Corean Christmas

For me, Christmas week started on Saturday the twentieth. That afternoon I met a small group from our church to help deliver presents to a couple of orphanages. I waited with a Korean mom with three English-speaking kids in front of a van full of presents. The driver would be along shortly.

As we waited, some neighborhood kids strolled by playing with a plastic squeaky hammer and using bad language in Korean. The mother in our group promptly scolded the kids, who apologized. Her kids asked what they said, and naturally she refused to tell them.

Soon the driver arrived, and we were off. Within minutes we drove to the first orphanage, parked, and unloaded presents in a large dining area. I did some detective work by looking at the clock and reading the word "Jesus" and decided this must be a Christian orphanage. A better detective might have noticed the big pulpit behind me, but what can you do.

We shared snacks and called out names as the children ate. As a name was called, we gave out the respective gift. The lady in charge seemed to be asking the kids not to open their presents until Christmas. Some took the advice, but others couldn't wait. All were pleased.

We moved on to the second orphanage, where our church's pastor and his wife met us. We gathered the dozen or so kids, sat in a circle, and the mother in our group read the Christmas story from the book of Luke in Korean. Our pastor punctuated the reading with "this is why we celebrate."

After the reading, we sang a Christmas carol or two, played some games in Korean and English, then exchanged gifts with the children. They'll open them on Christmas day.

The following Monday Beka and I headed to a local church ministry to help bind quiet time diaries. They had "kyu tee" spelled out in Korean, which either meant Q.T., or cutie. I guess quiet times can be adorable.

That afternoon some missionary kids joined us and compared the work to destroying walls with a jackhammer. This was better by their estimation. I proceeded to debate how that was possible.
In the end, they won, as my point of view was vastly outnumbered.

Several hours and books later, we called it a day and made our way home.

Wednesday the twenty-fourth, I started the day as Santa. I half-walked, half-slid down icy steps to the subway, then met one of our school's former secretaries to impersonate the aforementioned Clause at a kindergarten.

I was ushered into a storeroom and shown my Santa suit, then asked to stay there until further notice. Great pains were taken to hide me, costume or no. Our friend later told me the reasons behind this covert op. Apparently, when she was young she asked her parents why Santa looked like her principal at school and her pastor at church. She wanted these kids to avoid such trauma.

The costume fit well enough, but Santa's coat kept slipping open revealing the Batman T-shirt underneath. This really was my plan when I got dressed that morning. The coat would fly open, and I'd be forced to admit "I'm not Santa. Santa's not real. I'm Batman."

The Batman shirt went unnoticed, as Santa's flying hat stole the show. It refused to stay on his head, and many six to eight year olds were amused, not to mention the four or five snickering adults. Oh, yes, I remember you, whoever you are.

I had several bags of presents and a list of names, written beforehand by their parents. I called a name, read good qualities and areas for improvement, then evened out the constructive criticism by forking over the loot. Santa did use his better judgment however, and refused to read "stop picking your nose" off one boy's list. There are some things that Santa needn't mention.

One girl looked like she was about to cry. Thankfully there were only positive notes on the list, but she still refused to smile, even with a present. The Santa hat continued to fly off my head. After the third or fourth time, she gave in and started laughing.

I managed a few more ho ho hos, a "Merry Christmas" or two, and hid until it was time to go home.

Later that afternoon I met some students, teachers and missionaries to sing some Christmas carols at a haukwan (tutoring school) ministry. We sang a few Christmas carols with explanations of what these Christmas carols mean and why they are important to us.

We were pleasantly surprised when we sang Silent Night and Joy to the World. The students joined in, and we learned they were practicing the words in English before they knew we would sing them.

We confirmed that many of them don't celebrate Christmas at home, so we explained what it means to us.

A few minutes later, we said our goodbyes, collected candy canes, and trudged back through the labyrinthine subway tunnels to work our ways to our respective homes.