narrative (optional)

 Welcome to the Next Ten Months of Your Life

The airplane wheels screeched against the runway, jolting me awake from my restless nap. A cheerful flight attendant’s voice crackled through the speakers: “Welcome to Incheon International Airport.” My stomach dropped. South Korea, my mission field for the remainder of my service, was no longer a distant dream. It was real, right in front of me, and I was a bundle of nerves.

Stepping off the plane, I was immediately hit by a wave of sounds. Korean announcements echoed through the terminal, luggage wheelers clattered, and travelers chatted in a language that felt like a song I didn’t know the words to. My grip tightened on my two 50-pound suitcases; their handles dug into my palms as I struggled to maneuver through the packed terminal. I had spent weeks at the Missionary Training Center learning basic phrases, but hearing Korean spoken at full speed felt like being dropped into a foreign film without subtitles. The unfamiliarity of it all made my pulse quicken, my heart pounding in sync with the hurried footsteps around me. 

The streets outside pulsed with rhythm and life. Neon signs in Korean lit up the streets, casting a vibrant glow against the night sky. Street vendors called out to passing customers, the scent of grilled fish and sesame oil filling the air. The endless motion of people, buses, and cars overwhelmed me. I had imagined this place for months, but nothing had prepared me for the sheer energy of it. I pulled my coat tighter around me both from the night’s chill and the weight of uncertainty pressing on my chest. This was my new home, yet I felt so small, so out of place.

The mission van was waiting for us. As I climbed in, nerves washed over me again. Towering apartment buildings blurred past the window, stacked like Jenga blocks. Buses parked with people zipped by, and flashing billboards painted streaks of color across the cityscape. I tried to process it all, the smells, the sounds, the energy, but my mind was spinning.

At the mission home, we were welcomed by the mission president and his wife. Their warmth and American accents were a small comfort in an unfamiliar place. They reassured us, spoke of the work ahead, and encouraged us to embrace every challenge. But even as they talked, my thoughts raced, replaying the whirlwind of the day.

That night, lying on a thin pad, exhaustion finally caught up with me. The hum of the city outside mixed with the worries swirling in my head. I thought of the language barriers, the cultural differences, and the unknowns of the coming days. But as I closed my eyes, a quiet thought settled in my heart: I didn’t have to have it all figured out yet. This was just the beginning of a journey that would challenge and change me in ways I couldn't ’t yet imagine. 

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