Mother!

As I walk the spiritual journey of this Lenten season, I thank God that I can now write to you with such joy and freedom of heart. Without God’s grace, I would still be standing far away from you, but God has shown me how great a sin that distance truly was.

Mother, after my marriage I sometimes heard him say, “My mother is such a cold person.” Though I didn’t fully understand what he meant, I must confess honestly that my own heart failed to cling warmly to you, and I lived keeping my distance. You must be wondering, “What are these strange words I am hearing?”

Mother, earlier this year, my husband had been fasting and praying each month for big prayer concerns. During that time, God led him to repent before the Lord for the resentful feelings he had carried against you, and he even gave testimony before the congregation.

As your second son, he grew up feeling that he did not receive enough of your attention or love. Without realizing it, he carried many wounds. Especially because so much of your devotion and hope were poured into the eldest brother, he felt left out. He was hurt, for example, when he was sent to a school of your choosing instead of K Middle School, which his elementary teacher had recommended. He also felt neglected when, in order to pay for his elder brother’s medical school tuition, you sacrificed everything—even saving on daily living expenses, and even the bus fare that should have been spent for the younger children’s commute. We now fully understand your devotion and single-mindedness in raising the eldest son, but at that young age, he could only feel the loneliness and alienation of walking to and from that faraway school in rain and snow.

Mother, what is amazing is this: when a person looks back on their sins with tears of repentance, God even brings to mind forgotten sins from the depths of memory, in order to cleanse them. Through repentance, he came to see that you were never cold or indifferent to him, but rather a mother who poured out everything to love him.

During the Korean War, with Father gone—having fled conscription—you carried three children on the refugee road through Pyeongtaek, Suwon, and Daejeon. The winter winds were bitter across the peninsula. Carrying the youngest on your back, balancing heavy bundles on your head, holding the hands of the elder children, you set out on that desperate path. The little one cried with hunger, but there was nothing to give—until you saw a rice cake seller among the refugees. You gave up your cherished golden ring to buy a small piece of cake for him. I have heard the story more than once: how his frostbitten little hands clutched that frozen cake, and how he ate it all. You wrapped him in thick cotton clothes, always checking to see if his diaper was wet, washing it in icy streams along the way, drying it in the freezing wind, and sometimes even pressing it warm against your chest to keep him alive. He could easily have died like other babies abandoned on the roadside, but you poured out your utmost love to save him.

Later, when that sickly boy was often scorned by uncles who said, “He will never grow up to be anyone,” God called him, and you raised him well. Mother, thank you! He testified: “In those days, some parents abandoned their babies on the refugee road without blame or crime. But my mother never let me slip from her back, even though it left her with back pain all her life. I now see her love clearly.” His tears moved the whole congregation, soaking the parched ground of their hearts.

Mother, when you turned away from the superstitions of your ancestors and received Jesus Christ, you became God’s child and vowed to dedicate one of your three sons as a servant of the Lord. When your son later made that vow himself, your prayers of joy and tears have not ceased even to this day.

Mother, do you know how free we now are before God? If it takes us so many years to realize even a parent’s love, how much more breaking and renewal must it take for us to truly grasp God’s love? That golden ring you once exchanged for a rice cake during the war—though we do not know whose hand now wears it—the true golden ring of your love and faith still shines forever in our hearts.

Beloved Mother, in this Lent, I give thanks again for the Lord’s love that washes away sin. Mother, I truly love you.

From your second daughter-in-law.

© Yoon, Wan-Hee (Parsonage Letters, Those Who Remained in the City, Sixteenth Story, 1994)