The Cookbook Saga

“So, what is ‘Khoroo 2’  ?”

As I sat somewhere in the middle of holding back hysterical fits of laughter and gaping in unbelief, I couldn’t help but think that no cookbook, was worth this effort.

Earlier that the day, my two friend from the office (let’s call them Sarah and Emily) approached me to ask a favor.  

Emily needed me to register an online cookbook for her and get the validation number. The first month’s trial was free, but after that, she had to call the company in the States and register the online subscription to keep using it. This was in fact, the last day that they could register it before the free trial expired. Sarah and Emily were very concerned about it. Seeing as my English is my first language and not theirs, it made sense that I should be the one calling.

It didn’t strike as odd that they were using online cookbook. Sarah loves to cook. In fact, most women at my office love to learn how to cook new things. They are always asking me to teach them how to bake cookies, cakes, chocolates, etc. I thought using a regular cookbook, which really aren’t that expensive, would have been much easier. However, I wasn’t going to argue. It was actually kind of cute that they were using an online cookbook and were very concerned about keeping it. I could almost see them having some kind of cooking club.

After calling the company’s international phone line, going through several automated phone menus, I learned that their offices were closed in the U.S.

Sarah and Emily asked me if I would please call when it would be morning in the States (9pm for us in Ulaanbaatar) because they really needed to register this cookbook and the get the validation number. I sighed inside because it seemed rather trivial to me, and could be a potentially messy situation if I called without them around.

“Well, I don’t know how to register the cookbook. I mean, they are going to ask for information that you guys know, but I definitely don’t. So…”

 “Oh no no.” they reassured me. That would be no problem. They gave me the product number, license software, and the business phone number the software was registered under. I caved. You don’t have to know me for long to know that I have a hard time saying ‘no’ to my friends. I would call the company back at night to get the validation number.

But, right then in the morning, was when it first began to get strange. At some point during the many phone menu options, I had to enter the “10 digit business phone number” of their account.

I looked at Emily a bit perplexed and said, “They want the ‘business’ phone number you registered the cookbook under.” 

Unphased, Emily gave me the phone number. So I shrugged it off. I had no idea why they wanted a ‘business’ phone number. Pretty sure Sarah and Emily weren’t registering this cookbook for our organization. But since it made sense to them, I ran with it.

*****

At 9pm that night, my roommie, Kerry, and I were sitting in our living room when I called the company again. I went through all the phone menus again and this time was transferred to a real live customer service person.

Who did not speak English as his first language.

And who could not understand me. No matter how clearly I annunciated my words.

I think he may have been working in or very near India.

“Hello. May I ask what your name is?” the man said.

“Yeah, my name is April. Just like the month," I replied.

“So how do you spell that? A. P. R. …”

“Yes, yes. A. P. R. I. L.”

“So, A as in ‘apple’, P as in ‘Peter’, R  as in “Robert, I as in ‘igloo’ and L as in ‘London’ ?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“Ok can I have the 10 digit business phone number you registered your product under so I can look up your account details?”

I gave him the phone number that Emily had given me.

“This isn’t a United States phone number. There are more than 10 digits…”

“Well, it’s a Mongolian phone number.”

“May I ask where you are calling from?”

“Uh. Mongolia.”

“Oh, well we need to make an account for you then.”

(SAY WHAAA….???? In my head I was thinking - Oh crap. This is not what is supposed to happen. How am I supposed to register an account for Sarah and Emily in Mongolia…!)

“Ok Ma’am ? What is the name of the business?”

(What the heck do you mean ‘the name of the business’! This is for Emily! Aaack!)

I had two options. Register the cookbook for the only Mongolian business I knew and had information for (i.e. – my organization) or I could tell him I’d have to call back later with the information. The trouble was that it was late at night for us (about 10pm) and I didn’t think my friends were awake to give me whatever the heck the ‘business address’ was. Also. This was the last day to register the cookbook. I didn’t want to let them down. Plus, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be an issue to register a cookbook for my organization. It was kind of funny, but all in all harmless. Who was going to care if we had a free cookbook at work? So I answered:

“The business name is spelled V. E. T…”

“So that’s B as in ‘bravo’, E as in ‘Edward…”

“No no. V as in… ‘Vincent’. The first letter is V.”

“Oh sorry, so P as in ‘Peter’, E as in Edward…”

“No. It’s V as in … ‘Victor’! V!”

“I’m sorry. So “V as in ‘Victor’, E as in “Edward”…”

This was going to be a long conversation. And I proceeded to spell out letter by letter the name of the business. In fact, from here on out, you should just read all of my responses spelled out, letter by letter with an example of what each letter stood for.

At this point, Kerry was fighting a bad case of the giggles. I was on the verge of laughing too.

Sometimes when you’re tired you get frustrated. Other times when you’re tired, things are absolutely incredibly hysterical.

And this was one of those times.

If she laughed, I was going to lose it. And the poor man on the other line would have no idea why registering a cookbook was so funny. And I didn’t want to have to explain it to him. So I fought desperately to control myself.

“Ok. What is the business address?”

(You have to be kidding me. What kind of online cookbook needs a business address and phone number? This is ridiculous!)

I gave him the address.

Spelled out letter by letter.

Three times.

“U and in ‘uniform’, L as in ‘London’, A as in ‘apple’, A as in ‘apple, B as in “bravo…”

Three. Times.

For every line. And there are 6 address lines.

And the whole time I was trying not to get the giggles. I had to recompose myself at least 4 or 5 times. And then we had huge problems. Because his little screen in front of him, somewhere near India, had blanks that fit a U.S. address. Mongolian addresses are not at all like U.S. addresses.

“So Ulaanbaatar is the capital city”?

(Why on earth does that matter?!)

“Yes. That’s correct. It’s the capital of Mongolia.”

“So the zipcode goes in the second line?”

“Yeah. If you wanted to send something here, that’s where it goes. It’s supposed to go at the end of a U.S. address, but in Mongolia it goes in the second line.”

(I could only imagine him looking at his little boxes to fill in and being completely befuddled.)

“And what is ‘Khoroo 2’ ?”

This is where Kerry and I almost lost it. Because I proceeded to have to explain the geography of Ulaanbaatar.

“Yes there are street names, but no one uses them or knows them. Not even the mail people. So there are districts in the city and ‘Khoroo 2’ is a smaller part of the district we are in. Yes, I know you don’t have a box for a smaller part of a district. I’m sorry. I’m not sure what to do either.”

We were cracking up. Little bursts of giggles were slipping out as I tried to explain (and spell) everything. This was ridiculous! No cookbook was worth this effort. It would be so much easier to just buy a real cookbook for Sarah and Emily. Actually, it would be even easier to just google recipes. I mean, if you want to find anything to cook…you can find like 5 versions of the recipe online, instantly, and for free. Why on earth use an online subscription cookbook!?

After giving him the business phone number, business address, and business e-mail address, telling him how many people would be using the software (how many people is Emily going to share the cookbook with? 4? 5?), and how many computers it would be on (maybe 1 or 2?) he finally gave me the validation code.

I had no idea what kind of company sold cookbooks to businesses. Or why Emily was using a cookbook that was supposed to be for businesses. But finally it was done.

It had taken about 30 minutes. I was off the phone. And my organization had a new online cookbook.

Kerry and I were keeled over in laughter. It was the most ridiculous and complicated phone conversation ever! I wasn’t sure if that was what I was supposed to have done.  I may have broken all kinds of rules. But at least the cookbook was registered.

But then it got even better. Or worse. Depending on how you look at it.

The next day my friend Karen, who works at the small animal clinic branch of our organization, came by for lunch. Kerry and I were telling her the cookbook story and laughing all over again. And then I remembered something and mentioned it as a sort of a side note:

I told Karen, “You know, it was funny. He kept calling it ‘Quick Books’ which must have been the brand name. He was asking me what version I had. Was it ‘Quick Book Pro’ or ‘Quick Book Elite’ ? Well, I had no idea what he was talking about or what version of cookbook Emily had registered, but anyways, now we have a new cookbook at work.”

All of a sudden, Karen’s eyes widened.

“That’s not a cookbook. That’s our accounting software.”

 ...

“Oh crap.”

“Yeah. The girls at the clinic have a hard time saying the word ‘quick’. They always say it ‘cook’. So I’ve just gotten used to when they ask for help with the ‘cookbook’ at work, they actually mean the ‘Quickbook’ accounting software!”

“Karen. I just registered our accounting software. Under my name. I mean, they said I was the new contact person. Crap. What on earth have I done!? I had no idea! They asked how many people would use the program and how many computers it would be on. I was like, for a cookbook? Like maybe 4-5 people on one computer. But the accounting software…”

A cookbook is one thing…accounting software is an entirely different (and considerably more serious) matter. I was pretty sure I had completely overstepped my bounds. Like a lot. I was horrified…and fighting the giggles all over again.

The three us of laughed and laughed and laughed. This was going down as one of the famous “stupid/silly things short term workers have done and said” stories. It was the most perfect miscommunication ever.

Had the mispronunciation been a non-real English word (“Will you help me register my online kabutni?”…“ Say what?”) or had the word not made sense in context (“Will you help me register my online banana?”…”What’s an online banana?”) , I would have asked for a better explanation and figured it out immediately. But the fact that it actually made 100% sense to me made it even funnier.

“I almost wanted to hang up the phone at one point and just buy them a real cookbook! (Hahahahahahaha!) Can you imagine me presenting Sarah with a cookbook at work and saying, here this will be easier than the online one!? (Hahahahahahaha!) She would have been so confused! (Hahahahahahahaha!)”

Somewhere little beams of light suddenly pierced through some fog…the business phone number, business address and business e-mail, the urgent need to get the validation number right away…why the guy on the phone needed to know how many people and how many computers would be using the software…it all started to dawn on me…

The next day, I told the story to advisor of our finance department and explained (between sheepish giggles) what had happened and apologized for the giant mess I’d made. After reassuring me it was an honest mistake (albeit a stupid one, I think, looking back on it) and it shouldn’t cause any major problems in the future. He said he’d take care of it and have some one call back to get it all straightened out.

I do not envy them that phone call.

“Ulaanbaatar.  So that’s U as in ‘uniform’, L as ’London’, K as in “Kazakhstan…” 

“No no. U as in ‘uniform’, L as in ‘London’, A as in ‘apple’…”

"Home"

There’s a cliché little phrase that goes “Home is where the heart is.”

I hate clichés. I try to avoid them, especially in writing. Because clichés are overused and boring. And their meanings are like an old “welcome mat” well worn and trampled on.

And yet I can’t find a way to improve upon this particular cliché. Saying “home is when you’re with the people you love and who love you”, is too long. I could be “poetic” and use imagery to say “home is driving in your pajamas” or “home is letting your ‘Trekie side’ go to a party”. But that somehow doesn’t sum it all up. I’d still need multiple examples to say all of what that stupid cliché says. Alas.

“Home” is a simple word that is immensely difficult to define. Some people might ask, “Where do you call home?” And the answer can be vague and quite elusive.

For example, if you ask me where my home is this is what I’ll probably tell you:

I’m from Minnesota. That’s where I spent 15 years of my life growing up. I love Minnesota. I miss the lakes, the forests, and the kind, laid-back, down to earth sort of people. I’m proud to be a Minnesotan and I always will be. (It IS called “duck duck grayduck” no matter HOW many people say “duck duck goose!) But I haven’t lived in Minnesota for 5 years. In fact, I haven’t spent more than a week in Minnesota in that time. So…it’s not exactly “home” any more.

My parent’s live in Wisconsin. They moved there when I was 19. When I go “home” to see my family…I go to a house that I’ve grown familiar with and the faces that I’ve always known. But beyond those walls, there is nothing in that neighborhood I am attached to. There is no one in that town (except my family) that I get excited to see. So, my family’s house is not exactly “home” either.

The past 5 years I have lived in Colorado, and that’s where I’ll spend the next 4 years going to vet school. I have learned all the major streets (which is a big accomplishment if you’ve had any experience with how uniquely directionally challenged I am). I have my favorite coffee houses that I frequent and my favorite stores to shop. It’s where I’ve grown immensely in countless ways. It’s where I got my first “big girl job”. It’s where I discovered the worst and best parts of myself. It’s where I made my fondest and most painful memories. I love Colorado. I love the mountains, the sunshine, the winding roads and the incredible skiing.

But living in Colorado always revolved around school, and as such it was never a permanent “home” in my mind. I always knew in the back of my head that I’d be leaving eventually…and so would all of my friends. I’m going back to Colorado when I return to the States this summer. But when I go back to Fort Collins, most of the familiar faces and familiar laughs will be absent…graduation is a wonderfully bittersweet thing. So I’ll be going back to what feels like a different town and different school. It won’t feel like “home”.

So where is home for me? I honestly don’t know.  But if you ask me “what is home to you?”, that is much easier to answer (albeit just as complicated).

For me:

Home is being understood and understanding the people around you without having to say a word.

Home is driving in your pajamas to buy frozen yogurt or a frozen pizza to share.

Home is teasing and being teased, gushing tears and also offering your own shoulder.

Home is knowing the ins and outs of what makes people tick and what makes them ticked.

Home is when the strands of your heart are suddenly tangled in a knot with the strands of someone else’s.

Home is when you count down the days to see someone you can count on.

Home is going to sleep at night with the biggest smile on your face, but not being able to sleep because there’s too much joy in your heart.

Home is knowing that there’s always a bed with your name on it, always a number to call at 1am, always an ear to listen, and always a spoon to feed you.

Home is being able to sit in silence without awkwardness or a need to fill the gap.

Home is picking up the phone and the first thing you say is, “Ok, so…” to continue a conversation instead of “hello”.

In short, “home” is the people that fill my heart, the people that have seen me at my best and my worst, the people I can’t get off my mind, the people I am always trying to find ways to bless.

Anyhow, the reason I spent so much time talking about my “home” or rather “homes” is that this past weekend I realized for the first time that Mongolia has quietly, subtly, and slowly closed its fingers around mine. I realized that Mongolia is now another place I feel “at home” and I am really deeply going to miss being here.

(Some of you are saying, “Duh. I could’ve told you that before you left.” I apologize for being a numbskull. But it took me 5 months to get it. Bear with me for a minute.)

See, on Tuesday September 20^th at about 6am or so, while being driven to the airport, there was nothing I wanted more to do than NOT go to Mongolia. (Fortunately, it’s a good thing plane tickets are non-refundable. I wasn’t going to waste $1,700.)

That morning I realized how much of my friends’ lives I was going miss out on. I realized how distant I would feel and how different my friendships would, at least temporarily, become while I was gone. I realized that 1) I don’t know how to teach and 2) I don’t speak the language and 3) I don’t know anyone in Mongolia. (Yes, I know. This didn’t sink in until I was driving to the airport, but I’m a little dense, what can I say?)

And the fourth and biggest reason I didn't want to go to Mongolia is because I seriously doubted that I'd be able to make any real friends or have meaningful relationships here. I was actually dreading meeting my roommie because we don't speak the same language, there is a considerable age difference separating us and I thought we wouldn't share much in common. In short...it might be a really long 8 months.

I'm sure God was sighing one of those "you've got to be kidding me" sighs. Because pretty sure He knew he had way better plans for me and pretty sure he knew I was wrong and should have just trusted him with what he was getting me into. Because within a minimum of 3 days or so, I knew without a doubt that it was the Enemy of my soul that put these feelings of fear in my heart.

Because my roommie and her sister are the two people that have made Mongolia feel like “home” for me. There is no one less boring, no one that I get along with better, no one with younger hearts and real inner and outer beauty, no one I feel more “myself” around than these two dear friends. They are like two sisters I never had growing up. And I love them very much. Somehow the strands of my heart got tangled in a knot with theirs.

My roommie and I have had to play burglars and break through a metal door together, we go to the gym and get ridiculously sore together, we go to concerts and share a love of music, we both love fruit (like a lot) and also chocolate (like even more a lot), we are both not morning people, we both enjoy our share of shopping and vegging in front of the TV (we also both think a lot of body hair is absolutely nasty but you don't really need to know that).

So on Friday night, as I was sitting next to my roommie in my first ever jazz music concert, attempting to sing along to the Mongolian words “Sain Bainuu, Ulaanbaatar min. Sain. Sain Bainuu, Ulaanbaatar min…” and waving our hands in the air in time with the music (yeah…this jazz concert was way more lively and exciting that I expected! So great.), that’s when it hit me. I’m going to miss this. A lot.

I won’t miss the smog. Or the traffic. I won’t miss the frigid cold. Or the language barrier. I won’t miss working at a desk on my computer all day. Or not being able to take a shower in the countryside.

But I’m going to miss walking to all the cool little shops and to get various ingredients and always finding surprising things in them.

I’m going to miss the excitement of mastering a new phrase in Mongolian.

I’m going to miss me “Mongolian language lessons” which are really “let’s talk about life, and catch up and share our hearts and pray for each other and maybe get around to learning one new Mongolian word” times.

I’m going to miss going to the small animal clinic and all the fun and smiling faces there. And I’m going to miss the laughing and teasing of the guys in my Master’s class.

I’m going miss being called “Dur-vroong Sar” which literally means “4^th Month”.

I’m going to miss the endless interest in baking that my friends here have.

I’m going to miss having a  neighbor upstairs who loves to watch chick flicks with me.

I’m going to miss coming “home” to my apartment and just doing whatever with my roommie, whether watching a Korean soap opera or high-fiving because we caught the cheapest bus in town and we’re excited about it (the difference in price is about 20 cents, but hey. 20 cents is 20 cents. And that’s pretty exciting! )

It’s a good thing I still have 3 months left here. I still have a lot of memories to make and a lot more love to share. I have a lot more friendships I want to develop. Unless God has other plans, I am sure I will be back to visit multiple times in the coming years.

I recently said to two of my best friends in the States, that I was emotionally ready to “go home”. And I am. My heart is “at home” when I am with them too. I miss them immensely. I am counting down the days until I get to see them again, drive to their homes in my pajamas, and just BE with them doing whatever we feel like doing.

But now, at the same time, I am not emotionally ready to leave. How is it possible to be emotionally ready to “go home” and not emotionally ready to leave this place? I suppose it’s because “home” isn’t a place…”home” is people…and those people are in different places.

I wonder if this is why we are never quite satisfied 100% in one place. There’s always someplace that has something better to offer. Ocean side property. Better schools. Safer neighborhoods. More nightlife. More interesting jobs. Prettier environments.

I wonder if we’re not satisfied because we’re longing for a place where everyone we love can stay with us in perfect unity without the fear of disruption, change, or separation.

Home for me would be living in northern Minnesota, in a cabin on a lake, with my family, my college friends, my InterVarsity friends, my extended family, and my Mongolian and Chinese friends. (Not all in the same cabin mind you…but all on the same lake.)

The bad news is, this is never going to happen. My heart will seemingly forever be divided across States and oceans.

The good news is, Jesus has a solution to my problem. 

Since whenever the earth began, he has been building. And designing. And planning. He has been getting the best Home ever ready for everyone who chooses to trust and follow him. And that’s a long time to be designing something. So I imagine, this Home is going to be the best Home ever. If it is taking thousands and/or millions of years to get it ready, then dang. It is going to be perfect. Absolutely perfect.

(Ok fine, God could make it in like less than one second and doesn’t need that much time. Maybe it’s already finished. But you get my point.)

As a side note: I don’t know if we’re “allowed” or supposed to make requests, but just in case, I personally have already asked Jesus if my personal room (or space or whatever it is Jesus meant when he said this Home is going to have tons of “mansions”) could be in an A-frame wooden cabin with huge windows facing west over a lake with a forest around it, but also with mountains in the back and an ocean somewhere not too far away.

I also asked if possible if I could have some leopards, jaguars and other big cats to live with me because that would make my heart so happy. I also asked that if God could plan the interior to look something like the architecture of Rivendell from Peter Jackson’s “Lord of the Rings” movies…then I would just…I mean I would just have no words it would be so amazing.

(Look, I don’t know what you’re “dream home” would be like, but I figure that God has no limits so…you know, start dreaming because it’s going to be even better then you can possibly dream up! Also, if you don’t like leopards and in your perfect world there ARE no leopards…well, I figure God’s got it all worked out some how. Just like how in my perfect world there are no spiders, but if you happen to actually LIKE spiders in your perfect world…I’m not in charge of that, so I’m not worrying about it.)

I don’t know if it works that way, but I do know Jesus knows me better than I do and so whatever he designs and plans is going to blow my mind away and I won’t be able to get over it. Call me crazy, but that’s what I think. Not to mention all the other cool things like finally being 100% the way I was intended to be, not having any kind of emotional, mental, or physical pain, and getting to actually be with Jesus all the time. And don’t even get me started on the new earth he is going to make, because I get almost even more excited about that!

Ok. Back to what I was saying: The point is, that the Home that Jesus is making for us will be the one place that my heart can rest in the fact that it is no longer divided. Everyone I love will be there. And they will never move away. We will never get separated. We will never have to say goodbye. We will never miss each other again.

And we will never have to choose between living near one group of friends or family or another. We will never be disunified or feel awkward because one group of friends at dinner doesn’t know or get along with another group of friends at dinner. 

We never feel like time is too short or that there isn’t enough time together. There won’t be any language or communication barriers either. We will always have a full heart and always be around the people we love and the people that love us.

And that is truly what “home” is to me. That is the “home” I long for. The place where my heart is all in one place again…that is where “home is”.

“Home is where the heart is.”

Stupid freakin cliché but stupid freakin true.

Arkhangai...stripped bare. (Part 2)

Alas. This is yet another post that should have been finished in December, but that I have only now edited and completed. It is not my favorite piece of writing therefore. Not very creative, and mostly just giving the facts. On the other hand, this was my experience in Arkhangai. Completely honest. Nothing held back. The depths of my being were changed. It's a long story because a lot happened and I didn't want to leave any of it out. It would have robbed you of the truth. So if you've got the time, I hope you'll read it all. I also hope (fingers crossed) to be writing something more current and up-to-date soon. And also hopefully back to my preferred style of writing. In the meantime, here is what really happened in Arkhangai from my perspective:

It’s funny how sometimes two people who experience the same thing come away with completely different stories about it. During my two weeks in Arkhangai, I’m not sure what my 5 teammates learned on the trip, what surprised them, what was difficult, what was encouraging, or the ways God spoke to them. However. I would be willing to bet they learned something completely different than I did. Because I am almost 100% sure our experiences were entirely different even though we were in the same place.

When we were first driving to Arkhangai (let’s say 2 hours into the trip) I had this bursting excitement that we were God’s ambassadors carrying the most precious thing on earth to these rural communities and I was so excited to share God’s love and truth with the people I met. We did share God’s love and truth and people’s lives were touched. But now I’m not sure that’s why God brought me specifically on this trip.

Let’s be real. I can’t speak more than 10 sentences in Mongolian. I understand just as much when I am listening to Mongolian being spoken. And so, after I’ve introduced myself, shared my age, where I come from, talked about my family and what I do here, learned what the rural Mongolians’ names are…after that…well, my part in the conversations were done.

I obviously couldn’t give seminars. I did teach an English song twice to the high school students for fun, but that was my only “official” purpose on the trip. In fact, when we visited families or met with other Christians, I couldn’t even have conversations with them unless someone wanted to translate for me, but mostly there wasn’t a lot of time for that. I could talk to my team because they speak English…but it isn’t helpful or good time management to always be translating. And so I couldn’t understand what they were saying at all. I just sat there. Language is a funny thing. You don’t know how much you rely on it until you can’t use it.

Even our Bible reading times every morning with my teammates were almost all in Mongolian and not translated. So I couldn’t even share in those special times with them. And I got a little bitter about it. I kept thinking, “Why aren’t they including me?” And then I was hurt inside. I felt somehow inferior and like I really shouldn’t be there. It was like I was just taking up space you know? And every time something was translated for me, I just felt worse like it was a burden to them to have to translate for me. I felt so isolated, so alone, so useless, so inferior. And all because I couldn’t participate in any of the teaching, encouragement, conversations, seminars...anything.

And so, I began to seriously wonder “Why am I here God? Why am I on this trip?…I can’t contribute anything of worth. I can’t do anything. I’m just an awkward burden. And all of this makes me feel so incredibly isolated from every person around me.”  

It was sometime in the middle of feeling really isolated, alone, useless time that I began to realize that finally God was teaching me humility and breaking down my pride.

How could I have had pride when nothing was about me and nothing depended on me? I was completely in the background…and it hurt…but it was good for me. I can’t take credit for any of the success and amazing things that happened. I was completely dependent on my team for everything. From language and understanding what was happening and who people were, to telling me what we were doing next.

I finally realized I had to take on the mentality of a servant…not to belittle myself or my worth, but to remember that I was here to serve my team…not to have them serve me. That was the first mental and heart shift I had to make. I remembered that I was there to support and encourage my teammates as much as I could. This was at least a purpose I could have and way I could participate on the trip.

So, I began to pray for them all the time. Or rather I tried to. It is so difficult for me to not daydream in the middle of praying. And after a certain amount of time, I’d sort of run out of ideas or things to pray for. And if I wasn’t praying, I looked for ways to help out, like washing dishes or sweeping the ger. It was so humbling. I was still in the background, still isolated, and I was immersed in my role as a servant. However. God wasn’t done yet.

Because sometimes I even have had pride in doing things for people – you know? I so often find worth and value in the fact that I can contribute, help and do something for someone else. I am always the strong one, the one who can help others. And in my heart I’m prideful about it. Additionally I put part of my self worth in it.

But in the Arkhangai, God stripped me even of this. It turned out that I really didn’t have very many times to “do things” for other people. For the most part, they served me. My teammates showed me where things were, how to do things, told me what people were saying. They even had to show me how to wash my hair since we had no sink or shower!

And this all culminated in one final collapse of my pride when I got strep throat. To my best knowledge I have only had strep throat once before and I was young enough not to really remember it. And now I know for sure that I never want to experience it again. To be brief – I was completely miserable and weak. There was no way I could take care of myself. Raging fevers and the almost complete inability to swallow and talk topped the list of  “I’ve never felt this aweful or helpless in my life” events.

And so. I had to submit to everyone taking care of me around the clock for two straight days. I couldn’t even put up a fight to explain that I’d be fine and I didn’t need their help. It is so humbling to be served and to let other people help me and take care of me. I normally want to be strong and independent, but this time I couldn't. I learned to take the seat and position of someone who needs help and takes instruction and advice without arguing or insisting on my way. It was hard. I didn’t like the feeling one tiny bit. But. It was good for me. However. God wasn’t done yet. He took it another step further still…

At this point I was really sick, but not delirious enough from my fevers to realize that I did indeed have strep throat. (As a microbiologist I recognized that white spots ALL OVER my very swollen red angry tonsils is NOT a good sign and is definitely more than a “sore throat”.) I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there were about 100 different ways and places I could have gotten Streptococcus pyogenes bacteria in the countryside. Other people had different theories however. When my teammates explained that my sore throat was probably because I had gotten too cold outside from not wearing my warmest socks and shoes, my instinct was to argue and try to explain that it didn’t work that way.

But when God is teaching you humility, funny things start to happen.

I learned to submit to people even if I did know more. I had to love them by respecting them. So like when they insisted that I wear more layers because I was an American and not used to the cold, even though I knew I would, in all honesty, be fine, I went back inside to put on more layers. Because in Mongolian culture I needed to show them respect and honor because they are older than me.

In American culture, I’m so used to arguing and fighting the point…”No really. I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, thank you very much for the offer, but I’m fine on my own.” In Arkhangai, I realized it’s like saying “I know better than you and so I’m going to exercise that authority and knowledge over you.” We’re so independent…we are so assertive…and it’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s good you know? But other times, it’s worth it to just listen to others and let them have the last say.

And so instead of making a point that I knew better than they did. I learned to submit and be humble instead of prideful…even when maybe I did know better. They so wanted to take care of me that I wanted to honor and respect their care…not throw it aside and disregard it by asserting my own strength and abilities.

So. While I am absolutely sure the cold didn’t make me sick, I promised to wear more socks from then on so that they would be honored and so that they wouldn’t worry about me. It’s a completely different way of thinking from American culture that’s for sure. I think I’ll even take this practice back home with me. It’s changed me for sure.

Some might call me submissive, without a backbone, and a bit of a pushover.  But it’ll be willfully done. Now I’m choosing to back down on purpose.

Anyways, I think this is what God meant when he said we shouldn’t do anything with selfish motives, or vanity or pride, but instead we should consider others better than ourselves. (I love that Paul, who wrote the part about being humble in the book called Philippians in the Bible) used the word ‘consider’. It’s as if you could say “consider others better than yourself”…even if they aren’t better.) We’re supposed to pay attention to their best interests as well as our own. It’s a hard lesson, but it’s good.

Truthfully, outside my personal feelings of isolation and bitterness, our team had so much unity and love for each other. We really were like family because no one was “the boss”. And after I put myself mentally in the role of a servant and let myself be the least and let myself be weak and intentionally be taken care of…then all of a sudden, my heart didn’t hurt and I didn’t feel excluded anymore. I still couldn’t understand 80% of stuff going on and being said, I still couldn’t really participate, but it was ok then. It didn’t hurt my heart anymore. I was ok in the background. It’s not about me and what I can do anymore.

Later I found out that I was quite the ice-breaker. I was so easy for my team to start conversations with the students and couples and various families because they all started off by asking about the blonde foreigner who spoke a little Mongolian. It was way easier for them to build trust and relationships with people. I am not sure if I am flattered by being an ice-breaker and conversation starter, but it’s something I wasn’t even aware of during the trip.

So for me, the trip wasn’t about the seminars or the beautiful scenery, or even about making cool friendships, or about the amazing ways lives were changed. I think I got to go on the trip because God knew it was a perfect way to teach me humility and break apart my pride (not to say I’m not prideful anymore, but it’s a step in the right direction).

So you see, God did amazing things in the lives of the people in rural Arkhangai. But he took along a head-strong, independent, prideful American girl to break her like a wild colt. Humility is one of the most bitter bits to wear, but when you stop bucking and fighting the one in the saddle, the ride through those Mongolian mountains is one of the most peaceful and freeing you’ll ever know.

Arkhangai (Part 1)

And here we go again…though I haven’t written on the blog near as often as I planned, I have at least started to write several times without actually finishing the post. So this post I started writing at the beginning of December just as soon as I came back from my countryside trip to Arkhangai…

Well, here I am, far too long later, updating my blog again. I can’t believe I haven’t posted in well over a month. There is so much I could write about. There’s the English classes I’m teaching – how at first I was overwhelmed at the amount of work I had to do: lesson planning, preparing materials, actually teaching, etc... and all as a completely inadequate person for the task – how then God gave me strength to somehow do what I need to do and finish everything with just enough time.

I could write about the student Bible study – how I was and still am most excited about this part of my time here – how I am excited that some of my vet students are attending the Bible study along with 30 some students from other universities and almost all do not believe in Jesus…yet… - how I have been asked to lead the actual Bible study lessons almost all alone for the whole month of December – how I’ve never led a Bible study for THAT many people very new to the whole “Jesus thing”, - how I feel that at just the right time God will again give me strength to do this task also.

I could write about how I love my roommate and we get along fabulously, but outside of her friendship I am finding Mongolia very lonely – how I am missing home and my friends especially during this holiday season (Christmas isn’t very big in Mongolia yet) – how most of the people I know are at least ten years older than I am and married with children – how many of the Americans are leaving for their long awaited furlough and I am wondering…”so, who’s going to be left here?”, - how my roommate is now going on 3 weeks of vacation and I’m living alone now.

I could write about how after 2 months here, I am starting to wonder if I could ever handle long term cross cultural missions: it is so difficult on so many levels and I begin to see how big the sacrifice is, - how I know Mongolia is changing me in good ways and difficult ways – how I am a little apprehensive (already) that re-entry culture shock is going to way difficult in May.

I could write about all God has been teaching me, -how first he reminded me that what I NEED most here is to BE with Jesus everyday (The book of “Luke” in the Bible, chapter 10, verses 41-42), -how then he reminded me that He himself is my strength and he’ll give me the ability to do things I think I can’t (The book of “Habakkuk” in the Bible, chapter 3, verse 19), -how he next taught me again and again to be humble, -how he showed me the importance of unity in gatherings of Church people, - how he is now teaching me to trust him in everything ahead of me, including matters of the heart (The book of “Proverbs” in the Bible, chapter 3, verses 5-6, and also the book of “Philippians” in the Bible, chapter 1, verses 3-13).

Yes, I could write at length and in detail about all of these things. But. I need to skip ahead to something more important. I finally got out of the city and went into the Mongolian countryside for two weeks! And this trip is what I want to explain at more length. So. This then was simply a summary. Life in Mongolia fast-fowarded for you. Ok…now…about the countryside trip…

So for the sake of time and space, I’ll just give you a brief overview of what we did on the trip and so on. Just the logistics. It might be a little boring. It certainly won’t be my best writing. But. To get the “meat” of the trip, you have to understand the basics. So. Here we go. This is the fast forwarded cliff notes version of our countryside trip (I know it’s long. But I swear this is the cliff notes version!):

On November 19^th,  five Mongolians and one very excited yet naïve American crammed into an old Russian truck and traveled about 9 hours west of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. My teammates (Amaraa, Altai, Nuda, Sukhee, and Muugi) I might freeze to death (I was indeed the “baby” on the trip in age and experience!) so they made sure each day that I passed a clothing inspection. Really thick long underwear? Check. Two layers of socks and one of them wool? Check. At least three sweaters? Check!

We were driving to four different towns in the province of Arkhangai: Sitserlig, Jargalant, Irdnmandl, and Kharkhan. Each town is a very small, very remote village of about 1,500 to 2,000 people and very isolated from the rest of the country around them.

The rest of the land is just a vast expanse of untouched beauty interrupted only by unfenced grazing herds and the occasional herder’s ger. Simply amazing. No fences. No private property. No real roads. Just beautiful land and mountains. I was eating it up. All the natural beauty. In smoggy UB for 2 months, I was starved for it. Let me tell you, I have about 300 pictures of God’s nature to speak for themselves (check out the poetry page for some of the pictures). Anyhow…

The purpose of the trip was to visit each of the four towns and conduct some seminars there. Some were about developing and encouraging good character in high school seniors – you know showing them the value of traits like unity, respect, diligence, etc., -and how to value those things in themselves and others. Some seminars were about having healthy marriage and family relationships – for married couples of course.

Each time we gave these seminars the students and couples alike thanked our team again and again for coming and speaking. Their villages are so remote that no one had ever taught them how to develop or value good character or how to have a healthier marriage.

I think we tend to take these things for granted in America. We have pre-marital and marriage counseling and countless books on how to have a happy peaceful marriage. Most of us have had at least someone in our life to encourage us in the good things about our personalities and strengths and to challenge us to develop the parts we’re not so strong at.

In remote Mongolia, it seems that no one talks about, encourages, or openly and outwardly values these things – even if they are valued inwardly. It was amazing to hear the students share how encouraged they were just by hearing the good things they already have in their characters – no one had ever told them before… Couples were hearing for the first time how men and women communicate differently and have different needs (of course they know these things in principle, but it’s one thing to know about it and another to hear how to work with these differences and to know ways to encourage each other).

So in short, the seminars were a huge hit and people’s lives were changed because of them. But that’s just scratching the surface. All 6 of us on the team follow Jesus and take him at his word. All 6 of us know personally the difference Jesus has made in our lives and the difference he can make in the lives of others. We have experienced the peace, freedom and love that he brings into our lives like nothing else has.

And so we don’t want to keep it for ourselves…we want to share it with as many people as we can. They can take it or leave it, but we want to at least tell them what Jesus offers them and give them a choice. (Church people call this “evangelism” or being a “missionary”…I’m not a huge fan of churchy language, but if you hear those words, that’s really all it means. Just sharing the peace and hope we’ve found with someone else.) So while giving seminars on good character and marriage relationships is great and helpful…it’s not the most important thing we want to share. The seminars will help to change the outside, Jesus will help to change the inside.

So because of these seminars, we were able to develop a lot of friendships and relationships with people that now are willing to hear our personal stories about Jesus and Jesus’ own story in the Bible. It’s never a good idea to just march in someplace spouting your own ideas and opinions and make other people agree with you. Far from that, we want to genuinely care for these remote towns and start to heal them where years of poverty, broken relationships and alcoholism have left their mark…and then we can tell them that we care because Jesus loves us and them too. Jesus is the one who inspired us to care in the first place.

In most of these little towns there are no organized church meetings. To begin with there are so few people who follow and trust Jesus. Jargalant has only 6 or 7 people who know Jesus. And then, there are no leaders to teach what Jesus had to say in the Bible. So these people who left their Buddhist or Shamanistic traditions to experience a different kind of peace and power, really really really get excited when other people who love and trust Jesus come into there town. It’s a chance for them to let their spirits get fed and nourished.

Our team had a chance to really encourage and pray for many of these small groups of God’s family. They loved studying the Bible with us and sometimes just showed up unannounced at our door to join our Bible reading time or just to hang out with us. Actually, there was only one planned meeting with these people. The rest God planned but didn’t leave us the memo. So our door was always opening with an unexpected but welcome new friend. (Well new to me…my team has worked in the towns for several years and they know many families quite well already.) I’ll continue to be praying for these brothers and sisters of mine (God adopted all of us into his family so that’s how we’re related.) since I  know it’s hard to keep trusting God when you feel all alone. I am learning to trust that God’s got them in his hands and he will be their teacher and their support and strength even when we can’t be there to encourage, teach, and support them.

Then there were the people that are so hungry in their spirits. Nuda had told me from the beginning that countryside people are different than city people. Those in the countryside are HUNGRY. And you can see it in their eyes, they’re just looking for something to fill them up inside. Something to satisfy them finally. Wow. It was so true. Maybe it’s because they live so remote to everything else. Maybe it’s because they truly do have a hard life in rural Mongolia. Maybe it’s because God’s spirit is yanking hard on their hearts trying to tell them something. I don’t know…they’re just thirsty. They aren’t really so sure about this Jesus guy and the Bible…but they’re looking for something and they’re looking hard.

So several people, though they’re not really sure they’re ready to trust Jesus and follow his ways and give him control of their lives…they wanted to learn how to pray…they wanted their own Bibles so they could figure out who Jesus was on their own…they opened up the depths of their hearts to us and bared all the crazy hurt in their lives because they knew we would be able to encourage them and pray for them. Some of them, they are inching closer to Jesus every day to see if they can see what he looks like, feels like, smells like…and maybe just maybe they’ll see that he does have the peace and hope and love that he says he has…and maybe someday soon they’ll decide that they’d like to have that love too. It was so exciting and good for my heart to meet with these kind of families and people. I hope someday soon I’ll get to call them my adopted brothers and sisters too.

And then we also had some very unexpected meetings indeed. First this single dad (and former town drunk before he let Jesus free him from alcoholism) came to pray with my team and brought his 8 year old daughter. His wife (her mom) just up and left one day when the daughter was pretty young. Just deserted them. And when I heard that, my heart just broke for this little girl. She reminded me in an indirect way of one of my close friends and so my heart just broke for her even more.I could only imagine the kind of questions, the kind of bitterness and anger, the kind of hurt she already has and how much more she might have as she grows older.

I wanted to give her something, anything to say that I cared and that I loved her even though I didn’t know her. I had a small bracelet with red beads I could give as a gift and then I thought I’d have my teammate Altai translate an encouraging note into Mongolian for her. Altai had a better idea though.

While I shared one of my favorite comforting Bible verses for her (Altai translated) and then shared “The Big Picture” story with her (a shout out to all my C-State Riders for that one!)  (which is basically just sharing how Jesus has plans to heal us on the inside so we can help heal the world on the outside) and then Altai asked her if she’d like to trust Jesus and follow him. She said yes and Altai prayed with her.

I still wonder how much this little girl understands and meant in her heart and how much will stay with her…but at the same time Jesus knows her heart and the trust that she had then so I am excited to call her my sister. Her life is still hard and still full of aching pain, but I know that if she runs to Jesus he will bind up her heart and I may indeed see her again in Heaven some day.

Then there was the man who year after year was shown love and care by people who trust Jesus and he too decided he wanted to follow and trust Jesus when Amaraa shared his story with him – to the joy of his wife who is a very committed follower of Jesus!

And there was the woman whose husband my team met quite unexpectedly last spring – Jesus whispered his truth and hope into his life then and on this trip we were able to welcome her into God’s family too! We didn’t even plan on stopping by their ger, but we had some extra time, so we just popped in the door to see if they were home (it seems that that’s just how visiting people happens here). Nuda shared Jesus’s story and the woman took Jesus at his word and now that ger is filled with God’s spirit and changed lives.

And another day two sisters came to visit us. One is 15 and the other is 11. The older sister has been trusting in Jesus’ words in the Bible for a couple years now. They both live with their oldest sister, her husband and their baby. Except the husband is a drunk without a job. So he stays home and drinks and watches the baby while the oldest sister (his wife) works as a teacher.The two young girls say that the couple fights all the time and it is really difficult for them to live with the oldest sister and her husband because of that.

The 15 year old girl came to pray, hang out, study the Bible and just be around other people who know Jesus (this was in Jargalant – she is one of the 6 or 7 people in the whole town who know Jesus). Nuda shared Jesus’ offer of love and peace with the younger sister and this little girl’s face lit up and she said she wanted to follow and give Jesus the reins to her life too! It was amazing! She was so excited and full of joy. Then Nuda was able to encourage them both to encourage and hold each other accountable, especially given their hard home life.

I could go on…this is just a snapshot of what went on during the trip. One amazing encounter after another. One changed life and touched heart after another. All the time more and more light and life creeps into rural Mongolia as Jesus makes himself known. The sun is rising. Dawn is upon them. The door is bursting at the hinges. May the perfect love and freedom rush into these little towns like a flooding river! May the small sparks not grow dim but in boldness and love spread the heat of the fire to every dark and cold corner!

And so we were mere garden hoses that God poured his living water through. Some soil was tilled until next year’s planting. Some seeds were sown. Others were watered. And some. Some were harvested and brought inside for the dinner feast. God took me to Arkhangai for 13 days. Now I am back in UB (sigh. smog. bleh.) God stayed in Arkhangai even after our team left. But thankfully he came back to UB with me too. So that even here without the beautiful mountains, or cute yaks, or cozy gers, or fresh air…even here I can be a garden hose again. And that. Is quite an exciting thought.

Airag and other first time experiences.

So this is a post I started writing in early October and finally decided that I should at least post what I had started to write and sum it up the best I could after three months sitting on my “to do list”. So without further ado…

I can’t decide if I like fermented mare’s milk.

Yep. That’s right. Somebody milks a horse (without somehow getting kicked). Then they let the natural yeast in and from the horse, ferment the milk. Then it is served as a special occasion drink at room temp or a little colder.

I hadn’t planned on having to drink airag (the name for the fermented mare’s milk) until I went out into the countryside…which I figured wouldn’t be until the spring. But in the last four days I’ve had it twice. And I’m still very much in the city.

All 50 or so staff who work at the V.E.T. Net offices here (the Non-Governmental Organization, or “NGO”, that I am now a part of) decided to have an office retreat and prayer day on Thursday and Friday. Everyone really looks forward to this as it happens almost every year and is a lot of fun.

On Thursday, we all piled (quite literally) into some vans and drove to a retreat center just outside the city. We were on the very edge of a mountainside and could see the span of UB from there. The ger district on the north slopes of the mountains and tall downtown buildings in the center. To top it off, it had snowed in the tallest mountains the night before. Totally beautiful. We weren’t even in the real countryside yet and I was loving the nature around me!

The retreat center is one very nice two story building with a conference room at the top and a giant dining room at the bottom. The “hotel rooms” were fake gers. Which to me was really really cool! The differences were that 1) they had an attached shower and toilet, which never happens in real life and 2) it was made of cement and was thus totally immobile and would be totally useless to a nomadic family. But. It was a start. I like gers so far.

My camera has died (may it rest in peace) and so I will try and describe a ger for you…at least a fake one.

All ger doors face south. The doors are short…maybe only 2/3 the height of a standard door and slightly wider too. They are usually decoratively painted either on the inside or outside or both. Usually in bright reds, oranges, or greens. It’s rude to step on the threshold of a ger so you have to step over it as you enter. Inside it is much bigger than it looks on the outside. The one round room has a peaked round ceiling with a small hole at the top for the stove pipe to stick out of. I’d say the peak of the ceiling is maybe 10 feet high. The wooden frame that supports the walls and roof is also decoratively painted with flourishes and little flowers (kind of). It looked a lot like Scandinavian Rosemaling painting actually.

If you are standing in doorway, the area of the round room directly to your right would be the “kitchen” area. Then as you continue around in a counter clockwise direction there would be at least 2 or 3 narrow beds, maybe a short dresser or two, a mirror, some pictures, and perhaps some Buddhist idols or charms. In the center of the ger is a wood burning stove with the pipe that goes up through the ceiling. Just behind the wood stove is a short rectangular table and some square stools. Now, maybe it was because it was still warm outside at night (in the 30’s I think) or maybe it was because the ger was made of cement. But. It was utterly amazing how hot the ger got from just the little stove! It was super cozy!

Sleeping in the ger made me feel as though it was a place for community and closeness a place where family was really important. There’s not much privacy to speak of…but the sense of community even for one night with my “ger-mates” was really cool. Except for a normal lack of indoor plumbing…I think I could get used to living in a ger.

I forgot to mention that it rained almost all of Wednesday and part of Thursday. So. Technically beginning Wednesday I started a long list of “first time experiences”

1) First Mongolian rainy day (very unusual in the fall!)

2) First time in an almost-ger.

3) First time almost out of the city.

4) First time I saw Mongolian cows. (They are somehow nicer than American cows…)

5) First time I saw the city skyline at night. (It’s really pretty)

I’ll continue it in a bit.

Meanwhile, we had a day of prayer in the big conference room…complete with breaks for food every two hours. Every 2 hours. We worshipped God through music and prayed for each other briefly in groups of three. Then we had “tea time” with tea, coffee, milk tea and lots of cookies and Mongolian donuts. Then we had a short talk on the importance of prayer and unity within God’s family and continued to pray for each other. Then we ate a huge lunch…something like mutton stroganoff. It was good. Then we gathered for some more time of worshipping God through music, shared stories of what God was already teaching us. Then we had a second “tea time”. Then we regrouped to pray for our organization as a whole and each department. Then we had dinner – really tender chicken. It was really good. For an hour we had time to go our “gers” and just chill. Then we came back for a huge party. With lots more food…mountains of fruit, chocolates, soda, meats, veggies and …. airag.

Fermented mare’s milk. The first time I had it, it was a little fizzy (although not carbonated), cold, and tasted like a collision of lots of yeast and sour yogurt. I couldn’t decide if I liked it at first…then after some more tastes I decided though I could politely stomach the stuff…I definitely didn’t like it. It wasn’t really the taste, it was the after taste that did me in. To me the combination of yeast and sour yogurt was a bit akin to stomach acid if you catch my drift. Not entirely pleasant. And this was supposed to be “mild” tasting stuff. My future trip to the countryside with lots of airag suddenly got a little more difficult. How was I going to be able to politely drink a full mug of this stuff!

The Mongolian party was really unique and I liked it although it took some getting used to. My friends from the office like to dance…to electronic sort of modern disco music. It has a good hip hop beat but with disco sounding music. And instead of just gathering in a big mass of people on the floor all dancing together (which I am comfortable doing) they all form a giant circle to dance (which is slightly more uncomfortable because you can’t be inconspicuous that way. If you’ve been…uh… “privileged”… to see me dance and haven’t died laughing afterwards…you understand why I like to be as inconspicuous as possible!).

Then the music changed to the equivalent of the Mongolian waltz. And couples waltz around the dance floor for a while. And finally when the music speakers went out temporarily, the singing games began. Mongolians know several hundred folk songs. And they love to sing around the table after a meal…just singing until they feel it is time to stop. After about two lines of a song, everyone joins the person who started it. So, to ask three teams to come up with as many songs with the theme of “mothers” as they can in turn without repeating any songs…is really no hard task. I don’t know how long the game lasted. There were probably more than 30 songs sung before the first team couldn’t think of a new one! Then the music speakers turned on again and the dancing commenced.

To continue my list of first time experiences…

7) First Mongolian party

8) First time attempting to dance a Mongolian waltz (To say I was horrible is an understatement!)

9) First time I tasted airag.

Then it was back the ger and time to light one last fire in the little stove before heading to bed. Between me and my American friend who has lived here 8 years we got a total of zero fires started. Granted we had no matches, lighters, blow torches, etc…We just threw some toilet paper on the glowing ashes (which then caught fire) but we couldn’t get the wood to catch fire from the burning toilet paper.

When our nine month pregnant Mongolian friend came in she started the fire on the first try, in about 5 minutes. And she couldn’t bend over and reach in the stove as well as we could either. This is what I learned: Let the Mongolians start the fires. They are just better at it. Unless you want them to laugh at you when you decide to add Purell to the fire because “it has alcohol in it so it must be flammable”. While flammable…I learned that Purell is not good for starting fires.

10) First time I tried to start a ger stove fire. (Stove: 1, Me: 0)

The next morning we woke up at about 9am for “morning excercises”. I opted out of this part and continued to sleep in.  J After a breakfast of a hearty mutton soup, we went upstairs for a short time in Scripture and then it was “game time”. My bad. First we had another “tea time” then it was game time. We went on a scavenger hunt (I found the clues at least, because I couldn’t help to read them!) and ended up creating a costume for one of my team members to make her into a princess. It was hilarious! Then it was time for “khorkhok” or Mongolian BBQ. This meal is so unlike the “HuHot Mongolian Grill” back home I wanted to laugh. It is a meal that is saved only for special occasions. Basically they take a ton of mutton…like a lot. And put it in a giant metal canister with some carrots and potatoes and water and some large black stones.) Then they put in a fire for several hours. By the time it is ready to eat (with just your hands mind you) the meat is so tender and juicy from being stewed that it is absolutely delicious. And the carrots and potatoes are good too. The only problem is that my hand got super greasy and messy! Finally we packed up and went back into the city.

So I wrote this post in early October. I wrote it before I wrote the post entitled “Sunshine on a Sunday”. I hadn’t been in a real ger or in the countryside at this point. And clearly I was very excited about all my first time experiences. To update the post as of 1/6/12, I do like airag. I’ve had it several times now and I like it. It’s not exactly my favorite Alley Cat Chai Latte, but it’s pretty good.

In addition, what I didn’t have time to finish writing is that while on the prayer retreat, I kept asking God, “Why did you bring me to Mongolia? Why am I here? I feel so numb…so out of place…I feel like I have no purpose here…nothing I can do for the greater good…why? Why am I here?” And God didn’t give me a direct answer. But as I stood alone in the cold night air looking at the city skyline all lit up, God reminded me that this city –dusty, crowded, and ugly as it was to me – is a city that God is deeply concerned about.

The people living in Ulaanbaatar are people that God desperately wants to know Him. God deeply loves and cares about these people’s lives intimately. And I am here to be His ambassador of love and hope to these people…even though I couldn’t see how that was going to happen through me and my English classes. Even though I didn’t feel a deep compassion for these people at the time, even though I still didn’t understand why God sent me to Mongolia, all I knew is that God loved this city, and He DID bring me here, for a reason that He alone knew. And so I had to trust in that.

Since then, I have still asked God why I am in Mongolia. He still hasn’t spoken out of cloud and directly said, “Here’s why you’re there…”. But I have seen different glimpses of a shadow of a reason I’m here. From the things that I have learned and that have changed me forever, from the people that have poured into my life and broadened the scope of my heart and mind, to the people God put in my path so that I can encourage and pour into their lives…I don’t understand it all (I certainly am still  not in love with UB with it’s smog and bland cement apartments) but I’m just trusting that God’s got all the details worked out.