Emotions

            “We’re leaving for good.”

I broke the news to my ladies two weeks ago. Their reactions stunned me. The jewelry workers got angry, didn’t-talk-to-me-for-three-days angry. Everyone threatened to leave the project. Emotions of mourning.

Last week, we had our exit interview. I cried as I described how I felt every experience of my life has prepared me for this season. Fulfilled.  Friday, we gave away our plants to friends eager to care for them.  Satisfied. Yesterday, I cleaned out the drawer of my bedside table. I reminisced over Russian candy wrappers, language flash cards, and 7 year old florescent notecards holding farewell prayers. Supported.

On the weekends, we have enjoyed cruising the web, dreaming about how we could update our Olympia home. Eagerly anticipating. Every once in a while, Jim, grinning ear to ear,  gets out our one-way tickets just to read them, to feel closer to going home. Excited. One of my ladies teases me that if she could find and hide those tickets we couldn’t leave. Loved. How can one heart feel such opposing emotions: excitement, giddiness, glee, dread, fear, and heart breaking sadness simultaneously? Emotions of mourning.

Our chalk board has read: “104 weeks” . . . “99 days” . . . “4 Mondays” . . . We’ll make our final descent down five flights on October 16, 2014. This chapter of our lives is ending. This adventure full of notable Facebook posts is coming to a close. I thought I was eager but I find myself sad! Emotions of mourning.

When we get on that plane, we will leave a part of ourselves in this Outer Mongolia, south of Siberia. This place, language, life that once seemed other worldly, has become home. ‘Mongolia’ has been seeping into our blood for more than 14 years. This leaving is not sudden. From the beginning, we anticipated being here for 6-10 years. The Lord whispered to us 3 years ago that this would be the time for our departing. Yet anticipation does not soften the transition. Emotions of mourning.

We’ll miss the collection of ancient perspectives, home remedies, and traditions. We’ll miss functioning in two languages, trying to teach our tongues to pronounce parades of consonants. We’ll miss conversations about extreme weather, mutton and mares’ milk. We’ll miss keeping our eyes peeled for new sights and behaviors. We’ll miss our deepened dependence on God, the stretch of doing what seemed impossible. We’ll miss being part of radical changes in people’s lives.  Emotions of mourning.

We look forward to going home: to flowers, green grass, smooth roads, to salty crunch, gentle rain and being within hugging range of people we love. But we’ll not forget the joys, the struggles, the faith journey, our Mongolian family. We have entangled roots.  Names of daughters, sisters, grandmothers have been etched onto our hearts.  Emotions of mourning.

Scarcity

         We know people who have lived in Mongolia since the early 1990s. They tell stories about how everything was scarce. They barely had to look both ways to cross streets in the capitol. There was no choice but to live off mutton like the locals. A member of each family had to spend most of every day just standing in lines for basic things like bread.

        Here in UB in 2014, supplies are abundant by comparison. Six years ago, when we first came, shopping was still a challenge and exhausting. It took us months to furnish our apartment, spending whole days searching for one item like tall drinking glasses, a can opener, sheets or pillows. Many things we brought or had sent from the States like hair gel, almonds, and picture frames.  For over a year, we hunted for a living room lamp. The one we finally found is not one we would choose if we’d had a choice. But it was a miraculous, albeit, expensive, find when in the back corner of the outdoor market, there stood a 5’ tall fake mahogany floor lamp with a 1890s style shade with ugly gold tassels.

        Our apartment is comfortable now, and Mongolians have discovered how to make or import some of our favorite things like scented candles.  There are fruit and vegetable stands on the streets. But some things remain scarce and seasonal. Seasonal, as in, it seems a container full gets shipped in and then peanut butter or kidney beans pop up in every shop. But, a month later, when that load has been sold, the same items cannot be found anywhere.  And there are other things that are here but you have to know what they look like for example butter. Butter has always been available. We are in a nomadic land sporting 10 times as many animals, including cows, as people. But we bought what looked like butter in several alternative forms before we discovered the right stuff: sour yogurt butter, margarine, and lard. Yuck!

        This week, Jim, discovered another such camouflaged product. He went to five different stores looking for baking vanilla. He tried asking clerks in his broken Mongolian. He called Liz to ask for the right Mongolian spelling and pronunciation.  He even had one of my ladies talk to a clerk to ask if the store had the stuff, all to no avail. A determined shopper, Jimmy persisted, and on the way home, found a little paper packet of dried vanilla at a nearby shop. It was wearing a very tricky costume. Some foreign word for vanilla was used, Turkish, German, or Russian? Confused by the picture on the front, he bought several anyway. There was no vanilla bean pictured, just a giant strawberry on the label.

        When I got home, he was very excited to show me his little treasure. We examined the packets carefully. The envelopes were so thin, they barely seemed to contain anything. The word, Aromat, was on the front making us think that maybe it was a deodorizer rather than a spice. Curious, we opened it. It smelled like strawberries with a hint of vanilla, like fast food restaurant versions of a strawberry milk shake. A little leery that we’d be eating berry scented chemicals, I stuck my wet pointer into the fine white powder and licked it. Indeed, strawberry flavored powdered vanilla.
        We have never heard of such a thing. We’ll have to be choosy about what we use it in, strawberry-coffee might not be so great, but strawberry-vanilla oatmeal sounds scrumptious.

"Sue avaray! Sue avaray!"
We hear the distant chorus early in the morning.
Carrying metal jugs sloshing with the freshest of the fresh, a herder comes hawking his milking in front of our apartment building. From our balcony, I watch our neighbors respond to the call bringing vats of every size and shape. Curious about the weather, the animals, life - they stand and chat with countryside folk long after they've watched their containers fill with ladles of creamy fresh liquid.
This is Naadam weekend when hundreds of horses and school age riders have gathered to race for fame and coveted prizes. So the 'sue' in the urn is likely mare's milk.
Since we don't drink mares' milk in the USA, I wondered about its nutritional properties. Google offered information from the International Dairy Journal. The conclusion of the 2002 report said,
"mare’s milk is, on the whole, more suitable than cow’s milk as nourishment for infants." (Nitrogen%20fractions%20and%20fat%20composition%20of%20mare%20milk.pdf)
So, get your plastic bottle ready for the next time you hear the caller's song.
"Sue avaray! Sue avaray!"

Dal-eeke Dal-low-la

                 
 I'm always fascinated on shopping day when a full sheep carcass is brought into the shelter and cut up into usable portions. Today I learned some new things while watching Owndra chop up the sheep. She explained that the tail fat is used as baby lotion. And the shoulder bones are special. They are called dal (meaning 70) After boiling, the triangular shaped pieces are set aside. Then Dad in a common ceremony distributes tasty tidbits to the children piece by piece. This process is called Dalike Dalowla All the other bones are placed in a bowl and everyone chomps on whatever they'd like.

Weather Lag

Dry out the webbed feet. Be reminded of what the sun looks like. Warm up and have some fun. Winter vacations to warm places, for PNW-erners, are soothing respites from chilling rain and cloudy skies.
We've been transplanted to the dry, Siberian, polluted cold of UB.
We looked forward to getting out of winter for a spell in order to warm our bones, moisten our skin, clean out our lungs, and enjoy being together. For 2 weeks in December we were able to do those things in Taiwan.


But coming back is quite a transition. The -30s feels numbing.  Coal smoke makes us gag even while in our living room. And Jim turns into Jack Frost on his 10 minute walk to work.
Mongolians hunker down in the winter. They tend not to make changes in the coldest months. Its all about surviving. We're surviving but still in weather-lag after a great time of rest & fellowship with other Covenant folk in a land of shorts & sun glasses.

I'm a Wimp!

I was standing at the river’s edge when she came up beside me, crouched, and splashed her face with icy water. She peeled off her stocking cap and ran a wet hand through her short white hair. Next, she dipped her pointer in the flowing creek, and massaged her single toothed gums. Just a little after six, her morning beauty routine complete, she turned to me.  

We'd been talking for a few minutes when she asked if I knew her language. I was caught off guard since we’d been chatting in Mongolian already. She had to repeat that question three times, though, before I got it. 

Then she asked if I would help her. “Sure!” I said, and followed her to a pile of collected branches. She took off her cotton sash, and spent ten minutes weaving it through her firewood to ensure the load would stay together.

I kept reaching out, wondering when I was to help, but she kept repeating, “not yet.” When she was finally satisfied that her knitted twigs were secure, she squatted down in front of them.  After slipping her left arm through a make shift shoulder loop, she asked me to hand to her a walking stick that was on the ground behind me. Taking the staff from me, she adjusted the right loop onto the top end, and immediately leaned forward on the stick pulling the load behind her a bit up off the ground. I thought that I should carry her package for her, but frankly, I wasn't sure I could. “Now, lift and give it to me,” she said. So I quickly moved behind the heavy load and helped to maneuver it onto her “c” shaped back. Then, off she went. I stood watching in amazement, as she toddled off toward home carrying two thirds of her weight in wood.

Convicted! I frequently complain about not having hot water, about icky tasting tooth paste, about my ‘so heavy’ six pound laptop and about feeling old. This woman was well into her 80's and less than 90 pounds. No complaints from her. She simply wanted to know if I loved her beautiful Mongolia.  

Ancient and Modern

Naadam, this week's national games, included traditions dating back centuries. Archery targets were on the ground, wrestling uniforms were chest-less, horse race jockeys were children. But breaking with tradition, the opening ceremonies were hi-tech, the young riders wore helmets and many of the spectators were foreign.
A new event was added to the 2013 celebratory calendar. 5,000 people gathered at the city center to vie for a place in the Guinness Book of World Records. Mongolians of all ages came from throughout the country, aiming to be the largest crowd of folk dancers. Costumes of every color and hats of every shape brought unmatched festiveness to UB's Sukhbaatar Square.
Liz visited with 90 year old dancers and took pictures of men boasting chests full socialist era medals. These were not experienced dancers or students. They were people willing to travel up to 5 days in order to display their tribal uniqueness, in clothing and motion, for the honor of a western record. Just another example of the blending of ancient and modern that is happening in outer Mongolia these days.

Stand Beside Her

“If my daughter were to be caught in adultery, I would be at her side. I would plead her case. I would beg for her accusers to kill me rather than her. This woman had no one. She was lonely and alone. Jesus stopped, he took her side, he advocated for her. In love, grace, forgiveness and wisdom, He stopped and stood by her. He stood by her to listen, to respect, to serve, and provide for her what was needed. He talked to her when no one else would. Where are you standing? Who are you standing beside? Abraham, Paul, and Samuel were not called because they were great. They were great because God was standing beside them. Are you interested in God because you want something? If you never get that something, will you still believe? Love is not sparkly, exciting, easy, or just about feeling good. Love is a decision. The love of Jesus is deeper than deep, it changes people."

I was greatly encouraged by this morning’s sermon. The preacher was a Mongolian missionary sent out by our Mongolian congregation to a community in the countryside. He knows what it’s like to stand beside people, to love beyond his own strength. He has seen people changed by Jesus’ love.

Sometimes, just standing next to someone does not feel very productive.  Jesus said to the woman, “Go and sin no more.” She had sensed His love, His forgiveness, His respect, His advocacy. Often, I want people to change before I’m willing to stand beside them. I suspect if stones had been thrown at the woman caught in adultery, Jesus would have been the one struck. He was willing to take that risk. He stood beside her when no one else would. Who are you standing beside?

My Rod & Shingles

Confined to mom’s room for a week in the dark, I battled boredom and the itchy rash of chicken pox back when I was in the fifth grade. This last month, the pox came back to haunt me making me feel old, crabby, achy, sore, and tired. With three staff gone, I felt I had to go in to work each day.

While being sick, my normal response would be to stay home, take meds, drink broth, and groan a lot. I couldn’t do that this month. Having just returned from Oly after six weeks away, the rest of the staff was counting on me to take my turn at the helm. And so I slept as much as possible on both ends of the day and prayed.

On a Tuesday at the beginning of the illness, I suddenly felt 100% better. I felt instantly healed that day. That Monday and Wednesday, the headaches, jaw ache, and feeling like I’d been generally hit by a truck were back. But the day in between, I felt great. It was ‘our day’ on the Covenant’s Prayer Calendar. The same thing happened the day after I posted on Facebook that I’d been bonked by the crud.  People prayed.

I’ve known that the Lord answers prayer, and particularly prayers uplifting my physical weakness.

Ulaan Baatar’s uneven terrain has caused me to fall several times. While trekking over thick ice for more than half the year, I often pray along the way, “Lord be my rod.” Since I started pleading this desire, I’ve tripped a million times, but never fallen again.

So, the moral of the story is that God answers prayer. And I’m grateful.

Surreal Support

Central Church, Richland

Most people know that Timbuktu, Boro-Boro, and Outer Mongolia are legitimate places.  But animated- versions of such are more likely to come to mind than reality.  Timbuktu and Boro-Boro are still pretend to Jim and I, but we’ve got tee shirts from the land of the Khan. We’ve buried our hands in the furry humps of Bactrians, filled our shoes with Gobi sand, have friends with names like Monkhjargal and Bolormaa, know the meaning of ‘ashquiday’, and even pay taxes in this exotic nation.  And yet, when we are home, where rainforests and slugs are the norm, Mongolia seems as mysteriously surreal to us as it does to you.

Cross Roads, Yelm

Stepping through the security scanners at SeaTac begins the unnatural transport to the other side of the planet. After 5 movies, 3 meals and endless drinks, received in allotted spaces smaller than coffins, we emerge into a strange new realm. Everything is different: language, food, sights, sounds, even smells.

But you, our beloved supporter, have most likely not experienced this magical transformation. You can only imagine the frigid air, wafts of boiling mutton, or the hills covered in chocolate chip shaped homes. Still, you pray for us, give us money, show interest in our challenges and triumphs, and support our ministry efforts. This gracious generosity astounds us. We are grateful for you. Thank you Super Sender!

Dee Anna & Alisha Milani Packaging & Sell Jewelry

March in WA.

Returning to Washington 

Feb. 16 to Apr. 3

We're being flown back by Central Church in Richland. 

Our calendar looks pretty full already with:

Central's Mission Week

Speak at River Ridge Cov.

Visit Dan, Jim's bro.

Dr. Dentist. Colonoscopy Appts.

Easter & Palm Sundays

Beach time with Raina

Shopping for Streams 

But if you'd like us to speak, or 

would just like to get together, 

contact us by e-mail and we'll see what we can do.

LizardGym@gmail.com

SnowSeaSnow

Snow Sea Snow Snow Sea Snow Sea Snow Sea Sea Sea Snow Sea Snow Sea
                                   Can you read the previous sentence aloud?
A little dizzy-making even if you can get all the sssss and nnnnnns in their proper places. We're feeling a little dizzy too. 2 weeks ago we went from the UB snow to Taiwan (not Thailand) sea. Yesterday, we did the same in reverse order. Seems like an entire year has past as we went from winter to summer and back to winter again.
                                    While away, we got lots of what we call 'lung therapy', breathing non-polluted fresh air. We ate many yummy delicacies like passion fruit, waxed apple, peanut tofu, wasabi bamboo, zucchini, nest fern & nachos :)  Walked on beaches, toured an aquarium, rode scooters, snorkeled, and enjoyed just being together. 2 Chinese words are now part of our vocab, knee-hi (hello) & shi shi (thank you).
                                     Our purpose in going was to meet with other Covenant folk working in East Asia. It was refreshing, inspiring, and encouraging to share stories, study, and fellowship with each other.
                                 
   

Hope

Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work I go.  So and so is on the street again. So and so is cold, and has no coal. So and so is angry. Drama. Drama. Drama. Just a normal day at the office. I’m afraid I have become a little cynical lately. “Of course, she’s drunk again.” “Not in school?  Nothing to eat? Oh, well that’s normal.” Although such a thought occasionally goes through my head, this is not how I want to be. I want to be full of hope, optimistic, life giving. I want to maintain that all things are possible. I want to dream her dreams. I want to stand alongside her, be beside her. I want to be her cheerleader shouting, consistently, “You can do it.” I want to mirror the precious gem she is.

               For the last year, I have had three workers at our shop table working regularly. Over the last month, all three have disappeared. Many days no one has been sitting across from me.  The grandfather of our young high school student died, sending her into a drinking depression, and work back on the street. Another lady is on vacation but called in Friday, so drunk that she didn’t know where she was. The third woman has been suspended due to her serious, unacknowledged alcoholism. This morning, two of these three women called asking what time my church service began, and said they were coming.

               I confess that I had to rehearse how I would greet them. “Where have you been? Are you crazy? Holing up in a hotel room, drinking, what were you doing? You weren't thinking! Wake up! Get it together!” were things I wanted to say. No accident that my morning reflection happened to be about hope and grace.

“May the God of your hope so fill you with all joy and peace . . . that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound and be overflowing (bubbling over) with hope.” Romans 15:13 Amplified.

They slipped into the back, having shown up late and didn’t sit beside us. After the service, I met them with hugs and kisses; warmly welcoming them with no lectures about past behavior. Love in action was not hard. They inhaled the dumpling, eggs, coffee and cake we shared.

We must offer hope. She has to choose how she wants to live her life. She needs to take responsibility for pursuing her hopes and dreams. But how can she know there are possibilities, when she has been beaten down all her life? How can she have any hope, if those standing around her have none?

A November Saturday

New Stream Honey

         On my 4th cup of tea this morning trying to clear out my pipes in the last stage of a head cold. Feeling super spoiled with Nystrom's home grown honey that was hand carried to our door step by daughter Raina. Even have a dash of lemon juice to add.
        Winter is upon is. Here, of course, that means minus temperatures, inches of ice, and smoke smoke smoke!
         Work is challenging but rewarding. We've lost 2 of our main ladies at Streams to their old life styles. We're heart broken but trusting God is still at work and may even bring them back to us. Staff are putting in extra effort into outreach. Our annual Christmas party tends to touch new ladies and its coming up soon.
      Our favorite 'American Store' has gone out of business because the customs process had gotten too unwieldy. So, we searched in vane for some of the seasonal treats we used to be able to get there. Jim came home from other shopping hunts with snack bags of Cheetohs & Fritos, black olives and pretzels. Yesterday, I found green onions, canned apricots, and the biggest treasure, celery! But no cranberries or yams :( We'll attempt a festive fare this afternoon.
     We are grateful. . . for warmth, loving family, friends & supporters, health, for the privilege to serve, for our marriage, and for the eternally abundant love, grace, and faithfulness our Savior gives. HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Can't Change People

We can be there for others: love them, listen to them, pray for them, hold out hope, encourage, support, cry, and laugh with them. But we can’t change them.  When a lady is doing well, I often forget the depth of hurt she struggles with. I can’t understand how familiar her darkness is. When she comes to work, seems to have made a decision for new life, is faithful and consistent for a season, I forget. I forget the pain in her past, the wounds, the giant holes of insecurity, the self -condemnation, the brokenness, the functional, albeit ugly, coping mechanisms. I forget the vastness between my world and hers.

Annie had been with us almost a whole year.  She was doing so well. She had learned most of the jewelry designs. She had a new, wholesome look; she seemed more like her true 19 years. Annie was laughing more, forgiving more and getting angry less. We could chart growth.  She had even gone back to high school. She had new dreams and was on the way to attaining them.    

Then her grandpa died. Her family connections were weak and fragile.  But Grandpa’s presence had been some kind of constant in her life.  Then her roommate surrendered, again, to an alcoholic binge that took her back to the streets, back to her pimp, back to darkness. Annie followed.

               And so we mourn and are reminded that a few months of love don’t change a person. Healing takes time. Change has to happen deep within; it’s more than a new wardrobe, new hair color, and a new routine. 

I was reminded this morning, “Leave the outcomes to God.” He is in the people-changing business. His plans for healing and recovery, for working all things together for good, are much wiser than I can imagine. So, I’m trying to leave the outcomes to Him.

               I’m sad. The sadness feels heavy, like an elephant sitting on my chest. I pray for Annie and Nergui fervently, passionately, desperately. But I must trust that the outcomes, the business of change, are His and His alone. 

Adventures of We 3

It was wonderful adventuring as a family in Mongolia. We lifted eagles, paddled pure waters, ate mutton, were hosted in a ger, hiked Gobi sands, visited herders during horse milking, visited museums & temples, and enjoyed just being together. We're all back to our normal routines but will always savor the memories!

Raina is in Mongolia

Raina is here in Mongolia for the first time. She's enjoying the sites and we're excited to show them all to her.
The day we went to see the largest horse statue in the world, its power went out, so we didn't get to crawl into and upon his head. But that didn't dampen our spirits. We just drove a little further on and visited with a herd of real horses lapping up the near by river. Fun times!!

Logical

We recently had the privilege of helping to move a ger. It seemed totally logical to put the flooring down 1st, then move in the furniture, set up the walls, and finally to put on the roof. Also seemed refreshing, altho convicting, that all of their belongings were packed, moved, house un-built & rebuilt and unpacked in one day.

Sounds

Engines roaring, horns bellowing, girls squealing, sirens whelping, traffic revving, cranes clanking, machinery grinding, bus brakes screeching. The city sounds are constant and innumerable. Usually, I screen out the collective call and notice only the unusual or pleasant reverberations: a parade of emergency vehicle warnings or a friendly flock of sparrows.

               Jim got a wind chime for his birthday last week. We hesitated to put it up for fear of annoying our numerous neighbors. Today, I decided just to try it. I hunted down a few zip ties, unveiled the bell, and stepped out onto our balcony. Wind was gently blowing, my bell in hand was ringing but I barely noticed it. What had been fearfully loud in our apartment diminished to a faint tinkle amidst the clanks of the city.

               Our fear, though a thoughtful consideration, kept us from action, and robbed us of the simple pleasure of listening to a bell in the wind. So often I procrastinate, I justify, I let fear stop me from moving, from following through. I often lose the opportunity to serve or to accomplish a challenging task and lose the joy I would have experienced in the process as well.

               Outside, our tree & petunias are being whipped by the weather. Our freshly hung clangor is playing music. I’m confident that it’s not annoying anyone. Sounds nice.

Habitat Blue Sky Build

July 5th was Jim's birthday. To celebrate, we volunteered at Habitat for Humanity's Blue Sky build where 20 houses are being built this week. We joined teams from Korea, Taiwan, Australia, and New Zealand to help construct homes from cement-Styrofoam blocks meant to be super insulating.