our Stonewall Sweet Room
우리의 돌벽 스위트방
Israel was truly a fascinating country.
It was a place where the modern glamour and the fragrance of the Roman era harmoniously coexisted in every corner.
The bumpy stone roads created a constant rattling sound whenever cars passed by.
During the time we stayed, Palestinians and Jews were living relatively peacefully, as they had clearly defined their respective territories due to the peace agreement.
Arabic, Hebrew, French, and even English—languages flowed freely, filling the streets with a lively symphony of words.
We arrived at Tel Aviv's Ben Gurion Airport on September 14, 1994.
With our 4-year-old daughter, 3-year-old son, and each carrying a 20-kilogram bag, we boarded a small van at the airport and headed back to Jerusalem.
That night, after a restful sleep, the dry morning air felt incredibly refreshing.
It was the scent of the city that awakened every sensory cell in my body.
Standing in the heart of an unknown city for the first time,
The excitement of unfamiliarity brought happiness to
this little foreigner.
Following my instinct as a stranger, I chose a narrow path and walked for a while, heading towards the Old City of Jerusalem. From afar, I could see Damascus Gate.
The people were diverse, and whether tourists or locals, everyone seemed to get along well.
There were Palestinian women dressed in long skirts, covering their entire bodies, and Israeli female soldiers in uniforms carrying guns.
And yet, on Ben Yehuda Street, the lively atmosphere felt just like a bustling European city—each scene starkly different from the others.
These contrasting images became even more pronounced in the evening when the boundary between Palestinian and Jewish areas grew clearer.
The brightly lit Jewish area stood in contrast to the pitch-dark Palestinian neighborhood, devoid of even street lamps, which weighed heavily on my heart.
Our family met with the local leader and received an orientation.
As there was no suitable place for us to stay, we were told about a storage room filled with belongings, which we could use after organizing it.
Grateful for the warm welcome, we agreed to use the space without even looking at it.
When we followed the leader to a small corner space, we were utterly shocked.
The room was packed with chairs and unused items.
Even more surprising, the stone walls were roughly plastered with cement, creating a bumpy surface.
The floor, even after sweeping away the dirt, seemed like more dirt would still come through the porous cement.
It felt like a challenge that we had to face as part of choosing this path.
Looking at the room filled with the smell of earth and mold, I was overwhelmed with disappointment and held back my tears.
From that day on, my husband and I began cleaning the storage space.
Two American colleagues joined us, and thanks to their help, we enthusiastically laughed every day as we gradually transformed the room.
First, I took the children and walked past Damascus Gate to buy cotton cloth from a street market filled with second-hand items.
Whether to cover the dust or the stone walls, I felt we had to wrap everything up.
Sifting through countless clothes and fabrics, possibly from all over the world, I bought various items.
Our two children found something new and exciting, delighting in the process.
Gradually, our family began to adapt to the new environment.
After days of hard work—cleaning, washing, and painting the walls and ceiling with white paint
the bumpy stone walls started to resemble a room from a European classical era.
With an orange light bulb, the once cold storage space turned into a gentle and elegant room, harmonizing beautifully with the white ceiling.
Next, we laid a rough camel-hair carpet bought from the market on the cold cement floor.
We spread various beautiful fabrics over it, transforming it into a complete cotton carpet.
In one corner, we placed a thin mattress—finally found in a second-hand market—and covered it with a pretty cloth to create a makeshift bed.
The children were ecstatic, lying down on it and saying,
"Mom and Dad, you're the best!"
Even though the smell of the earthy stone walls still lingered,
we could confidently call it our 'fantastic sweet room.'
In the small courtyard, my husband bought a string of lights and hung them along the wall.
It became the most charming garden café with a stone house—
a sweet room more beautiful than any other in my life.
We gradually furnished the room with discarded furniture, making it cozier, and the kids were thrilled, calling it their own room.
Almost daily, friends from our ministry would visit, and the small courtyard, with a makeshift table draped in a simple cloth, became a sophisticated and atmospheric outdoor restaurant under the warm glow of the orange lights.
Despite the challenging circumstances, we were able to create a new beginning.
Challenges are an inevitable part of life that
cannot always be foreseen or planned.
During such times, accepting everything that comes our way and moving forward seems to be the best we can do.
Difficult times, if not given up on, can turn into the most beautiful memories of life.
That unique training ground, which God provided for us, became another miraculous story for our family, teaching us patience, faith, and love.
