Let the Poor Say I Am Rich

When my mom and dad knew that they were tothe culture, but every time we'd see an American
be sent to work as missionaries in South Korea inTV show on the US military channel, I would long
the mid 1950's, the first thing they did was go tofor that far distant country that was supposedly
school. They studied Korean language, history andmy own. The Korean toys and dolls of 1968 were
church growth classes. For two years beforeso poor and uninteresting, and the clothes were
they even set foot on Korean soil, they wereso odd when I compared them to the Sears
immersed in the preparations of a lifetime ofcatalog my grandmother would send us every six
service to the church in Korea. It was exciting andmonths. My siblings and I would dream of
dangerous and challenging for them to arrive withchocolate ice cream, American hamburgers, real
two little children (I wasn't born yet), to adjust topizza with real cheese, everything American. In
that war-torn land.the process, I began to resent the fact that I
As years went by and I came along, their Koreanwas stuck in a third world country while my
language skills improved tremendously, my dadcousins got to have what I thought, was the best
could navigate through the most treacherousof everything.
streets in his Land Rover, negotiate out of aOnly years later did I come to realize how
traffic ticket with any Korean policeman, andshameful my attitude had been, how much of a
befriend practically anyone he met. They wereblessing it was to experience another country, to
constantly going to church meetings, grandhave the opportunity to learn another language
openings of Christian schools, or new churchesand to have the honor of being a part of the
out in the countryside, making long speecheswork of God. I had a rich and extraordinary
surrounded with Korean church officials. Thechildhood, but in the cold winters with the air thick
church, the country, the service to those peoplewith the smell of rotten fish from the open
was their life...but not mine.markets, with roads full of frozen mud puddles
I learned to love some of the food and parts ofand lined with beggars, I just couldn't see it.