Freedom

This last trip to Korea has been deeply moving for me somehow. There seems to have been a fundamental shift in my heart and my psyche. I don't understand it.

On the surface of it, I've done exactly the same thing that I do on almost all my visits: take the one a.m. flight out to Seoul from JFK on Saturday morning; arrive at three a.m. in Incheon International on Sunday; wait until six a.m. for the limousine bus ticket office to open; take the 3 1/2 hour bus ride to Iksan; take a cab to my cousin's hospital and go hang out at my Dad's apartment with my Dad and caretaker until my cousin picks me up; sleep at my cousin's then go hang out with my Dad and caretaker (various family members will come out to meals with us or meet us while I'm visiting Dad); repeat until Friday or Saturday, depending upon when my flight is; take the super fast KTX train to Seoul and go to First Auntie's house; hang out with Aunties in Seoul and have dinner with them; sleep at First Auntie's house then take cab to Incheon 4 hours before return flight.

Really quite a boring itinerary. One that I've repeated many times. I met all the same people. Went to all the same parks. Did all the same activities. But upon my return, I couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming gratitude that I experienced. Grateful for the time I have with my Dad, for the fact that I can take these trips twice a year, for my own little family unit, for a life that when all is said and done, is a privileged one.

The gratitude even shook me out of my self-indulgent pity about the whole in-law dynamic. While I was going through it, I never understood why I felt so compelled to make various attempts at reconciliation when they always ended up in such total disaster, leaving everyone at various corners to lick their oozing wounds. I was utterly resentful at the clarity of God's call to these various encounters, and thought all they did was cause me further humiliation and my in-laws additional pain. I was obedient in my efforts, and my efforts at reconciling with them, however flawed, were genuine. I really did try my best. But my best was really, really poor by anyone's standards in terms of execution. So poor, in fact, that I had a really hard time wrapping my mind around why any of it had happened.

But suddenly, after my trip, and the wave of gratitude, without internal wrestling, or a forgiveness regimen, or counseling, or books, or anything at all . . . I feel free. The situation is not any different. It, I believe, will always be a broken relationship. But I'm not eaten up by it anymore. I don't waste a large chunk of my spare time contemplating just how much I hate my in-laws (shameful to admit, but true). I am absolved by the knowledge that despite how poor my "best" was, I did give it a go in reconciling and it didn't happen. And it's ok. And for the first time in a long time, I feel free -- not eaten up by guilt or hatred.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.