Leavin' on a midnight train to Georgia

My friend Emily likes "airport world" where everyone is in transition, no one is really a local, and all cultures are mixed up in one big pot of high perfume prices and strong gas smells. On a recent trip from Seoul, I realized my reflective refuge is the train station.

While boarding or departing and walking along the platform I always catch a glimpse of myself in the long dark windows of the train. My reflection triggers a realization of who I am, who I am wanting to be, and how I'm always moving, always changing. I look, see myself, see myself moving along each window, either getting closer to my car or closer to the exit. Maybe I'm on my way to an adventure or to see friends. Sometimes it's not clear where I'm going, but I'm always moving. Wherever I'm going, I always grin at my reflection.

I don't mind traveling alone. It gives me just the right amount of time to prepare for what is to come, or reflect on what just happened. Most of my time alone is silent, with the exception of the Korean man who sits next to me and speaks all of the English he can remember. Without that involuntary quiet time, which could easily seem lonely, I wouldn't fully appreciate my journey or my destination.

Train stations give me quick results; I don't have to wait around for hours to get where I want. This is maybe a reflection on my personality, but I'm ok with that. I can wait for the next train if this one is full. I can be patient. I can even take the bus if I need to. I won't buy any dried squid on the food cart racing down the aisle. I can wait. But I prefer to be moving, on my way to somewhere.

Pretty soon I'll be home in the states, but only for a few months. I wonder why I was made with such a strong desire to be in constant transition. Maybe He knew that only when I am moving places, changing scenery, am I forced to be quiet. In that stillness, He is there, moving me, changing me and I am grateful.

Grace, Patience, and Coffee (and a picture of a cute Korean Kid)

Min Jong, the barista, is my newest favorite person in Korea. I might even call her my newest friend. She is my favorite because every time I walk up to the open window of her coffee shop, she smiles and exclaims, “Macchiato!” I nod. Then she says, “Mocha?” I nod again. She knows what I want and what I’m ordering for Emily. She gets really confused when I only order one thing. She often gives me extra stamps on my coffee point card.

There is no greater feeling than to walk up to the counter, crowded with Korean college students waiting for their coffee and have Min Jong look over them and recognize me. It’s like we’re friends that haven’t seen one another for a long time. I don’t know much about her except that she is 25 in Korean age (23 in the rest of the world’s age system) and that she has never been rude, short, or unfriendly with me. In fact, she seems to be genuinely nice to everyone. In all of the places I’ve been to, people like her are not a majority.

The first time I encountered Min Jong, it was clearly her first week at the shop, possibly even her first day. I ordered 4 different coffees for my friends who were teaching and in desperate need of a caffeine spike. It took Min Jong around 15 minutes (and this is a generously short estimate) to prepare these. It wasn’t because she didn’t understand what I wanted; the language barrier is pretty small with things like “Moh-Ka. Lah-tay.” She was just slow. SUPER slow. The previous barista was super fast and the drinks were always delicious. This was not off to a good start. When I finally got my coffee, it was lukewarm (again, generous estimate) and I’m pretty sure I was overcharged. Usually in this situation, I’d start to feel a little ripped off and mad that this lady had wasted 20 minutes of my time and stole my money. Surprisingly though, I smiled and walked away with my 4 semi-warm, overpriced coffees. I’m not sure why I decided to go back, but the next time, Min Jong had sped things up a bit and the coffee was a bit warmer. Within a week, she was a pro.

What if I had given up on Min Jong the first time? What if I wouldn’t have been able to see past my own small inconvenience? And where did this grace and patience come from? I’m so impatient I burn marshmallows on purpose just so I can get to the s’more quicker. I rarely have grace for students who want extensions and even less grace for people who have hurt me.

My whole life has been filled with people who have shown grace and patience to me. It might finally be rubbing off. When I was learning how to drive a stick shift, my mom let me mess up over and over again until I got it right. She never once yelled or became impatient – she actually laughed until she cried. PATIENCE. Even when I stalled in the middle of a busy intersection and dropped the f-bomb, she calmly told me what to do and helped me start it up again. GRACE. I know these qualities are not from us. We are commanded to be patient and have grace, but we can only know what that looks like when it is given to us.

If I would’ve given up on Min Jong, I probably would have found another coffee shop and bought some great coffee at a reasonable price. But now, I have all of that AND a friend who lights up my day with a smile, broken English, and extra stamps.