아침마다 뒷산에 오르게 되었습니다. 이곳에 이사 와서 첫 봄을 맞았을 때 열심히 산길을 다듬어 놓았었지요. 예전부터 길이 나 있긴 했지만 워낙 사람들이 다니지 않아 길이 곳곳에 망가지고 가시덤불이 우거져 폐허가 되어 버렸기 때문입니다. 그 길뿐만 아니라 우리 동네 뒤쪽으로는 소나무 숲으로 된 산들이 병풍처럼 둘러쳐져 있고 계곡이나 능선을 따라 여러 갈래의 길들이 있습니다. 40분 정도에서부터 3시간짜리의 산행이 가능하지요. 산행을 좋아하는 남편이 얼마나 기뻐하고, 다닐 때마다 좋은 곳으로 인도하신 하나님께 감사했는지요.
그러다가 한 이태 전부터인가 남편이 산악자전거 타는 일을 좋아해서 뒷산에 별로 가질 않았습니다. 자전거 타기는 앞산이 더 좋았기 때문입니다. 저희 교회 목사님들과 일주일에 두 번 정도 자전거를 타시지요. 어쨌거나 남편의 혈당 조절을 위해 운동은 필수이지만 산행을 하든 자전거를 타든 꾸준히 운동을 하게 되니 큰 문제는 없습니다. 다만 제가 함께 할 수 없는 일이라 좀 아쉽긴 했습니다. 아무래도 자전거를 타게 되면 시간이 걸리는 일이라 집에서 기다리시는 어머님을 혼자 계시게 할 수가 없기 때문이지요.
하루는 아침에 뒷산이 궁금하기도 했고 운동이 부족한 저를 돕기도 할 겸 남편과 함께 뒷산을 올랐는데 낙엽 깔린 산이 좋았고 원인을 알 수 없지만 그 날부터 아침 혈당도 확실히 잡혔습니다. 해서 조찬모임이 있든지 비가 오든지 불 가능할 때를 빼고는 거의 아침마다 산을 오르게 되었습니다. 연세가 높으신 어머님은 아침에 잘 주무시고 식사도 늦게 하시니 후딱1시간 반짜리로 다녀올 수 있습니다.
날이 새기 전에 출발해서 산 중간쯤 오르면 날씨 좋을 때는 아름다운 일출을 보는 재미도 있습니다. 날마다 다른 디자인과 색깔로 하늘이라는 캔버스에 멋있는 그림을 그리시고 우리를 초청하시는 하나님을 만나 볼 수 있으니까요. 허리를 굽혀 자세히 살펴보면 아주 작은 들꽃들이 이른 봄부터 나타나기 시작하더니 사월 막바지에 이르러서는 산모퉁이를 돌자 말자 연보랏빛 등꽃이 산기슭을 다 덮은 모습이 눈앞에 나타나는 바람에 탄성이 저절로 나왔습니다.
아무도 없는 산길을 오르며 문뜩 옛날 생각이 떠올랐습니다. 어릴 적 그러니까 여덟 살이나 아홉 살 때쯤이었을 것입니다. 나중에 나는 산 속에 오두막을 지어놓고 혼자 살고 싶다는 별 희한한 꿈을 가지고 있었습니다. 아마도 내성적인 성격 탓이었는지 아니면 엄마도 아프시고 동생들도 많고 온통 내가 챙겨야 할 사람들이 많은 것이 내심 부담스러웠는지 아직도 왜 그랬는지는 모르지만 늘 마음속에 간직하고 있었던 생각이었습니다. 초등학교 오륙학년 때는 몸도 약하고 소심한데다 무슨 아이가 밤에도 잠을 이루지 못해 아버지께서 강심제 주사약을 하나씩 놓아주어야 했지요.
지금 생각해보면 황당한 발상이지만 어쨌거나 그 꿈이 이루어졌다는 생각이 갑자기 드는 것입니다. 이 생각도 좀 황당하긴 하지만 말입니다. 제가 워낙에 세상 물정도 모르는 숙맥입니다. 우리 아이들이 나더러 엄마는 은둔생활을 한다고 놀리거든요. 신문도 텔레비전도 잘 안보고 세상 돌아가는 것도 잘 모르고 도대체 문화생활도 별로 없는, 바보스런 모습이라고 말입니다. 오죽했으면 예전에 집사님 한 분이 저더러 눈치가 너무 없다고 사분의 삼박자라는 별명을 지어주었겠습니까?
그러거나 말거나 나는 내 마음대로 생각하는 것입니다. 혼자 산 속에서 살려고 했는데 좋으신 하나님 만나서 내가 어디에 있든지, 두산리 시골에 있어도 함께 하시고, 거기다가 남편까지 만나 산에서도 함께 할 수 있으니 꿈이 몇 배나 이루어진 셈이지요. 놀림을 받더라도 더욱 ‘은둔생활’이 되면 좋을 것 같습니다. 말이 그렇지 정말 산 속에서 혼자 산다는 건 말이 안 되지요. 철이 없어서, 뭘 몰라서 그런 바보 같은 꿈을 꾼 것이지만 좋으신 하나님께서 그 작은 꿈을 더 아름답고 풍성하게 만들어 주셨다는 생각이 듭니다. 뿐만 아니라 사랑이신 하나님께서 우리가 사람들과 서로 사랑하며 함께 더불어 사는 삶이 얼마나 아름다운지도 가르쳐 주셨습니다. 또한 사람 좋아하는 남편 덕분에 아름다운 사람들이 제가 사는 이 산골 마을까지 찾아와 주시니 참으로 감사한 일입니다.
I have come to climb the mountain behind our house every morning. When we greeted our first spring after moving here, I worked diligently to clear and groom the mountain path. Although a trail had existed from long ago, so few people walked it that it had fallen into ruin in many places, completely overgrown with briars and thorns. In addition to that path, pine-covered mountains surround our village like a folding screen, offering various trails winding along valleys and ridges. One can choose hikes ranging anywhere from forty minutes to three hours. My husband, who loves hiking in the mountains, was overjoyed and gave thanks to God every time he walked there for leading us to such a wonderful place.
Then, about two years ago, my husband developed a love for mountain biking, so he stopped visiting the back mountain as often. The mountain across from our village was much better suited for cycling. He rides his bicycle about twice a week with pastors from our church. In any case, exercise is essential for keeping his blood sugar in check, and since he exercises consistently—whether hiking or biking—there are no major concerns. Still, I felt a little sorry that I could not join him. Riding a bicycle inevitably takes more time, and I could not leave my elderly mother-in-law alone at home for that long.
One morning, curious about how the back mountain was doing and hoping to get some much-needed exercise, I climbed the mountain with my husband. The trail covered with fallen leaves was delightful, and though we couldn't pinpoint the exact reason, his morning blood sugar levels stabilized remarkably from that very day. Since then, unless prevented by an early-morning prayer breakfast or heavy rain, we have been climbing the mountain almost every morning. Because my elderly mother-in-law sleeps well in the morning and has breakfast a bit later, we can manage a brisk, ninety-minute round trip without worry.
Setting out before daybreak, we reach halfway up the mountain just in time to enjoy a breathtaking sunrise whenever the weather is clear. It is a moment to encounter God, who paints a magnificent masterpiece on the canvas of the sky with different designs and colors each day, warmly inviting us into His presence. When I bend down and look closely, I notice tiny wildflowers that began peeking through in early spring; and by late April, as we rounded a bend on the path, pale purple wisteria blossoms suddenly blanketed the mountainside before our eyes, drawing an involuntary gasp of wonder.
Climbing that deserted mountain path, an old memory suddenly surfaced. It was from my childhood, when I was around eight or nine years old. Back then, I harbored a rather peculiar dream: I wanted to build a small cabin deep in the mountains and live there all by myself. Perhaps it was due to my introverted personality, or perhaps my heart felt overwhelmed because my mother was sickly and I had so many younger siblings to care for. I still do not know the exact reason, but it was a thought I quietly treasured for a long time. When I was in the fifth and sixth grades of elementary school, I was frail and timid, and strangely, I could hardly fall asleep at night, so my father had to give me cardiotonic injections.
Thinking back now, it was a preposterous daydream, yet the thought suddenly struck me that the dream has actually come true. Of course, that thought itself may sound equally absurd. I truly am a simple soul who knows so little of the ways of the world. Our children often tease me, saying that Mum lives like a hermit—not watching television, rarely reading the newspaper, clueless about current affairs, and living without any fashionable cultural life. Someone once teased that I was so unperceptive that she gave me the nickname "three-quarter time."
Be that as it may, I choose to interpret it in my own way. I had dreamed of living alone in the mountains, but I met our gracious God, who is with me wherever I go—even in rural Dusan-ri. On top of that, He blessed me with a husband with whom I can walk these mountain trails. In that sense, my dream has been fulfilled many times over. Even if I am teased, I think I would be quite happy living an even deeper "hermit life." Naturally, living all alone in the mountains is impractical and unrealistic. It was a naive dream born of youthful ignorance, yet I feel that our good God has transformed that small dream into something far more beautiful and rich. Moreover, God, who is love, has taught us how precious and beautiful it is to love one another and live in community. And thanks to my husband, who loves welcoming people, wonderful souls travel all the way to this remote mountain village to visit us—a gift for which I am truly grateful.
Ek het begin om elke oggend teen die berg agter ons huis uit te stap. Toe ons ons eerste lente beleef het nadat ons hierheen getrek het, het ek ywerig gewerk om die bergpaadjie reg te kap en skoon te maak. Alhoewel daar reeds lankal ’n paadjie was, het so min mense dit gebruik dat dit oral vervalle en met doringbosse oorgroei was—’n ware wildernis. Buiten daardie paadjie word ons dorpie aan die agterkant omring deur berge vol dennebome soos ’n kamerskerm, met verskillende paadjies wat langs klowe en bergkruine kronkel. ’n Mens kan staptogte onderneem wat wissel van veertig minute tot drie uur. My man, wat baie lief is vir bergstap, was so verheug en het God elke keer wanneer hy daar gestap het hartlik bedank dat Hy ons na so ’n lieflike plek gelei het.
Toe, sowat twee jaar gelede, het my man ’n groot liefde vir bergfietsry ontwikkel en nie meer so gereeld die agterste berg besoek nie. Die berg oorkant ons dorpie was baie beter geskik vir fietsry. Hy ry omtrent twee keer per week saam met die leraars van ons gemeente fiets. Oefening is in elk geval noodsaaklik om sy bloedsuiker onder beheer te hou, en aangesien hy gereeld oefen—hetsy hy stap of fietsry—is daar geen groot probleme nie. Tog was ek ietwat spyt dat ek nie kon saamgaan nie. Fietsry neem immers heelwat tyd in beslag, en ek kon my bejaarde skoonmoeder nie so lank alleen by die huis laat wag nie.
Op ’n dag, nuuskierig oor hoe dit op die agterste berg lyk en om my eie gebrek aan oefening aan te vul, het ek saam met my man teen die berg uitgeklim. Die paadjie bedek met herfsblare was heerlik, en om redes wat ons nie mooi kan verklaar nie, was sy oggendbloedsuiker van daardie dag af merkwaardig stabiel. Sedertdien klim ons byna elke oggend die berg uit, behalwe wanneer daar ’n ontbytbidding is of wanneer dit hard reën. Omdat my bejaarde skoonmoeder soggens vas slaap en eers later ontbyt eet, kan ons ’n flinke staptog van ’n uur en ’n half sonder sorge voltooi.
As ons voor dagbreek vertrek en teen sonop halfpad teen die berg is, kan ons op mooi dae die vreugde van ’n asemrowende sonsopkoms aanskou. Dit is ’n kosbare oomblik om God te ontmoet, wat elke dag met nuwe ontwerpe en kleure ’n meesterstuk op die doek van die lug skilder en ons hartlik uitnooi. As ’n mens vooroor buk en fyn kyk, sien jy piepklein veldblommetjies wat reeds vroeg in die lente begin verskyn; en teen die einde van April, net toe ons om ’n berghoekie draai, het ligpers wisteria-bloeisels skielik die hele berghang voor ons oë oortrek, sodat ’n uitroep van bewondering vanself oor my lippe gekom het.
Terwyl ek teen die verlate bergpaadjie opgestap het, het ’n herinnering uit die verlede skielik by my opgekom. Dit was toe ek nog ’n kind was, omtrent agt of nege jaar oud. In daardie dae het ek ’n baie sonderlinge droom gekoester: eendag wou ek ’n klein houthuisie diep in die berge bou en heeltemal stoksielalleen daar woon. Miskien was dit weens my introverte geaardheid, of dalk omdat my ma siek was en daar soveel jonger boeties en sussies was om te versorg dat die las heimlik swaar op my gerus het. Ek weet steeds nie presies hoekom nie, maar dit was ’n gedagte wat ek lank in my hart bewaar het. In graad vyf en ses was ek liggaamlik swak en baie skaam, en sonderling genoeg kon ek snags skaars slaap, sodat my pa elke aand vir my ’n hartversterkende inspuiting moes toedien.
As ek nou daaraan terugdink, was dit ’n absurde gedagte, maar skielik het die besef by my opgekom dat daardie droom eintlik waar geword het. Natuurlik klink hierdie gedagte self ook ’n bietjie vreemd. Ek is immers iemand wat bitter min van die wêreld se dinge verstaan. Ons kinders terg my dikwels en sê dat Mamma soos ’n kluisenaar leef—ek kyk nie televisie nie, lees selde die koerant, weet min van die gang van sake en het byna geen kulturele lewe nie. Iemand in die gemeente het my vroeër selfs die bynaam "driekwartmaat" gegee omdat ek kwansuis so min van sosiale seine snap!
Wat hulle ook al sê, ek kies om dit op my eie manier te verstaan. Ek wou alleen in die berge woon, maar toe ontmoet ek ons goeie God, wat by my is waar ek my ook al bevind—selfs hier op die platteland van Dusan-ri. Boonop het Hy my geseën met ’n man saam met wie ek die berge kan bewandel. In daardie sin het my droom sommer veelvoudig waar geword. Selfs al word ek gespot, sal ek heel tevrede wees om nog meer van ’n "kluisenaarslewe" te lei. Om werklik heeltemal alleen in die berge te woon, is natuurlik onmoontlik en onprakties. Dit was maar ’n dwase kinderdroom wat uit onkunde gebore is, maar ek besef dat die goeie God daardie eenvoudige droom baie mooier en ryker gemaak het as wat ek ooit kon dink. Meer nog, God, wat self liefde is, het ons geleer hoe wonderlik dit is om mekaar lief te hê en in gemeenskap saam met ander te lewe. En danksy my man, wat so baie van mense hou, reis kosbare vriende die hele pad tot hier in ons afgesonderde bergdorp om ons te besoek—iets waarvoor ek waarlik diep dankbaar is.