Therese Park

The Kansas City Star

Winter is a time of reflection and waiting — waiting for spring, waiting for good news from far away.
This winter, the weather has been so warm that all sorts of birds are still congregating at our backyard creek — finches, cardinals, redheaded woodpeckers, robins, wood doves and starlings. Technically speaking, the city of Overland Park owns the creek and the surrounding trees, but my husband and I are the “keepers” of the creek who benefit from nature’s abundance all year around.
Although they lost their lush green leaves in the fall, the naked trees add their distinctive beauty to the winter landscape. While we are enchanted by the birds’ charms, their graceful body language on springy branches and their pretty songs, we are annoyed by squirrels because they steal bird seed.
In this bad economy, who wants to feed the lowly creatures from the rodent family? And we buy only vitamin-fortified bird food and serve it in a wooden feeder that resembles a chalet in the Alps.
Every time I find the furry critters, I chase them away with determination, but two minutes later they are back again, ignoring the cone-shaped metal structure under them, which is supposed to keep them from climbing to birds’ dining room. Such pests! But in their minds, I’m their enemy. Finders are keepers, they seem to say. God created us, as He did you! Why can’t you be kind to us?
The issues surrounding God and his creatures are mystery to me.
Kansas City lost 114 lives to shooting violence in the previous year. This number is greater than 109 lives lost to the same cause in Washington, D.C., in the same period. Considering that Washington, D.C., is larger with a larger population than Kansas City, the number of victims in this Midwest town is astounding. And the majority of the victims in both cities were black males. What does it mean?
Behind each of the 114 lost lives, there are killers. The scary thing is, according to The Star, one-third of the 114 homicides in Kansas City remain unsolved; which means that some killers might be walking next to you on the street or riding the same bus with you.
No doubt, those who live in a so-called “crime area” live in fear, like those in a war zone. Some might wake up every morning, worrying that one of his or her loved ones might be in a life-or-death situation at that very moment. Some wouldn’t answer the phone or a door knock, fearing the worst.
I know what fear can do to people. As a youngster living in Korea, I learned how political tides affected civilians’ lives. The three-year-long war was a nightmare, but so many uprisings by students and civilians against the corrupt government during the postwar era were scary, too.
While watching Kim Jong-Il’s funeral procession on TV recently, I witnessed the fear of North Koreans under nonnegotiable circumstances. In a snow flurry, tens of thousands of mourners lined the street, bawling, beating their chests as the black Lincoln Continental carrying Dear Leader’s lifeless body passed them. The narrator’s voice was melodramatic: “Beloved Dear Leader, why have you left us so early? We need you…”
Obviously, Dear Leader was still controlling his puppets from his casket. Or were they performing a simple “Monkey-see, monkey-do” act by the peer pressure? A depressing thought came to my mind. Would I be any different than they, had I lived in North Korea?
It’s obvious. I could almost see myself in the madding crowd, squeezing tears, faking my grief, in a snow flurry. What choice would I have other than to do what was expected of me, when secret policemen could be watching everyone? Why is God hiding from His people?
In spite of the fact that we each have a personality, goals and ideas, we humans are environmental animals. That’s how God created us. And we are capable of both good and evil. We’re right sometimes and we’re wrong other times. We succeed on some things but we fail on others. Above all, we live one day at a time.
In the midst of all mysteries, my birthday is approaching again. Why, Lord?
Koreans say they “eat” rather than “turn” another year. Now that I’m no longer 60-something (though I can fool you), I’d rather eat another year than turn one more time, because each time I turn, I get dizzy.
A well-known 16th-century Korean poet shared her thoughts about fast-moving life in these words:
Boast not your speed, Rapids!
Once you reach the vast ocean
You’ll return no more
Why not keep me company tonight
And watch the full moon together?