My mother was tough, industrious, but full of compassion to those in need. She always told me to take care of people who were in need. To be kind to them. Not to look down on them. She always gave to people when she could. She gave and didn't expect anything back.
When we lived in Korea, she took in a runaway girl who had been beaten repeatedly by her father. She lived with my parents and helped take care of my sister, brother, and eventually me. She lived with my parents for many years. When we moved to Argentina, my grandmother would not let my mother bring the girl with us. It made my mom very sad.
Here is a picture of the girl, me, and my brother. Yes, I don't look too happy. Yes, my brother had a perm and long white socks.
My mom lost her parents during the Korean War. Her mother stayed in North Korea with my mom's older sister, while my mother, her father, and brother, fled to the South. My grandfather was later killed for his negative and very vocal views of the North.
My mother grew up being taken care of by aunts, uncles, and other family friends. She has many happy memories, but many painful memories as well. Growing up in Korea without parents wasn't an easy thing. But she clung to her drive to never let anyone say that she acted like a person without parents.
Looking back on her life, my mom said that she could see that God had been in her life. Even though she didn't know Him at the time, He was there. He sent people to help her, encourage her, and love her. She experienced much kindness and love from others.
Out of that heart, she poured into mine. To look out for those in need. To quietly and secretly help those who were the neediest.