For the past few hours, I've been reading old posts of almost everything I've published on the internet in the past year.
I'd forgotten parts of who I was.
I'd forgotten that I'm a writer. I'd forgotten that people actually read what I write, and they like it! (Even if it is under a pseudonym on an anonymous website....Shhh! don't tell anyone)
I'd forgotten how much art fed my soul. It's not just some passing fancy, or a hobby that kept me busy on the weekends. Art is part of who I am. And writing about it is what I do; what I will do for the rest of my life.
I'd forgotten about Vienna.
I'd forgotten about things like Mathausen, and ex-boyfriends (although, that's been a good part of myself to lose).
I'd forgotten about all my research and how much it meant to me.
I'd forgotten the long summer nights in Provo, and the cold short winter ones.
I'd forgotten, just in a small part, EFY.
Everything that I loved before was replaced by all things Korean. In Korea, I couldn't write for anyone but myself. But it made me grow. In Korea, there was no art. But the kindness of the people fed my soul just as well. In Korea, there were no reminders of Europe. Excepting the Paris Baguettes on every street corner. No concentration camps, no scars from WWII. But there were scars from the Korean War and the shining examples of people that had lived through it. In Korea, my friends were literally continents and oceans away. Literally. But there were people there, whom I found speak comfort to my soul.
And I guess the question I pose to myself now is: Can all of those parts of me, the parts that I've forgotten and left behind the past 6 months, fit inside the new me?
Is there room enough inside this now broken body for Sister Westrup and Bekah?
But I suppose that's the beauty of this life. We choose who we want to become.
It may not be possible for who I was a year ago to merge with the person I was last week. There may not be enough time. But that doesn't mean I won't try.
Writer. Art-lover. German speaker. Music snob. Korean speaker. Missionary. I hope it can all fit.