Lost

After arriving in Daegu, South Korea at 12:15 a.m. local time, February 25, 2015, I patiently waited at the bus station for my ride, not know what the driver of that ride would look like. As I stood in the almost deserted bus station, talking with the only other person who spoke English, a Korean woman tentatively slid up to us, stared at me, and said, "Ashley?" Or rather, more like, "Eh-shu-ley?" It had been quite a while since I had been that overjoyed to see someone I had never before met. So, I bid my English-speaking acquaintance adieu and good luck, and off we drove through the city to my new home.

Thought I was going to talk about being lost at the wrong bus station, eh? Of course not! Things can not go wrong THIS early in the story. How boring would that be?

Anyway, I finally went to bed around 1:30 a.m., with only my cherished Green Bay Packers blanket to keep me warm (they're always there for me, even in another country. lol), after two and a half days of traveling, one mainly sleepless night in the San Francisco airport, and zero knowledge as to what was going to happen in the morning. My body politely woke me at 6 a.m. and made the executive decision that I needed to sleep no longer. Sometimes, I question my body's logic . . . I got ready for the day by taking a shower in the middle of my small bathroom's floor with a sprayer head hooked up to the sink faucet (that is my shower) and eating some trail mix I had bought in the San Francisco airport. 

The day was a blur of confusion and cold temperatures. My jacket remained on my body almost the entire day. However, I felt as though my head might not follow suit. It was being filled with more and more unconnected thoughts, advice, requirements, and lesson necessities. As the day progressed, my discouragement grew. I felt as though I was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand of doubt and failure, trying to keep my head from being submerged without much success. Why had I come here, again? Why had I come here again? I wasn't sure of which way to turn, and wasn't sure if I was even going in the right direction. 

After a long and many-course lunch and after more afternoon confusion and trying to understand and know everything I would need to be doing by the next week, I finally waltzed out of that chilly school, arm in arm with my dear friend Valentina, accompanied by one of her Korean friends, Hanson. They had come to deliver me from my distress and show me downtown Daegu - all the best restaurants, stores, and places where events happened. It truly took my mind off all the troubles I had been having since I had awoken that morning. I breathed, I laughed, I ate, and I felt comfortable in the company of what quickly became not one, but two friends.

As our night came to a close, they sent me off on a bus, almost as worried as parents on their child's first day of Kindergarten. I must admit, I was slightly worried as well, seeing as I was not fully sure of my bus stop, hoping my memory would choose a more appropriate time than now to fail me. My brain came through and I got off at the right stop. However, this was not the end of my adventure. I still had to find my way to my apartment . . . in the dark . . . at 9 p.m. . . . which I had only been to but once. I began my journey on foot and felt confident for the first part. Then, with the main roads behind me, I had to choose the correct direction to turn in the back streets. Unfortunately, I chose wrong. I turned left and began walking . . . and walking . . . and walking . . . I finally decided this was the wrong way and took a right down another back street, and yet another right to get me heading back in the direction from whence I had come. I again walked for too long and decided to find the place where I had made the wrong turn. I finally arrived and didn't know what to do. I was praying pretty hardcore by this point. I then remembered that in my pocket lay a piece of paper that was like gold for me - on it was my address written in Korean, just that afternoon. So, I made a decision that could have gone badly - I stepped into a tiny seafood restaurant on the corner, pointed to my possible ticket home, and asked, "Odiayo?", to the adjooma standing in shock at this foreigner speaking to her in her restaurant. 

In a corner, there were also a few older men, drinking and eating and joking. The woman brought me to them and I nervously showed them the paper. They discussed. And their discussion obviously produced no positive results. My heart sank even lower than it had already - wiggling my toes would have caused it to palpitate. One of the men, however, took my paper and his phone outside, not deterred in the least bit. After what seemed lifetimes of sitting in a chair next to and across from buzzed Korean men who didn't even speak my language, in came the man with my precious paper. He took me just outside the door, pointed down the road, explained all the directions in Korean (which I obviously didn't understand much of), and walked back inside as I thanked him and bowed. So, I walked down the road in the correct direction at least, past one small mart, and at the second one turned, remembering vaguely that there had been something about turning by the orange mart sign. There it stood, my beloved home of one day. I sent up thank you's for safety and for guidance. And then almost starting crying because I realized how serious that situation could have become - I had no phone, no internet, no way to contact anyone, and no idea where I was and no one who knew where I was. That could have been a much bigger disaster than it had been already. 

We are walking this journey of life. If we are all honest with ourselves, we don't really know where it will take us. Yes, we may know where we want it to take us or where we think it will take us, but let's face it - the future is out of our sight, so it is not in our minds. As we walk along, sometimes we get lost - we take a wrong turn, we forget which way we should go, we don't pay attention to the signs. But God knows the directions. He knows which way we should take, which way will lead us home. Explaining things to us sometimes can be difficult though because we don't always understand what He is trying to tell us. 
                      "Why am I going through this trouble?" "Why did this door close in my face when it 
         seemed a perfect opportunity?" "Why does my life feel like it has imploded?"

But God is still pointing us in the right direction, even if it does not seem like the way we should take. He will not fail us. He will not lead us astray. His hand is always guiding us, whether through life or the dark alleys of a foreign country. He's got our back.