Good bye Pakistan
Run to death!
There seems to be a time to stay and a time to leave in our lives.
How wonderful would it be if we could precisely know that time?
Looking back on my experience of serving the poor and sick people in this country,
even for a brief period of my life, I am immensely grateful.
Though I did not live fully covered as the women here do, I was able to somewhat understand their lives.
Being born a woman is not a sin, but within their culture, experiencing what it feels like to constantly restrain oneself, cover one’s whole body and even face with clothes, gave me some insight into their emotions and lives.
Living in a place with
a different culture and language has helped me grow significantly.
If I hadn’t come to this land, I would never have experienced or shared so much with them. While visiting members' homes, I stayed overnight in their rooms, shared meals, and mingled eagerly despite the language barrier. Especially when distributing medicine to the sick, I often caught their illnesses, sharing in their pain. As a result, my three years in Pakistan were a continuous storm of rheumatoid arthritis, nephritis, tuberculous pleurisy, skin diseases, and two surgeries.
Living with the sick, it seemed that we exchanged not only diseases but also joy and pain.
After my husband left, my father, grandmother, and beloved daughter arrived in Pakistan for helping me. it was a moment of immense happiness and gratitude.
With grandmother always by my side, I could continue helping the small church and working at the hospital while raising my two children.
Grandmother taught me a lot, especially how to prepare food for the children.
Sometimes, when we couldn’t afford milk, she reassured me,
"Don’t worry. In the old days, this is how we raised children. It will be okay. God will provide!"
and she would make rice water or boil discarded bones to make broth for the children instead of milk.
Every time a difficulty arose, grandmother knew when I would sink into resentment and sadness. During such times, her refreshing words were a great comfort and gave me the strength to rise again. She shared her own difficult times with me, encouraging me that life is not easy but one should not stay down during tough times.
“Hey, hey! Not having milk won’t kill the children. Don’t think you can’t live because something is missing or want to give up when it gets tough. How will you live a long life like that? It’s okay, feed them this way, and that way, and before you know it, the kids will grow up. That’s life. Just do your best with what’s given.”
While my faith was often like a hot and cold aluminum pot, grandmother’s faith, seen through her life experiences, was bolder.
One morning, after working an early shift at the hospital, I was told I had to meet visitors from Seoul at 4:30 PM, so I left early.
Happy to be heading home early for once, I rushed back to find grandmother in the long apartment hallway, with my son on her back and my daughter lying on the floor. Not knowing what had happened, I burst into tears.
“Grandmother, why are you out here?” I asked, holding my whining son.
She tearfully explained how they ended up outside. She had left the door open to let in the breeze for the children but stepped out to bring them inside. A strong wind slammed the door shut.
Since our apartment door could not be opened from the outside without a key, and she had not taken the key with her, she laid her scarf on the ground, put the children to sleep, and waited for me to return.
“God helped us. What if one of the children had been inside the house? Just thinking about it is horrifying. Now it’s okay. You’re here.”
Seeing them weak from not eating or drinking all afternoon pained me. I suddenly blamed myself, wondering why I made my whole family suffer and why I continued to live such a challenging life.
I called a locksmith to open the door, fed the babies, gave grandmother something to eat, and collapsed in tears while holding the children. From the next room, it seemed grandmother was also praying and crying.
I heard a voice deep within me.
'This is it, Hye-kyung... This is it. Don’t push yourself anymore. You can stop now.'
Strangely, whenever such conflicting moments came, grandmother seemed to know and would say one word to lift me up again.
“Don’t live like a hot-and-cold aluminum pot.
If you decide to do something, go all the way.
That’s your mission and dedication.”
On grandmother's 77th birthday, I invited all the missionaries for a birthday party.
The missionaries, who called grandmother a missionary, always encouraged her, and this was the first and last time
"Oh, this is the first birthday party of my life like this! Thank you for coming and for encouraging an old woman like me. Thank you for helping my granddaughter, who still has a lot to learn. Please, eat plenty."
Grandma offered these words with elegance, sharing warm greetings, and had fun chatting with the missionaries. It was truly the first and last grand and joyful celebration of her birthday.
On the way back, we took a horse-drawn carriage, something the kids loved.
As a mother who had left her homeland to follow her faith in Jesus, I wanted to bring happiness to my daughter and son, who were born and raised in a distant land.
I also wanted to give Grandma, who came all the way to help her granddaughter at the age of 77, a ride in a beautiful Pakistani carriage.
The time spent riding in that magnificent carriage became one of our happiest memories in Pakistan for the four of us.
Finally, the time had come to leave Pakistan.
This was the land where I poured all my passion, youth, and health without holding back! Though I might never return, I wanted to leave behind all the pain, sorrow, regrets, and even resentment I had felt here.
Filled with joy to reunite with their father, we each bought a nice outfit, sorted through our belongings, and packed as light as possible.
We gave away almost everything except for the cloth diapers the kids had used, which I tightly packed into our immigration bag for the flight to Singapore, where their father awaited.
Ah, I had lived intensely, giving my all.
Goodbye, Pakistan!
