cabin restroom

I know well that being a parent is not easy, but I believe it is one of the most precious things in life. Whether near or far, I feel that a mother’s life is one of carrying the image of her children in her heart forever.

When people say, 'my child is the apple of my eye', I am sure it means that a mother’s children are always in her mind.

Receiving training at an older age made me feel guilty toward my two children. Although I knew it was the path our family had to take, it was difficult to bear the thought of being away from my children so often. I resolved that I would never be separated from them again, no matter what the circumstances.

While my son was in Korea recovering his health and waiting for his mom, he never left my thoughts, not even for a second.

During the five months we were apart, he grew up peacefully under the care of his great-grandmother, grandfather, and grandmother.

When I arrived, he kept looking at me, sometimes avoiding my gaze, and during meals, he would cautiously approach and show some interest in me.

It wasn’t until about ten days later that we were finally able to board a plane together to Singapore.

As we said goodbye to his grandfather and entered the plane, my son began to cry when he realized his grandfather wasn’t coming with us.

Although I thought we had grown close in our brief time together, he was still very anxious about being without the strong presence of his grandfather, with whom he had spent the past five months.

As I carried my son onto the plane, I tried to comfort him, but nothing could replace the longing he felt. An aircraft crew offered cheese and small toys, which quieted him for a while until he eventually fell asleep in my arms.

By then, he had grown so much that it was uncomfortable for both of us to sit together.

He woke up, fussy, and began to cry louder and louder.

One of the passengers said,

“Oh, the baby seems really distressed. Did you adopt him?”

I replied,

“Oh, no, he’s my son. I just brought him back from staying with my parents.”

The passenger apologized, saying,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. He’s been crying since we boarded…”

I reassured them,

“It’s okay. It’s my fault as his mother.”

But as I spoke, tears welled up in my eyes.

How could they think I had adopted him? He’s my own son… The comment, though innocent, pierced my heart.

Feeling embarrassed and deeply sorry for the other passengers, I took my son to the cabin restroom. I held him close, trying to soothe him and rock him back to sleep, and we ended up staying in the cabin restroom for most of the flight.

My son and I are cried in that cramped cabin restroom in long hours.

Finally, the heavy flight to Singapore was over.

After spending those intense hours together in the cabin restroom, it seemed my son began to see me more as his mother. He started to hold my hand and cuddle up to me. As we descended, he stayed calm, sitting beside me, as if he had found some stability.

It was an unforgettable memory trip for my son and mother, who had to sit in the cabin restroom the entire flight to Singapore.

When we finally arrived at the fresh, bright Singapore airport, I carefully stepped forward with my 14-month-old son in my arms, carrying our luggage, worried that he might start crying again.

As we reached the large glass meeting area, I saw my husband and daughter joyfully jumping up and down, waving at us from a distance.

“There’s Daddy! Oh, and there’s your sister too,”

I explained to my son, hoping he wouldn’t be startled by the sudden reunion, and I slowly walked out with him.

But to my surprise, my son, who had been holding my hand, smiled brightly and walked straight toward his dad, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

My daughter rushed over to hug me.

Even with my swollen eyes, it was the happiest moment of my life.

It seemed like my son naturally took to his dad, perhaps because he resembled the uncles he had been with.

That night, my son, now closely bonded with his father, stayed up until 4 a.m., constantly asking to go outside and play. He kept pulling his dad out, unable to sleep, as if everything around him was fascinating.

It must have all been so new to him—before coming home, he played at the sandbox with his sister, and his dad, unable to sleep, spent the night playing with him until dawn before finally bringing him inside.

That night, my son underwent his initiation with his dad. From that day forward, they became even closer.

He followed his dad everywhere, smiled, and even covered his dad’s face with kisses, sometimes drooling all over him as he hugged him tightly to show his love. Our family was whole again.

I realized that the bond between parent and child is unbreakable, no matter how far apart they are.

With his longing now relieved, we spent happy moments together.

One day during worship, I was sitting in the back, holding my son, when he suddenly crawled over to me and fell asleep in my arms. The fact that he sought out my embrace filled me with such joy that I cried during the service, thanking God in prayer.

Finally, I had been accepted as a mother by my son!

I am his mother. Lord,

I am the mother to whom this child comes, falls asleep in, and is comforted by.

Please, never let me be separated from my children again. Help me to protect and nurture the family You have given me.

I am his mother. Now my child comes running to me. Thank you, Lord.

After we got married, we prayed for a stable time to have children, but contrary to our hopes, our daughter and son came to us as we began our mission work.

Although we felt joy and gratitude, we didn’t have the luxury of raising our children with great care. Our family had to struggle, fighting to survive.

Is that struggle over now?

What kind of life lies ahead for our two children, born to missionaries?

How will they adapt to this life where they must overcome ever-changing environments and run alongside their parents? How will they perceive these years spent in foreign lands, surrounded by strangers and new languages? All these worries weighed heavily on my heart.

I didn’t want to be a weak parent who couldn’t protect her children.

But my life’s journey has not always been safe or secure. I couldn’t abandon the path ahead just for the sake of stability, nor could I guarantee that such a life would ensure lasting security for my children.

I worried a lot about whether these experiences would have negative effects on them, especially remembering the saying, “The habits formed at three years old last until eighty years old.”

In my childhood, our family’s goal was simply to live without illness or poverty.

But now, our family’s goal is not our own comfort, but to share and embody God’s heart for the diverse people around the world who are suffering and in need. We believe that the path we walk is the path God wants us to take.

I’ve come to expect that my children, raised in this environment alongside us, will have extraordinary experiences that will shape their character and emotions in ways I cannot predict, and I hope that these will be more positive than negative.

I believe that the best way to truly respect the two children who have done their best in life so far is for us, as parents, to boldly continue our journey with vision and determination, undeterred by hardships.

Such a life, I believe that will be the greatest legacy we can leave them.