My Mother-in-Law Who Needs an Interpreter

For this summer vacation, hearing that our daughter-in-law and granddaughters were coming to Korea from Paris, our entire family gathered to spend time together on Jeju Island—inviting my eighty-eight-year-old mother-in-law as well as our second son from Seoul. Taking the overnight ferry from Busan caused me a little worry at first. I wondered whether Mother would get seasick, and prayed the waves would not be too rough... Thankfully, the voyage there and back was calm, and she slept peacefully, for which we were deeply grateful. "There were a couple of spots with rolling swells, but I arrived comfortably and well," she remarked. Planning an itinerary suited for an elderly mother near ninety who cannot walk very far, while keeping things engaging for young granddaughters just entering kindergarten and school, took much thought; preparing every meal kept my hands busy as well, but we shared a truly delightful holiday together.

Looking at her great-granddaughter, Mother said, "Gayoung, you’ve eaten your own age of eight years, but I’ve eaten eight years of borrowed age." In her mind, once someone passes eighty, they are living on borrowed time. Because she speaks in the unvarnished dialect of the southern coastal Namhae region, she often needs an interpreter when conversing with the younger generation. When she says, "I feel best when there is a gaengbon," our granddaughter-in-law from Seoul glances at my face with a questioning look. It is a silent plea for interpretation. Gaengbon means the "seashore." Having lived her entire life gazing at the sea, she loves the ocean dearly.

Along our drives during the trip, the pink crape myrtles lining the roadside were breathtakingly beautiful. Mother remarked, "There is an old saying: 'Do not visit your maiden home when the crape myrtles are in bloom.'" In May, people harvested barley and could at least eat barley rice; but even that scarce harvest ran out by July and August when the crape myrtles bloomed, leaving storehouses completely bare—hence the cautionary proverb. On our way back, as we drove toward Hadong to escort Mother back to her hometown, banners were hung announcing the 'Gizzard Shad Festival.' Mother would often recite the old adage: "When autumn shad are caught, even a runaway daughter-in-law returns home." Though the saying implies that gizzard shad are at their fattest and tastiest from late autumn through year's end, the early autumn shad was already exquisite as sashimi.

Along the national highway stretching from Jingyo toward the Namhae Grand Bridge, cherry trees form a continuous tunnel overhead. In spring, it must be a magnificent sight. I remembered Mother once saying, "Only when the cherry blossoms are fluttering in full bloom are the short-necked clams truly flavorful." When my youngest brother briefly stayed at our house, she thought I wasn't taking good enough care of him and gently teased, "They say when you visit your elder sister's home, she dishes out rice pressed down as if an ox stepped on it..." In times when food was scarce, a married elder sister would quietly pack down the rice bowl as tight as if an ox had trampled it, so her brother could eat his fill without others noticing.

Mother's sayings are endlessly charming. Listen closely, and they are packed with quiet wisdom. She received very little formal schooling, reads virtually no books other than the Bible, and knows nothing of the Internet, let alone newsletters or pocket organizers. Yet these pearls of wisdom were acquired naturally as she lived out her walk of faith hand-in-hand with creation. She once told me, "A pastor's wife must have a heart like the open sea off Noryang. Even if people toss all kinds of rubbish into the ocean, the water becomes pure and clean again once the tide comes in." Another time, sweating profusely while digging up a deep-rooted stump to make a vegetable garden, she sighed, "Our sins must have roots as deep as this. How thankful we must be to receive forgiveness of sins solely by God’s grace."

Whenever we calculate birthdays by the solar calendar, she asks, "Why do your birthdays keep wandering back and forth?" She reckons all time according to the lunar calendar. Thus she will remark, "Today is the neap tide (jogeum), so the fish will bite well," or "The wind is blowing so; the full moon must be drawing near." Without ever consulting a manual, she cultivates vegetable patches and farms far better than anyone else. I am reminded of what a Bushman sister once told a white missionary while we were living in South Africa: "You people do things by looking at books, but we do them with our minds." Nowadays, we live in an era overflowing with information and pride ourselves on possessing vast knowledge, but one wonders whether we are steadily losing our natural simplicity and warm humanity. While adopting standard speech has its merits, are we not shedding precious individuality amid a homogenized culture? Though she occasionally needed an interpreter, listening with an open heart to her hard-won wisdom made this summer holiday with Mother truly warm and unforgettable.