Flourishing in Every Way

I’ve expressed this in a previous post that I’m not much of a cook. I’m always looking for easy recipes and shortcuts to get food on the table—leftovers are my best friend.

But recently, I felt unexpectedly inspired to cook after watching a scene from season two of Bloodhounds (Korean action thriller drama).

In the first episode about five minutes in, there’s a rather simple scene: a mother and two adult sons sitting at the table. She had prepared a homemade Korean dinner aka bapsang (밥상).

It was a brief, gentle scene—almost easy to overlook.

But it stuck with me. I wondered why such a small scene felt so significant.

As simple as the scene was, the answer was also simple: I had never experienced a table like that growing up, and the inner child in me deeply wishes I had.

But what was it about this Korean dinner table that I find myself so drawn to?

It wasn’t the food itself.

It was the sentiments the table carried.

Motherly warmth, care, devoted and tender affection—love.

A home that felt comforting and safe.

My heart unknowingly longed for this, and yet, through my personal journey with God over the years, I’ve come to know this kind of love and comfort in Christ Himself.

Now, as a mother, I feel a desire to reflect this to my children—in my own home.

One day, I would love to prepare a warm, home-cooked Korean bapsang for my children.

As you know, cooking isn’t my strength—but maybe that doesn’t matter. Food is a love language, and perhaps, it’s a language that I inevitably need to learn. It’s a heart-warming language that can bring comfort, joy, and unity.

Most grow up learning it, but for me, it’s a foreign language.

Just like learning any language for the first time, it won’t be easy, but I know it will be worth it. And for some reason—despite not having grown up with it—I feel healed.

Korean bapsang—what are you?
You are the motherly comfort every home needs.