Family: What It Means to Me

I was born in a small rural village in South Gyeongsang Province, Korea. Poverty followed our family like a shadow, yet within that hardship, there was a love more precious than anything in this world. Looking back, that love has been the greatest strength sustaining me to this day.

My mother was born into a wealthy family and grew up wanting for nothing. Everything changed at twenty-three when she married my father and moved into a poor, rural household. She was met with a demanding life with her in-laws and the heavy burden of managing a large extended family. A young bride who had known little of the world, she suddenly found herself shouldering every weight alone. Yet, no matter how difficult it became, my mother never left. I only learned the reason much later.

“If I had left,” she told me, “my two young daughters would have had to endure that life in my place.”

My mother endured everything to protect us, and her love was engraved deep within my heart. I believe that even then, the love of God Elohim was reaching me through the selfless love of my mother.

We eventually moved from the countryside and to the city, but life remained just as challenging. My mother would head to the fish market at two in the morning to clean fish, and by daybreak, she was already off to her next job. Like a candle burning itself out to give light, she poured her entire being into ensuring our family never missed a single meal.

In my childhood, I often saw my mother opening the Bible. The scene from forty years ago—of her studying the Bible with two visitors in our tiny, one-room home—remains vivid in my mind. That same year, I was baptized as an elementary school student, and my father soon followed. Our family was blessed with keeping the Passover, the feast of God. I fondly remember wearing my best clothes for Sabbath worship, sharing fruit punch at church, and the warm embrace of someone who held us children so dearly. It was only much later that I realized She was God the Mother.

Our family’s journey of faith was not an easy one. Due to my grandmother’s strong opposition, my mother was eventually forced to leave the church. Soon after, in the wake of the Korean Financial Crisis, our livelihood collapsed, and our family was scattered. My mother struggled with depression, her weight dropping by 20 kilograms, while my sister and I were sent to live with relatives. Yet, my mother did not break. She rose again, brought us back together, and restored our home.

Thirty years later, my mother finally found her way back to Zion. By chance, she met a member of the Church of God who was promoting the “Our Mother” Writing and Photo Exhibition. Overjoyed, she went straight to the church and stepped back onto the path of faith. At the time, I had just given birth and was physically and emotionally drained. I couldn't understand why she seemed so bright and happy; I even opposed her returning to her faith. However, my mother was unshakable. I remember watching her in the dead of winter, heading to church with her hundred-day-old grandson on her back and her four-year-old granddaughter’s hand in hers. I used to wonder why she went to such lengths, but now I understand. It was a faith beyond words—and the earnest calling of God Elohim for our family to return.

While struggling to balance childcare and work, I fell into the depths of postpartum depression. It was then that my four-year-old daughter said to me,

“The other girls come to church with their moms, but I only go with Grandma. Mommy, please come with us.”

Those simple words opened the door to my heart. The very next day, I attended the Sabbath worship. Receiving the warm welcome of the church members and participating in the worship, I felt a natural and peaceful conviction: I belonged there.

That year, as my sister, brother-in-law, nieces, nephews, and even my father all kept the Passover together, I wept silently. It dawned on me then just how earnestly Heavenly Father and Mother had been waiting for our family, and their love welled deep within my heart.

A few years ago, my father began his battle with cancer. The night before his surgery, I broke into tears watching him quietly tidying the house. He offered an earnest prayer to Heavenly Father and Mother. Now, he has regained his health. He spends his days laughing with his grandchildren and devotedly caring for his wife. It feels as though I have come to know my father anew, for only now do I truly understand the love that was hidden beneath his quiet words and reserved actions.

My family has taught me that love is like a river that flows silently. Within my mother’s calloused hands and my father’s quiet, steadfast presence were countless days of sacrifice and patience. That love is the greatest pillar that sustains my life.

The source of all this love is God Elohim. I offer my deepest gratitude to Heavenly Father and Mother, who patiently waited for us and embraced our entire family in Their loving arms.

Now, I want to live my life expressing that love. The family I once took for granted has become my everything and the very reason for my gratitude. I earnestly pray that my parents will remain healthy for many years to come and continue to share their smiles with us. To me, family is an eternal refuge—unshaken by any storm—and the warmest gift granted by God Elohim.