For the first 18 years of my life, I lived in Seoul, South Korea.
In that place, just 10 years before I was born, the peninsula was cut in half.
One country was divided into two.
The land that felt like home to me was filled with families who were separated from their loved ones, simply because of … where they were … when it happened.
Where? There.
When? Then.
Such simple answers.
So much tragedy and grief contained in them.
In my childhood, I learned to be aware of a million different answers that COULD be understood as the basis for separation:
-what passport did you hold?
-where were you born?
-what languages did you speak?
-what age or grade were you?
-was your family in Korea for business, or diplomacy, or with the military, or for missionary work?
-were you an average student or “smart”?
-what was your family’s religion or denominational affiliation?
-were you an athlete or musician or actor or artist or writer, or all of the above?
-what places in the world had you lived or visited?
-were you a “troublemaker” or a “good kid”?
So many variables. An almost infinite number of potential differences.
And yet, my feeling about the world was always defined more by unity than division.
At school, my classmates were a tremendously diverse population of students who learned and grew, nurtured by teachers in an ethos of goodwill, friendliness and belonging.
We were all there together, and it was good.
At home, my father explained his own ecumenical philosophy, emphasizing that it was always more important to focus on shared values than to get caught in doctrinal disputes about questions like “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?”
All those missionaries with different denominational affiliations? They were all there in Korea, and that was good.
Separation, division, and unity.
These themes have surrounded me before I was born. They have been my continual companions for more than six decades.
Separation, division, and unity.
Those three words will be my focus in a 21 Day Writing Challenge that starts on Monday.
I’ll be exploring their meaning in a written essay every weekday for 21 days, starting next week, following prompts designed by Megan Macedo.
What will I discover? I don’t know yet, but I will share that work here.
I know it will be meaningful to me. I hope it will be the same for you.