Love What’s Right Before You Instead of Hating What’s Missing

I take things for granted. I suspect you take things in stride.

It almost seems helpless. When things - family, friends, health, resources, or money - take place in our lives for years, we naturally begin to see ourselves as normal; we think they will live forever, as they always have.

But this mindset - this “Oh, it really is there; that has always been ”the idea - it often seems to prevent us from seeing how much it would mean to us if that thing were no longer there.

Hello, Asia

In August 2013, I moved to Busan, South Korea, to teach English for one year to a group of elementary school children (dear giants, these children). Three months later, I can tell you that this experience was all I could think of and about 10,000 things I had never done before.

For a while it was just like what I was thinking — like a free cross with some kind of mythical dreamcape. Everything new and attractive, bright and outward, happens so much, so much to learn, so much to do. It was an exaggeration of the experience, at the same time terrifying and exciting.

After a few weeks, feelings of youth and pleasure began to wane; tensions had developed.

My favorite ideas for my new home would conflict with a feeling I’m sure most of you know very well — the motto of doing things, the most common, is digestion.

Here is what happens: you begin to adjust to a new world; it loses some sparkle. You begin to see its flaws, its humorous scent, its flawless idiosyncrasies. You realize that full-time employment in another country is still a full-time job, with the exception of 95% of the people around you who do not speak your language.

You see, “Oh, I'm going to leave for a while - a whole year! And I'll get to see zero people I know. Nada. None. 12 months. Oops. "According to cultural shocks, you are experiencing the end of what is known as" The Honeymoon Phase. "

I had read about these things. I thought I understood that it was going to happen. I thought I knew how long the year was. I thought I knew what I was putting in.

I did not. No, at least. It turned out that it was close - it was impossible to know what a great decision it was to move to another country until I had two months to come in and ask what I was doing in the name of God here.

Lonely? Me?

As someone who has always enjoyed being alone, I have been amazed at how lonely I feel at times. You get a special kind of isolation when you’re in a city of five million people and you can connect with anyone. It is easy to isolate yourself from your surroundings.

You start talking to yourself. You feel like you're not there. You end up shouting music on your headphones ("People will know I'm here !!") while you are walking down the sidewalk as you are drenched and wet for a second because, just as Found, there are storms here. (Well, maybe it was just me).

Those are the days when you realize you will be trading your big toe for a few days at home with people you know for years. Do nothing but laugh for a few hours walking with those irrevocable people you know and your show.

"Man, that would be heaven," she thought.

Indeed, you can "connect" with loved ones via Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Gmail, and other online mediums. You can also engage in a beautiful, convincing face-to-face chat with Skype or Google Hangout.

But as you do, it is clear that these potential replacements will never copy the great handle of the bear, or the moment of laughter that touches the eyes, or the glorious combination of power when you are in the same room with the people.

While living in Korea, I realized what an incomparable gift I was giving up to get out of the country - that is, to drive away from all my loved ones in the world.

Before I came here, I knew I loved my family and friends endlessly - that they meant everything to me - but I don't think I really saw how close they were to me and being able to see them was so important to my well-being (and common sense).

I feel that I have found renewed appreciation for those precious people who have been around for years and will continue to do so.

When I get home, I will love them the same way I did before, but I will really appreciate the time I spend with them. I will try to remember what it was like without them.

Thanksgiving is a slippery slope

Just think for a few moments what it would be like if all your loved ones just walked away, far away from you. It may be hard to put yourself in my situation, but my hope is that you can feel it — how you can lose the normal comfort of just being with them, just sharing space or smiling.

One would not think that the good things in our lives need to disappear in order to understand their value, but that is often the case.

It seems puzzling, that the closest thing to our hearts can be hard to see. I humbly submit to you that we should pay attention to what is under our careless noses, lest we see the number of things only after we have left.

I would be a fool (more than I ever am) if I didn’t realize that this take-away-spiel-given spiel works for me right now.

In a few years, I will look back on my time in Korea and know what a wonderful opportunity I was given and how much I loved it here.

If I ignore the wonders that surround me in this place and keep wandering around my home, I will set myself up to feel some kind of courageous gratitude later, when all that remains of my time abroad are memories of patchwork.