In September 2000 Valerie and I, with a friend, June, flew to Seoul, South Korea, the first leg of a trip to Siberia. We spent the night on the campus of the Yoido Full Gospel Church, at 700,000 the largest church in the world. It was Saturday evening and a loud, all-night prayer meeting was going on in the sanctuary next door to the dorm. We slept, but not much. And watched a Nebraska University football game live!
After the early service Sunday morning, a hospitable young man from the church showed us around the city for a couple of hours before we took a taxi back to the airport to go on to Khabarovsk, Russia.
When we arrived at the terminal and got out at the curb we saw something curious. A young woman, surrounded by luggage and holding her baby, stood on the sidewalk, quietly weeping as crowds of travelers hurried by. No one seemed to notice her. But we were drawn to her.
“Are you okay?” June asked. And she told us her story, speaking in English with a Russian accent.
She and her husband, their twelve-year-old daughter and baby had flown all night from Moscow to Seoul. The family was moving to Korea where he had a job waiting. They had arrived at the other terminal, visible some distance away. They collected their luggage and went to the taxi stand to come to this terminal to catch their domestic flight.
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