(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.
(One of requirements of TH 501-01, Drew Theological School on September 15, 1982.)
I was born on July 7, 1949, as the second son and the third child in my family. Just two weeks before my first birthday, the Korean War broke out on June 25, 1950, shattering the fragile peace in our homeland. My earliest memories, though shaped by stories shared later, are rooted in the chaos, fear, and resilience that defined that tumultuous time.
As the war erupted, communist forces rapidly advanced into Seoul, forcing my family to flee southward to escape the violence. My father, conscripted by the Korean Army, had no choice but to leave my mother, my older brother (then 13), my sister (11), and me—a baby of just 11 months. With no certainty of his return, my mother shouldered the overwhelming responsibility of protecting her three children while navigating the dangers of war.
Carrying me on her back, she trudged through dusty roads and crowded refugee paths. Amid the chaos, my cries pierced the air as we moved further from the only home we had known. Food was scarce, and safety was uncertain. On my first birthday, instead of a celebration, my mother managed to secure a small piece of Indian millet bread by exchanging her precious golden wedding ring. That bread, eaten with my tiny, frozen hands as she carried me on her back, became a symbol of survival—a testament to her sacrifice and strength.
The Ongoing War and Its Aftermath
Even today, the Korean War has not officially ended. The Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), stretching 155 miles along the 38th parallel, remains a stark reminder of the division between North and South Korea. Decades have passed, but the armistice conference continues, leaving the wounds of war unhealed and the future uncertain.
For my family, life after the war brought new challenges but also new beginnings. Two more siblings were born—my younger sister and brother—who are now 28 and 25 years old, respectively. My older brother, who is 45 years old and a medical doctor in Connecticut, played a crucial role in helping our entire family immigrate to the United States, where we sought new opportunities and a brighter future.
A Mother’s Faith and Transformation
Amid the hardships of war and displacement, my mother’s spiritual journey took a profound turn. She had been a devout shamanist for much of her life, seeking guidance and strength through traditional practices. However, after the war, she experienced a spiritual transformation and converted to Christianity. This new faith gave her hope and resilience as she rebuilt our family’s life in the post-war years. Her faith would later become a guiding light for me as well, shaping my own spiritual path.
A Story of Resilience
My early life was marked by survival, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bond of family. Though my first birthday was spent on the road, fleeing from the ravages of war, that moment became a defining chapter in my life’s story—a reminder of the resilience and courage of my mother and the faith that sustained us through the darkest of times.
As I look back on those early years, I am humbled by the sacrifices made by my parents and siblings and inspired by the strength that carried us forward. Their legacy continues to shape who I am today.
Daily Sauntering 
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