enjoyed the adventure of exploration and discovery. Sometimes I fall into that trap of thinking I'm an expert at this or that, but then something happens to remind me that I know nothing. Our life with God is the same. Occasionally God sweeps His light to give us a brief glimpse of our destination, but usually He shines just enough for us to see where the next step is. When we get comfortable, pride rises within us and we think we are in control of our destiny. That's when He dims the light a bit to remind us where it comes from.

I'm at a point now that is unusual in a foreign land. I'm past the initial learning stage and simply living. Things are familiar to me now. While I look forward to returning home in February, I already know it will be difficult to leave. I easily make attachments on mission trips. A week with a family and new friends always leaves my heart a bit tender, but this is beyond that. I've developed trusting relationships here. Good people who love Jesus, who worship and live for Him and who share the same future I do. I've been allowed into their homes and lives. We've shared our dreams, our joys and our sorrows. I've seen God working here just as He does everywhere else. I feel at home.

So, when it comes time to go home, I know I will also be leaving home. And that is the difficult thing.

Mario...

It seems that half my experiences occur on the bus. I met an American man from Miami a couple of weeks ago, and we had a good conversation. He was with his daughter, a beautiful 10 year old of mixed heritage. Then a couple of days ago, I was waiting for the bus and saw a dark skinned lady. I asked if she was Indian, and in perfect American English, she said, “No, we’re from Florida.” That’s when I noticed her daughter quietly sitting and smiling at me. Yep, same girl. On the bus, being the expert I am, I quizzed her on reading Hangeul. It was nice to see a familiar face, and she and I shared what we had learned while in the country.

Yesterday, on my way to Daejeon Station to catch the KTX, I was stared at by a little Korean girl. I was seated, and she was standing next to her mother behind me. I said, “An yang,” and she hid. Her mother encouraged her and eventually we spoke a little. The girl was 8 and her brother, seated on mama’s lap was 3. He was not bashful. A big toothy grin was on his face. I’ve never wanted to make anyone uncomfortable, so after a few words, I turned back to the front. Then a few moments later a little hand appeared in the corner of my eye. I looked and in it was a single wrapped piece of candy. The little girl shyly smiled as I thanked her and enjoyed the treat.

Forrest Gump would appreciate the bus situation. “You never know what you’re gonna get.” All the buses are on a schedule, but the ride varies greatly from one to the next. Most of the time it’s a normal ride, but occasionally you get one of two extremes. I’ve been on buses when the driver seemed to be taking his Sunday afternoon drive. But this morning was the opposite. I saw him as he slid to a stop. Mario was at the wheel, and he was on a schedule. He obeyed the red lights and even came to a complete stop to let people on. But as soon as the doors closed, you had to grab hold of something or you’d be piled in the back of the bus.

Curves were no problem either. These babies have short wheel bases specifically designed for curves, and I think Mario began his career as a quality control tester. The only time I was ever truly unnerved was the other time I rode with Mario. We were about a ¼ mile from our T intersection. The light was green, and there was no one in sight. Time slowed down as Mario hit the gas. We accelerated, and I began to notice the nice foliage directly ahead of us. Limbs seemed to sway in slow motion as we careened toward them, and just as we were about to enter the intersection we coasted some more. At what I knew was past the last possible moment, Mario eased on the break and made a spectacular sweeping left turn using our entire side of the road. A Formula 1 driver would have been proud. I made it to church early that day.

Seoul Again...

Street Scenes...
Korean Salvation Army...Buddhist Salvation Army...Leading Worship at Calvary...My Korean Nieces and Nephew...
Ye Na, Chu Dan, Yu Na

Ministry Fair...

Enlistment for different ministries in the church...
Remember the rice bowl Foreign Missions piggy banks? They use plastic Kimchi pot banks here...

Pastor Paul...Sunday lunch with the guys...