"WHAT were you THINKING?!" I cried exasperatedly at my travel-weary family.
They finally stood in front of me at Incheon International Airport, over two hours after the arrival of their flight. They had come to visit me and Korea for a week, but chaos had ensued before we even shoved ourselves, luggage in tow, into the sardine can that is the subway on a Friday night in Seoul.
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We had been preparing for this trip for months. Many talks of food, budgets, schedules, and lodging had preceded the trip. I had been researching and planning, more than I care to admit, so that they might experience MY South Korea, MY life. Excitement, and possibly stress levels, built. Finally, Friday, September 25 came! At last, I could share with my family what is now a part of who I am.
I had decided upon a train with a 3:20 p.m. departure for Seoul. School finishes at 2:30 and I had permission to leave immediately. Of course, today my second grade would choose to dawdle and move slower than molasses in January . . . of course. I blasted out of my classroom, quickly caught a taxi, and made it to the train station with 10 minutes to spare. I was sweaty. I was thirsty. I was sick. However, I was seated on my train as it strolled out of the station, transporting me just that much closer to a reunion with my family.
One transfer and subway ride later, I found myself walking toward the "Arrival" gates at Incheon International Airport, happiness starting to bubble up inside. I felt light, as if gravity had decided to weaken her hold on me for just a short while. My father had forgotten to resend me the itinerary, but I remembered the gist of it. I found the right gate and parked myself in front of it for what I assumed would be short enough wait. However, forty minutes ticked by after their flight's arrival time, and still no family. Of course I know that it takes time to get on the rail, get through immigration, wait for luggage, get said luggage off of carousel, but still . . .
After one hour passed, I started to become anxious and agitated. My family had flown Singapore Airlines and I had watched flight attendants from this airline walk through the automatic doors at the gate five minutes ago. Something was off. So, I walked up and down the entire length of the airport, hoping they had somehow come out the wrong doors and were waiting. My phone's wifi was on the fritz so there was no possible way of connecting. I went to the help desk, asked them to page my father to Gate C, and returned to my post, waiting quietly, patiently, but not calmly.
Twenty minutes dragged themselves down the clock, so I dragged myself back to the help desk, asking for yet another paging. I then walked the length of the airport twice more before stopping at a different help desk to ask how to get hold of the immigration department (I didn't want the other lady thinking I was crazy for coming back a third time). I called immigration to ask if there was anyone being held for any reason by such-and-such name and off of such-and-such flight. "I'm sorry, I have no one by that name," was the polite response I received. I didn't know whether to be relieved or feel even more worried, every option I could think of had been exhausted.
After one and a half hours of hoping every pair of legs I saw walking toward the sliding glass doors would be my family's, I felt utterly hopeless. I decided to call my dear Korean friend Hanson. As soon as the phone began to ring, I hung up. What was the logic in calling him? He lives in Daegu. He doesn't work at the airport. What could he possibly do?
A minute later, I was on the phone with him. He asked, "What's wrong, Ash?" and I couldn't help myself. I broke down. In the middle of the airport, I, as quietly as possible, sobbed, "I can't . . . find . . . my . . . family . . ." I spent the better part of ten minutes listening to his ideas and telling him I had already done this or that, all while sobs would burst out of me, from where, I have no idea. A couple of men were giving me some strange and concerned looks, but I could only control myself so much at this point. Finally, Hanson came up with the most brilliant idea. He would find my family on Kakao Talk, a free messaging service, and then try connecting with any of them. He reassured me this would work and then told me to stop crying. A few minutes later, my father's voice was filtering through my ear, causing my entire being to relax. In more or less words, my family arrived at baggage claim, assumed I was meeting them there, and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . . Over an hour and a couple naps later, my dad notice the sign that said, in the lovely English language, "CUSTOMS". Light bulb! He talked to the nice gentleman at customs, who directed his attention to the sliding glass doors through which every passenger was passing.
And so we end with the beginning of this story. After relieved and happy hugs, I then questioned whether my happiness or my exasperation was stronger at that moment. However, after a long and crowded subway ride and many stairs later, we sat in our hotel, contentedly eating convenience store ramyeon before sleeping that evening's experience into a memory.
The week flew by and after my family had left, I started thinking once again about our Friday night disaster. It made me think about God and us. Sometimes, we can be so clueless. We sit and we wait . . . and wait . . . and wait. Where is God? Why has he not appeared in my life yet? Has he forgotten about me? We sit, waiting with all of our baggage, napping the minutes, hours, years away, unable to see past the walls and glass doors in our lives. Yet He stands waiting for us, just within reach, if only we would realize the simplicity of how to get to Him. He never gives up on us. He goes down all paths to try to help us see Him, to find Him, to be with Him. All we need do is wake up. Wake up to the reality of Him, the reality of His love, the reality of the ease with which we can find Him, if only we try. When we finally rub the sleep from our eyes and figure out He is so close, we walk straight into His wide-open arms. He takes us and holds us and engulfs us with His grace and love and peace. And, luckily for us, he shows no exasperation by crying out, "What were you THINKING?!" . . . :)
