(One of requirements of TH 501-01, Drew Theological School on September 15, 1982.)

In 1951, after eight months of war exile, my family returned to Seoul, the capital of South Korea. It was a time when the city, like its people, was struggling to recover from the devastation of the Korean War. My father, who was fortunate to find work as a mechanical engineer, helped our family regain its footing and rejoin the Korean middle class. He spent much of his life designing machines for acetic acid production and building factory systems, contributing to Korea’s post-war industrial recovery. Yet, despite his professional achievements, life at home was marked by quiet tension.

A Household of Silence

Although my father worked hard to support us, he was often emotionally distant. He rarely spoke, and our household was a quiet one, shaped by unspoken conflicts between my parents. The silence wasn’t just due to the trauma of the war; it also stemmed from deeper, cultural and personal issues.

In those days, Korean marriages were usually arranged by the heads of the families, with little regard for the feelings or preferences of the bride and groom. My parents’ marriage followed this tradition. Complicating matters further was the fact that my father was two years younger than my mother—a situation that defied traditional Korean customs, where the man was expected to hold authority within the household. Yet, in our home, it was my mother who took on the role of commander, managing the children and household affairs with firm resolve. This power imbalance led to emotional distance between them.

A Childhood of Duty and Responsibility

In the midst of these silent tensions, my siblings and I grew up without witnessing much affection between our parents or receiving verbal praise ourselves. Instead, we were taught to fulfill our duties and contribute to the household. Each child had specific responsibilities. My task was to clean the floors and fetch water daily from a well located miles away, filling a 100-gallon ceramic water container at home. It was hard work, and at times, I felt sorrowful and exhausted. Yet, I learned to endure without complaint, as my mother expected nothing less from me as the middle son.

My two sisters carried even heavier responsibilities. They not only helped manage the household but also took care of our baby brother and prepared the family’s meals every day. Despite their efforts, we rarely heard words of appreciation. Love and encouragement were not expressed openly in our home, yet we quietly depended on each other to keep the household running.

Lessons in Endurance and Family Bonds

Looking back, I realize that those early years shaped me in profound ways. The hard work, discipline, and sense of duty instilled in me by my mother became gifts from God, teaching me the value of perseverance and the importance of family bonds. These lessons laid the foundation for my character and have guided me throughout my life.

Even though our family lived in silence and endured emotional challenges, we stayed together. My parents never separated or divorced, despite their differences. From them, I learned that endurance and responsibility are key to maintaining the bonds that hold a family—and, by extension, society—together.

Today, I see how those early struggles taught me to be resilient, dependable, and compassionate toward others. My experiences as a child, though sometimes difficult, were part of God’s plan to shape my character and prepare me for the journey ahead.