Our Journey To Mongolia

For The Remembering

2012-02-02T22:10:00.000-08:00

I found a message that our nine year old daughter, Elly, had written across the back of an airline sick bag. It was tucked neatly away in the bottom of her little pink purse.

Reading it gave my heart a stir, and brought a few giggles and tears. I must have been so busy thinking about what awaited me at home, that I failed to notice my little lady scribbling down her last will and testament as our plane took off. Apparently, she has a fear of flying.

I imagined her little hands and all the thoughts that must have been banging to come out onto that paper.

"If I die, I wanna say that I loved a lot of people. Ava is my BFF. I want to be on TV and I wanna be remembered.

This is my name, Elly Tvrdik."

The airsickness bag had hills, drawn by Elly, all across the bottom, with horses running through the Mongolian steppe. There was one ger with smoke coming from the chimney, and a big airplane falling sideways out of the sky.

These were the last words of my darling Elly, or so she thought.

Reading them, made me want to pull her tiny body close to me and look into her innocent brown eyes.

Elly had just recorded the cry of most of our human hearts.

I wanna be remembered.

Finding myself in a place of the world where many people are forgotten, makes this message even more pressing on my soul.

From where I come from, everyone knows your name.

In my small, home town, it can sometimes feel impossible to have a secret, or keep one. There are many things that you can only hope and pray that will one day just be forgotten! Being remembered, is not a problem.

On many occasions this can be a blessing. When someone falls ill, you are pulled through it with kindness, support and food! The food just never stops showing up at your front door. It's carried there by neighbors, who have big smiles and strong shoulders to cry on. I experienced this last summer, while mom battled her disease. In the post office and gas station, you are asked if you have meals covered this week, if you need gas money back and forth from the hospital, or if you've taken the time to care for yourself while you are caring for your loved ones. It is one of life's most precious gifts, to be remembered. Looking back on last summer I wonder how I could have managed without that tremendous support holding us up.

Growing up in a place like that, can cause you to believe that its just that way the whole world around.

It's not.

Today, a young girl who we have begun to support, called from the hospital. She is sixteen years old. Her mother died in November and she is caring for her little brother and sister, nine and three years old. Her baby sister is in the hospital, and she is there with her, trying to be a grown up.

"Sister, I need your help, no one else is coming."

Tuberculosis took her mom.

Her baby sister has it too.

I last spoke to her two days ago. Standing outside with the cold Mongolian air freezing the tears on our cheeks, I said, Please know that you are not alone. We are your big sisters, (Tuvsho and I) and we are here for you."

And the truth is, no one else is.

She has not been remembered.

The local government officials brought her to us. "We hope you can help," they said leaving her at the door.

She sat across from us and told her story like she was repeating a history lesson. A story from long ago, not connected to her.

She used to be a college student. Once, in a lifetime that seemed so far away from her now. She had graduated high school early, and was full of dreams.

Tuberculosis came, and everything changed.

"Now I am caring for them." she said, referring to her younger siblings. Her words were not in any way to extract pitty from us, but rather a way to let us know why she was here.

Both her hands rested palms up on her lap. They were bandaged in gauze. She told us of her job working construction, to pay for her siblings food and coal. Her hands did not cooporerate with her great need. They had rejected the materials she worked with, and an allergy had taken its nasty course. Now her hands were a weeping, oozing mess. She could no longer work.

This young woman was desperate.

The same age as our Sarah.

Compassion was surging through my veins as I listened.

The nawing reality sinking in, that this girl, fallen through the cracks of society, was lost and alone.

The task that she was given far exceeds unfairness, in most of our minds.

In a world, where pleasantries and political correctness cause us to do all sorts of dances, how could this happen?

It's not just her either.

There are millions out there who have been forgotten.

Millions.

Can I unnerve you for a moment my friend?

Today, 22,000 children will die of poverty related issues.*

22,000 children.

Today.

That's 22,000 children who have not been remembered. Today.

And tomorrow, 22, 000 more. Gone.

Forgotten.

I can't let that go.

We teach about poverty, run poverty awareness workshops, LIVE with the poor in Mongolia and yet it still makes me feel like my heart is being squeezed each time I allow myself to think on those facts.

If I allow myself.

There are times, that I don't allow myself to think on it.

Times when I want something that isn't necessary.

Times when I feel to emotionaly exhausted to remember.

I pray that those times are few and far between because it doesn't go away simply because I don't allow myself to consider it.

Often times, I labour to paint a picture thats easier to look at.

I want to share my life with my readers, my family and friends. However, I don't want to make everyone to uncomfortable. Who needs a friend on a soap box blowing their loud horn?

To make the drink go down smoother, I leave out the details that rattle my soul to the bones.
The details that cause me to weep from a broken heart some nights. The details that would have to fall into your own minds, and cause you to have to put it somewhere. But where?

I'm guilty.

I paint the suffering poor in a tolerable light all to many times.

But occasionaly, just occasionally I will cry out from the depths of my heart to anyone who will hear.

Today is one of those days.

Elly wants to be remembered.

So does everyone else.

*UNICEF

Oh the Things I Can Not Say

2012-01-21T21:47:00.000-08:00

I ordered dinner for our Canadian team last night at the restaurant and the waitress understood me beautifully. A few of the team members complimented me on my Mongolian.

It's easy for people who don't speak Mongolian to be impressed with my two year old sounding language skills.

Basically I had just said, "I'll take one of these and two of those and four of this and a Pepsi, hot tea and diet coke." Woooo hoo! I'm a linguistic genius!

Troy started language school just a few weeks after our arrival to Mongolia. He dove in full time. Three hours a day, five days a week. Most days he would come home looking like someone had just taken his hope right out of his heart and thrown it into oblivion.

I started on him right away.

"Teach me what you learned today"

His reply, "I can't…I don't remember."

A few hours later he would usually remember, and randomly he would call out names of things like someone suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome:

"Fork!"

"Refrigerator!"

"I am running!"

I felt so sorry for poor Troy. He really seemed to be struggling….I mean it had been two months now and he was not making any progress, in my humble opinion. Plus, he was so strained at the end of the day that talking to him was pointless.

This is NOT what I had expected. It was going to be different.

Now I'm being quite nice to myself, in this little story. I'm leaving out the long talks I had with Troy's over exercised brain. I'm also leaving out the nice words he would say back to me at the end of these beautifully inspiring talks….

So after six months of his precarious experience it came to me, my brilliant idea.

I needed to go to language school full time. Obviously, it was something Troy was not gifted at (finally something) and indeed, I needed to step up to the plate and get this show on the road! I would be our voice!

I can still see the sparkle of life come back into Troy's eyes when I made this luminous suggestion. At the time I misinterpreted it as endorsement. However, looking back that streak of light that had just flickered in the eye of my husband was nothing but sheer euphoria. He was about to get his monkey off his back….(me).

I recall the morning I walked up to door 40, my language school. It was time, time for me to begin my pilgrimage. My teacher was very encouraging. She started out telling me that everything I knew about language, words, sentences and communication would need to be undone. This would take time and to be patient with myself as the process began. She told me to not beat myself up when it did not come easily.

Then she added, "Don't compare yourself to Troy, not everyone can pick up on vocabulary the way he does." There was a little nervous laughter here at this point. Inside I was thinking…maybe I've missed something.

The next few weeks were a jumbled up mess for me. Most of my English vocabulary in my classes sounded like this:

"What?"

"Huh?"

"I … don't…understand…what you just…what?"

I managed out of total stubbornness to fake it well for a week. I would drag myself home to our front gate, then stand up nice and tall, wrestle a smile onto my face and walk into our yard looking like I had just come home from a nice stroll in the park.

Troy's smile would tell me…oh he knows…he knows. The question was always waiting for me:

"So teach me what you learned today?"

I found answers for a week.

But at the start of week two I could no longer pretend.

"I don't want to talk"

"My brain hurts"

It got really bad when I couldn't remember English anymore either.

Instead of randomly yelling out words in Mongolian as they came to me I was just excited when I could remember the English word!

"Refrigerator!"

"Fork!"

At this phase in our language learning, I'm sure our kids were becoming terrified. What had happened to their capable, accomplished parents?

Troy was kind and only gloated until I broke into tears and then he quickly would scoop me up and remind me that I am not an idiot. He would remind me of the task that he and I were trying to accomplish. This was our first second language…and we were trying to undo a lifetime of learning.

"Just give it time " he would say.

I had hoped for so much more.

Listening to other foreigners speak Mongolian so fluently was as if I was listening to Einstein explain his theory of relativity. I would just sit in awe of the miracle.

It did not take me long to realize that Troy was indeed catching onto the language quite well. He had a remarkably efficient memory and his vocabulary was building and sticking. I quickly went from being a critic to being jealous.

It was apparent that our language learning was going to take longer than the projected six months.

For my readers who have learned Mongolian, I'm certain that this will elicit laughter.

It was at this point, that we hired Tuvsho full time. Our words became her job.

Three years later, I'm still thanking God for not providing the miracle I demanded.

If I had received it, I would not have needed Tuvsho.

As it turns out, Tuvsho became a lot more than just our words.

She became a force of light here in the ger district, a light that has brought a lot of people out of pain and suffering.

Today she is our assistant director.

She is also my dear friend.

Because I can not speak well, I have learned a new skill.

listening

Because I have a limited vocabulary I have learned to only say what I really mean to say….the first time.

Slow to speak

Because I have a translator, I often find that the thing I wanted to say was actually NOT at all culturally appropriate and in truth should NOT be said. Tuvsho is quite generous with her grace when it comes to these moments.

I often find myself looking into the eyes of those who are sharing with me in a language I can just barely get my grip on. While they are talking I am intercepting words here and there. However I am mostly noticing what their eyes say. This is a gift actually. Its a gift that I could never have received had I learned the Mongolian language in my desired timeline. I would not have had the time to really think about what they were saying…because I would have had so much to say back.

Oh the things I can not say….are many…and that is so good.

The opinion I most agree with, is my own. That is a scary thing. My words among my English speaking friends, fall out with such arrogance, such force behind them that I can convince myself that I truly am a remarkable thinker.

I long to practice what I've learned in my familiar English speaking world. Of course, this does not mean I sit tight lipped while others openly share their soul with me. Listening is not always being silent. Listening is looking, noticing, wanting to understand, wanting to make sense of what the person across from you is saying. Grabbing their words and treating them as precious. Feeling thrilled when they have made sense and connected with your own soul. Listening is so much more than just NOT talking.

I seem to have moved past a wall lately, where suddenly much more is making sense. I can hear whole thoughts rather than just words, and I find myself laughing in a group of people when I understand a funny thing they have said. It's no longer just a laughter because I want to be a part of the group. I have taken a turn. I know the language journey is long and I have a very hard road ahead, but I like it. I'm humbled now and ready for more. Maybe a the end of this is a truly more beautiful me. I can't wait to catch up to her!

Click here to watch a funny video of my early days at language school

To Show Me What It Looks Like

2012-01-15T01:45:00.000-08:00

Big prayers.

Colossal requests.

Followed by mountainous expectation.

"I need more of you God."

"I want to see you in my life"

"Show up with power"

And there is so much to see.

We look for it in the expected places. Spiritual retreats, spiritual giants - people who are what we consider 'holier than us', healed bodies, rags to riches.

We know we can see more of God, and that He will show up. Instinctively we long for that display of His glory.

We experience a hopeful waiting for His appearance in our lives. And then when we don't see it...

We beg.

Somewhere in the hours before our waking, we are taunted with that nagging thought…..

Our miracle is not coming.

He will be a no show…again.

Others make it even more complicated for us sometimes.

They receive the miracle we were exhausting ourselves hoping for.

Someone lovingly reminds us that "good things come to those who wait." except they add even a little more to that annoying cliche' …. and have enough faith…and obey every command of God…and live in righteousness…and proclaim it as if it was already…

and…

God….please…speak to me….I want to see YOU.

Saturday we finished up our home group time by asking if anyone was interested to stay after and pray. Of course, as humanity does often, everyone had a good reason to leave. We always have good reasons. The flat response was not a sign of immature faith, just a sign of normal human weakness. After all this time, there must be a more entertaining way to talk to God…other than prayer.

Honestly I was partly glad for their decision to go home. I was tired. I had prepared breakfast for the whole lot of them, and a nap sounded beautiful. I was watching everyone put their coats on and already planning the perfect nap location, when an older woman from our group made here way to the table where we were sitting.

"I want to accept Gods will for my life."

"I have some huge plans, for the next few months, but I want God's plans for me."

Sheer Bravery

I thought.

and then, as everyone else was headed out our gate…and onto the Saturday ahead of them….she sat down with us and began to pray.

The most courageous prayer ever prayed in my presence actually. To have a plan already laid out…and then to say…wait…God…is this what YOU want for me?

She had arrived late to our group.

I know where she lives…about 5 miles out from us.

No car.

On a frigid January morning she had left her warm ger, breathing in the brutal air, she had walked the half mile to the bus stop. I pictured her squeezing onto the crowded bus that lead her to the bottom of our hill, paying her bus fare, which itself is a sacrifice, and taking the cold journey up the icy hill to our front gate.

perseverance

There is no way I would have done it.

Then her heart crying out to God at our kitchen table almost sent me to my knees.

"This is what it looks like Shari…" I felt the Lords tender words within my heart walls.

"This is what I look like..this is ME showing up in a life"

We imagine Him to come to us is a flash of light that knocks us off our feet. A story that if told, would make the listener's jaw drop….yeah…THATS what it looks like.

The prayer answered…in our timing

The miracle delivered

An angel arrives with a message….on golden paper.

WE want God to give us a GRAND and magnificent show don't we?

and he does…

but most of the time we are so busy looking for the red sea to part…that we don't even notice it.

Mostly he uses people.

Messed up…confused and not so pretty…humans.

Isn't that even more of a crazy miracle? That he could use us to do anything beautiful…and HE does!

The guy next door shows up to fix your furnace.

A friend from church gives you a ride to work.

Your daughter says, "you look so pretty today mom."

I hear stories of how that person was "full of God" and the evidence was they were healing, delivering, prophesying…raising the dead...

and yet aren't we all full of God? Isn't that what it means …

" and this is the mystery, Christ in you the hope of glory" ~ Colossians 1:27

we are all the miracle.

Every believer is the miracle.

We long for the extraordinary.

Our attention spans are only so long you know..

I see the woman at my table as the extraordinary.

I see the cancer patient waiting for results, picking up his guitar and strumming out a melody…extraordinary.

Isn't it all extraordinary?

Miracles are happening all around us my friends…. and God brought this woman to my kitchen table yesterday…just to show me what it looks like.

What do you fear?

2012-01-02T00:52:00.000-08:00

I once thought adventure was driving into Chicago to take my children to the zoo. For those dear friends who have known me long, I know your smiling because you remember.

How could I have traveled so far from those days and lived through it?

At this point in my life I am as far away from that white knuckle clutch on my mini van steering wheel as one could possibly get…and yet I still feel so very much like me. I suppose this is who I was all along, just disguised in fear, worry, and insecurity. I wasn't even aware of the possibilities.

Mongolia has been a miracle for me.

Just three years ago I was packing up the last boxes of my old life and trying desperately to find an answer to every one's excellent questions. Most of the time I would have so little to say in rebuttal, because they all made so much sense.

God doesn't always make sense does He.

I would always come back to that.

I don't know why He would ask us to come here.

I don't even dare to try to pretend it made any sense at all.

I have long lost the desire to be understood by everyone.

What I have learned in three years time is this:

God has a plan and your life is part of it.

However, we don't have to go with it. We have a choice.

The plan is not to harm us, torment us or make a game of us.

The plan is for us to really LIVE.

To live beyond the culture, convenience and comfort.

To live outside of the general idea.

To see our lives as part of a much bigger plan.

God is not boring either.

He is the greatest adventurer of all time.

He is not the actor, but rather the story writer.

He wrote himself into the ultimate adventure of coming down to earth to be one of His own creations. Just try to get your mind around that.

He is far more complicated and intricate and divine than we are capable of understanding.

He wants your journey to be ALIVE.

He wants to bring color, joy, and greatness into YOUR story.

However, He will not make you play any part.

Its a suggestion. A very hopeful suggestion.

We get to take it or leave it.

I sometimes imagine myself back in my home in the States. I picture it when I am the most lonely. I'm in my kitchen, with my friends and family. Everything is beautiful, so clean and so comfortable.

The water runs clean out of the tap as I rinse big shiny apples. (see how easily distracted I can get with this stuff)

Was there anything wrong with that life?

No.

But then God offered me this part.

I had a choice

Somehow, perhaps inspired by God, I was able to move far enough out of my fear to actually accept it. I did what I would have once considered unthinkable.

Truly, I don't know how I got the courage to say yes…and yet I did.

Today, on this side of the decision, I consider the idea of me having said 'no thanks' as a chilling thought.

What I see now, is that God does not NEED me.

He wants me. He WANTS you.

He wanted me to experience this, to taste it and to see it for myself. He wanted me to know what it was like to live in the adventure with HIM.

It is awe inspiring my friend.

I don't know what your adventure part is…but I know you have one.

It is God ordained and God sculpted exact for your life.

He wants you to LIVE.

DO you have the courage to ask Him?

Some of us fear that we can't hear from God.

Others fear we will hear from Him.

Don't fear at all….

He has the best for you.

Trust Him.

I was not lucky

2011-12-10T04:19:00.001-08:00

He sat across from Troy and I with a wide smile on his face. Through all of the sharing, during our Saturday group he was waiting patiently for his turn. Being the youngest, of course he had to wait. By the time we got to him, the worlds burst forth from the most grateful heart. Although we speak different languages, I felt the passion behind his story and grew impatient waiting for translation.

My heart hung on every word that came from him.
His story is our story. It's your story. His story explains so much about life, about every time you have reached out to someone only to find they did not want to grab on. His story tells us how all those moments were not in vain. They were one crack in a wall, a wall that would eventually fall down completely.

"I've begun to discover that I was rescued from the very beginning of my life, that I was never alone. What I thought was luck was really God. He was there all along." He said with wonder in his voice.
"My mom died when I was two. It was just me and my dad. I can remember there were missionaries who came to our part of the ger district. They had a book called the Bible that they tried to give to me. I thought maybe it was strange, and I refused, but they stood in the street and prayed for me as I passed by. My friends and I laughed at them, wondering what a strange group of people they are.
Not long after that I was running through a narrow alley in a hurry to come home. When I came through the other side, a car nearly hit me. It was speeding down the road and slammed on the brakes. I remember thinking, I was so lucky, I should have died, but I didn't.
A year later, when I was seven years old, my father was arrested and put into prison. It was the scariest time of my life. Here I was, alone in this world, completely alone. I knew no one. I had no where to go, so I went to the streets of Ulaan Bataar. I was hungry, lonely, afraid and tired. I thought for sure I would die alone. It was summer so I was lucky again. I would not freeze, at least I would not freeze. I found a little place under a porch area to call my home. I had to hide a lot or people would kick me out if they saw me. Then I became sick. I tried to get better on my own by resting, but I got sicker and sicker. I went to hospitals and doctors offices but no one would take me because I had no money. I remember thinking that I would die soon, I would go back to my little home under the porch and die. It was a big holiday in Mongolia, the Nadaam Festival time. The government was sending out police to find all the street kids and round them up so we would not bother the tourists. I was afraid of this round up because I did not know where I would be taken. On my way home a big van came by and stopped in front of me. I must have looked pretty dirty and sickly. They knew I was one of the street boys. I was too tired to run. They collected me and took me to a holding center. It turns out to be another one of my lucky days because they put me in a hospital. The doctor told me, 'you would not have lived more than another day or two if we had not found you…you are a lucky boy.' It was hard to see myself as lucky.
I was in the hospital for one solid month. I got well, I survived. From the hospital I was told I would be put in an orphanage. I knew it was a place for those no one wanted. I wanted to be wanted. I found myself among many others just like me, who had no where else to go. We struggled, but we became stronger and after months it felt like sort of a family to me. The next summer we were sent out to the country side to a camp. This is when I found another stroke of luck. I met the Hong Kong people. They had come to work at our camp. They were there to play with us, feed us, encourage us. I kept my distance at first wondering if they were like the strange missionaries who had prayed for me all those years ago. They spent time with us, playing and eating together. I watched them in the morning, gathering outside their camp area before joining us. They would meet together and pray. I wondered if they were praying for us. I hoped they were.
Year after year they continued to come. Every summer we looked forward to it. We had so much fun for those weeks that they were here. When I was older, some team members that I grew close to would pray for me when I was sick, or sad. Although I had no idea what they were doing, I would long for it. I often though of how lucky I was to know these kind people. Over the years the people who came to camp began to donate money to pay for our university tuition, for warm coats and boots. They became a part of our lives.
In 2009 I met with Troy. He was the new leader of the camp and I watched him a lot. Once, when we talked, I told him I was nervous because I was getting older and knew it would be time to leave the orphanage soon. They of course, would not let me stay forever. I did not know what I would do when I left. Troy reassured me to come to him when the time came, that he would help me. Again, I thought of how lucky I was.
That day came in September 2011. It was so hard to say goodbye to my friends in the orphanage. By now I had become as a big brother to them. We cried a lot. I showed up at the gate of Troy's organization with just my mattress and my suitcase of belongings. When He answered my knock, I was thinking…'what a stroke of luck for me'. They welcomed me, took me to my new home in the ger district. They bought me a bed and a closet for my clothing. Troy gave me money for groceries and talked to me about my future. Although I felt lonely in that house, I knew that I was one very fortunate young man. I was not on the street. Troy invited me to men's group, and to a Bible study. He said it was optional but wanted me to know it was available. I went. I was curious about that Bible that someone tried to give me when I was a little boy. Here it was again, following me through my life.
One woman named Siew Ling, was sharing at the Bible study. We were talking about life, and death. Something she said, made me think about my own life and my own death. I realized that if I died today, many people would cry for me. I had many people who cared about me. Although I was an orphan, I was wanted. I had people from the USA, Hong Kong, other Mongolian friends who loved me! I was really encouraged by this thought. I had so much to be thankful for.
Through the coming weeks I began to realize one very amazing truth.

I was not lucky

I was meant to live. I was meant to survive. God was the constant thread…not luck. He was there all along, when I thought I was alone, HE was really the one making the way for me. He was rescuing me.

That is what I wanted to share with you today!" He said with a huge smile.

By now, my tears were streaming down my face. The make up had long been washed away. His story gave me so much courage. I thought of the missionaries being laughed at in the street. They were long gone, their footprints in the street filled in with the dust from Mongolia. I'm certain they never knew. Maybe they left feeling defeated. The people who arrived each summer, business men and woman giving up their precious vacation time to play with orphans in Mongolia. These are people who could afford to go anywhere in the world, and yet they consistently choose this place. Did they know? Did they know that the skeptical teen sitting off in the corner, actually watches them and hopes. He hopes they are real. And they are. Those who prayed with him when he was sad, and sick. Did they know? Did they realize that the stiff body who acted like they were strange was really crying out inside saying, 'thank you! thank you!'? The people back in the States who write the checks for coal, wood, food, education, they seal up the envelope and drop in in the mail box. Do they know? Do they have any idea how beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news? Do they have any idea that the ugly coal in the green bag that we buy on the street is actually GOOD NEWS to a cold family who waits and wonders….they wonder….'am I alone? Is this it?' I thought of Troy, making the commitment to this young man, 'when the time comes, find me and I will help you' Did he know? Did he have any idea how much that meant to a frightened young man without a father to lead him?

This boys story is not one mans story. This boys story is a collection of people from around the globe. Can you just be in awe of that with me today?

I am in awe of how God works.

It truly is a wonderful life.

What is the future of Mongolia?

2011-12-06T02:38:00.000-08:00

You Were Made For More

2011-12-03T08:22:00.001-08:00

He Has Secrets

2011-10-28T07:28:00.000-07:00

I came to a wall this past week.

Certain I could not go any further until I figured this out, I did what I always do when faced with utter confusion…

I got angry.
I cried.
I wrestled with God about the issue until from sheer exhaustion I would fall asleep. The sunshine of the morning brought the whole routine into cycle again.

It was a long week.

My wall was for certain, the same wall that causes many of us to stumble.
When something bad happens, we often cry out, "but how could a God…."

This is the dreaded question of the believer. I remember shrinking inside when someone brought their raw, blood dripping, hurt into my conversation about Christ. Just like the fact that no one can argue with your story and what God has done with your life, no one can argue with your throbbing, hurt. It will usually bring a conversation to an end. The brave may offer to pray ….but most of us, well, its just to hard to deal with. We walk away from those conversations feeling unqualified to share our faith, and worse…we wonder, and wonder until we push the question down to it's rightful place.

God doesn't want us to do that.
Pushing questions down is not a way to find Him.

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all of your heart ~ Jeremiah 29:13

So here I am walking through this journey in Mongolia. Contrary to some opinion, my "walk" here can often be extremely ordinary. I home school 3 children, which requires a good portion of my day just being a teacher in my living room. I cook, clean, do the laundry, buy groceries …I'm living…just like you.

However, there are also many moments throughout my week that are just too awful to even put into words. Living among the poor and ministering to the needs of those that society has cast away, will guarantee you a front row seat to suffering. The suffering that God has allowed for my weak eyes to see, is far more intense, ugly, incurable, and biting than I was ever prepared for. I won't write about it, because I wonder if I myself would even want to read it had I not witnessed it.

I realized this week that the view of suffering has been a constant torment to me for a few years now, Like a fly buzzing around and around your nose, buzzing buzzing buzzing until finally you realize what a horrible sound this has been…and how long has it been going on…how long have I tolerated it? WHERE IS THE FLYSWATTER?

That was my wall.

I sat on the floor in a filthy dirty ger bearing witness to a helpless suffering of children and my heart just came undone.

Headed home I felt as if God were following me, saying, "Shari…look at me, talk to me"

Yet I didn't want to.

I had been pushing down the question…and now I couldn't think straight.

I had spent the last month teaching about the universe. The immense, powerful, magnificent universe. I had taught Josiah to seek out the answers. We had asked many questions, and found real answers, proof through science itself that indeed there IS a God and He DID create the universe.

It was awesome, until later when I stopped to think of His greatness, His power.

I sat THAT next to the suffering….

and I wondered.

Why?

Now I was asking the question…

Why would a God, so powerful, allow so much suffering.

I walked quickly with the bloody hurt from all around me too afraid to look behind me and scream out…WHY DO YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?

My face was hot.

My tears were stuck.

I was angry for sure.

Angry.

When I got home I tried to talk about it but my own words seemed so bitter. I didn't want to burden Troy with it.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks by now.

I sent some emails off to close family asking them to pray for me.

Maybe I was going through what people call a "crisis of faith", the thought of that just annoyed me.

I was in no way doubting God, the problem was I believe. With all of my heart I believe that HE is powerful. I have seen it with my own eyes. The spiritual world is not up for argument anymore, especially living in a place where it seems almost as real as the physical. That was not the problem.

I wanted God to do something.

I wanted Him to cure.

I wanted Him to crush.

I wanted Him to show His power.

Right now.

When I was home last summer, I began putting together a puzzle. It was in the waiting room at the radiation clinic. I guess it was supposed to help keep your mind occupied while your loved one was in the other room getting "nuked" as one old man called it.

It was a good idea. It worked.

Often I would do the puzzle through my tears. I wasn't the only one. I noticed several tear smudged pieces. It brought me comfort.

There was a frustrating pile of puzzle pieces off to the right that I liked to call the "What the hecks".

Those were the pieces that none of us could figure out.

Often I would go to them first.

It was a challenge to me. I wanted to be the one to find the place for those pieces.

Like a monkey I would try to make it work. Sometimes I would push them into a place that it just seemed like it should fit. Even when I knew it wasn't the right place, I would pretend for a minute but it would bother me until I unjammed it from its forced position and tossed it back into the "what the hecks".

Sometimes mom's "nuking" would be over with before I had even gone past those misfit pieces. I wasted the whole time on that pile. Ignoring the other pieces that would have been so easy to place.

One morning the puzzle had been worked on by others who waited, and when I showed up the "what the hecks" pile was almost gone. Someone had figured it out.

It looked beautiful.

Almost complete.

With more of the pieces together it was easier and easier for me to fill in the remaining holes. The puzzle was coming together. It was bordering on fun now.

I hate puzzles.

Like the puzzle, I realized that I had a pile of "What the hecks" in my real life.

Pieces to my puzzle that would not fit.

There were some that I had, like a robot, tried over, and over, and over again to no avail, trying to make them fit into places that just were not right.

I know you understand.

We all have them.

People we can not figure out.

Experiences that were so unfair we still sting inside at the thought of them.

Injustice we are allowed to see and yet can not fix

Unresolved conflicts that we feel victim to

Suffering

Disease

Welcome to my wall.

Please have a seat.

I want to show you how God helped me climb over it.

I hope it comforts you.

I hope it gives you courage.

By last night I was completely wrecked in my spirit.

God and I are pretty close.

I had not truly spoken to him all week.

I was angry with Him.

I still felt Him near me…waiting…but all I could say to Him was…

"What are you doing?"

"I don't get you."

"You're towering…amazing…and you scare me when you don't act."

What I'm trying to say is, I knew He was with me.

Even in the most depraved places, He was there.

He was seeing everything I was seeing….and yet He was not stopping it.

That made me sick inside.

It made me think that I actually didn't know Him at all.

Where was the Jesus in the pictures that we paint, holding the little children in his arms?

So disturbed by my lack of understanding I cried myself to sleep again,

Poor Troy trying to tell me that God would answer me…just wait…you will find an answer.

And then the answer came.

Through a friend of course.

A human.

The display of God's tenderness and desire to work in all of us, he uses mere humans a great deal of time to accomplish spiritual work.

Not knowing that I sat at a figurative wall, she shared some scripture with me. Although the scripture was directed at a group of people that I was a part of, it fell on my ears as a personal, private session with God.

The group never knew that as the words were being shared, my inability to commune with my Creator was coming to an end. My glorious moment was just as ordinary as any daily routine…but in the ordinary, I was able to find Him.

Please read with me:

29 “The Lord our God has secrets known to no one. We are not accountable for them, but we and our children are accountable forever for all that he has revealed to us, so that we may obey all the terms of these instructions. ~ Deuteronomy 29:29

He has secrets. Secrets about each of our lives.

Those are the 'what the heck' pieces of my puzzle.

Those are His secrets.

Please do not think that I am looking for an easy way out or a way to shrug off your questions or mine, yet clearly it says He as secrets…AND…'we are not accountable for them'.

This is when I felt I could look at Him again.

Please understand that I do truly understand my place UNDER the almighty God, but I am also his daughter and I my heart longs to know. It is from this longing that I wrestled with Him on these painful issues this week.

I could see Him standing there.

"You are not accountable for my secrets Shari"

Inside my heart I thought of the many things I have made myself accountable for.

God's secrets.

Those things I have tried to understand, I have banged on the walls screaming for answers.

Just like the pile of puzzle pieces that I was drawn to make fit, I have tired to make things fit that Do NOT fit.

Only God knows where they go. Only He knows why.

Yet, my heart stirred…there is a why. There must be a why. Otherwise it would not be a secret. If the secret was, 'I'm God and thats why' it wouldn't be a secret would it?

He has a purpose for every single thing He allows.

I do not speak these words lightly.

I am someone who has witnessed some of the awful things that God has NOT put a stop to, or in other words, allows.

I have consoled myself far to long with empty words.

Words like…evil exists…and that's why.

We are not his puppets…and that's why.

There is no reason for this….it just happened because we are in a fallen world.

None of that brings comfort.

Yet in this verse I hear a silent promise.

I hear God saying…I know why….I cannot tell you…but I KNOW why.

For me, that is reassuring. I hope it will be to you.

Of course all this hinges on the idea that He is and He loves.

You must first believe that.

I realized I had attached some human characteristics to God.

I saw him there with me witnessing the suffering, but I placed upon him things that I did not see.

I had made him into a cold, unfeeling bystander.

I realized there was so much that I actually did not know about what He was doing in the midst of the suffering.

I am however accountable for what has been revealed to me. For the rest of the puzzle. That is what I must busy myself with. While I hold onto the promise that he does know why….and someday…oh someday…maybe I will see it. The big picture.

While teaching Josiah about the universe, I marveled at the fact that someone, so much more inquisitive than I, looked up at the stars and was not satisfied when he asked, "what are those?" When the answer came to him, "oh those are stars", it just wasn't enough. He desired to know more. So He asked….and subsequently, a secret of God was revealed.

Perhaps there are secrets He will reveal if I ask. Perhaps not. However, I will ask until He says no.

From now on, when He does say no, I will not wrestle with Him. I will understand that it is something He alone knows but there is an answer. There is.

1 Lord, my heart is not proud;

my eyes are not haughty.

I don’t concern myself with matters too great

or too awesome for me to grasp.

2 Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,

like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.

Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

3 O Israel, put your hope in the Lord—

now and always. ~ Psalm 131

At the end of the evening I felt I could hear Davids heart in this Psalm. David is expressing the end of a wrestling match. He has understood something, and he has calmed and quieted himself. I took David's words to my spirit as he said put your hope in the Lord ~ (not in our own understanding).

I laid in my bed, not in tears.

In humility.

How awesome He is. How many secrets does He hold?

He goes with me to the places that are dark and I can take comfort in the fact that He holds the secret to those places. I am not accountable for His secrets.

I have a hope from scripture that one day he will reveal it all. In the end, he will say, "I'll finish this Shari." He will take all the pieces that never fit right and show me exactly where they were meant to go.

He will do this not for just me, but for you…for all of us.

A collective gasp will go out as we all see the big picture for the first time ever before.

Complete.

Beautiful.

The full meaning revealed.

He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings deep shadows into the light. ~ Job 12:22

So lets go over that wall together my friend…we can put our hope in Him.

Reasoning

2011-10-25T10:28:00.000-07:00

Don’t go there, its dangerous.

Stop asking thosequestions , you won’t like theanswer.

Ignore that call, they areleaches.

Hang onto that, you need it.

Don’t dedicate yourall, no one else is.

Why do you care? It’s notyour problem.

Don’t expect so muchfrom yourself, you’re only human.

I think of a song from last summer.

The writer sings out,

“When did love becomeunmoving?,

When did love becomeunconsuming?”

When our reasoning comes in. That’s when.

It’s done so easily. We love our reasoning.

Like a prince on a white horse, reasoning shows up to ourrescue, at just the right time. It makes us feel so much better about not doingwhatever our heart set out for us to do. Reasoning takes over, interrupts withsuch beautiful logic that we almost feel foolish for ever listening to thatother voice.

“oh my silly heart, shhh….of course I can’t do that."

Reckless, irrational heart.

And we ride off, back to our safe places, onto thepredictable.

By nightfall we have nearly forgot, where our heart almost tookus.

We lay in our beds and wonder…

What if?

And reasoning comesto lullaby us to sleep.

And what of God’s reasoning?

I read a verse that humbled me so greatly tonight.

And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again. ~ 2 Corinthians 5:15

All of us by grace are given the same opportunity to experience redemption.

God’s reasoning seems to not include the measureingscale that we humans use.

For all the times we reasoned against our hearts, andignored the nudging of God’s desire for our lives…

His offer stands, for ALL.

It doesn’t say

And for all who obeyed without delay …

For all who served faithfully…

For all who dedicated their everything…

For all who went…

For all who gave…

It simply says for all.

May that alone motivate me to never allow this kind ofredeemers whispers to be reasoned away again.

The Center Of Our little Part Of The World

2011-10-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

Doesn't look to compelling does it? I keep meaning to have the roof painted, and one day I will.
As small and unassuming as the picture above may appear, it is the hub of our community right now. The place where it all happens, and its getting more and more exciting every day. To me, looking at this picture has not yet ceased to bring a thrill to my heart.

Here is what I see.

children arriving at the Community Center

I see a safe place for our otherwise unstable community. I see a green gate that welcomes everyone in, and when you get there its almost as if you can yell "Sanctuary" catch your breath, unclench your fists and rest. Inside these gates the monsters of poverty, alcoholism, violence and hunger are not allowed. It's quite a remarkable place to be, especially if you are a child of the ger district.

I see families coming on Thursday afternoons to pick up their food packages. These used to be people I referred to as "The Poor" but now they have names Oyuna, Tsegi, Sada and Inkbuyin and the list of faces before me grows and grows. The "poor" that find peace behind the green gate that leads to the Community Center, have now become something very different to me. They are the ones I want to see on Friday night, share meals with, joke around with, cry with. They are no longer a number, an idea, or a "race" of people, but instead they are my personal friends. I have grown to love them.

Head Start Class for 5-6 year olds

I see children running through the gates on Saturdays to be a part of whatever fun activity has been arranged for the day. Art, science fairs, dance class, wrestling, basketball, game day, it could be any number of things. The volunteers who help us run the Community Center, have brought such variety and fun to this place. Its been a joy to see what different brains from different parts of the world have come up with to entertain the children of this area.

Speaking of volunteers…I stand in AWE of the amount of hard working, self sacrificing people who have spent their weekends, summers and vacations with us in the ger district of Mongolia. THEY are my heroes! This community is better because of the hard work they have poured into it.

I see the kids arriving early in the morning for Head Start class. They are children who otherwise would not have this opportunity. Only 5 and 6 years old, yet willing to sit quietly and listen to everything their teacher will share. They know that without this class the years to come will be difficult. Parents have told them to sit and learn and that is exactly what they do. In just three months they will be reading, writing and doing basic math. We will have a huge celebration to send them off to the "big school" and they will leave us with backpacks full of supplies for next year. Its one of my favorite days at the Community Center.

I see life in the eyes of mothers and fathers.

I hear life in the sounds of laughter coming from the basketball court.

Most arrive with nothing, but all leave with something. A bag of rice, flour, oil, or other non material gifts such as friendship, peace, comfort and hope

Our library

I see a library filled with books and computers. Students learning, growing, being challenged and overcoming.

A little boy waits outside to try it for the first time, a real computer at his fingertips. I ask him if he wants to play ball, and he says, "No I'm waiting for the library to open." This is a special day for him.

Sarah playing games with some of our scholarship students

I see students lining up to interview with Troy and Tuvsho. They are asking for a scholarship to their University. With the help of donations from individuals world wide, Troy said "yes" to over 40 qualified students this year. Without a University degree it would be nearly impossible to find work in Mongolia. This is one of the most satisfying helps we can give, since we know it affects generations.

Everything organized inside the old container

I see an old shipping container, full of donations from the United States. Clothing, shoes, blankets, coats, winter boots, hats and scarves, fully stocked and ready to be given to those who need it.

I see bags of coal and wood being placed in the arms of young boys and tired mothers. This will keep them warm tonight…one less thing to despair about.

I see vitamins given to the little ones with rickets. A simple thing like vitamin D can change the outcome of a child's future.

Two beautiful staff members Munkuu and Boloraa

I see Munkuu and Boloraa, our wonderful dear friends who work at the Community Center each day. Munkuu can fix anything and he does it with a smile. Boloraa's heart for the children is exactly what I would have hoped and prayed it would be.
They live at the Community Center, take care of the grounds and protect it. They are a true gift to us.

Tuvsho

I see Tuvsho, our friend, translator, assistant, mouthpiece, treasure! Tuvsho is always loving others more than herself. Tuvsho is a champion to those who have no one to stand for them. Her love for the suffering poor is contagious.

I see a community that was once suffering without much hope. All that has changed now.

I see families working together, coming together, caring for one another. I see hints of joy and slivers of peace shining through the darkness. I see the suffering alleviated, and poverty's grip becoming less of a choke hold. Of course, we can not end poverty, however, we can ease suffering.

Suffering exists. Its intense and all around us. It is also unnecessary. We each have a responsibility to ease the suffering of those around us. No matter where you live.

For the Tvrdik family, this happens in the ger districts of Mongolia.

Not bad for a little blue building with a sad looking roof!

And the hope is…to do it all over again..in a new community further from the main road. A piece of land waits patiently and a hope is rising in our hearts. Our vision is to reach our arms out further, to find other families who have fallen through the cracks, pull them up…make them strong. I believe its very possible. I've seen it happen before,

One Family At A Time.

The Second Community Center Property

So..what is it that you guys do again?

2011-09-29T09:03:00.000-07:00

Ulaan Baatar at night (it looks so clean)

In January 2009 we left Chicago and moved to Mongolia's capitol city of Ulaan Baatar. This was the picture I snapped from the airplane window the day we landed.

The temperature was -50.

January 10, 2009

I remember the two of us holding hands as the plane descended. Looking at the kids and wondering what on earth were we about to do. It was the most terrifying day of my life.

Knowing what I know now…I'd do it all over again.

We had decided ahead of time, that we would move our family into the slums of this city. In Chicago we call it the Projects, in Mongolia its called the Ger District.

You can see the Ger District sprawling out along the city edges, and if you look North, East and West you will see miles and miles and miles of this. To the South is protected land.

Mongolia as a nation, is changing, it seems every day. Only twenty years running out of the shadow of Soviet rule, it is like being in a living history book, when you walk through the city streets.

Trevor and a friend carrying water for us 2009

However, The Ger District is frozen
in time. Here you have no running water, or sewage system. Many of the homes are the traditional Mongolian felt tent called gers. Your heat is a good old fashioned fire and when you want water, you send your oldest son to the water station to collect it and carry it home.

The ger district is massive. As people enter the city hoping to find a better life, they start off here, for a temporary fix just waiting to get that job…and they are trapped. A 40% unemployment rate makes the job pool intense. If you are a herder from the countryside, you most likely won't make the cut.

It's estimated that 70% of families living in UB, (Ulaan Baatar) live in the Ger District.

And now there is also one American family.

Let me remind you, we had no idea what poverty was when we moved into one of the poorest areas in the world. I was not prepared in the least. I had no clue what was about to happen to me and my family and I was the least qualified, expert in NOTHING to do with anything that matters person.

That's the truth.

Yet we were just crazy enough, motivated enough and ready enough to do it. So we did.

In 2008, on our first visit to Mongolia, We had witnessed the pain of the street children. At the time the numbers were staggering. 3000 children living in the streets of this fairly small city. How could that be? Most of these kids were coming from the Ger District. They were run aways. Life at home was not good. Alcohol consumption/addiction was at %72 here. Domestic violence and poverty were spinning out of control. An organization Called Flourishing Future, had begun to target the families in the Ger District The ones just on the edge of destruction were sought out, and attended to. In this way, families were reached before the terror fell. The child never ended up in the street, the abuse never happened…the story never got as dark as it could have.

I remember Susan Griffeth, one of the founders of the organization, saying, "Why do we have to wait until a child is bloody, beaten and abused before we will notice something is wrong?" it struck me that the uglier the story, the more we focused on it. What if we could prevent it all together? It would not be such a story anymore..but wouldn't that be beautiful? Her words resonated in my spirit, "Why can't we be motivated by compassion before the child is completely wounded?"

So this is where we came to work. We joined Susan Griffeth, at Flourishing Future. Susan had begun this work in the Ger District 7 years before. She had been praying for a family to move into the Ger District and we were the ones who showed up.

Someone asked us this week, after touring the Ger District, "how did all this start?" and it was fun to answer. The truth is, the poverty knocked us out at first. The extent of the suffering was far more than we ever imagined possible. The cold was intense and unforgiving. We lay in bed the first week here, listening to people take apart our wood fence so they would have something to burn. The amount of need could have paralyzed us but instead, inspired by those who have served the poor before us, we chose to move…one family at a time.

We were lost, afraid, and completely immersed in unfamiliar territory.

It was the best thing that could have happened to us.

We were about to have front row seats to the miracle of what God can do with a willing heart.

I'd like to spend the next few blogs sharing what our work here is in Mongolia. I want to share about what has happened in the Ger District since January 2009. I want to paint a picture in your minds so that my friends back home don't have to wonder, "So…what is it that you guys do again?" I have not been very clear at explaining the nuts and bolts to the work here. I hope to have the chance to do it now. I hope to share with you the beauty of the:

Community Center
Daily walk with the poor and suffering
Flourishing Future (the NGO or Non Government Organization) that Troy now directs
How the community has changed and been affective by this amazing season

one of our neighbors

I hope it will answer all the questions you may have about what happened to that Tvrdik family….:)

Susan Griffeth and Shari in 2009

Josiah and Elly playing baseball in our yard 2009

Act 2

2011-09-08T23:43:00.000-07:00

Our oldest son, Trevor, joined the Army in July. His Basic Training began just under a week ago. On my return to Mongolia, it was so strange walking into his room the way he left it in May.

Pictures and letters from people back home, covered his bedroom walls. His drum set sat in the corner…quiet for once.

Walking into his room made my heart heavy. I stood there in the doorway and soaked in the remaining presence of him. I would have to clean out the room and get it ready for the girls to move into, but for now, for these last few moments….I would just wait quietly with the Lord.

They were hard years, the years he spent in this room. 15 years old, and leaving his perfect world behind to journey with his parents to Mongolia….you can only imagine what that was like. The hole in the right corner of the room (the size of his 15 year old fist) is a lasting reminder of the turmoil that he went through those early months here. We kept meaning to repair it…but never did. The challenges we faced were enormous.

Still, If I could line up all the good and the bad of the last three years, there were just so many good things…it makes the bad look almost harmless.

I remembered what he said when he was hugging me goodbye, "Mom, I wish I could go back there with you…I will miss Mongolia" Somewhere in-between that hole in the wall and our hug goodbye, God had done a work. Its a story that he will tell some day. I'm looking forward to hearing it.

Laying on his desk were half written songs. There was always a song coming from this room. The songs defined the current mood. Some days it was screamo music….those were the unapproachable days…other days songs of redemption would pour out through the doorway and fill the living room. He always sang louder than the music….I could go right into worship whatever I was doing, because his passion was contagious. If he was home, there was music.

The room was filled with silence now.

"I'm 18 and I want to join the Army" I could see by Troy's expression that he wasn't the least bit surprised….but oh how I was. The conversation had been simple, and from the heart. There was no anger or fighting…just a truthful talk with our son. He was ready to grow up…to be on his own. He wasn't returning to Mongolia with us this time. He was finished.

I made my way over to his closet and began to empty it out. One stack of clothing at a time. We had left for the states in a hurry, mom was sick and we wanted to get home quickly. "Just bring the basics guys, " I called out from the other room.."we'll only be there a couple of months…"
So here was his closet full of all his belongings.

I moved back the winter coats, and there taped to one of his hangers was a little note…it said,
"Tony ~ Trevor ACT 2" It brought back a flood of happy memories. Trevor had played the leading male role in the school play here in Mongolia. He was Tony, in You Can't Take It With You. He surprised us all with his acting abilities. It is one of my favorite moments in Mongolia, because I love plays so much, and it was a truly good performance by the high school kids…we had such a wonderful evening. I was more than proud of him on opening night. It was also the night that I realized what a life he had found here in Mongolia. Surrounded by friends from all over the world (other MK's) I remember watching him laugh, and thinking to myself, "He's gonna be just fine…" and I was right, he really was.

I lifted the hanger and sat back on the bed for a moment .
Trevor ACT 2
The stories he will one day tell of his perspective on our journey to Mongolia, will be more than interesting to hear. It was a journey indeed.
I didn't realize it at the time, when we hurriedly got onto the plane that would take us to the USA,but the curtain had fallen on Act 1.

I thought of my son, across the globe, wearing his military fatigues and going through the first days of basic training that every solider must endure. The curtain rises…
ACT 2

and thats life isn't it?

Moments come and go, but some of them end a scene, some end the first act, some begin the second act….some end with a standing ovation…others end with a hushed crowed in anticipation, there are those that end with the sound of sniffling and whimpering from a heart broken audience, some hurt like crazy…some are so joyful we wish they would never end.

I think of my moms words to me while she sat in her hospital bed, "Shari, if we had it to do all over again we would never make the same mistakes…we'd make all new ones."

It took me 4 hours, and a box of tissues to clean out the room.
It will take a lot more than that to let him go….I hear from many other moms, that you eventually learn to act like you have….in time.

Trevor, in a scene from "You Can't Take It With You"

Because He Hears Me

2011-09-01T02:09:00.000-07:00

He wanted a home…again.
This was the same guy we had helped last year.
I could feel myself getting agitated.

A really ugly part of running an organization like ours is that you find yourself face to face with the most awful possibilities, on a regular basis.

Homeless families, sick and hungry children, and everyone needs help, or so it seems on some days.

The absolute worst thing that can happen to someone like me is the hard heart syndrome. You see so many of these things that eventually you wonder, "didn't I talk to you already today?" You could finish the story before the teller is done because you have 'heard it so many times before.'

Dear God, don't ever let this happen to me…I beg Him some days when I can almost feel this disease creeping into my spirit.

Troy came home for lunch late. It was 2:00 already. He was looking like he was carrying the load of a man forced into hard labor. He had been at meetings all day. I passed him a sandwich that we had saved aside and quickly squeezed in next to him at the table. I could tell by the hurried look on his face that I would have to steal the moment, because it was all he could give me.

"After my first meeting there was a line of people waiting to see me…everyone has needs Shari…everyone wants something."

"Thank God its not always like this." I thought to myself. How could anyone stand it?

I remember those years when Troy worked as a contractor. He would put his hammer and saw aside to grab a quick lunch. Now, he had to walk through a crowd of people who needed his help.

Thats when he told me about our friend. The one who needed the house…again.

"This is ridiculous", I was saying, "we already helped him once…why hasn't he learned yet?"

Troy looked at least half as annoyed as I felt.

"Just pray." He said as he grabbed his briefcase, gave me a kiss and left for the work ahead. He didn't want to keep anyone waiting long.

I made a mental note to ask him how on earth we are supposed to keep our hearts soft, humble, and compassionate.

Then I prayed.
I got an image of myself, and Troy, with big white hardhats on.
Quality Control written across the top. People were coming to us…asking for help…and we were the ones to decide if they were accepted or rejected.
The image made me feel queazy. No one on earth would want that job. Its unbearable. Who would want to be associated with that sort of task?
And yet, on days like today, that is exactly what it feels like.

Beyond us was a line of people,
we'll call them the "experts".
They did not have to make these decisions, only judge afterward whether they were the right decisions or not.
I heard things like..

"You can't enable people…."

"Was your recent decision the best thing for Mongolia?"

"We have to give people a hand up…not a hand out."

"Did you make that decision on an emotional whim..?"
or
"Was that the best use of the donated funds?"

These experts, unfortunately, seem to be everywhere.

Everywhere except right beside you when your looking into the eyes of the desperate…and a decision must be made.

I thought of our friend.

What do I know about him?

He was raised in an orphanage.

At 33 years old, he is just now learning life skills.

His only family is a brother who is a severe alcoholic and doesn't want him around.

He has a birth defect that causes him a lot of pain and inconvenience. He has been rejected repeatedly in his life due to this.

He has a university degree…a brilliant mind, but not the determination it takes to find successful employment.

He is kind, but lacks motivation. Its hard for him to think of himself as worth anything.

I thought of what I was expecting of him.

Seems funny,

but its true. Somewhere in my heart I had put him on a measuring scale of what was "normal". I had neglected to take into account his actual life.

I was angry and annoyed with him because he was not meeting up with my expectations.

All the things that I had been given as a child. All the opportunity I was aloted due to my country of residence, my birth family and my physical well being was what i was expecting from a man who had absolutely NONE of these precious blessings. Not even for one day of his life.

I saw myself with my white hat, and a big stamp. Looking upon my friend, who should have known better by now, I started to place the big REJECTED stamp down on the paper.

But God stopped me.

Because he hears my prayers.

He hears me when I beg Him for a soft heart.

My God does not ignore me when I cry out to him with my burdens.

He stopped me.

He showed me the other side.

He showed me the Emergency Hasha (yard) that we have. With a sweet little house inside. He reminded me that it is His yard…and these are His people.

Thankfully He showed Troy too.

Later that night, I did my best to sneak in a conversation with Troy before he drifted off to sleep.

"What did you decide?" I asked, referring to our friend.

"Oh, he has moved in already..to the emergency hasha, into the little house." Troy replied.

I looked out my window and thanked the Lord for always being near us.

These are not our decisions to make alone.

It's only when we forget that, we become unable to move due to the pressure and strain.

We do have a very good God.

Finding Mongolia

2011-08-18T23:33:00.000-07:00

Finding Mongolia is never difficult. It's always there, in front of me. It’s been woven into the moments of my life from the beginning. I can see it now, in the cracks and crevices of my history. Of course, I never knew it was there, but God did. He was preparing me all along. Trials came and went, lessons learned.

But now, now my Mongolia is no longer hiding. Today it feels like a giant dragon pulling me away by my feet. Hands straight out in front of me, grasping for air. I fight, but to no avail. It has me by the teeth.

I face the international terminal, and the word “terminal” stands out above the rest.

Is my ‘call’ terminal? It sure feels that way today.

Where is the fanfare of days gone by? The passion that drove me to ‘forsake it all’ and follow? Today those feelings have disappeared and I’m left here without the glory. What I do have is a faith, a different faith than I did when I first left home. Today’s faith is rugged and worn, It looks patched up and altered. It’s also much more beautiful.

I have accepted the truth that I do not, nor will I ever clearly understand everything. So much of my time was taken by me wrestling with God, sure that If just tried hard enough, I could figure it out. Today I sit in front of God. Hands in my pockets. No words needed. I understand that I don’t get it. I understand that I don’t need to. I trust Him.

It was a lie that following Jesus was simple.

A lie that nothing would hurt us, wound us, break us.

There was no truth that we would always prosper, and everything we touched would be made lovely.

I do not bank on physical or financial protection . How could I? When over and over again I see that the lower we are brought, the more it hurts us, the closer we get to really KNOWING the Savior. What were we thinking all those years that Jesus meant when he said, “Take up your cross and follow me”? Did I think the cross was not painful to carry? Did I think it was a joke?

I’m leaving behind my family. My mom is very sick and I would like nothing more than to sit with her and care for her like I have the last 3 months. Her frail body held me this morning as we both wept. “Why does God want me? I cried, “I don’t even know what I’m doing. Why doesn’t he choose someone who hates their home, their family and their life? Why would He do it this way? I just don’t get it.”

I said goodbye to my son, who will leave us now, and begin his life on his own in the US Army. Was my head really buried in his chest? Is it possible that this day has come so fast. “I wish I was going with you mom” he said through his own tears. “No you don’t…its time for you to make your own way.” These were words that hurt to even speak, but they needed to be said. It was my time to say them.

I watched my youngest son hold his cousins, his Jonathans, in his arms this morning. The tears flowed with no embarrassment. His pain was as jagged and raw as it gets. I could not make it better. There was nothing I could say to take the pain away.

Goodbye to the beautiful farm, bean fields all around that make it look as if the barn is in the center of a green ocean. The colors so vibrant.

Dad’s tears filling his beautiful blue eyes. “Have I told you how proud I am of you Shari?”

And then my dear sisters. Standing at the terminal. Waving goodbye as I stepped onto international space.

Their backs walking away….I must go…but they will stay. Together they will get to live out this life. With our parents, their children growing up as close as it gets. I will not get this. Its not for me. Like a child watching his siblings being served a big piece of chocolate cake…and then you get…something…something else. Let me look in the cupboards and find what I have for you Shari…there must be something here….

I've said goodbye and survived . I'll turn up

On the other side of the world tomorrow. Troy, my husband, will be waiting for me there. The friends we have collected along the way will wave hello and I will smile and wave back. My hurt will have been settled by then. I have 18 hours to let it go to the place God wants it.

I will drive up a hill in the slums of Mongolia and hug our dirty little dog named bear. I will look at the outhouse... and sigh. I will walk into my tiny little home and smile. I’ll notice how poor I really am and for some reason I will feel disgustingly rich. I will wonder what in the world God is doing, but be grateful for it. I’ll open up my suitcase and take out a little sign that mom gave me before I left. I’ll walk over to the window sill that looks out towards the poverty all around me, and looming behind it all are those beautiful mountains. Just beyond those mountains lies the Gobi desert, China, an ocean, and those I love. On this window sill I’ll place the sign, Its message is simple…but holds so much meaning. In hand stitched letters it says one word. “HOME”.

This is the life of a missionary. This is the story we are often to afraid, or prideful to tell. Let the truth come out today, come out of me and bring healing to others who ask those questions, can you obey even when the price of obedience is ridiculously high? Yes. It will not be easy but yes you can.

He is there, do doubt. But God is not the candy man who lives to make your life easier. He is indeed the father, who leads, disciplines, demands, teaches and sometimes wrecks your life, for the good. I do not ever want my life to be anything short of wrecked for God’s purpose. Yet the wrecking process hurts like nothing else. I may never really get over it.

So here we are again

2011-08-14T22:43:00.000-07:00

It happens again.

I try to get used to it…but never can.

Saying goodbye to the "normal" life…my world.

Its the worst part of missions, the letting go of what you hold so close and precious.

It does not make sense to me, what God has in mind.

I am one who loves the familiar, loves home and family. I wonder, 'why me?'

Some day I will understand.

For now, I just thank Him for the time He gave me home.

I thank him for every good moment.

I thank Him for every precious memory.

Looking at mom tonight as she told me her heart hurt from letting go again…I agree. Mine hurts too.

Once I thought a hurting heart was a sign of something wrong, but I know different now. Hearts will hurt. God never promised easy street.

I know the 'other world' exist.

Troy is there now, working, waiting, pushing through.

I'll join him soon.

The hot water running out of the tap looks so beautiful tonight.

The warm hugs from my sisters felt so tender tonight.

"one last hug" I heard over and over again at church today.

One last run to Target

One last talk with Trevor...

One last …

To live is Christ.

"Mommy…I can't wait to get back and see daddy.."Elly said when I kissed her goodnight.

I watched Sarah hug her best friend goodbye…again.

Joey sat at the table with tears streaming down his face.

It hurts sometimes to serve.

It cost something.

I'm counting the cost tonight..

and tomorrow will come soon.

Catching up to mom

2011-07-22T00:09:00.000-07:00

Why is it hard to be with someone who is sad?

Why does it exhaust you?

A late night chat with an old friend…and these were the questions that came to my heart.
Mom has suffered for what feels like an eternity. Trying to help her through this has proven to be the greatest challenge of my life so far. She is overcome with her battle, and exhausted.
The problem is, her body is not ready to die.
It's ready to suffer, but not die.
So I watch her fight, and be sick, terribly sick.
We started out with all sorts of plans. Goals for the day. They were simple goals. Walk to the bathroom yourself, stretch your legs every hour, but we made it and felt successful.

However, one day after another, after another….of sickness and it just gets to become so very heavy.
I see her battle within. She says, "I'm trying to smile Shari…I really am." and I know she is trying.

I have asked God a lot of questions these few months home. He answers faithfully, but usually with more lessons for me to learn.

Today I snuck away.

I went to my sister Joanne's house for a dip in her pool.
Julie, my big sister, came to sit with mom, love mom, and try to bring a light of hope into the house.

As I floated around in that clean beautiful water I thought about how exhausted I was…and wondered why.

Its not from physical labor. Life in the USA is a breeze. Running water, indoor flushing toilets, laundry is almost a joke its so much fun here!
So why do I feel like every muscle in my body hurts?

I came home from the pool retreat to find mom still in her chair. Suffering. I forced a smile.
"I love you mom" was all I can think to say anymore.

The friends answer to my question was perfect.
Why is it exhausting to be with someone who is sad?

"Because we can't fix it"

As I read the words I realized their great truth.
I want to fix mom.

I'm happy when we reach our goals.
I feel joy when she smiles and laughs.
And when she doesn't…
I feel miserable.
Exhausted from the effort that proved to be unable to bring the result.
How selfish of me.

It reminds me of my work in Mongolia.
How many times I smile, and feel great when something works. When I watch a hungry person eat, when I get to hug a lonely child, when someone says, "thank you, you made a real difference in my life."

Engergized …I feel energized in those moments.

Yet, there is a whole other side to ministry. When the woman you have worked with for two years turns up drunk out of her mind. When the teenage prostitute who was coming out of it, leaves for a weekend and never comes back. When the orphan child gives you a cold shoulder.

And these moments are all to frequent…

During our Poverty Workshop in Mongolia, we teach people what poverty is. We spend 3 hours with them, and show them hands on how to deal with the un fixable . I remember during one of our workshops a very honest young man who said,

"If I can't fix it, I don't look at it…I don't think about it…"

He speaks for most of the world actually. Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many hungry ones.

I'm leaving on August 15th, back to Mongolia to join Troy who is working so hard right now.

I have a plan.

HAD a plan.

Mom was going to be well by then. She was going to be fine. She was going to walk out to the car with me while I put my bags in the trunk and say, "I'm coming to see you next year…thank you for your help…I'm all better now."

It could still happen….

However, I am wondering how best to deal with brokenness that you can't fix.
I have leaned about myself recently, that I don't like to sit and wait. If I am not seeing results, I'm frustrated. If I can't bring relief I feel worthless. I do not like the feeling of helplessness.

Yet He calls us to sit and wait. He calls us to the misery of the world. Like a magnet we are supposed to be drawn to the things that others can't look at. He says it in Mathew chapter 25. Its Jesus on a megaphone saying…"Run to the suffering…. do not look away."and in that chapter he promises that we will find HIM there.
He doesn't promise us it would be easy.
He just asks us to quietly join those who are in pain. Emotional, physical, and spiritual pain.

To catch up to them, and walk beside them. To ignore our urges to make it all better, to fix it…and to allow the moment to be there, and the person to not walk it alone.

So I'm catching up to mom. From now on, I walk beside her. It's not about my "feel good moment". If we walk in silence…so be it. She will not be alone.

Almost

2011-06-19T19:07:00.000-07:00

We drove by it today.
That house.
The one we dreamt about, begged God for, lost sleep over, broke our calculator trying to figure out how we could afford.

5 years down the road, I had forgotten about it.

Yet here it was, as grand and amazing as ever.

Driving past it, on our way to visit mom in the hospital, I saw that beauty in all her glory and thought....almost.

It was almost ours. I remember the day the bank called to tell us we could afford it. I remember how excited we were. I remembered the plans for huge parties in the back yard, and a garden that would make your mouth water. I remembered it all, in a flash.
"I don't think we should do it." It was Troy, the voice of reason. "Something feels wrong"
And with that...it was over.

I grieved over that house. It may sound silly, if you've never fallen in love with a house before, but it you have...well, you understand.

Within a year we were called to Mongolia.

Oh so very far away from beautiful country homes with white picket fences.
Nothing was ever the same again.

Still, as we drove by I thought about the two worlds, the two possibilities.
Our family planted in that lovely home, and the "normal" that would have come with it.
Our life in Mongolia, living among the poor and sharing the hope that they are not alone.

My thought was not at all of self pity.
Rather the thought, I almost missed out on this life. I almost didn't get here. I almost walked down a very different road....and I never would have known...what I almost missed.

Symptoms of living

2011-05-26T00:38:00.000-07:00

I hesitate to write about this.

I like to write about things I know, things I understand.
I don't understand this.

The unfamiliar surrounds me.

I watch her in moments of intense, unimaginable pain. All my beautiful words seem to have run away.
I can only find simple words.

I hate you cancer

Go away

Stop hurting her

Last night I dreamt of a delicate and lovely little girl. Her blond hair hung in long golden curls.
"Who are you?" I asked as she stood innocently before me.
"I'm your moms cancer." she replied.
I woke up wondering how to accept what I don't understand.

Earlier in the day I waited in line at the pharmacy. As the Pharmacist searched for moms prescription, I noticed the endless line of clear bags filled with plastic bottles. Each bag belonged to someone. Each had it's own story.

Someones baby

Someones husband

Someones sister

Brother

Wife

Dad

Mom

Moms terminal cancer prognosis came with such sorrow to all of us who love her. However, we're all terminal aren't we?
None of us get to leave this place alive.

In the course of the past two weeks I have heard mom say so many beautiful things.

"I want to live"

"I'm free"

"I feel so good I could fly"

"I'm crying because I'm so happy."

"He (Jesus) is beautiful"

"Happiness is a choice you make ahead of time"

"I choose life"

The row of medicines at the pharmacy remind me of the world and its pain. We are not alone in this suffering. For two and a half years I have experienced the suffering of the poor. Today, I taste the suffering of my own mom. Suffering people are precious to God. He is very near them.

I'm a realist.

This drives my husband crazy because he will always see the glass half full.

However, God is working in me yet.

I can choose life along with mom, in spite of any prognosis.

Its about today. Today we choose life. We choose the life that God gives us today. The breath we have today. The beating heart we wake up with today. They are all symptoms of living...so lets live.

In our house there is not much talk of death or dying. Not because we are afraid of it, or in denial of any kind, but rather because we love living so much. Living is not perfect, anyone who knows us as a family knows that. Living is not without its problems and pains, but its just so beautiful to share life.

Earlier in the day we had discussed in private how to help mom understand her prognosis better.

"Choose it with me girls" she directs us, her three daughters. "Will you please?"

She understands better than we do.

We all three nod our heads yes.

.... For the Lord is your life.

~ Deuteronomy 30:20

Just as soon as this storm is finished

2011-05-10T08:12:00.000-07:00

"Flights cancelled due to weather"
We all felt a little deflated.
Since Friday night, when we heard the news about mom, its been a mad rush to get tickets home, tie up lose ends, pack. By 3:00 today we were all ready. Our nerves on high alert. Nina is sick, really sick.
When I spoke with her on the phone, that first hour after hearing the news that would break all our hearts, I said, "Mom I'm coming home to be with you." Her reply was, "Shari listen to me, if you come home without my grandkids I may never speak to you again." There was a hint of joy in her voice.
Joy
She had just been told her cancer had returned. It was in her bones, in her spine. It was not curable, but 'treatable'. (I had to google what on earth that could mean)

The weather was lovely. The sun was shining, it was warm. Why would they cancel the flight? This puts me one more day from mom.
By 5:00 the storm had hit. Dark clouds came from the south creeping up from behind the mountains. For a moment it felt like the whole city and ger district were swallowed up in clouds. The wind howled in absolute furry and the snow began to cover us.
We closed our windows, started a fire and accepted the reality...we're not going anywhere until this thing is done raging.

I called my sister via the magic Gmail phone. (love that thing). My computer was on full volume, and when she answered the first thing we heard were birds chirping. Beautiful, peaceful, birds singing their hearts out.
What a strange sensation. I wanted to just listen.
Although the temperature was freezing here, snow was falling by buckets, and the wind was blowing it all around, somewhere in the world the birds were happy, and singing.
"Hello" she said.."hellooo"
"I hear the birds"...was all I could respond with.
"Yeah..I'm outside waiting for dad." she sounded sad, and tired.
I wanted to tell her how pretty it sounded. How amazing it was, that we share a planet but our worlds are so different. The sun is shining there. It had already kissed us all goodnight here. I could imagine it though. I could imagine her, outside, the sun shining down on her. I could even see those little birds.

Its just like real life huh?
The journey is going on for everyone.
Some of us are in the sun, some of us in the darkest night.
Some can't hear themselves think past the sound of the wind that's smacking on the window, while others listen to the birds harmonize all around them.
Its called living.
If were still breathing than that puts us in the game.
The Bible says to rejoice with those who are rejoicing and to weep with those who weep. So often we are feeling jealous of someones joy, or annoyed by their grief.
Both will happen to all of us at one time or another.

The sound of the birds faded away (ok so Gmail phone isn't perfect)
"Your breaking up real bad sis...just call me from Korea...I'll be in Chicago to pick you up whenever you can get here..."

I'll be there, just as soon as this storm is finished.
The sun will shine again.

Take part in the joy of those who are glad, and in the grief of those who are sorrowing.
~ Romans 12:15

Playing House

2011-05-05T07:51:00.000-07:00

In the past seven days I've spent a total of 10 hours sitting at borders.
No, not the Borders book store, although that would have been so much more pleasant.

I'm speaking about the border between Mongolia and China.
In my former life, as I have learned to call my life before Mongolia, it would have terrified me. Border patrol asking you questions, looking at your passport for what feels like hours, giving no real direction besides hurry up and wait (and all this is done in another language so your lucky if you figure that out).

It fascinated me to watch our daughter Elly's response when a Chinese Border Officer asked her, "What is your name?"She literally almost forgot, and then with words sticking in her little throat she said, "Eliana Tvrdik?" as if asking him a question back.

Of course she was responding to his authority. His commanding presence made her unsure of even her name. She didn't want to make a mistake.
Its funny what happens to even the most confident of us when someone digs through your luggage, or tells you to stand up so they can get a better look at your face. When we become the pecked in the pecking order...it gets uncomfortable doesn't it?

10 hours at a border with nothing to do but wait, gives you lots of time to think.

The map becomes alive. Suddenly that yellow dividing line on google earth becomes the place that you rest your feet. The place that makes one nation different from another nation becomes just another place.

Sure, we dress up in special uniforms with special hats and speak with special authority, to prove that we are the owners of this place...but were not.

It all seems kinda silly. Maybe its just the long late hours of waiting that got to me...but after awhile I was saying to myself...why do we have borders anyway?

Its like my kids on the train. We shared very tight quarters for 64 hours. Let me tell you, it was a mad dash to the carriage and truly a lesson in survival of the fittest as the kids made claim to "their spot". Once you got to your spot you had earned it. Now it was a long process of keeping it as yours. "Stop touching my bed!" I must have heard 100 times. "NO! That's MY spot...you can't eat there" and "Mom, he keeps putting his foot on my space."

At some maddening point in the wee hours of the morning I remember saying, "STOP it! None of you have any right to any spots! This is the TRAIN and the TRAIN owns all the spots on it and YOUR just renting a small space! If you all would just share your space you'd have a lot more fun!"

And those words echoed back to me as I sat at the border.

Now I know that there are a lot of folks who would have a lot of grand reasons why all that I'm saying is just complete nonsense. I understand. I used to have one country too.

Its different now.
I see it so different.

We don't own it. We like to act like we do though.
We throw terrible fits as nations war against nations. We make people pay huge sums of money to just cross over that strip of land that divides us. We remind foreigners that "they are on our spot". We lay claim to what we have and develop a deep sense of pride and nationalism, but then soon something seems to go terribly wrong. The line that divides us gets deeper. The bickering turns violent. People die.

How does it all look to our Creator?

I spent time in China this week. I came back home to Mongolia. My real "home" is in a tiny town in Midwest USA. What I've come to see is that we are all just people.

We are all just living. Most of us just want to eat, have enough to provide for our families, love and sleep. We just want to be free to make decisions and to do the best we can.

Most of us in this world would be happy to live borderless.

I see it in the kind eyes of the Chinese people. The way that one woman helped me onto the busy bus and gave up her seat for our daughter. I see it in the warm hugs of the Mongolian friends who picked us up from the train station today in the middle of a snow storm and they said,
"Welcome Home Tvrdiks!"

It didn't matter to them that my skin was white, my eyes were small and blue,and my passport said United States Citizen.
I was home.

So back to the border police.

The red stamp said I was welcome, welcome to stay in China for 14 days. The blue stamp in my passport said I was welcome, welcome to stay in Mongolia until January 2012. The gold letters on the front of my passport says I am welcome, welcome to stay in the United States of America until I die, and than I can be buried there.

To me, its all so strange. Like we are playing a very big game of house, in a very big house. All the time we don't even seem to acknowledge that Dad is home. Dad is the owner of the house and really...were just playing.

I know I'm not the first one to imagine this...
Life without borders..

Summer 2011

2011-04-03T02:08:00.001-07:00

When She Becomes Unlovable

2011-04-02T03:39:00.000-07:00

We all have our threshold of faith ~ all of us.
The place where the collection of our beliefs, understandings and hopes accumulate together. Like a room flooding with water, they hit the ceiling and there is room for no more.
Imagine the depths of the universe, unfathomable. The water was meant to reach to these defying heights.
Then there is our flooded house, the water resting at the peak of those 12 foot ceilings. The threshold met.

This is where I found my faith resting, regarding the Love of God.

A woman we have helped had truly messed up.
Wait..
Messed up is just way to polite for this situation.

This woman had turned from her faith, disregarded all we had done to reach out to her. She had returned to her addiction to Vodka. It had taken a firm hold on her, causing her to make all sorts of insane decisions. She began to beat her son, just a little boy of 7 years old. His bruises would scream out at me. Oh the struggle.
She sold the things her family needed, like clothing, blankets and warm cover for her ger. In the end of it all she abandoned her own children, little babies, cold and hungry. She became a liar, a mocker and a raging maniac at times.
One of the kindest things she did was to finally leave her little ones to someone else to care for. The look of questions, and hurt on her little girls faces, I will never forget.

I thought I would never see her again, or at least not for a very long time.

Today she surprised me, showing up for Bible study.
She sat across from me with blood shot eyes.
I judged.

"Why is she here?"

"What does she think we will give her?"

"I won't listen to any of her lies...never again."

"liar"

"thief"

"child abuser"

"who does she take me for anyway?"

And then God asked me,

"When does she become unlovable?"

Even as He spoke the word into my heart, I wanted to push them away.
"No.."
"No"
"I am full. I don't have room for even one more drop of faith here in this situation. This is where I top out."

"Ask me for more" he said

"If you believe that woman sitting in front of you is unlovable and to disgusting for my love, than you do not know MY mercy for you."

I could see Him drawing a line in the sand.
My own hands full of rocks.
I wanted to throw those rocks. Somehow, it would make me feel better.
Ignorance.

Faith is a gift.
If I asked for more, I would not ever be the same.
The house would burst the ceiling right into the second floor. The water would fill until it hit the roof and then shoot right out the top, up, out and beyond those clouds.

Was I ready for that kind of faith?
Do I want that kind of faith?

It transforms, transcends, mixes everything up and erases ignorance.

Of course, of course ... Yes Lord, I do. I can only imagine that kind of faith, but I do so desperately want it.

I desperately want the kind of faith that goes on and on.... until she becomes unlovable.

Because, she won't. She won't ever become unlovable, and neither will I.

Thank you Jesus.

The rocks fall out of my hands.
Her eyes are full of pain.
When ignorance is chased away by mercy I can ask questions.
Questions that take the monster away from the woman in front of me, and she looks more like a woman, a woman like me.

Peeling Potatoes

2011-03-26T23:55:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago I was driving home with a car load of friends. We had plenty of time to strike up conversation since traffic in UB is almost always at a stand still.

One man was just coming off his long shift as a professional chef. He works for a very nice restaurant in the city.

"I began 7 years ago, as the potato peeler." He said.
"That's all I did, peel, peel, and more peeling" he chuckled as he remembered it.

Now, he is the top chef in the place and he has even appeared on television, showcasing his cooking expertise.

Imagining all the responsibility his life holds now, I asked him, "Do you ever miss peeling potatoes?"

There was a pause...and then,
"Yes, as a matter of a fact I do. I miss it a lot sometimes, especially on the busy and difficult days. Back then, I had one job to do and nothing else to think of."

You probably know where I'm going with this by now.

I looked out at the bustling city around me, knowing that I was headed out of it and into the ger district where I now call home. I wanted to cry. I knew what he meant. Sometimes I miss it a lot, the "normal life" where the routine was as predictable as the sun coming up each day. I vaguely remember it, soccer games, barbeque's, Friday pay checks, playing in the pool with the kids, school board meetings, coffee breaks with the ladies.

"But I wouldn't go back." he said from the back seat,
"I love my work. I never thought I would do this kind of work, you know, I used to be a concrete mixer!"

I was glad it was dark in the car so no one would see the tears coming.

"You just never know what you can do until you try" he said
"You just never know."

What makes it worth it?

2011-03-17T18:56:00.000-07:00

I'm asking God how it came to this.
   Once I had a heart full of dreams for her.
She was our first family.
   I could never forget the day we met, even if I wanted to.
It was a cold, bitter
January day.
   Hunger was there in her home.
   Death and Defeat, also dwelled with her.
But among those dark guests, were three beautiful little babies.
Unaware of their fate, or the hopelessness of their present, they lay bundled up, side by side in their tiny little bed.

I saw Christ Jesus in her agonized yes.
It was there that I learned how to serve with respect, rather than pity. For how could we pity our Lord?
   And then, as if the dark curtain was drawn open, the light began to pour into this woman's life.
Hope, precious as life itself, appeared and changed everything. Soon, there were no signs of death or defeat any longer, for no longer welcome, they had taken residence elsewhere.
   She was overcoming.
   God was providing.
After the summer and the fall came a peaceful new winter.
   It was cold, but they had the warmth of a fire.
   Many were hungry, but they had food.
   People were lost, but they had found the love of God.
Another summer, another fall came and went.
Tiny, helpless babies became funny, giggling toddlers.
   Life was in full bloom.

Then it happened.
The choice was made.
History's clock repeats.
Like a skipped record, breaking up the beautiful song, ending it.
   She has her reasons. Deep, terrible reasons I'm sure.
The empty vodka bottle laughs at me from under her bed.
The curtain draws closed again.
The light is squeezed out.
   "I don't want them anymore" she says with coldness in her eyes.
"I can't do it."
   "You gave me too much.." blaming me.
"I just got lazy."
Does she understand what she is saying? Do I?
"I'm giving them away."
Her little ones stare at us from the corner of the room.
Its a silent room, aching.

Today I drive them to meet with social workers, to the doctor for medical tests, to the photo lab for i.d. pictures, all things needed for their paper work.
   Flash
"Smile little ones"
But there is nothing to smile about.
Soon they will go to their new homes.
Foster homes, shelters.
The idea of a family simply slips through their hands like sand.

She looks so happy.
   Relieved
   Sober, for the first time in awhile.
Her burden is almost gone.
   Its all a lie.
Her burden will find her,
when she tips the bottle to pour our the liquid that washes all her thoughts away.
She doesn't see that the light of these little ones was the only thing keeping the vodka from swallowing her whole.
   And I watch them through my rear view mirror.
She takes each step methodically.
Each appointment checked off her list.
Taking care of business,
   so she can be free.
I ask myself
   how
How did it come to this?
What part did I play?
What unhealed area do I hold separate so that I don't have to face it?
Do I think I'm better than her?
Sometimes, yes, I do.
I don't mean to, but I do.

Troy tells me,
   "The story is not over"
"keep hoping"
"keep praying."
But that's a choice isn't it?
Will I be the only one still hoping?
Does that make me a fool?

I am selfish, short sighted.
I treat my life as if it was so much more important...as if I'm weighing the ministry on some sort of scale that determines if my sacrifice was worth it.

What is a sacrifice?
What makes it worth it?

Then I see their little eyes peeping out from over their winter scarves, saying,
"Your not the only one...
   hope...
   hope...
   hope on..."

Ready When You Are

2011-03-12T19:16:00.000-08:00

I don't understand always how it got there.

It was such a long, cruel winter...and...

He looks at me lovingly, without judgment, but with certainty we both know it has to go.

Some call it a "Severe Mercy"

One...drop...at...a...time.
Slowly,
He melts away the cold, bitter effects of choices made, hurts accumulated, fears allowed.
Sometimes we hear it melt off.

drip
drip
drip
Often we cry out,

"God why is this taking so long?"

Sometimes we are completely unaware that its even happening. We may only notice because someone else does.
"Your different", they may say with a look of knowing you from before.
At those moments, looking at ourselves from their eyes we can see that yes we have changed, indeed the ice is a little less cold to the touch, the thaw is in process.
We're encouraged.
And then there are those moments when time stands still.
Huge chunks fall and come crashing down around us.
Everyone sees, everyone notices.

At those times we cry out,

"God why are you going so fast? Slow down, this hurts."

But when its over, we can see someone new standing in front of the mirror.
Someone we are not familiar with completely, but we are happy to get to know.

I'm comforted knowing He is always working.
I'm comforted realizing its not too hard for Him to chip away at my own ice.

Are you afraid?
Do you think you can't even imagine what is left under all those years of bitter, cold, rock?

He stands ready, ready when you are.

And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.

~ Ezekiel 36:26

gadgets, widgets, ad ons and passion

2011-03-05T02:07:00.000-08:00

Watching the two men across from me brought back the memory of stories I had been told as a child.

I remember mom reading to us about "closed" countries where it was illegal to read a Bible. Families sharing one page of the Bible and sending it from house to house.

Here in Mongolia, its not illegal to read the Bible, not anymore. Its just difficult to buy one if you are the average Mongolian family. Sometimes, there are long periods of time where the Bible is not being printed and its hard to find one even if you had the money. To those who do have a Bible, and an understanding of what the words mean, its a precious thing to own.

I understand that some of you who will read this, don't believe in the Bible as anything other than just another religious book, please follow along anyway.

The two men were in our study group. One of them owned a Bible, the other did not. So there they sat, shoulder to shoulder reading together. There was something powerful about the two of them reading this passage. Ingrained in my heart will be the picture of the of them nodding in understanding and helping one another pronounce the words correctly when they made a mistake.
I was challenged by this image.

It made me consider the idea of resources. I've heard it said, and even said it myself, that "you can never have enough good resources when it it comes to the study of the word of God." Hmmm... I wonder. I wonder if I was wrong.

In this country, the resources, although growing, still pale in comparison to what is available to those who speak English. Most families in the ger district do not own a computer. However, they can see some of the Televangelist from the USA broadcast on their T.V. screens, translated from English to Mongolian. I wonder how it looks to them...the USA version of Christianity?

I can only hope that they have the desire to read the original version for themselves.

I'm sorry if I sound harsh. I just know now, things that I didn't know before. When I would have woman's groups here in the past, I would work out of one of my Bible study books from the States. More often than not I would end up skipping entire sections because culturally it just did not apply.

For example:
Subjects like overeating, letting your spouse pick your next vacation spot, or creating a "just for me" space in your home to give you a more focused mind to study the Bible", are just not going to have a lot of relevance to the average person living here. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that it would create a complete disconnect.

So where am I going with this?

The resources that most Mongolians have to study the world of God, is just exactly that, the word of God. Now, at one time in my life, I would have worried about that. I'm not too worried anymore.

Let me quote an advertisement I read online today,

" A virtual library at your fingertips packed with features that can help you develop a deeper understanding of God’s Word. It includes fifteen free Bible translations,. Also provided are commentaries, Bible dictionaries.....As if that is not enough, you may also download a Pocket PC version and a screen saver program."

15 free Bible translations. That's 15 different English translations.

Yet, with all these resources I wonder how many people long for what the spirit of God is seeking to say to them?

The way the advertisement makes it sound, we really have to spice it up to make it interesting, relevant, current.

I'm telling you, that from what I witnessed last week, it is very relevant and able to speak in power in just its plain and simplest form.

I'm not against technology. I'm writing this from my much loved Mac, using Internet and my online thesaurus (which is also my best friend). I use the Internet to look up verses, listen to the weekly messages from my home church and cross reference those 15 versions of the Bible. So please don't get the wrong message here.

The message I'm trying to share is that something is wrong when we have more resources and yet very few really engrossed in and living out Gods words.

There was just something so right about those two men shoulder to shoulder sharing Gods word together. I think the rightness is that they needed each other to get the job done. I believe God likes it that way. When we are working together, learning from one another, sharing what we have.

Many times I have questions about the Bible. The temptation to "google it" is always there, but its so nice to sit next to Troy and pick his brain. To hear his experiences and learn from them.

I remember my dad loved to pull down his prized commentary on the Bible and read it to me when I had a question. I learned a lot that way, but what I loved most was when Dad told me how it applied to HIS life. Not what some theologian thought of the choice of Greek wording. Dads experiences in applying the word of God to his life, gave me a picture I could paint myself into.

After the study was over, the man with a Bible asked if he could xerox a copy of the 4 chapters we had covered, so that the one without a Bible could take it home, show his family and study it some more.

I think about our water situation. Not having running water, water is always an issue!
When our three water containers are full I feel peaceful. I leave the dishes piled up to wait for tomorrow, I skip out on washing my clothes for the day. However, when the water containers are running low, I suddenly feel the need to clean everything. Looking at the dishes stacked make me upset...all I want to do is wash them. I'm thirstier than usual, the kids want to take a bath...it all happens when the waters low.
So I wonder... Is it the same thing?

Do the resources create a sense of complacency?
Do the lack of them cause a respect and appreciation that wouldn't otherwise exist?

I'm not an authority on anything. Just living and seeing what I see in my little part of the world.
I pray for a passion to ignite within. For those of you who have every available gadget, widget and ad on...I pray for a burning desire to use them. For those of you who view Gods word as an outdated book of ideology I pray you would just pick it up and ask for God to give you a glimpse of what it is He is trying to say to YOU.

And to my friends in other parts of the world who have only one translation, and limited access to it...bless you. To those who pass the page from family to family, I am in awe of your devotion. May I desire the words of God as you do.

CCWM Banquet Video

2011-02-27T02:53:00.000-08:00

Fighting Like a Man

2011-02-10T17:17:00.000-08:00

We have been through some highs and lows here in Mongolia. Well, for that matter, here in this thing called life.

For nearly 19 years, Troy and I have walked this together. Coming to Mongolia was by far the most adventurous, crazy and challenging part of our journey so far.

The beautiful part of it all is watching each other grow.

This week has been a tough one.

Kinda feels like one heart break after another.

It started last week. Someone we love very much was beaten up badly. He was so hurt, swollen and sad. Its hard to explain what that's like, seeing a friend has been beaten like that. It made our heart break. He was beaten because he stood up for a friend. The friend was smaller, and some guys wanted his money. Seven on two is pretty hopeless. Sometimes the amount of anger and violence in this place is so hard to understand. People seem ready to explode at any moment, holding so much inside until finally....it comes out on someone.

Shortly after that I went through a strange few days where I started to wonder how am I really living like this. How can I stand not having an indoor toilet and running water? Why am I making my life so terribly difficult. I noticed the ugly floors in our house, and the old worn out particle board cabinet that serves as a hutch for us. Everything was so bleak, so ugly, so pathetic. I said as much to Troy. He just put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

That night, on our way home, we stopped at the store to buy some bread, and soda. I waited in the car. As Troy walked out of the store three young boys came at him grabbing all side of him, pulling on him begging him for money. I watched Troy talk to them. Instead of trying to shoo them off he put his big strong arms around them. He stood outside for about 10 minutes in conversation. They just wanted his money. Eventually he told them he had to go home. When he got inside the car, they were pounding on the windows, climbing up the back of the jeep, yelling, "GIVE US YOUR MONEY". He silently drove away.

At home we spoke of it together. He was so sad. How can we help them all? What does God want us to do? They are just boys. They have become so aggressive...

The next evening, we received the bad news that a family we have worked so hard to help, has rejected everything and chosen the bottle of vodka over freedom. It was a tough blow. The second of its kind, in just two months since we've been home. Now three little children, would suffer..children we had come to know and love...and our hands are tied.

Then, news of a change over at the state orphanage. All the time invested in relationship with the director was washed away in one day. The old director was fired and a new government appointed director was put in his place. We were all looking at Troy..."What will we do now?" "What will happen to the kids?" "What about camp?...what if the new director won't allow us to work with the children?"

At dinner, we all talked about the past few days. The troubles and the heart breaks. We had a guest over who told the kids about how he used to fight a lot in his younger days. He told them that he looked for every opportunity to fight. He told us how that was just the way it was in Mongolia. Young men fight. We listened to him talk about his many adventures and how he won some and lost others....but always fought.

We went to sleep with heavy hearts...the last thought on my mind was, "God? where is your victory? It seems evil always prevails..."

Long after I had fallen asleep defeated, in the wee hours of morning, I noticed Troy was not in bed. I found my slippers in the dark room, and tiptoed out into the cold living room thinking he must have a lot on his mind...maybe he needs to talk.

I found him fighting.

In our living room, on his knees.

I stood in the dark doorway and watched for a minute.

The burdens of the week were intense for Troy. From every corner, he was bombarded.

I thought back to earlier in the week when I said, "This place is so ugly, why are we living here like this?" Even I, his best friend, had turned on him. Of course I knew why we were living here. Of course I knew the needs around us were so much greater than I ever imagined. Of course I knew that the price of a new floor was equal to helping another 5 families. I knew it all, and yet for a moment there I was overcome with self. Troy was so kind, so loving, he chose not to say that at the moment. He probably thought of how he could get me a new floor...because that's who he is.

I had watched him this week, while investors came to him offering money to fund families, and projects if Troy could come up with just the right plan. I watched him counsel new Christians, try to talk sense into a young and desperate mother who was abandoning her children, send many emails planning for summer volunteers, organize tours for rich folks who wanted to see Mongolia, take little hands off his coat as they begged for money from his pockets, organize a school for the community center, read a story to Elly about how apples are picked and cleaned in the orchards in Washington, teach algebra to Trevor and Sarah (without swearing) and look into the eyes of our team members to reassure them that NOTHING takes God by surprise and we are going to all be ok....

Now, carrying all the burdens of this life, he had come to fight for all of us.

He came to the place where he could find victory. He came on his knees, not as a weak, broken and overwhelmed man...but rather he was fighting like real man...and I got to see it.

It brought me such comfort.

For me, it was as if, all the burdens of the week fell away.

I felt safe. I felt peace. I felt loved.

I felt as if nothing else mattered in this world.

My man was fighting for us, and we were gonna be just fine.

I went back to our bed, but unable to sleep I decided to fight also.

I decided that I had spent a lot of time lamenting, and little time interceding.

I began to ask God to give me the heart to pray. I asked Gods forgiveness for my selfish heart.

I promised to love my life as it is from this day on.

In a world of hurting, hungry, empty people, I begged God to make His name glorified in our family.

I asked the Lord to help us now. To show us how to walk through all of this.

My fighting time was small, for I am weak, and I soon fell back asleep.

I am thankful for my husband, my leader.

To some woman, to call him my leader may sound strange. I really don't care. That's exactly what he is. He is by no means perfect. He sees my many flaws and imperfections and yet chooses to not tell me about them. He loves me for who I am right now, today...not some image of what I could be like if I let God really change me.

That's how I want to love him back.

He is both tender and fierce.

He carries many burdens, but takes them right to the Lord.

Many people here look for his guidance, but he always points them back to God.

He doesn't insist on being understood.

He just does what is right.

He is stronger than most men I know.

Sure he hurts, sure he struggles and for sure he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders, and yet he always takes his pain to the cross.

He's a good fighter.

⁶ Therefore let all the faithful pray to you
while you may be found;
surely the rising of the mighty waters
will not reach them.

psalm 32:6

A Love Affair

2011-02-02T21:23:00.000-08:00

I'm having a love affair with Mongolia today.

Seems that I spend a whole lot of time in my mind, missing home, the familiar. I even spend time begrudging the differences in our cultures, the food, the cold....you get the picture.

Today is different.

Today I am seeing so much beauty here that in a strange way I believe that I have begun to split my heart in two. The fog is lifted a bit, and I can see both worlds a little clearer. Some may call it a love affair, enjoying the taste of the other side, but I think of it more as a broadening. My life is slowly becoming borderless.

Today is a MAJOR holiday in Mongolia. I mean HUGE. Everything stops. The stores shut down, the bakery quits making bread(which is why I have four loaves in the freezer), the men selling coal on the road side go home, the water station closes down and the whole country takes a deep breath. Its called Tsagan Tsar or to those who have no formal Mongolian language lessons (hee hee hee) its White Moon.

It is also what is considered the first day of spring here.

Its 11 degrees.

Last year when they told me it was spring now...I just laughed (probably even rolled my eyes, knowing that REAL spring doesn't actually happen until May in Mongolia)

This year though, I felt it. I really did feel it.

I think that says something.

It started last night. Our neighbor came over around 5:00 and brought us a bag of frozen sheep dumplings and a pot of Mongolian potato salad.

The sentiment behind it was, this is the eve of the big holiday and tonight is the night that everyone eats buuz (the dumplings). They wanted to make certain that we had them too. I was so pleased to have them and to be a part of this with our neighborhood. So here I was, getting lessons on how to steam them correctly (and trust me there is a rhyme and a reason to the whole thing). I can't began to share the satisfaction I had, steaming those dumplings in my own kitchen, knowing that if I could pan up and view the whole neighborhood, I was one among many woman standing over the stove tonight, preparing for my family to enter the new year with full bellies.

It just felt right.

Tradition is, that most of the men in Mongolia climb the mountain early this morning. IF they make it to the top, they will have special fortune all year. Sukhee, the young man who lives with us, told us how all the men climb chanting to the god of the mountain asking for this fortune to be theirs.

When I woke up this morning, I imagined it. Thinking of the great effort those men will make in hopes for a better year, a new life, something different than hunger and frustration.

I sat on my comfy couch and prayed.

Sukhee came out early and his face was full of life. (Sukhee is not always an early riser, so I knew this was a very important day for him) I watched him go about getting ready for the day, even ironing his shirt, and it made my heart sing. It made

me laugh when he asked Troy for hair gel....TROY! A few times I even teared up. The day would be filled with family visits, lots of eating and lots of tradition. Tradition can be a very lovely thing.

Later in the morning (too late for Sukhee who was getting very excited to begin) we made our way to our first families home. They are an older couple from the country side. Last year they lost almost all their animals in the winter disaster. This year, they live in the ger district of Ulaan Bataar.

In their ger, (a Mongolian traditional home) we greeted each family member.

Starting with the youngest of us (Elly), to the oldest man in the home. She greeted him in Mongolian and he came near her sniffing each side of her face gently. This is one of the most endearing of Mongolian tradition to me. To sniff someone. Just think about it. Is there anything so intimate that we do with strangers? Nahh...that's to weird for us huh. What if they smell bad..or have something...

Than we were treated to food that at one time I thought frightening, but now find familiar and even good. Not good in the way that a drive through at taco bell is good ( you can tell I'm a so called starving missionary) but good in the way of traditional, thoughtful, time consuming and perfect. Honestly, two years into this, it was pretty nice to the taste buds too.

Our first Tsagan Tsar, two years ago, we learned that we had to eat whatever was offered so we wouldn't offend. One of the main drinks here during Tsagan Tsar is Vodka. This year was different though. The president of Mongolia began a new tradition on New Years Eve. He toasted his country with a big glass of milk. He made a speech about how tired he was of what Vodka does to the people of Mongolia and that he would be drinking milk from now on.

Talk about turning the ship around...

It made me think about how when we come to a new place we are told to (comply) with tradition for tradition sake. Its not the case. Some tradition is just not good. The president made the giant leap....and it was a good one.

Today Troy was handed a bowl of milk and after he took a sip he passed it to me, and I to the children. I took note of the change. It really touched me.

We ate, and ate and ATE! It was an unstoppable feast. Trevor ate 30 buuz. I think he will pay for that later. I felt so strange eating the food, knowing the don't have a lot. I know it is tradition and the more you eat the happier they feel.

There is a saying here that describes the heart of the day, and also the rest of the year.

"All year we eat to stay alive, not to be full, but TODAY we eat to be FULL."

Thus the huge celebration.

Its a day for families to come together and pay respect to the elders. Its a day for sharing what you have and for celebrating that you made it through the long, long winter that began way back in September.

I won't go on and on about all the little nuances of the day. There were many beautiful moments.

On the drive home I watched families walk together in groups, all dressed in their traditional Mongolian clothing. Everyone had a smile, no one was drunk or freezing and no one was hungry.

As the jeep made in over the bumps and rough road that leads back home, I looked out the window and soaked it all in and than it just came up from my heart and out of my mouth,

" It feels like spring", and everyone in the car agreed, because it did.

One Family At A Time ~ Hope

2011-01-12T18:15:00.001-08:00

One Family At A Time ~ Hope

2011-01-12T18:15:00.000-08:00

Being ineffective : by Troy

2010-12-28T05:11:00.000-08:00

As a missionary I constantly hear things about sustainability, effectiveness, and exit strategies.

It is hard not to be sucked into such thinking. The problem is that it takes the faces right off the people I am here to help.

Today I was approached by a lady whose big sister is in the hospital. She needed help paying for some medication for her. Ok, that doesn't sound so bad. The problem is I know the history. Her sister had made a LOT of bad choices in her life and now the doctors say she has one week left to live. I should still have compassion, right? But, I know the doctors have been saying that for a while now. The flesh side of me says 'If she is going to die anyway why should I give money for medication? I have never met her and I don't even know her name. Is this the best use of the money that people have donated? Probably not.'

But in my heart I knew better.

In today's world Jesus may say it something like this, "For I was hungry, while you had all you needed. I was thirsty, but you drank bottled water. I was a stranger, and you wanted me deported. I needed clothes, but you needed more clothes. I was sick, and you pointed out the behaviors that led to my sickness. I was in prison, and you said I was getting what I deserved."1

What would I do if it were my big sister? There would not even be any hesitation! What if it were your big sister? So I gave her the money.

Large needs often lead to a feeling of callousness. What can I do to help? It is my prayer that everyday God breaks my heart for my brothers and sisters all around me.

I am amazed at all the people that give to organizations that help the poor. Let's all keep faces on the numbers that we hear! They are not numbers! I know because I met her sister today. My other prayer is that I will always be 'ineffective' and catch the people that fall between the cracks of the ones who find sliding growth charts a good thing! Success of what I am doing here is not measured that way. It is measured by whether or not I am doing everyday what God has asked me to do that day.

1 Richard Stearns

2010-12-19T06:15:00.001-08:00

The idea came a few weeks before we were to return to Mongolia.

"Were going to throw ourselves a welcome home party." Troy told me.

"Except, the guest list will be a little unusual..."

God had put the vision in his heart. It was time to take it to the next level with our group of new believers. Time to teach them about living the gospel above talking it.

I became intrigued as Troy described the future scene to me. The beggars, homeless, prostitutes, rejected, neglected and abused, ANYONE that we or our new believers have ever looked down upon, would be invited to a feast at the community center. There would be food, games, dancing and most importantly, gifts! Our new believers, along with ourselves, would be the servers, cooks and entertainment crew.

I'll admit I gave a little chuckle at the thought of it.

Its very counter cultural.

The poor, are rejected for a reason. In a highly Buddhist culture, you sleep in the bed you made...its the only way to get out of poverty and return to a normal existence in your next life.

Lower than the poor, are the street people, the garbage pickers, the uneducated nobodies...and there are a lot of them. These are the ones who really messed up. The ones who have never really had a chance, the ones who drown in alcohol, live hopelessly, and find themselves at the bottom of the bottom. Even the poor despise them.

I wondered how we would convince our group to throw a party like this....

Last Sunday was our first meeting since our return. Troy opened by reading James 2:1-13. Its some powerful reading if you care to take a peek.

³ If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” ⁴ have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?

This was a really new concept...you could see them looking a little uncomfortable.

Next Troy read Mathew 22 another interesting read..

⁹ Now go out to the street corners and invite everyone you see.’ ¹⁰ So the servants brought in everyone they could find, good and bad alike, and the banquet hall was filled with guests.

This is when Troy shared his idea. I wish I could explain how flat it came out. The room was utterly silent. I just prayed.

"Troy, why do you want us to do this?"

"Its going to be really weird."

"What will it look like when we are asking these people? They will wonder what we are up to!"

These are just some of the comments that followed.

In spite of a lot of hesitation, they decided to try it. By the end of the meeting we were planning food, games and entertainment. We closed with a prayer asking God to lead us in who to invite.

He did.

Today was the party.

I have never been so full of joy as I am tonight. I am amazed at our group of believers. I am humbled by their dedication and love. Each of them have their own story of who God called them to invite, and why. It was a struggle for every one of us, myself included.

I was asked to invite a mother and daughter that I have disliked my entire time in Mongolia. They are responsible for things that make me angry, make me judge them and look down on them. Not only did God ask me to have them as my special guests, but to buy a bottle of perfume, the perfume I have wanted for quite some time, but never had the nerve to buy for myself, and give it as my gift to them.

I had no doubt why God was asking me to invite them. I prayed for grace to obey.

He gave me the grace, and beyond that He gave me a joy in it.

Each of us grew excited as our invited guests arrived.

When I saw my guests I felt like leaping out of my seat!

We sat them down, treated them like kings and queens, with honor and respect. It was AWESOME!

I made a small goal for myself, and my guest. I longed to make her laugh.

It happened 4 times!

In the end, Troy and Elly brought in bags of gifts to pass out. Some of the guest cried as we handed them their gifts.

The party lasted almost 5 hours! Our believers had prepared songs, dances and poetry for their guests. It was contagious because soon the guests were returning the gesture with songs, and poems of their own.

The room was full of laughter, and joy. I'm sure in the spiritual realm the enemy was taking a good licking. I couldn't stop thanking God for the victory as I saw our group coming alive in Christ. They were running, cooking, entertaining, smiling bigger than I've ever seen them smile!

When all the guest left we sat and talked as a group. All of them got it.

They were so at peace.

They shared stories of who they invited, why they invited them, and the personal healing that was already taking place because of the day's events.

"Can we do this next year?" was the response of the day.

They had completed the task. Troy and Tuvsho had instructed them that they were to live out their faith today. Not in word, but in action. When the day was done they were ready to keep on going!

"And that's the point.." Troy said..."to keep it going, to live the way Jesus did...because he LIVES in YOU."

As one of the guest left they said, "We expected to come to this 'party' and be preached to about Jesus. We knew you were Christians and we thought that was your motive. Instead you are talking, singing, feeding us and even giving us gifts. We are really shocked."

When Troy heard of this comment he said, "We did not want to talk about Jesus today, we wanted to SHOW them who HE IS."

If only every day, we could experience the gospel as raw as we did this day. I pray for it.

It takes the words off the pages and sticks them right into your soul...where they should be.

2010-12-05T00:01:00.000-08:00

See you on the other side

2010-12-04T23:40:00.000-08:00

Letting go is so hard.

I'm sitting at mom and dads kitchen table, looking around at their home. It was a nice place to grow up, and a nice place to come back to.

Its late, the night before we leave the USA.

I'm wrestling with it.

I guess, I want to share it with you. To let you know the truth.

Its not always easy to obey.

Sometimes its a real fight.

I know, on the other side of this, is my other home. I know I will return there and I will be consumed in the work, the ministry, the joy of it all.

In spite of the knowing, there is a great pain.

Its that pain that I'm walking in tonight. The idea dances around in my head, the "what if's," the "remember when's" and the "God, how come?"

I hope by sharing this, that it helps to reveal the beauty of obedience. I am just a woman, walking in the way that Jesus has shown me. That walk, although so very fulfilling and amazing, is also, on nights like tonight, very painful.

I know its the same for you also. The path that leads you to Him, sometimes comes with a sacrifice, a lowering, a letting go.

I pray that you also will be a strong pilgrim. I pray that the weakness I endure for tonight will inspire you to endure yours also. I pray for the joy that will come for us in the morning. I'm holding strong to the promises.

See you on the other side of the world,

Goodnight for now.

Shari

Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

Psalm 30:5

My roots go deeper

2010-11-15T22:19:00.000-08:00

This weekend I learned the old lessons. I tasted the cup of yesterday. I revisited my roots, right down to the bottom, the start, where they first tasted the water of life.

Such strong emotions surrounded this weekend that I often found myself swallowed up in the tenderness of it.

Even now, on my flight home, I feel the pull of the yesterday, as though it has now found me today…and it begs to never be ignored again.

Troy and I had the privilege of spending the weekend with our Pastor, from our youth. The moment we saw him at the Tampa airport, my heart began to sing inside of me. It was a quiet melody reminding me of things long forgotten. Yet, being near our first shepherd in the faith, the remembrance of those early days in Christ, tasted like a meal you have craved for ages.

I felt the Lord reminding me, daughter, your roots go deeper.

We ate lunch together and laughed at the silly stories of the past, but than as we shared our journey with him, our hearts began to thank him for all that Jesus has done with the seeds that he planted in our young spirits. I began to realize that all those years ago, our Savior was calling us, and using this precious man in front of us to speak words of wisdom and faith. It was in His leadership that we learned of Gods love, grace, mercy and judgment. We learned how to share our faith and how to stand. This is where it all began.

As we shared the weekend, catching up on the story of the last 19 years, I felt the great love of God all around us. Looking at this man of faith I thought of all the days of prayer he must have had for all of us in his youth group, all the frustrations and the ups and downs. I prayed for Gods hand to remain strong on him and I sincerely shared my heart when I wrote to him saying,

Those seeds planted so long ago, have grown. The fruit is being carried all over the world, even to the ends of the earth. Your hard labor for us was not in vain.

I am not the same after going back. I think that’s the way it is supposed to be. I am walking now with the old truths so close to my heart. Learning from the past that Jesus never lets go….never.

And when I come to you again, you will have even more reason to take pride in Christ Jesus because of what HE is doing through me!

Philippians 1:26

for tomorow, there is work to do

2010-10-09T05:27:00.000-07:00

This morning, I am reminded why I should return to Mongolia.

As I walked the old country lane, watching the Sun come up in my homeland, I began for the first time in 2 years to feel really sorry for myself.

I felt sorry for my family, mom and dad and for Troys family. Seeing the families together again, reminded me of all we have lost, and all that will be lost.

I felt sorry for my children. They have played like I've never seen them play in the past 3 weeks since we have been home. They are so happy! They are eating until their little hearts are content and than eating more! They are with their best friends, their cousins, and life seems so right.

I began to apologize to God, for my feelings, but he interrupted me.

"Don't apologize to me for your feelings daughter, just tell me how you feel...I can handle it." I felt Him speak to my heart.

So I told Him.

Like many daughters world wide, speaking to her Dad, I just cried and cried as I unloaded all this sorrow and sadness over what has been lost and what will be lost because we have been called to Mongolia.

He listened.

I wondered, why now? Why do I feel the sadness now? Honestly, I have spent the last 2 years never feeling as though I was suffering, or losing anything. I have lived my life with such a joy.

God showed me again, that I had the grace to live in Mongolia for the last two years because I needed it. Today, in this beautiful country, near my friends and family I do not need that grace...so this is why I feel the sorrow.

I began to realize what a miracle God had done for us while we were there. How all that time we had escaped the kind of deep sorrow that comes when you are desperately lonely, and life is difficult. Of course we spent many times missing home, and some of us cried almost every day while we were away from missing loved ones...but none of us felt despair. We all lived and lived well. It was well with our soul.

However, this morning I felt it, full force.

I also felt the love of God in such a strong way as I walked and cried.

After awhile, He reminded me..."You belong to me." I knew what He was saying. I am not my own. This is not my life, its His.

He reassured me that I will receive the grace to be in Mongolia, when I get back on that plane for Mongolia! I do not need it today.

Then as the tears dried I looked up and saw the fields around me. Like a giant wall they lined the pathway back to my house. However, its Harvest time now...and the farmers were out last night gathering in the first rows of corn. All around the field one giant row was missing.

The sound of the combines from last night were long gone, it was a still quiet morning.

God reminded me of the harvest. That first row. I thought of names from back home. One by one the names came to mind and their sweet faces. I thought of the children fed, and warm. I thought of the Bible studies and the camps. I thought of the orphans and the widows, who are my dear friends.

And then I looked at the rest of the field. The farmers will be busy now for the next few weeks. They will be out there kicking up dust and burning both ends of the candle until that harvest is completely brought in.

For now, they are snug and warm in their beds, resting up from last nights work.

Like us....

The fields are ripe unto harvest....John 4:35

I made a decision to enjoy this time of rest. To love my family and friends and hold and kiss them while I can...to be thankful today, for tomorrow...there is work to do.

You belong to Christ and Christ belongs to God

1Corinthians 3:23

The Funnel talk

2010-09-01T01:36:00.000-07:00

We spent the morning talking about the funnel.

Sounds like a funny thing to talk about but it was of utmost importance to our little family.

Hope I peaked your interest!

The funnel is just a word picture for big change. Big change, like the kind we had when we moved our little suburban family to MONGOLIA!

That was almost 2 years ago.

We talked about all the things in our old life, our funnel, things like FRIENDS, FAMILY, HARVEST CHAPEL (our home church), AWESOME HOME, SOMONAUK SCHOOLS, running water, flushing toilets, MCDONALDS, and soooo much more!

I reminded the kids that when we came to Mongolia, all those things we loved so much, had to stay behind. Only our family could fit through the little part of the funnel...the skinny tube end, that takes what was to what is.

We talked about those lonely days. The culture shock. We laughed a lot at our kitchen table this morning as we reminded ourselves and each other of some of the utterly hilarious things that we did and experienced in our first months here.

And yet...by the grace of God, we adjusted to this new world. We even got comfortable. We call our new place "home" now.

Then I shared with them, that soon, in just a few weeks time we are going back through that funnel. I tried to explain to them that all the new stuff we have experienced here...FRIENDS, NEW LANGUAGE, CULTURE, PIT TOILETS, LIVING WITHOUT ALL THE EXTRAS, POVERTY, SORROW, JOY OF MINISTRY, ADVENTURE, and soooo much more....is a part of us now. Its in our hearts. Although we can not take it through the funnel to the USA, its a piece of us now. We have changed.

Also, all those things on the other side are still there, but they too have changed. So in a way, its like a whole new world again! Some fancy people have a name for it called REVERSE CULTURE SHOCK! ha!

The kids began to open up to us about the past 2 years, and what they feel they have learned. My heart was really full as I listened to them. I'm proud of our kids.

The conversation quickly changed to silly stuff like what are we gonna eat first, what will a well stocked grocery store look like to us, how many people can we hug at one time....

As we wrapped it up to go do our stuff for the day, Trevor reminded us that the biggest and best change of all is the fact that our family works now. We work better than ever before...is what he said...and no matter how we feel when we get home, or who has changed...we have each other.

Now, that is something that I would have only prayed to hear, two years ago.

Our journey back to the states is coming soon. The house is buzzing with excitement. I myself, can hardly wait to hug my mama and daddy....yet something inside says to me, "this is your home now Shari....and the work is waiting here..." don't know what to do with all these thoughts, except to put it on my blog...

In the mean time...what should I eat first???? hmmmm....

I will come In

2010-08-21T18:04:00.000-07:00

Please take a close look at the picture.

I wish we were together so I could ask you what you think.

I came upon this door a few weeks ago, and lucky for me I actually had my camera with me...I don't usually carry it around anymore.

Regardless, the door, the whole scene just spoke to my heart.

Isn't it so much like the human condition?

We have to put on the face, the happy smile that tells everyone, "Yes, please come on in...I'd love to talk..."

But its such a lie.

The welcome sign should be the first clue that were really not welcome. I mean look at that thing! It could be in the title of a horror movie!

And if you didn't get the clue with the scary sign, then the rubbish in front of the door should get the job done for ya.

But if your one of those people who don't take "hints" ...the padlocked door will certainly take the whole "welcome" sign affect off your spirit! Right? Won't it?

We all know people like this. Some of us stay far away from them. Others, well, we ignore the obvious over and over again...standing with a crow bar trying to pry open the door to a long ago closed heart.

We get hurt a lot in this process.

Some of us are people like this.

We do whatever we can to hide that inside, there is a heart that is locked up and frozen cold.

But the obvious seeps out. Just like the W in the sign. People notice....and then they bang and clank around on our doors driving us crazy....they just don't get it do they?

I have a message for all of us.

The ones with the locked heart, and those standing at their door with the crow bars....

Its Jesus.

He is the only one who will fix it.

He is the only one who can get them to open that door...

And He stands in front of it. Ignoring all signs, and obstacles. He stands without a crowbar, locksmith or fancy tools...

He stands.

He says, "Here I am. I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me." Revelation 3:20

So that's it.

That's what they need to hear. Not even a knock...but HIS voice.

If your standing and banging on someones heart....my friend, let it go. Walk away. But don't walk away in defeat...walk away knowing that your only exhausting yourself working hard on something that you have no control over. Give your place in front of that door, to the one with all the power, healing, and wisdom. Give it to Jesus.

If your behind that door...listen. You will hear his voice. Aren't you hungry?

Volunteers from around theworld Thank YOU!

2010-07-28T20:07:00.000-07:00

Susan Griffeth, co/founder of flourishing future, a look at all that one life can do!

2010-07-27T01:29:00.000-07:00

Brothers

2010-07-03T08:50:00.000-07:00

freedom?

2010-06-29T22:17:00.000-07:00

I wish you all had the time and interest enough for me to give you a modern Mongolian history lesson....but...

I'll narrow it down to this.

Mongolia became part of the U.S.S.R. in 1924. It remained that way, under communist rule until 1990. During this time Mongolia was muted. No voice, no free thought, no decisions to be made. It was a time of silence. A time of very little struggle. The cat had caught the mouse. Game over.

On March 9, 1990 the old soviet system stepped down and Mongolia became a democracy.

Like all other soviet controlled nations, Mongolia had become decorated over the years with pictures, statues, and tributes to Lennon, Stalin and their many pals.

When I first moved here I was mortified to see these men towering above the crowds, frozen in time. Erected there as if to say...nothing has really changed...

My curiosity got the best of me and I began to ask around...why? Why do you leave these guys standing here? Why don't you tear them down? How can you stand the constant reminder of what communism did to your nation?

Without fail, the reply was always the same....ahh...they weren't that bad, they did some good stuff....we don't really even notice the statues....it was a long time ago....

Hmmm...that unnerved my American brain. But it was a dead end. The conversations never went much farther than this, so I let it go.

Two weeks ago, the traffic was terrible, the weather was warm so instead of driving I decided to walk to my classes in the city.

I noticed them again. It began to bug me.

Finally I sat down on a park bench and watched. University students hurriedly rushed past the looming statue in the center of the square. They didn't notice the past staring at them. I watched an old man in his traditional nomadic clothing sit down and eat an apple. He took no concern over the soviet figure. I wondered how those years had changed his life, who he would have been if not for communism. My dramatic side imagined ten years from now, the Mongolians embracing their freedom, understanding it and then rushing to tear down the old statues of their communist past.

The truth was, no one cared. They were too busy living now, to take any notice of yesterdays problems...even if they were 10 feet tall.

Its a whole lot like the spiritual isn't it?

We come to know Jesus at a time and place in our life, and everything changes.

Kinda.

I mean...we want it to change don't we? At least we do for awhile. But then, we leave them. The old reminders of our old life. We don't do anything to take them out. Its just too difficult. We make excusses for leaving them there....

They weren't that bad....I mean...some good came from them...right?

Soon enough, we're walking about unaware that we live in these two worlds. The world of freedom with the tributes to our selfish sins, erected all around us.

The truth is we don't have any idea how they influence us, how they affect us as we go about our busy lives today.

Yet we wonder.."why don't I feel free?"

The oppressive feelings from communism still hang over this place. I wonder if it has anything to do with the lack of desire to clean up?

As I sat on the bench watching those around me. I became aware of the things in my own life that I have refused to "disassemble".

The thought came to me, "When the memorials come down...freedom follows."

We can have freedom on paper. We can even "look" free....but we won't be free until we've decided we've had enough...and we want freedom more than we want comfort.

We can get comfortable just about anywhere, with just about anything.

Don't believe me?

Ask God to show you what tributes you still have hanging around. What still stands taller than you in your life that you just haven't got around to taking a sledge hammer to?

I'm asking myself also.

Vlogging the Ger District

2010-06-08T05:57:00.000-07:00

Vlogging the Ger District

One Family at a Time ~ Altma

2010-05-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

I would become exactly what they thought I was

2010-04-16T09:13:00.000-07:00

I could see him standing there, looking in the glass door. This place is crawling with them.

Mangy, starving dogs.

I always feel sad when I see them, but its mixed also with uneasiness and fear.

It seems like as soon as our plane landed 14 months ago, we were warned to stay away from the dogs.

"its complicated...very complicated"

So here I was, in the check out line, having the same conversation with myself that I've had at least a thousand times since moving here. Reminding myself, of why I should just ignore that dirty face waiting for me to come out.

"Get away from me you filthy dog!" an angry looking man was coming into the store. He was obviously disgusted by the animal begging at his feet. Noticing me in line he said out loud and to the enjoyment of the rest of the group around us..."Hey theres a foreign lady..ask her.."

It annoyed me to hear his words. That's what they all think of me. I'm the idiot who will give a hand out to just about anyone...or anything. The laughing stock. For a moment I could feel my face turning red, feeling tired of being the subject of yet another joke about the "foreigner".

I just wanted to get away from there. I wanted to get out of the store and go home where I felt safe. Away from the jokes, away from the feeling of being the "sucker"...away from the endless stream of need and human pain and away from the starving skinny filthy dogs.

I felt myself tighten up, my defence mechanism. Any thoughts I had of petting the poor animal, or throwing him a piece of bread I just bought, were long gone. Instead I had my pride now.

Paying for my things, I quickly bagged my few items and prepared to get out the front door without being robbed by the suspicious group gathering around the front or being coerced by my conscience to even notice that sickly looking animal waiting out front.

Josiah was with me, and I took his arm, pulling him close to me, making sure my purse was smashed in between us as I made my way out of the store.

I had one thing on my mind.

Myself.

I wanted into my car. Away from the eyes that seem to watch every move I make. Away from the pressure of not knowing what to do all the time. Away from the advice that has piled up in my head over this last year....who to help..who not to help...why..and on and on and on.

As I walked past him he looked right into my eyes. As if in slow motion he stepped in front of me. He didn't know what I was thinking...how I wanted to help...but I knew better than to give into this feeling. After all, wasn't there someone waiting near by, like always? If I give him anything the owner will run out and take it from the dog before he even has a chance to eat it.

No..I will have no part in it.

Seeing he wasn't going to let me by that easily I looked him in the eye and said in my sternest voice..

"NO!"

It came out easily, my anger. I let him know in one word that he had better move out of my way. I felt myself give a mean look that said, "back off."

I hoped the crowd heard me. I hoped they noticed I wasn't the softy they all had come to think of me as...I had a backbone after all. I hoped they saw that I was more than just a dumb foreigner who could be tricked that easily.

When we got into the car I locked my doors. I could feel that I had been holding my breath.I could see the dog in my rear view mirror watching me drive away. Was he sad?

I gave out a big exhale, but I wasn't relieved. I was full of this tight feeling.

I looked over at Josiah, he was sitting next to me with this broken look on his face.

"Josiah" I said...

"I know its hard, to walk by that kind of thing..but you understand don't you? "

I had told him before, many times, how important it is to be wise about who and how we help.

"Hand outs are not always a good thing, sometimes it makes things worse..."

He knew the reasons..

Yet even as the rhetoric was coming out of my mouth, my heart began to feel heavy with my own justifications...and then he said it...

"I understand mom, I just think theres another way...a better way than to treat them like...like.."

Then with a great deal of hurt in his voice he said..

"You treated that boy like a mangy dog mom. I've never seen you so mean before mom...and he's just a boy...a boy like me...no matter what..hes just a boy."

I understand that many of you have no context in which to put this situation that I just tried to explain. I won't try, to paint myself in a kind light. Nor will I try to explain my guilt away.

My sons wisdom rescued me that day.

Of course, I knew it was a boy. From the moment I saw his desperate eyes through the glass window pane. He was certainly a boy. A boy that I treated like a dog.

I attempt to explain how easily, even the softest of hearts can harden. In the environment that I am living in I somehow managed to do what I only thought a short time ago, unthinkable.

This was not the first time.

But it was the last.

Sometimes the beggar children can become cruel, unnerving. They can chase you down the street screaming "Money Money Money!" The have banged on my car demanding that I give them what they want...and in groups the sight of them can be intimidating.

There is indeed someone standing near by taking whatever it is that you give them.

Little boys will follow you on the street when its -30 degrees outside, with their baby sisters in their arms. Your heart just about falls to the ground with sadness. Then when you give into your heart break, and give them some money, the cruel adult in their life is waiting. Hours later your few dollars are responsible for the drunken stupor of this adult...and the beating that follows.

Its a painful cycle. A terrible reality. A dilemma that I once thought unsolvable.

Until I had Josiah's wisdom to guide me out of it.

Words can not describe the amount of sadness that came over me at that moment.

With a huge ache in my heart, I told him how sorry I was. How unlike Jesus I was.

Then I wondered out loud.."I'll go back...and buy him some apples...some juice.."

"Mom, I don't think that's what he wants." Josiah replied.

"He needs to be treated like a boy. Not a dog." ..the wisdom of a child.

It was not just Josiah helping me out of my dilemma. It was Gods voice through my own son, teaching me, showing me out of this confusion. He was shedding some light on a 14 month long dilemma.

Josiah was right. He needed more than food, and money. He needed someone to see past his dirty face and into his eyes. To look him in the eye. To treat him as something other than a beggar.

Of course this would mean, that the group gathered around the door..the locals, they would be there to hear my mangled Mongolian as I attempted to make things right with the boy. They would get a good laugh...I would become exactly what they thought I was...a soft hearted sucker.

Thank God.

Since that day. I have begun working on giving him what he needs most...his dignity. Now, I have no pie in the sky ideas that my friendship with him can solve all his problems...but...I have hope.

I've been tempted to buy him apples, to give him money...but its always a wrong motive.

What God showed me was that he needed so much more.

Our first connecting was just a wave. This time I stood in line on my tiptoes to get his attention waving over the heads of those in front of me. His reaction broke my heart...stepping back ward, looking for whom I could be waving at. Certainly not him. Not the despised one.

Focusing on his eyes I stood in front of him and gave him a warm smile. He said, "Money please?" and this time I didn't break eye contact. I said with softness in my tone, "I can't give you money " He seemed so awkward with this conversation. So did I. But it was a start.

When I go to the store now...he runs to beat me to the door. He still asks for money. I still say no with a smile, but we connect...and we laugh.

Troy too has begun to talk to the boy. Each day they learn more about one another.

One day soon I will give him the apples, or whatever else. But I will give it to him because he is my friend and I want to share with him. Not because I want him to leave me alone, or I wish to ease my own conscience so I can sleep better.

One day maybe he will be a part of Troys guys group. I can dream.

These are deep issues my friend. Intense struggles of the soul that we must contend with.

I feel I'm beginning to understand missions. What it takes. Its more than you think you have within you...and that's just it...it is more..much more. Only God can give us the strength to do his work.

In life, there are problems, that we can not solve. There are horrible situations that you can not find an easy fix to. There are stories that wont end happily, or even acceptably.That is not an excuse to run from it.

And yet...isn't that what we often do? Justify our way out of the unsolvable...to the point of treating a boy like a mangy dog.

Rather, let us choose in those times to desperately seek Gods wisdom more than ever...forsaking our own thoughts and the influences of those around us...to get to the heart of the matter...whatever the conclusion.

He who leans on, trusts in and is confident of his own mind and heart is a self confident fool, but he who walks in skillful and Godly wisdom shall be delivered.

Proverbs 28:26

who is the teacher?

2010-03-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

For many years now Troy and I have had a blast leading small groups in our home.

I know...I'm calling them "small groups" soooo 2007!

Remember friends, I'm in a time warp here in Mongolia, so bear with me on not keeping up with the hip lingo.

Some of our dearest friendships were formed from those years of getting to know our church and neighbors better. Our own spiritual growth was a huge result of it. Its been one of the best things we've ever done.

So we took the idea with us to Mongolia...to do the same thing...in a not so same world.

That took some time. It was a lot more complicated then calling over some church friends and neighbors and asking them to bring a snack!

This was a completely different world and we wondered how it would happen.

We hosted our first Mongolian group about 5 months ago. You can't imagine how nervous we were. When we came to Mongolia, we had expectation of course. The biggest was to be of service in whatever way God had planned. Mainly, with the poor. We prayed that would bring opportunity to share our faith. Troy and I both have always felt that people are ready to hear when they ask. We just told the Lord that we trusted He would bring people to us...ready to hear.

That didn't take long. Of course because we are foreigners living in the ger district they assumed rightly that we were Missionaries. This could be good or bad depending on their previous experiences.

Not long into our move up here...there were a group asking if we would tell them about the Bible...and about why we had come all this way...to live among them.

So with a lot of excitement and wonder we accepted this new opportunity to lead a small group. All of them unbelievers. All of them sick of the old routine and sick of religion. We had a story to tell...our story. Of how God takes us and makes us new. How He helps us grow out of our old way of thinking and makes us feel life and joy again. That's all. It was a simple first meeting...but they came back, and kept coming, eventually most of them making a decision to not only believe Jesus could change their lives..but to let him.

At first they wanted a list of rules. A list of do's an don'ts. They could makes sense out of that because it fit into their idea of what a "god" would expect.

They were bothered with Troys insistence that it wasn't like that... but that God expected them to become His friend, to talk to him and to listen. To accept his love and mercy and to LIVE in it. This was beyond their understanding.

That was a crazy first few months. Long conversations that went well into the night hours. I will hold them forever in my heart. Now our group is full of Gods transformation. These people are so excited. They are really growing, learning, teaching. Its quite amazing.

The most amazing is the conversation we had with them yesterday.

They said, "we know that in church they take an offering and everyone puts money in...and we love it when the bucket comes to us and we get to help keep the church going."

My jaw must have dropped because Troy gave me a funny look.

Then they added, "you guys have been giving and giving to us and we just come each week and soak it up...but we don't give back..what can we give you?"

I waited to see what Troy would say.

Most of this group does not even have the money to take a bus to our house. They usually walk, even when its -30.

Troy was looking at them like he was willing them to stay as strong, and innocent in their faith as they were at this moment.

Later he told me he was not expecting the issue of money to come up. He was a bit overwhelmed by their words, people who barely have enough for a meal, asking how they could help us.

He told them that God is looking at their heart. Not what they give but how they give it. The idea that they were thinking of giving was a sign that they had begun to take their eyes off themselves and onto others and that was really awesome.

They held a discussion among themselves that went like this...

"On our own we really don't have a lot to offer...but if each time we work and receive money, we put a little aside. Then when one of us is suffering, maybe sick and can't buy medicine or maybe can't find work and can not afford a meal that week then we all put together what we have set aside and give it to the one of us who is struggling...and then we will save again for the next hard time one of us has. "

They all were so excited with this idea. Together they would make sure that no one went hungry. They were telling one another, "If we are one body we better take care of each other."

I can't even type this without crying. Because I know that its a lesson for all of us. There is no one as poor as these people I'm talking about. They have almost nothing. Yet...they are so full of the good news of Christ that they are almost bursting, planning, dreaming about how they will give...WHEN...they have something to give. The excitement in the room was buzzing.

Oh what we can learn.

After nights like that I ask myself...who is the teacher...who is the student?

These are the new believers in Mongolia.

The future is bright.

Video stories from Mongolia

2010-03-10T18:47:00.000-08:00

http//www.youtube.com/watch?v=qF-gvF2poRg Click on this link to see a video made by our sending board Cup of Cold Water.

Still glad we bought those chips from hell though...

2010-02-25T18:04:00.000-08:00

I went grocery shopping last night.

Not the kind of grocery shopping that I did when I first got here. This was a pretend like your in America at the stock up store grocery shopping!

Elly and Josiah tagged along with me to one of the nicest shops in UB. Don't get me wrong, most of what you would find in the good ole USA does not exist here...but my standards have been lowerd to the point that after one year...this store has it all! Its a Korean owned grocery store that comes fully euipped with clean vegetables and TWO working escalators!

There are three floors to the building. My sweet, dear children, have dubbed the floors...

Heaven (top floor)

Hell (bottom floor)

and earth (middle floor)

I think that they did this (Elly and Josiah) just so that they could get away with saying, "Mom...were going to hell...see you there!"

The names have stuck, so much so, that even my Mongolian friends will ask me where I found a certain item...I'll say..."Heaven, in the back to the right..." or..."I got it in Hell". oh my....were stretching for entertainment aren't we!

Anyway, I had not had a chance to grocery shop for awhile, so I came with a purse full of money and intention of filling the cart.

I noticed, that toward the end of my shopping, Elly was acting a little strange. She wanted to walk away from the cart...and seemed in a hurry to leave.

On our way home, I had both kids in the front seat...its not illegal here.

We were talking about what we would make for dinner....what we would eat for desert and what would be for lunch tomorrow! (it has been awhile since i stocked up)

At about this time, we were turning into our neighborhood, which happens to be the most poverty affected area of our country. The ger district. Passing by some kids who were making the walk up hill to their homes, I said..."Do you guys ever feel uncomfortable here?"

Elly said..."Its sad mom...but I don't feel uncomfortable."

Then, she added, "I feel uncomfortable in the store though..."

I hadn't expected this answer, but she said..."I'm embarrassed."

"Why?" I asked

She stared out the window looking on her neighborhood and said, "Did you see how everyone was looking at our cart?"

I hadn't noticed. I was busy checking off my list....getting my work done. But, my daughter, was busy noticing the human condition around her. Noticing hunger, envy, and sadness.

"No, elly I didn't notice...but I'm glad you did." I said to her

"they looked sad when they looked in our cart mom, like we had a lot more food then they could ever have."

She was right.

Josiah pipped in at this time, he said..."Maybe we should not shop all at once mom...we should go to different stores, so we don't hurt people."

Wow...

I was looking at them both and admiring that they know the Lord like they do. Maybe they can't quote as many Bible verses as an MK should...but my kids know the Lord...they know his voice, and his heart for the poor, and they hear it...

I liked their idea of shopping at several stores. I think we will do it from now on.

I ask myself. Am I so aware? Do I notice, how my life, my normal, everyday life....could be affecting those around me?

I wanted to tell Elly not be ashamed of our big cart of food...but something said..no. I'll let her feel whatever she was feeling. Its good to be so close to it. Its good to listen.

I left it silent in the car. Then I said, "I'm glad you guys are in Mongolia, that you are here with me, to teach me these things."

As if to take the edge off, Elly said..."I'm still glad we bought those chips from hell though...thanks mom."

I've been here long enough now to tell a story about waiting

2010-02-01T04:46:00.000-08:00

"HI"

She was speaking English to me with a huge smile on her face. I had to do a double take because I was literally in shock over what my eyes were swallowing up! Her right hand waving in the air and her face in a full bursting grin...

"HI! HI! HI!"

and then, she got up off the floor and started running around the ger in a wobbly motion , the way most toddlers do...she was running! Inkzolth was running!

I looked across the ger to her mother, who was smiling at me...she knew what I was feeling because she felt it too...amazement!

Almost a year ago, I first laid eyes on little Inkzolth. She took my breath away. We were fresh on the field and had been assigned our first family to care for. Of course, because of this, the memory stands out in my head...but also because her story was so sad.

She was 14 months old, but had already endured the loss of her twin sister, and the agony of poverty. She knew what it was like to be bitter cold and to go to sleep hungry. Her eyes were so deep and thinking. I loved her from the start.

The same illness, that had taken her sisters life six months ago, had left Inkzolth with one health issue after another. She could not move her right arm or leg and she made no effort to compensate for it. She would spend her days quiet sitting on the floor. Her mother was heart sick and said that she was failing more every day. They did not have the proper identification papers to get her to a doctor, and even if they did they had no money for any type of treatment or medication.

We began working on the identification papers right away. The whole thing cost about $30.00 US dollars. Can you imagine $30 being what came between your little girls life or death and not being able to pay it?

Troy and I took her to the best pediatrician we could find. The pediatrician examined her and told us that her problem was basic...malnutrition and a severe vitamin D deficiency. The bad news was, we could not buy her the vitamin D because there was a shortage in Mongolia...and it was currently no where to be found.

We felt like banging our heads against the wall. We chose prayer instead. Inkzolths parents were Buddhist so we always prayed in our hearts, or in the car ride home after a visit. Often I questioned if my faith was weak...if I should have made more of an issue to pray for her with her parents there...but deep inside I felt the answer..."just wait..stop counting on yourself..count on me."

We supplied her with vitamin D formula (on the doctors suggestion) and over the counter vitamins sent from the USA. However, it wasn't the strong treatment she needed, and this broke our hearts.

Inkzolth became very ill a few months later. She spent a lot of time in the hospital battling pneumonia and rickets. It was a sad time for her mother. We all wondered if this little girl was just going to give up. Still we prayed.

We continued to support the family with food packages each month and we got to know them more over the months. Things were not easy for them, but at least with the food packages, they had a bit of the burden lifted and no matter what came their way always seemed to keep moving forward, never giving up.

Right before Christmas I went for visit with them, and noticed a bit of improvement with Inkzolth. She seemed stronger then I had seen her before...and those deep eyes had a hint of a sparkle in them...but now she was 2 1/2 years old and still had not really begun to use her legs well.

and now this!

As if her running around the ger and saying "HI" to me was not enough of a display that miracles can happen...she reached down with both hands to pick up two empty water buckets....and she ran around with them in her hands tight fisted...the same hands that laid limp by her sides a year ago...to weak to even lift a finger. She was laughing and smiling and to me it felt like the greatest show on earth. I could not believe my own eyes!

This is how it happens. Ive been here long enough now, to tell a story about waiting, and patience. One day at a time. When God wants to change a life, its not always in the way we expect. Its rarely a supernatural "BAM!"...often, its a slow process. Its not about what great amounts of faith we proclaim...its about HIS work, on HIS time, in HIS way.

There were many times I could have been tempted to believe that our measly little gifts of low dose vitamins, rice and flour...were worthless in this big scenario...but they were not. Too many times I thought of my silent prayers as weak and faithless...but they were not.

I have a new image in my head now. The picture of Inkzolth lying limp in her bed is erased. The sound of her dirty little bare feed pattering around on the ger floor is deep in my soul. Another reason to give thanks to the Lord...another gift I get to see...

another day in Mongolia

What does God want to do with your year?

2009-12-29T18:50:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6NagO_mrRA Please click on the link to a video celebrating our 1 year anniversary in Mongolia! God can do ANYTHING!

Thank you Hong Kong Team!

2009-12-25T04:45:00.000-08:00

So many scarves!

Thank you to all who worked so hard knitting and knitting and MORE Knitting!

The kids were overjoyed! Troy went to deliver them today, and said it was one of the best Christmas moments he's had.

The bottom line to all of it is this...

They were NOT forgotten.

Because of you.

Merry Christmas,

Tvrdiks

It was a beautiful gift (if your Mongolian)

2009-12-22T17:17:00.000-08:00

The jeep was packed with the remaining frozen goats that we had yet to deliver to our families. It was a beautiful gift (if your Mongolian).

In America, we started a tradition of dropping off gifts late at night, to families that were struggling and it was the best night of the Christmas season. This was the first Christmas season, however, that we had delivered frozen goats.

Our last family of the day was a widow we have been working with.

Her son is the only one working, he is 16. She has been recovering from a knife attack that left her for dead. We found them back in October, living in a shed. Tonight we were visiting their ger that friends from home helped to rent for her.

We got there as night had just come and the sun was gone, along with her warmth.

When we entered her ger it was toasty warm. She had a huge smile when she saw the goat, but than, the emotions from deep within, prevented her from speaking much. She was more than grateful.

A family back in the USA donated money to us to buy coal and wood for a month for this family.

Their donation was a beautiful gift on this sub-zero night.

As she sat on the edge of the bed she expressed her thankful heart.

"I have warmth, and food, and shelter...I am so thankful."

I asked her if there were any other pressing needs she was having. She said..."I just need one thing, if you have it..." then she reached under her bed and pulled out a pair of shoes.

They were light summer sneakers. Both soles were split apart at the bottom, leaving big holes. She said, "I don't know how much longer this will hold...."

When I looked in her eyes I did as usual, I put myself there. I wondered...how can she keep going? Would I be so strong?

I had a box full of shoes sent from the USA.

They now have two pairs each. One pair of dress shoes, and one pair of super warm boots.

The son works at the wood market each day. He walks down there and spends the day collecting scraps of wood and trying to resell it.

When I see this 16 year old boy, He has his head hung low and looks like the world is on his shoulders...because it is.

Yesterday, I was driving by the wood market and a young man with a pep in his step walked in front of my car. I hardly recognized him. He had a big smile on his face and was wearing a jacket that was sent from home...which is how I noticed it was actually him.

I've said it a million times my friends, it does not take a lot to change a life. Its a giant mistake to think that we have to do something big to make a big change. It only will paralyse us into not moving at all...

Who is drowning around you today? You know who they are...go now and bring some peace...even if it seems a small gesture to you.

Remember also, if you wait until your own need is met to give, you miss the greatest blessing.

Merry Christmas!

Sandpaper~ by Trevor

2009-12-17T18:41:00.000-08:00

Coming to Mongolia was by far the scariest thing I ever had to do.

I was so unsure of what God wanted for me here or if I even would be able to do ministry here. I felt so incomplete and so far away from God.

When we arrived in Mongolia we were immediately welcomed by about 5 or 6 people. They all seemed so happy to see my family and I was really excited to see them too (I had never met these people).

God started working with my parents right away. And still my parents are completely devoted to what god has them doing here. I was so confused and I found myself angry at God sometimes. Where was my ministry? I didn't feel as though what my parents were doing was what I was going to enjoy. I needed something. Every night I prayed for God to show me what I should do, where I should work. Still, nothing came to me and I felt as though no doors were opening.

Then one night, about 2 months ago, God finally spoke to me. He said "Trevor the things that I have in store for you with the Mongolian people will have to come later. I am working on YOU right now. You need to understand my love and accept it before you can pass it on. It would be very hard to give something to someone when you don't have something to give yet."

I thought about that long and hard. God is really amazing. I started to see all the changes in myself. I was praying on a regular basis, spending more and more time in the word. And I found myself gaining more faith everyday. God was really working on my heart, and before he could work through me he needed to fix me.

The other day I was working with my friend mark finishing up the final layer of dry wall mud in one of the rooms of his house. We were using plastic mudding knives. The plastic on one of my knives was dented a little bit on the edge, so when ever i tried to smooth the mud out it would leave a little ridge. I'm not sure if you know how frustrating that is. I was getting so upset at that plastic mudding knife I wanted to step outside and throw it as far as I could. That's when God spoke to me. He said, "Trevor look at that knife. See the ridges on the wall? That is why I am working on you. If I let you try to do my work now, there is only the chance that your going to leave those ridges in the complete project. Not only in others but also in yourself." I decided to take a seat on the big 50 gallon drum I had been standing on. As I was stepping down I saw a piece of sand paper laying on the ground. God said, "pick it up and sand down those edges on the knife." So I did and after about 3 minutes of sanding it was as good as new, no more ridges in the mud. God is continuing to work on smoothing out my rough edges and I am thankful for that everyday. As I grow closer to God and read his word more I notice more things that I need to work on.

I just cant wait to see what else God has in store for me.

For now, I'm aiming to learn humility, to respect authority and to listen to the words of the people that God has placed in my life.

This is hard.

Mongolia is a challenge, like a big piece of sand paper, it is taking off my edges.

Trevor

New every morning

2009-12-10T18:10:00.000-08:00

This morning was grey and frozen. The whole city felt like an ice cube. Driving into the city I was wondering how in the world these people have survived this lifestyle! Day after day, (except for a short blink of a summer)
I was almost back home when the sun made its glorious entrance.

It was just that moment, you know, when it rises up over the hills and splashes color back onto everything. I watched it fall across a man who was walking with a heavy load of wood on his back. You could see his pleasure with it, in a great big smile that spread across his leathery face.

I can not express the joy this moment gave me. I actually laughed out loud when the sun spilled into the window of my jeep.

The sunrise, to me, was nothing short of witnessing a miracle.

It reminded me of how quickly everything can change. How it doesn't take very much to inspire, to cause joy, or bring relief.

How good God is...

Did she really just say that?

2009-12-05T18:50:00.000-08:00

Ok, please bare with me.

It was a tough day.

Saturdays are family visits. These are the days that we check on some of the families we are working with and meet new families that have come for help.

In the organization, the way it works is that we meet families as needs arise. They may come to the community center asking for help, or even to our own front doors. When we meet a family that we feel a burden for, its our responsibility to find the funding to help them.

Sounds like a burden huh?

Its not.

God always provides.

Troy likes to say, "Its Gods responsibility."

I used to worry a lot about money. Especially when I had it! ha!

Now, I have come to this place in my life where I choose to be very aware, to open my eyes as wide as possible and to look at what God has asked me to see. THEN I thank Him for the chance to be the answer to someones prayers. I thank Him for the miracle I will see.

This is a new way of life for me. Its a choice.

So today, we were visiting a family who had come last week asking for help. We were sick all week and had to put off our visit until now.

On the way to meet her we stopped to buy some apples, cabbage, and potatoes. Its part of the routine. I learned it early on here that there is absolutely nothing wrong with hearing the most painful stories, seeing the most gut wrenching poverty....and having just a bag of apples to offer.

In my short year here, I have learned that there is never a gift too small.

Once, as I was on my way to a different family, a man was walking by with his little boy next to him. He screamed, "Give me those apples!" He was so scary looking, desperate eyes. I couldn't decide if he was angry, hungry, drunk or insane.

He frightened me, and I looked away from him, walking quickly away.

Its one of those moments I wrestle with from time to time. I still don't know for sure what to make of it....but it bothers me, both his reaction and my own response.

Anyway, back to the new family.

The morning was bitter cold. Its already very frozen here. Every day is below zero. The old timers here tell me its still fall...the worst is yet to come.

The mother knew we were coming. She had called the organization (Tuvsho's phone) several times that week. Tuvsho said she sounded desperate, even a little annoyed with us that we had not arrived. I was wrestling with feelings of annoyance myself because I wondered, "Does she think we are the candy man? That we can just fix everything?"

I'm just being honest about my experiences here. I wish to never convey that I have this thing perfected in any way.

When we arrived to her ger all those feelings melted away and left my heart a pool of compassion that could hardly bare to hear her story.

She was once married to an important figure's relative. (I wont say who) They had a nice life. Two kids, an apartment...this made life perfect (by Mongolian standard).

She became very sick and had to have surgery and a long hospital stay.

While in the hospital, her husband made his departure from marital bliss. He found another woman, used his connections to have his wife proclaimed DEAD, sold the apartment and re-married. "Things can change quickly," she added

The two young boys, 12 and 9, were left with broken hearts. They were desperate. The older boy took what money he had and went each day to the Lama's asking for his mother to be healed. Each prayer for his mother cost him something, he has the receipts to prove it.

Eventually his prayers were answered (because our God reigns) and his mothers stay in the hospital was over. However, they had nothing left.

As she told me the story, she did not cry. She was very determined to just tell us what had happened and explain why she was in this situation asking for help.

The oldest boy was sick with a fever, and he lay on the bed listening to her with his eyes closed. The youngest boy sat preoccupied with something eles, but had both ears on us.

She had managed to rent a spot to live on and a to get a ger. The ger was old and missing many of its parts. Inside it was cold. They only had wood to burn and no coal. The coal is what keeps it hot. But she had another problem. The door of her ger would not shut. It left a three inch gap all around. There was no way to hold the heat.

Last July, when the flood came, it didn't wash her ger away. Instead it just made it a warped mess. If your ger was washed away, you received a new one from the government. If it was damaged you were on your own.

She looked us in the eye and said, "I don't want to ask you for very much. I know you have many people to help. I just need a new door so I can keep us warm."

I've heard this before here.

People would rather starve than freeze. Its the cold that they fear above all else.

I asked her what they had for food. She pointed to a small shelf with the contents of the food packages we had sent with her the day she came to ask for help.

"BUT", she said , "I'm not asking for food...I don't want to weigh you down with my troubles, I just need a door. We manage from day to day, we always find something...like today, I am making a soup for us with water and bones that I have purchased from the meat market."

I flashed back to myself at the meat market...sorting through the cuts, buying 5 kilo's at a time....

Then I saw her in my mind...asking for the bones.

It was at this point that I began to pray. "Jesus...please help us...help us to help her."

I told her who we were, that we have four children and that we moved here last January. I said, "I moved to the ger district and I KNOW now what you all have to struggle with. I think you are amazing people who have great courage. If I put myself in your shoes, I don't think I could make it...you are a good mother, who is not giving up in spite of all this pressure...I'm very amazed by you."

She just said, "thank you."

I gave her my bag of vegetables but worried that she would not have enough wood to cook it all up. Troy gave me a look that said,"I've got this shari...stop worrying."

We explained that there are many people around the world who care about Mongolia. That they are sending us the funds to help families. Because of this we must be so careful who we help, how we help, because we want to use their money wisely.

Than Troy handed her the money for a new door, a new cover for her ger and an extra amount to buy wood and coal. He said, "I'll be back on Thursday to see your door and cover and I hope it will be warm in here."

She said, "I have nothing else to ask for, my deepest need has been met and I can not thank you enough." Then he told her, "You are going to be enrolled in our food program. You can come to the community center every other Thursday, to pick up your food packages."

Than she began to tear up, but fought it back. "How can I thank you?" she asked.

She tried to offer us some of her bone soup but none of us ate, we told her it was hers and she had to use it for her children. This is the Mongolian custom, to give without question to whomever asks or visits.

We told her goodbye.

Driving to the next family I couldn't really speak. Did I really just see that? Did she really say that? Oh God, how can you bare it all?

There were two more families to visit this day....

I wanted to share it with you, and thank you for your support here. I know that you are all a part of this with us.

As much as I NEED my kids to help me find 5 chickens

2009-11-21T19:29:00.000-08:00

Take an American family from small town USA, pampered and well fed, move them to MONGOLIA and THEN out to the ger district and you will find out who they REALLY are! Ha

There are many times I'm very thankful that we are NOT being watched by anyone back home! For one thing certain, it would make for a great source of entertainment to you all.

Without running water, indoor plumbing, the foods your used too and the comforts of our old life...we could write a book about the strange arguments we've had, the things we've cried over and the ways we've learned to problem solve!

We've become extremely efficient at some things by now and we have learned how to make things run "smoothly". (wink wink...take into mind that my new "smoothly" is not comparable to the old)

And this new efficiency is the reason for my story today.

Shopping has to be done in such a way here that you do whatever you can to eliminate any EXTRA event that might add another hour onto your experience. There is a wide range of mental prep that goes into my shopping experiences here. Remember ladies at home, there is no ONE STORE DOES IT ALL in this neck of the woods!

Yesterday I had the grand task of finding 5 whole chickens. Now, I know this sounds simple, but trust me...this is not simple here. We are hosting an American Thanksgiving meal (as traditional as possible) at our house this year. Since turkey is almost impossible to find and if you can find it almost impossible to afford, we decided that 5 chickens = 1 turkey.

As I was preparing to leave for my search in UB, one by one my kids came to me and said, "Can I come too?"

Now, taking my little ones along, is just laughable. Especially when I'm headed out to find 5 chickens on a FREEZING cold Mongolian afternoon! NO way...not gonna happen. I just reasoned it out in my head and then told them,

"Look, guys...this is not gonna be easy, I have to find a lot of chickens and I have to drive all over this city and go to places I don't know and I have to HURRY and RUN through the stores really FAST to get it all done by 5:00 because we are having guests over tonight." I was really animated when I said this even acting out running...my poor kids.

Elly was staring at me with big eyes probably imagining what this looked like...and she was totally convinced she said, "oh..ok mom".

Then as I was pulling on my boots and finding all the right hiding places for my money...God spoke to me.

"Aren't you glad that I'm not like you?"

Funny question God.

Instantly in my spirit I knew what He was saying.

He can get the job done. Himself.

He doesn't really NEED me here in Mongolia.

I mean...come on...who am I kidding? I've been a lot more of a handful to Him here then I was in my cozy little house in the Lake community.

He was not sitting in Heaven anxiously thinking, "Oh boy...I really HOPE that the Tvrdiks can move to Mongolia to help with my big problem there..."

In fact its quite hilarious.

The truth of the matter is...HE can use whomever and whatever HE wants to use to accomplish His purposes. Just read the stories of the Bible...just LOOK at what God did and whom He did it with to get the job done.

I was watching my kids busy about the house....as I realized for certain, that God NEEDED me here in Mongolia about as much as I NEED my kids to help me find 5 chickens today.

Then my heart just broke within, as I realized that taking the kids with me was not for ME but for THEM. Just as moving here to Mongolia was not for God but for US. WE are the ones who are blessed enough to get to get in the car and go see where the action is! WE are the ones who get to walk this path, and watch how God does it all.

I thought about what the kids could learn shopping with me today for the chickens. Many ideas came to my mind. I thought of the many experiences they would have. Certainly it was better than being house bound and stuck in the routine...

"Ok guys," I called..."come on...Lets go!"

Excitedly they bundled up and off we went...but in my heart I was listening still to the Lord because I knew what he was teaching me was good stuff...I needed to hear it.

YES...they whined! They got sick of it after an hour. (I've never whined about being here..wink again)

Yes...they asked for things that I wouldn't give them for various reasons.

Yes they slowed me WAY down...

Yes, they saw things that were heart breaking, as you do here...and once after walking by a beggar Joey said, "Mom...why did you bring us to shop at this place? Its so depressing." (hmm...sound familiar Shari?...YES.)

However, we did it together.

I hope, by watching me tackle one obstacle after another through the day...they learned a lot.

I know for certain they experienced a lot.

Sarah carried most of my chickens for me and it was really nice to not have to haul them all around. WE all got excited when we found a jar of cinnamon for sale. And it was in those kind of moments that appeared one after another throughout the day thatI kept seeing myself in my own kids

God is so good.

I am reminded of Troy's words the first week we arrived in Mongolia.

He said, "Shari God just brought us here to let us see what He is doing."

He compared it to building our house. Troy would work all day on building the frame of a wall, then he would bring 6 year old Trevor over when it was finally ready to be put up. He would position Trevor so that it would seem like Trevor was helping to push up that wall...but actually it was Troy and the guys doing it all. He just loved watching Trevor feel like he was really doing something...he was really building the house with his dad. Troy had told me that this is exactly how he felt in Mongolia. Like God was saying,

"Hey guys...come here I want to show you something...I need your help with this.."

By the end of the night my heart was full of praise. Thank you God for letting us come...thank you for using us...for calling us here. Thank you for letting us "slow you down" today.

In all my efficiency...may I see how the God of the universe makes room for ME to take part.

And a side note to all who read this feeling God is asking them to do something...

Just get in the car..its gonna be great!

Update From Troy

2009-11-18T03:28:00.000-08:00

It seems as if there is always something to do here in Mongolia. If I were to sum up what I do here I would say that I keep as many people from starving or freezing to death as I can at the same time educate their children. It is easy to see from here the root of the problem. It seems that when Russia left the only thing they left behind was vodka. Approximately 70% of the men here are alcoholics. It seems to be an uphill battle providing for all the broken families because of it. I just got back from meeting a man who is going through an alcohol recovery program that I initiated at our community center. Three weeks ago he was drinking everyday, sometimes starting as early as 5 am. Today when I talked to him you could just tell how extremely intelligent he is. His mom had called for him to enroll him in the program but he kept refusing to go. Finally on the day that they were supposed to begin a new session his wife brought him. He has gone through the medical detoxing and has begun character training classes. The difference in him is already night and day. His oldest son of thirty is the most excited to have his father and family leader back. He explained to me that there were about 60 men in his neighborhood that met everyday to drink together. They were basically broke into three groups. The first group was the blue color older group to which he belonged, the second was the middle aged poor men, and the third was the up and coming younger generation. Before I left him tonight I told him I would be praying that he would be able to continue and to have a positive influence on his old drinking buddies. Presently I am working on raising the funds for this project. We have targeted twenty men in this neighborhood and I personally sponsored the first three so that there would be no cost for their treatment. I am so excited to think about what could happen to this community if the men here could become 'clean'. Everyone has something to offer others but nothing good can come from them if they are controlled by alcohol. I am looking forward to what the future holds with much hope.