경기도 에스라 성경대학원 대학교의 총장 임기를 마치고 만 4년 동안 비워두었던 울산 범서 두산리의 마실안집에 지난 2월 말에 내려왔습니다. 초기에 가끔씩 주말에 들어와서 사용하던 분들이 열심히 가꾸었지만 세월의 위력은 무섭습니다. 정원에서 흙과 더불어 유난히 즐겁게 놀던 딸과 아들도 초등학교에 차례로 입학하여 학년이 올라갈수록 바빠져서 해가 거듭될수록 들어오던 일이 뜸하게 되었습니다. 그래도 그대로 묵혀둘 수가 없으니 잡초와의 싸움이 치열해졌나 봅니다. 앞의 터밭이든, 뒤의 채전이든 잡초가 날만한 공간은 모두 판초로 덮어둔 걸 보면 치열한 싸움의 증거가 되고도 남습니다. 그 분들이 안팍으로 열심히 돌봐주신 덕분에 그나마 관리가 잘 된 편입니다.
잡초가 나도 판초로 덮는 것조차 포기하고, 그냥 버려진 공간이 주차장 오른편 코너, 느릅나무 아래입니다. 무상으로 배부하지만 환영받지 못하던 토양개량 고칼슘 성분비료 2, 30 포대가 한 켠에는 쌓여 있었고, 죽은 무화과 나무의 잔재가 그대로 남아있던 땅, 온갖 잡초 속에서도 꿋꿋이 자라는 맥문동이 여기저기 차지하고 있던 공간입니다. 그러나 그 공간이 갖는 입지적 조건이 버려지기에는 아까운 곳이라는 생각이 들었습니다. 아래편에는 상당히 넓은 저수지가 자리하고, 저수지 뒷편에서 유실수를 심은 밭이 있고, 저수지 건너 편에는 감나무를 옛날에 심었지만, 이제는 아무도 돌보지 않았기에 푸르름을 자랑하고, 또 농로를 사이에 두고 가까이는 얼마 전에 벼를 심어 무럭무럭 자라는 논이 있습니다. 조경을 하는 분들이 차경을 중요시한다고 하니 이만한 차경이 있는 장소는 잘 없을 것입니다.
그래서 그 버려진 땅을 손질하기로 마음먹었습니다. 모든 장애물을 걷어내고 옮길만한 맥문동은 다른 곳으로 옮기고, 마사토와 그 칼슘 성분 비료를 사용해서 땅을 평탄하게 하는 작업을 하고 부직포를 깔고 나서 땅을 평탄하게 하는 작업을 하면서 수행비서 쳇지피티에게 물었습니다. “약 3평의 땅에 현무암 판석을 깔면 얼마나 필요하며 어디서 구할 수 있으며 가격은 얼마나 예상하면 될까요”라고 물었더니 척척 ‘아는 척하는’ 답변을 합니다. 그러나 하나님께서는 어느 날 저녁에 식사손님으로 오신 분들에게 설명했더니 한 분이 바로 석재전문점을 하시는 분이었으니 직접 현무암 판석을 배달해 주시고 또 다른 초대 손님은 비정형 편무암 사이에 채울 하얀자갈까지 택배로 도착하도록 도와주셔서, 실타래 풀리듯이 <카페 느릅나무>가 마련되었습니다.
공사가 끝나기도 전에 찾아온 첫 손님은 거북이었습니다. 아마도 살던 저수지에서 벼를 심으려고 물을 대어놓은 논을 헤엄쳐서, 차량 진입로를 따라 우리 정원까지 오려면 상당한 노력이 필요했을 텐데 말입니다. 하긴 그 높은 산에 마련된 방주에도 쌍쌍이 짐승들을 소집하신 분이 거북인들 못 보낼 리가 없습니다. 다음 질문은 ‘왜 왔을까?’입니다. 초대장도 보내지 않았는데 무슨 사명을 가지고 왔을까 궁금했습니다.그래서 스스로 찾아낸 답변입니다. 느릅나무 아래서 기도하면 만날 사람은 하나님께서 직접 보내주실 것이라고 말입니다. 드보라는 종려나무 아래에서, 나다나엘은 무화과 나무 아래서 그들에게 맡긴 일을 감당했듯이 말입니다. 이미 많은 분들이 찾아오셔서 길 건너 베이커리 까페와 함께, 마당안집 <카페 느릅나무>는 두산리 핫플로 자리잡아가고 있습니다.
After concluding my term as President of Ezra Bible Graduate University in Gyeonggi-do, I returned in late February to our countryside home in Dusan-ri, Beomseo, Ulsan, which had been left vacant for four full years. In the early days, guests who stayed occasionally over weekends looked after it with devotion, but the quiet force of passing time is truly relentless. Their young daughter and son, who once took immense joy in playing with the soil in the garden, enrolled in elementary school one after the other. As their school years advanced and their lives grew busier, their weekend visits gradually dwindled. Still, reluctant to let the garden turn completely wild, they must have waged a fierce battle against the weeds. Looking across the front vegetable patch and the rear kitchen garden, every conceivable space where weeds might take root was covered tightly with weed-barrier sheets—enduring proof of that relentless contest. Thanks to their faithful efforts inside and out, the homestead remained in remarkably good condition.
Yet, there was one neglected corner to the right of the parking area, tucked beneath a great elm tree, where even covering weeds with ground sheets had been given up. Twenty to thirty bags of high-calcium soil conditioner—distributed free of charge yet unenthusiastically received—sat piled in one corner, amidst the dry remnants of a fallen fig tree and scattered clumps of broadleaf liriope tenaciously flourishing amidst the wild growth. Still, whenever I looked at this spot, it seemed far too precious to be abandoned. Downhill lies a fairly spacious reservoir, and behind it sits an orchard planted with fruit trees. Across the water, ancient persimmon trees—planted long ago and left untended—flourish in rich, undisturbed greenery. Nearby, across a narrow agricultural lane, verdant rice paddies planted with newly sown seedlings stretch out, growing steadily day by day. Landscape architects often speak of the beauty of 'borrowed scenery' (chagyeong), and few places could boast a more naturally gifted vista than this.
And so, I resolved to restore and reshape this abandoned corner. Clearing away every obstruction, I transplanted the salvageable liriope elsewhere, leveled the uneven earth using decomposed granite soil and the bags of calcium-rich fertilizer, and laid down heavy landscaping fabric. While working on smoothing the ground, I turned to my digital assistant, ChatGPT: "How many basalt flagstones would be needed to pave roughly ten square meters of land, where can they be acquired, and what might the expected cost be?" It promptly replied with fluent and well-rehearsed answers. Yet God had an even sweeter provision in store. When I mentioned the project to several dinner guests who visited one evening, one of them happened to run a specialized stone masonry business and personally delivered the basalt paving slabs. Another thoughtful guest arranged for a delivery of white landscape pebbles to fill the gaps between the irregular flagstones. Like a gently unraveling skein of yarn, 'Café Elm Tree' came gracefully into being.
Even before the work was fully finished, our very first visitor arrived: a turtle. It must have taken immense exertion for this creature to swim out of its familiar reservoir, paddle across the flooded rice fields readied for planting, and crawl up the paved driveway all the way into our garden. Yet, if the One who summoned beasts two by two to the Ark atop a high mountain willed it, sending a turtle to our garden was certainly no great hurdle. The question that lingered was: Why did it come? Having sent no invitation, I wondered what gentle mission brought it to our doorstep. The answer I quietly found in my heart was this: whenever we pray beneath the elm tree, God Himself will send the very people we are meant to meet. Just as Deborah ministered under her palm tree, and Nathanael encountered Christ beneath the fig tree, so shall this place serve its calling. Already, many warm visitors are stopping by, and together with the bakery café across the road, our garden courtyard’s 'Café Elm Tree' is quietly becoming a beloved haven here in Dusan-ri.
Nadat my termyn as Rektor van die Ezra Bybelse Nagraadse Universiteit in Gyeonggi-provinsie ten einde geloop het, het ek aan die einde van Februarie teruggekeer na ons huis in Dusan-ri, Beomseo, Ulsan, wat vir vier volle jare leeg gestaan het. In die begin het besoekers wat af en toe naweke daar deurgebring het, die tuin getrou versorg, maar die meedoënlose gang van tyd eis sy tol. Hul dogtertjie en seuntjie, wat eens so hartlik en vry in die tuingrond gespeel het, het skoolgaande geword, en soos die grade gevorder en die lewe besiger geraak het, het hul besoeke al hoe yler geword. Aangesien hulle die plek egter nie aan sy eie lot wou oorlaat nie, moes die stryd teen die onkruid fel gewees het. Wanneer mens kyk na die groentetuin voor en die landery agter, waar elke krieseltjie oop grond dig bedek is met onkruiddoeke, getuig dit duidelik van ’n verbete geveg. Danksy hul getroue sorg, binne sowel as buite, het die erf darem merkwaardig goed behoue gebly.
Daar was egter een verwaarloosde hoekie regs van die parkeerarea, onder ’n groot iepboom, waar selfs die moeite om onkruiddoek oop te trek, laat vaar is. Twintig tot dertig sakke hoëkalsium-grondverbeteraar—gratis uitgedeel maar selde verwelkom—het in ’n hoop gelê, te midde van die droë takke van ’n dooie vyeboom en bosse leliegras wat manhaftig tussen die onkruid bly groei het. Tog het dit my opgeval dat hierdie plek ’n ligging het wat té kosbaar is om sommer prys te gee. Reg daaronder lê ’n taamlike wye waterreservoir; daaragter ’n vrugteboord, en oorkant die water pryk ou persimmonbome wat lank gelede geplant is en sonder menslike sorg in welige groenigheid floreer. Vlakby, net oorkant ’n grondpaadjie, lê ryslande waar die pas geplante saailinge rustig en voorspoedig groei. Landskapsargitekte praat dikwels van die kuns van 'geleende natuurskoon' (chagyeong), en min plekke sal ooit met so ’n natuurlike uitsig kan meeding.
Ek het dus besluit om daardie verlate grondjie onder hande te neem. Nadat alle rommel opgeruim is, is die bruikbare leliegras versigtig elders herplant. Ek het die ongelyke grond met verweerde granietgrond en die sakke kalsiumkunsmis gelykgemaak en digte geotekstieldoek gelê. Terwyl ek besig was met die gelykmaak van die grond, het ek my digitale assistent, ChatGPT, geraadpleeg: “Hoeveel basalt-plaveistene het ek nodig vir sowat tien vierkante meter grond, waar kan ek dit kry, en watter koste kan ek verwag?” Soos te wagte het hy flink en selfversekerd geantwoord. Maar die Here het toe ’n baie mooier uitkoms beskik. Toe ek my planne die aand aan ete-gaste verduidelik, was een van hulle juis die eienaar van ’n klipgroefbesigheid, en hy het die basaltblaaie self kom aflewer. ’n Ander gas het gereël dat wit sierklippies per koerier afgelewer word om die ruimtes tussen die onreëlmatige stene op te vul. Soos ’n fyn draad wat vanself afwen, het 'Kafee Iep' vinnig en mooi gestalte gekry.
Nog voordat die werk heeltemal voltooi was, het ons heel eerste gas opgedaag: ’n skilpad. Dit moes ontsaglike inspanning geverg het om uit sy reservoir te swem, deur die nat ryslande te kruip en teen die geplaveide oprit op te beur tot in ons tuin. Tog, as die Een wat die diere twee-twee na die ark op die hoë berg geroep het, selfs ’n skilpad na ons tuin wou stuur, is niks onmoontlik nie. Die volgende vraag was natuurlik: Waarom het hy gekom? Niemand het hom genooi nie; met watter roeping het hy hier opgedaag? Die antwoord wat stilweg in my gemoed opgekom het, is dié: wanneer ons onder die iepboom bid, sal die Here self die mense stuur wat ons moet ontmoet. Net soos Debora onder die palmboom haar volk gedien het, en Natánael onder die vyeboom vir Christus ontmoet het, so het hierdie plek sy eie bestemming. Talle besoekers het reeds kom inloer, en saam met die bakkery-kafee oorkant die pad is ons binnehof se 'Kafee Iep' besig om ’n geliefde kuierplek in Dusan-ri te word.