An invitation to Thanksgiving dinner redirects the future of a family and creates an international connection.

“How do you know them?”

People often ask how I became friends with a family from South Korea. Even in this age of technology, the Lord used sweet, old-fashioned hospitality.

The Lord knew the plan

A bit of history: In 2013, my husband went to heaven two weeks before Thanksgiving. The timing rather dashed the joy of Thanksgiving gatherings. Before my husband’s death, I thoroughly enjoyed hosting family and neighbors on holidays and in between. Since his death, I couldn’t muster my hospitality energy and gladly celebrated Thanksgiving at the home of local friends.

However, in early fall 2015, a faint spark of energy presented itself. Beginning in September, I let my stepson Mike know about my plan to resurrect the family Thanksgiving. I invited his aunt and uncle, who had attended in previous years. Soon, I felt the hospitality-healing happening.

At Halloween, Mike showed up to help host trick-or-treating in my neighborhood. When he arrived, he announced, “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?” The bad news was that he’d decided to visit his brother in Denver for Thanksgiving. The good news? That he’d decided to visit his brother in Denver for Thanksgiving!

The next day I called Mike’s aunt Carol, informing her of his plans. I wondered if her adult kids would be less interested in coming if they knew Mike would not be here. She shared that she and her husband, as restaurant owners, had decided to host a community dinner for Thanksgiving. That meant they would not be coming. I was devastated.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out to the friends who had hosted Thanksgiving in the two years of my gloom and announced I would accept their earlier invitation. As it turned out, they had canceled their Thanksgiving dinner so they could help their daughter out of state.

On a Saturday night early in November, I went to sleep praying. Waking up Sunday morning, I thought of a family at church visiting from South Korea. Surely, they would love a Thanksgiving invitation.

The Lord knew the details

Robert and Hyesook Hong-Mitchell and their three boys live in Ulsan, South Korea, where Robert serves as a professor of microbiology. It was a sabbatical year, and they’d chosen to spend it in the United States—specifically, Madison, Wis. They found an apartment in Middleton, a northwest suburb.

Their next step was to “church-hop,” as they called it. Lutheranism is rare in South Korea, but since St. Andrew was near their apartment, it was first on their list of churches to visit. Being avid students of the Bible, Robert and Hyesook noticed the number of Bible studies available at St. Andrew. To quote Robert, “We do not need to look further for a church.” I met Hyesook when she signed up for a Bible study I lead.

Arriving at church, I took my place for worship, bowed my head in prayer, and then opened my eyes and saw the Hong-Mitchell family seated in front of me. Immediately following the service, I asked if they would like to celebrate Thanksgiving with me at my home. Unfortunately (for me), it turned out they had plans to host several university students for the holiday.

I was crushed. And done. I said as much to the Lord. My optimism had been exhausted.

The following Sunday I was surprised to find Hyesook searching for me. “Is your invitation to Thanksgiving still open? Robert’s students are all sick!” I was elated—not that the students were ill but that I was now able to share my home with new friends. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving; I went straight from church in search of a turkey.

I chose to attend Thanksgiving Eve worship, which turned out to be a pivotal decision. As I was leaving the sanctuary, I noticed my friend Kari. When I asked about her holiday plans, she announced she was free and gladly accepted my invitation to join us.

I had not exchanged more than hello with the Hong-Mitchell boys before they arrived at my home. Jarrod, the oldest, was 14, Nathan was 12, and Samuel was 10. Over dinner, I encouraged them to share their school experiences. They spoke with joy about school in Middleton, but not so much about their school in Ulsan. After dinner, Hyesook shared her struggle: The boys were so happy in the United States that they did not want to go home to Ulsan. She did not know what to do. It was at that moment that Kari spoke up. “Why not leave them here at LPS?” She went on to explain about Luther Preparatory School (LPS), a boarding school in Watertown, Wis., adding details of her experience there.

Three weeks later, I arrived at church to see a beaming Jarrod, who proclaimed, “I’m all signed up!” He would finish his school year in Middleton and return to the United States in the fall of 2016 to attend LPS.

Before departing Middleton for Ulsan, the boys were baptized at St. Andrew.

The Lord knew the need

Travel from Asia to Wisconsin includes four hours on a train from Ulsan to Seoul, and at least 20 hours by plane, with layovers, to Chicago. This was followed by a bus ride to Milwaukee, where the boys were retrieved by LPS staff and driven an hour to Watertown. Each of them made the trek in August, over and back at the semester break in December and sometimes for spring break, then back home at the end of the school year. With each return to the United States, they left behind parents with faithful but aching hearts.

Over the next eight years, these young men grew in faith through Bible study and worship. They made weekend visits from Watertown to my home in Madison and shared more Thanksgiving dinners. My piano sang with recital pieces, hands flying on the keyboard. During the pandemic, we went riding through the Dane County countryside in my Mini Cooper convertible, “the uncovered car,” as they called it. During winter stays, they learned the necessity of shoveling snow in my driveway. “Aunt Jane” took them on numerous trips to the mall for clothes, to shops for updates on cell phones, and to an Asian grocery store in downtown Madison. I was thrilled to watch the boys create Korean feasts in my kitchen. They taught me about gochujang (pepper paste), savory Korean pancake with dipping sauce, and bibimbap (sautéed vegetables with meat, served in a bowl and topped with an egg). For a Thanksgiving appetizer one year, Nathan demonstrated assembling and rolling gimbap (a sushi-type roll) for the group. (My then 95-year- old mother-in-law, Sylvia, loved it!)

Jarrod graduated from LPS in 2019 and from culinary school in New York. Nathan finished LPS in 2022 and moved to Milwaukee to attend Wisconsin Lutheran College. In May 2024, Samuel walked the stage at LPS to receive his diploma. He currently attends Martin Luther College, New Ulm, Minn., with the hope of becoming a pastor.

On one weekend visit as we drove to worship at St. Andrew, Nathan declared, “Who knew this would be the church that would change my life?” Who knew my somewhat desperate effort to play hostess would redirect the future of a family?

Only you, Lord, only you.

Author: Jane Schlenvogt-Dew
Volume 112, Number 11
Issue: November 2025