All About You FRIDAY – Different but Same (My Story of Kimbap)

“Annyeonghaseyo!” I said as I bowed in greeting entering the home of a friend. My partner and I had practiced the Korean “hello” as we made our way to dinner this week, making sure we had all the right emphases on all the right syllables. We were going to meet my partner’s step-daughter’s in-laws, a Korean couple visiting from NYC. There were some pre-dinner nerves on the part of some of the dinner participants.

“They have never had dinner with a ‘gay’ couple,” my friend said. She just wanted us to know and wanted us to feel safe, but was unsure of what the vibe might be. The visiting couple are conservative Christians. I think the man might even be the pastor of a church.

I am a 57-year old, first generation American. The second born child of Filipino immigrants. Born and raised in a conservative Christian home, I grew up with traditional family values that I loved and cherished. I went to church every week and I loved my God. I’ve been in church schools since second grade and graduated from a Christian university. I broke the mold my parents “silently” made for me when I married a non-college educated, non-church going Irish carpenter. And if they were alive today, they would see I broke the mold again. In a couple of months, I will celebrate my first anniversary of being married…to a woman.

I had to add those three dots for emphasis. Because I am still a Christian. I love my God and I love my church. And I love my partner with all of my heart and soul. The decision to be with her was not taken lightly. She walked into my life unexpectedly and when it appeared the path to being with her was the the path I was intended to take, I hit my knees and prayed and read my Bible and prayed some more. Maybe some of you can understand my emotional journey.

I’ve had long conversations with people who were shocked at my decision. Some people who have known me a long time were confused and I’ve even lost some friends. But I understand it. I understand it all because there was a time I might have passed judgement on someone like me. In the name of doing what’s right. In the name of loving God.

So back to the dinner.

From the front door we were led to the kitchen where there was a spread of ingredients: nori (seaweed), rice, egg, carrots, kimchi, pickled radishes and bulgogi. “Since you are our guests of honor, we are going to show you how to make kimbap!” the son-in-law announced. We rolled up our sleeves and began placing the ingredients on the seaweed square. The dad showed me how to roll it and press it tight and how to cut it into small sections.

“Very good!” he proclaimed, “She do it better than you!” he said to his son. The mom smiled approvingly from several feet away as she fried up some kimchi pancakes.

There in the middle of the kitchen, sharing in the preparation of a traditional Korean meal, the lines of differences were both celebrated and disappearing. And as we sat around the table to eat, the conversation flowed. Some of us used forks while others used chopsticks. We shared stories of our childhoods and our travels. Some of it being translated by the son, but none of the love being lost in translation.

We were Korean, Filipino, Jewish and British. A United Nations dinner table. Blended family. Blended couples. We were all human. All God’s children. Different but same. It was the best three hours of my week.

“Gamsahamnida!” I said as we prepared to leave.

“Gamsahamnida! Thank you!” they said in return as they bowed politely and then wrapped me in warm hugs. I’m smiling just writing about it.

That’s my story of kimbap. Every time I eat it, my heart will be filled with memories of one of the best meals I’ve shared with unanticipated friends who are now family.

And it all started with an invitation, open hearts and the making of a meal that was a shared tradition of the host. When you share who you are, you find out that though we are wrapped in different packaging, our hearts are all the same shape. Judgement disappears, love flows and everyone gets fed.

It’s been a long week. Don’t forget to celebrate.

Until next time…