지난 주말에 선교사님 한 가정이 오셨습니다. 네팔에서 삼십 년 넘게 사역을 해 오신 분들입니다. 그동안 힘든 일도 꽤 많았지만 좋으신 하나님의 은혜로 그 먼 길을 오셨다며 지금은 자녀들도 가정을 꾸려 잘 살고 있고 선교 사역도 마무리 단계에 와 있다고 했습니다. 몇 년 안에 은퇴를 앞두고 있으니까요. 남편은 이런 분들을 보면 꼭 격려해 드리고 싶었던 것 같습니다. 일박 이식은 기본이라며 초청을 한 것이지요. 언젠가 다른 선교사님이 오셔서 저더러 그랬습니다. “사모님, 이제 연세도 있고 손님 그만 초대하세요. 힘드시잖아요.”라고 하시더니 게스트 룸으로 마련된 우리 집 안방을 보시고는 “그런데 사모님, 나도 한 번 오고 싶어요.”라고 말하며 웃었던 적이 있습니다.
어쨌거나 지난 주말에 오신 선교사사모님은 그동안 네팔에 살면서 자연과 나무, 꽃들을 좋아하게 되셨다며 저더러 이런 저런 질문을 하셨습니다. 저도 워낙에 남편 말마따나 도회지 여자라 아무 것도 아는 것이 없었지만 그래도 한 십년 시골에 살아서 그냥 조금 제가 아는 대로 말씀드렸습니다. 물론 주로 시행착오를 했던 일들이었지요.
처음에 몇몇 분들이 나무를 사 주시기도 하고 작은 나무들을 사다 심기도 했는데 나중에 얼마나 크게 자랄 것인지를 모르고 너무 가까이들 심었지요. 몇 년 지나니 나무들이 자라서 복잡해졌습니다. 수년 전에 아주버님께서 심어주신 살구나무 두 그루는 결국 다른 곳으로 이사를 시켰습니다. 뿐만 아니라 처음부터 나무를 어떻게 키워야 할지 생각 없이 키우다가 나중에야 나무 모양을 잡으려니 쉽지 않았습니다. 여러 그루를 한꺼번에 나란히 키워 울타리처럼 할 것인지, 한 그루를 튼튼하게 키워 어떤 모양으로 할 것인지, 키를 키울 것인지 아니면 유실수처럼 나지막하게 키울 것인지를 미리 생각했어야 했지요.
또 어떤 꽃나무들은 햇볕을 좋아해서 그늘에서는 잘 자라지를 않는가 하면 어떤 것들은 그늘에서 자라야 하는데 햇볕에 심어서 잎들이 타들어가는 바람에 결국에는 옮겨 심어야 했습니다. 이제 겨우 우리 마당에 있는 꽃나무들의 개성을 어느 정도 파악했으니 참 늦게 배우고 있는 셈입니다. 마당을 한 바퀴 돌며 꽃나무들과 얘기를 나누다 보니 우리 인생도 그런 것 같다는 생각이 듭니다.
한집에 사는 남편도 나와는 성격이 정반대라 좋아하는 것이 다를 뿐만 아니라 생각하는 방법이나 말하는 방법도 다릅니다. 얼마 전에는 “나는 국정교과서이고 표준전과인데 남편은 만화책이라 재미있기도 하고 또 어디로 튈지 모른다.”고 했더니 선교사님 한 분이 물었습니다. “아니 사십사 년을 살면서 아직도 모르세요?” “네, 아직도 모릅니다. 한 가지 아는 것은 나와는 참 다르다는 것입니다.”라고 답했습니다.
그런데 하나님께서도 우리 각자에게 일을 맡기시고 불러 심으실 때, 우리를 지으시고 우리를 가장 잘 아시는 분이시니 우리를 가장 적절한 곳으로, 필요한 곳으로 불러 심으신 것 같습니다. 저도 이십 수년 전 울산에 이사 오면서 처음 울산에 온 사람이지만 이제는 울산이 내가 늘 살아왔던 고향 같습니다. 다른 곳에 출타했다가도 울산에 들어서면 하나님께서 이 땅에 허락하신 내 집이 있는 곳이라 따뜻하고 편안합니다. 선교사님 가정 역시 하나님께서 네팔이라는 깊은 오지로 부르셔서 하나님 나라의 귀중한 일을 맡기시고 지금까지 승리의 삶을 살게 하신 것 같습니다.
산을 오르면서도 사모님은 “이 꽃과 비슷한 꽃이 우리 네팔에도 있어요. 그리고요 네팔의 산 속 마을에 가면 그 분들이 밭에 나가서 감자며 나물을 금방 가져다가 즉석 요리를 해 주신답니다. 세계 곳곳에서 히말라야 산맥을 오르기 위해 수천 명이 다녀가지만, 나는 산도 산이지만 그 산을 닮은 그곳의 사람들이 좋고, 그들의 사는 모습이 참 좋습니다.”라며 계속해서 ‘우리 네팔’ 이야기를 하셨습니다.
그러고 보니 며칠 전 오셨던 선교사님도 비슷한 얘기를 하셨지요. 손녀가 결혼을 하게 되어서 한국에 오신 김에 건강검진도 받으셨는데 또 금방 가신다고 해서 제가 “선교사님, 오신 김에 좀 쉬시다 가시지요. 낼 모레가 동기회인데 친구분들도 만나시고 말입니다.”라고 했더니 연세가 팔십이신 선교사님이 “이제 빨리 거기 가서 쉬어야지요. 거기 가서 쉬면 됩니다.”라고 하셨습니다. 이젠 한국이 오히려 낯설고 선교지가 편안하신 모양입니다. 우리를 불러 사역을 맡기시되, 꼭 맞는 곳에 심으시고 뿌리내리게 하시며 사람들과 사랑하며 살도록 하신 하나님을 찬양합니다.
Last weekend, a missionary couple came to visit us. They have served in Nepal for over thirty years. They shared that although there were many difficult seasons along the way, it was entirely by the grace of our good God that they walked that long road; now their children are married and doing well with their own families, and their missionary service is entering its closing chapter, with retirement just a few years ahead. Whenever my husband meets people like them, his heart longs to encourage them. He invited them over, insisting that an overnight stay with two hearty meals was the very least we could offer. Once, another missionary visited and said to me, “Pastor’s wife, you are getting older now; please stop hosting guests all the time. It must be so exhausting for you.” But then, glancing at our master bedroom prepared as the guest room, she chuckled, “Yet seeing this, I really want to come stay here too!”
At any rate, the missionary’s wife who visited this past weekend told me that living in Nepal had nurtured in her a deep love for nature, trees, and flowers, and she began asking me various questions about gardening. As my husband often puts it, I was originally a thoroughbred city woman who knew next to nothing about such things; but having lived in the countryside for about a decade now, I simply shared what little I knew—mostly through stories of trial and error.
In the beginning, some people bought us saplings as gifts, and we purchased small trees to plant ourselves. Not knowing how large they would eventually grow, we planted them far too close together. After a few years, the trees flourished, and the yard turned into a tangled thicket. Eventually, we had to transplant two apricot trees that my brother-in-law had planted for us years ago. Moreover, because we raised them without a clear idea of pruning and shaping from the start, it proved difficult to guide their forms later on. We should have thought beforehand whether to plant several in a row to form a hedge, cultivate a single sturdy specimen with a graceful shape, let them grow tall, or keep them low like fruit-bearing shrubs.
Furthermore, while some flowering trees thrive in abundant sunshine and wither away in the shade, others need shaded ground; we mistakenly planted shade-loving ones in direct sunlight, scorching their leaves until we were forced to relocate them. Having barely begun to grasp the unique traits of the flowering plants in our garden, I realize what a slow learner I am. As I stroll through the yard in quiet communion with the flowers and trees, the thought strikes me that human life is very much the same.
Even my husband, living under the very same roof, has a personality completely opposite to mine. Not only do we enjoy different things, but the way we think and express ourselves is also entirely different. A while ago, I quipped, “I am like a standard national curriculum textbook or an elementary study guide, whereas my husband is like a comic book—delightfully fun, but you never know which way he might bounce!” Hearing this, one missionary asked, “After living together for forty-four years, do you still not fully understand him?” I replied, “Yes, I still do not understand him. The one thing I know for sure is that he is truly different from me.”
Yet, when God entrusts work to each of us and calls us to be planted, He who formed us and knows us best plants us in the places that are most fitting and where we are most needed. More than twenty years ago, when I first moved to Ulsan, I was a complete stranger; today, Ulsan feels like the hometown where I have lived my entire life. Whenever I return from a journey elsewhere, stepping back into Ulsan brings a profound warmth and comfort, knowing this is where the home God granted me on this earth rests. In the same way, the Lord called that missionary family into the deep, remote valleys of Nepal, entrusting them with precious kingdom work and granting them a victorious life of faith through all these years.
While walking up the mountain, the missionary’s wife remarked, “We have flowers in our Nepal that look just like these. And whenever we visit mountain villages in Nepal, the locals head straight out to their plots, gather fresh potatoes and wild herbs, and prepare a meal for us on the spot. Thousands of people journey from all across the globe to trek the Himalayas, but while the mountains are majestic, what I love even more are the people who mirror those mountains and the gentle way they live their lives.” She kept speaking tenderly of “our Nepal.”
Come to think of it, another missionary who visited a few days earlier said something quite similar. Having returned to Korea for his granddaughter’s wedding, he also had a health checkup scheduled. When he mentioned that he would be departing again right away, I urged him, “Pastor, since you are here, why not rest a little longer before leaving? The seminary alumni gathering is the day after tomorrow, so you could meet your old friends.” Yet the eighty-year-old missionary replied, “No, I must hurry back there to rest. That is where I truly find my rest.” It seemed that Korea had now become unfamiliar to him, while his mission field felt like home. I praise God who calls us and entrusts His work to us, planting us in the places that suit us best, allowing us to take deep root, and enabling us to live in love with the people there.
Verlede naweek het ’n sendingegpaar by ons kom kuier. Hulle arbei reeds meer as dertig jaar in Nepal. Hulle het vertel dat daar oor die jare heelwat beproewings was, maar dat dit slegs deur die genade van ons goeie God was dat hulle daardie lang pad kon aflê. Vandag het hul kinders hul eie gesinne opgebou en gaan dit goed met hulle, terwyl hul sendingwerk nou die finale fase nader, met hul aftrede wat oor enkele jare voorlê. Wanneer my man sulke dienaars ontmoet, brand sy hart om hulle te bemoedig. Hy het hulle dadelik genooi en gesê dat ’n oornagverblyf met twee maaltye die minste is wat ons kan aanbied. Eenkeer het ’n ander sendeling kom kuier en vir my gesê: “Pastorsvrou, jy raak nou ouer; moet asseblief nie meer so baie gaste nooi nie. Dit moet tog te uitputtend wees.” Maar toe sy na ons hoofslaapkamer kyk wat as gastekamer ingerig is, het sy geglimlag en bygevoeg: “Maar weet jy, as ek dit so sien, wil ek self ook eendag hier kom tuisgaan!”
Hoe dit ook al sy, die sendeling se vrou wat verlede naweek hier was, het genoem dat sy tydens haar jare in Nepal ’n diepe liefde vir die natuur, bome en blomme ontwikkel het, en sy het my allerhande vrae oor tuinmaak begin vra. Soos my man altyd sê, was ek oorspronklik ’n tipiese stadsmeisie wat van sulke dinge niks geweet het nie; maar aangesien ek nou al sowat tien jaar op die platteland woon, het ek maar vertel wat ek weet—meestal uit herinneringe van beproewing en foute.
In die begin het vriende vir ons bome present gegee, en ons het ook klein boompies gekoop en geplant. Omdat ons egter nie geweet het hoe groot hulle uiteindelik sou word nie, het ons hulle heeltemal te naby aan mekaar geplant. Ná ’n paar jaar het die bome so welig gegroei dat die tuin dig en verstrengel geraak het. Uiteindelik moes ons twee appelkoosbome, wat my swaer jare gelede vir ons geplant het, na ’n ander plek verskuif. Boonop het ons hulle aanvanklik sonder enige snoeiplan laat groei, sodat dit later baie moeilik was om hul vorm reg te kry. Ons moes van die begin af besin het of ons ’n ry bome as ’n heining wou aanplant, ’n enkele stewige boom met ’n mooi vorm wou kweek, hulle hoog wou laat opskiet, en of ons hulle laag soos vrugtedraende struike moes snoei.
Daarby floreer sekere blomdraende bome net in volle son en kwyn hulle in die koelte weg, terwyl ander weer skaduwee benodig; dié het ons verkeerdelik in die skroeiende son geplant sodat hul blare verskroei het en ons hulle uiteindelik moes verplant. Noudat ek eers die aard van die blomplante in ons tuin begin verstaan, besef ek hoe ’n stadige leerling ek is. Terwyl ek in die tuin rondstap en in stilte met die bome en blomme wandel, besef ek dat ons menselewe maar net so werk.
Selfs my man, wat saam met my onder dieselfde dak woon, het ’n geaardheid wat lynreg teenoor myne staan. Nie net hou ons van heeltemal verskillende dinge nie, maar ons manier van dink en praat loop ook wyd uiteen. Nie lank gelede nie het ek gekskeer: “Ek is soos ’n voorgeskrewe nasionale skoolhandboek of ’n standaard studiegids, maar my man is soos ’n strokiesprent—vreeslik vermaaklik, maar jy weet nooit watter kant toe hy gaan bons nie!” Toe ’n sendeling dit hoor, het hy gevra: “Het jy hom ná vier-en-veertig jaar van huwelikslewe dan nog nie leer ken nie?” Ek het geantwoord: “Nee, ek begryp hom steeds nie ten volle nie. Die een ding wat ek wel weet, is dat hy geweldig baie van my verskil.”
Nogtans, wanneer God ’n taak aan elkeen van ons toevertrou en ons roep om geplant te word, plant Hy ons—aangesien Hy ons geskape het en ons die beste ken—presies op die regte plek waar ons nodig is. Toe ek meer as twintig jaar gelede die eerste keer na Ulsan verhuis het, was ek ’n volslae vreemdeling; vandag voel Ulsan vir my soos die tuisdorp waar ek my hele lewe lank gewoon het. Wanneer ek van elders terugkeer en Ulsan binnery, voel ek ’n diepe warmte en vrede, want dít is waar die tuiste is wat God my op hierdie aarde geskenk het. Net so het die Here daardie sendingegpaar na die afgeleë binneland van Nepal geroep, kosbare werk vir Sy koninkryk aan hulle toevertrou en hulle al die jare in oorwinning laat wandel.
Terwyl ons teen die berg opgestap het, het die pastorsvrou gesê: “Daar is blomme in Nepal wat net soos hierdie lyk. En as mens na die bergdorpies in Nepal gaan, stap die dorpenaars sommer dadelik landerye toe, haal vars aartappels en veldkruie uit, en sit dadelik vir jou ’n heerlike maaltyd voor. Duisende mense van regoor die wêreld reis daarheen om die Himalajas uit te klim; en al is die berge manjifiek, is ek nog baie liewer vir die mense wat soos daardie berge gevorm is, en die eenvoudige manier waarop hulle leef.” Sy het aanhoudend met teerheid van “ons Nepal” gepraat.
Dit laat my dink aan ’n ander sendeling wat ’n paar dae tevore by ons was en iets soortgelyks gesê het. Hy het Suid-Korea toe gekom vir sy kleindogter se troue en terselfdertyd ’n mediese ondersoek ondergaan, maar toe hy noem dat hy gou weer sou vertrek, het ek aangedring: “Sendeling, noudat u hier is, rus tog ’n bietjie uit voor u gaan. Oormôre is die kweekskoolreünie, dan kan u u ou vriende ontmoet.” Tog het die tagtigjarige sendeling geantwoord: “Nee, ek moet gou teruggaan soontoe om te rus. Dár is waar ek werklik rus vind.” Dit lyk asof Suid-Korea vir hom vreemd geword het en sy sendingveld nou sy ware tuiste is. Ek loof God wat ons roep en Sy werk aan ons toevertrou, wat ons op presies die regte plek plant en laat wortelskiet, en ons in liefde saam met die mense daar laat leef.