I thought it would be weirder being in the US, being in Illinois, but not being home. Turns out, it's not!
Melody greeted me at the door with a knife, Ethan greeted me at the door with a gun, and Travis greeted me at the door with his gut. (Travis: do I look like I gained weight? Me: no. Travis: really!? How bout now? *lifts shirt* Me: well yes if you show me!)
I love how Nate tries to be super suave and gets it wrong. Leaning against doorframe, hair all long and Bieber-like, "So, how was your time in Bulgaria?" "I don't know, I went to Mongolia."
Kim and Gloria went shopping while Travis, me, and the three youngest went bowling. I was killing for the first half, but then I got all bad and stuff, and Travis beat me by like, ten points. Dangit.
I forgot that I have never hung out with the Forsythes in the US. Until Ethan said he'd never been bowling before. And then when, this morning, he told me how he saw a squirrel, but thought it was a puppy, and Mel thought it was a kitty, and I nearly spewed my cereal, but instead I said very calmly, "Yes, squirrels do look like puppies..."
I meant to stay awake until nine, but as Mel and Ethan were showing me this crazy PS3 game called EyePets, I fell asleep at 6:30 on the couch. Later Mel tried to wake me up for something, and I heard Travis yell from upstairs, "Hey! Get away! Let her sleep!" And even later, Kim told me I should just go to bed, but I said, "Mphflurf?" and she brought me a blanket. Around 11:30 I did wake up enough to crawl into bed, where I slept until 10:30 the next morning.
16 hours! Woot! Hopefully I am mostly back on track.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Complaining Can Be Good!
Well, I have left Mongolia. As of yesterday, I was very sad to be leaving, but at the moment, I am pissed about many things, and am ready to be home.
Things that are making me grumpy:
1. It is like, 7:00 a.m., and I've had one hour of sleep.
2. I've already waited two hours in the UB airport, flown for three hours, and waited five hours in Seoul. My journey should almost be over, yes? NO. I still have to wait two hours in the airport, and then a soul-deadening thirteen and a half hour flight. UGH.
3. I feel gross. You'd think not showering or not changing clothes would be no big at this point, but I dislike it.
4. I wanted a cold frappachino to keep me awake and keep me cool (it's muggy even inside the airport at Seoul), and I waited until 7:00 for Caribou Coffee to open. I asked for a Turtle Mocha frappachino, which, YUM. But they don't make it as a frappachino. A smart person would have left and gone to Starbucks or anywhere with cold coffee. I am not a smart person, because now I stuck with a hot drink that is making me feel disgusting inside as well as out. And then I bought food, and thought, I'll buy cold food! But no, I bought something hot. Am I sabotaging my happiness!?
5. Mostly, though, I'm pissed because I really wanted to buy Hello Panda at the airport, and I cannot find it anywhere! Boooo.
So really, I'm not in that bad a mood. I've been watching YouTube videos, which keeps me entertained, and discovering The Civi Wars (attention, Joel, I think you will like them!), which keeps my ears and heart happy.
But! It is good to be dissatisfied, because it is giving me things to look forward to upon returning to the States, which keeps me from missing Mongolia too much.
One and a half more hours until the flight of doom.
Things that are making me grumpy:
1. It is like, 7:00 a.m., and I've had one hour of sleep.
2. I've already waited two hours in the UB airport, flown for three hours, and waited five hours in Seoul. My journey should almost be over, yes? NO. I still have to wait two hours in the airport, and then a soul-deadening thirteen and a half hour flight. UGH.
3. I feel gross. You'd think not showering or not changing clothes would be no big at this point, but I dislike it.
4. I wanted a cold frappachino to keep me awake and keep me cool (it's muggy even inside the airport at Seoul), and I waited until 7:00 for Caribou Coffee to open. I asked for a Turtle Mocha frappachino, which, YUM. But they don't make it as a frappachino. A smart person would have left and gone to Starbucks or anywhere with cold coffee. I am not a smart person, because now I stuck with a hot drink that is making me feel disgusting inside as well as out. And then I bought food, and thought, I'll buy cold food! But no, I bought something hot. Am I sabotaging my happiness!?
5. Mostly, though, I'm pissed because I really wanted to buy Hello Panda at the airport, and I cannot find it anywhere! Boooo.
So really, I'm not in that bad a mood. I've been watching YouTube videos, which keeps me entertained, and discovering The Civi Wars (attention, Joel, I think you will like them!), which keeps my ears and heart happy.
But! It is good to be dissatisfied, because it is giving me things to look forward to upon returning to the States, which keeps me from missing Mongolia too much.
One and a half more hours until the flight of doom.
Stories in Which I am Embarrassed and/or Mean
I am really going to miss Gany. In just three weeks, she has become a very dear friend, and I hope very much to see her many more times in the future, either in the US or in Mongolia. Or both!
On Monday morning, she knocked on my bedroom door at 9:00. She had just gotten back from her weekend retreat, was going home, and would be back at 2:30 to take me to a museum. I stretched grumpily in bed and replied, "These stupid flies are keeping me awake. I want to kill them! But I can't." She murmured in agreement and disappeared.
Later we rode the bus across the city to learn about Chinngis Khan and how George W. Bush is secretly her father. After going through the museum at the exact same pace (hurray that she is not a dawdler!) we returned home very slowly, stopping at one restaurant for khuushur, then another for coffee, and a last grocery store for ice cream.
In between, we were that group walking on the streets that is obnoxious to outsiders and deliciously fun to be a part of. What I mean is, we laughed uproariously, staggered into each other, loudly told stories and repeated lines even more loudly.
Among the stories told were how deathly afraid Gany is of bugs, and how once in her yard, she flung off her pants because a bug crawled inside. When she calmed down, she realized a neighbor boy was staring at her in shock.
I in turn reminded her of the night it rained at the orphanage camp, thereby cutting us off from our normal clothes-changing location (the front steps, which were pitch black by that time) and forcing me to change behind a crib. My pants would not come off quickly, and Gany had laughed at me, remarking that it's always when we want to be discreet that we are unable. When I finally leaped into my pajamas, I glanced over to see the three older boys staring at me.
Then we passed a guest house that advertised tank driving. We stared at each other in shock--surely not real tanks? I railed at her, saying she should have arranged for me to stay there so I could drive through the streets of UB in a tank.
She said I would probably end up a dictator, for these three reasons: 1. I throw children against steps, 2. I dress little boys inappropriately, and 3. I call children mean names. More stories are necessary.
1. One afternoon at the orphanage camp, two girls were sitting on me, one on each knee. I had accidentally bounced them like riding a horse, humming the William Tell Overture. They loved this, and made me repeat it ten times. This made my legs extremely tired, so as was my way of getting out of those situations, I pretended to need something from the room. But the girls wouldn't get off. I would pull one away and go for the other, but the first had already relatched herself to my knee. Eventually I just stood up, which caused one of them to fall backwards and bang her head against the stair edge. I made sure she wasn't bleeding copiously, said, "Uuchlarai! Sorry!" and ran into the room out of self-preservation.
2. Gany's accusation is not quite accurate. There was one toddler with the biggest, most adorable eyes in the world. The orphans don't tend to worry about masculine or feminine clothes, especially not hats, especially not for the littler kids. So I took a picture of him wearing a flowered hat (that's him in my arms in the picture on Facebook). Later they put a girly beaded head adornment on him, and he was so freaking adorable I took another picture. So no, I don't dress kids inappropriately, but yes, I do document the occasions on which I find them as such.
3. I only learned two of the orphan's names. Yes, that's horrible. But I had my own names for them, and while we were eating khuushur, I got their real names from Gany by telling her what I had named them. Some were at least nice, such as Big Eyed Toddler (previously mentioned) and Adorable Girl I Haven't Done Much With. Others were funny, such as Sleepy Potty Toddler and Girl I Slept Holding Hands. But yes, some were mean. BUT, I should point out that Gany immediately knew who I meant when I asked the names of Cranky Toddler and Annoying Girl.
It is maybe possible that Gany's joke in Tserig is true: I have gotten meaner in Asia. But no, I think I have always been mean. However, my meanness makes for hilarious sidewalk stories with friends.
On Monday morning, she knocked on my bedroom door at 9:00. She had just gotten back from her weekend retreat, was going home, and would be back at 2:30 to take me to a museum. I stretched grumpily in bed and replied, "These stupid flies are keeping me awake. I want to kill them! But I can't." She murmured in agreement and disappeared.
Later we rode the bus across the city to learn about Chinngis Khan and how George W. Bush is secretly her father. After going through the museum at the exact same pace (hurray that she is not a dawdler!) we returned home very slowly, stopping at one restaurant for khuushur, then another for coffee, and a last grocery store for ice cream.
In between, we were that group walking on the streets that is obnoxious to outsiders and deliciously fun to be a part of. What I mean is, we laughed uproariously, staggered into each other, loudly told stories and repeated lines even more loudly.
Among the stories told were how deathly afraid Gany is of bugs, and how once in her yard, she flung off her pants because a bug crawled inside. When she calmed down, she realized a neighbor boy was staring at her in shock.
I in turn reminded her of the night it rained at the orphanage camp, thereby cutting us off from our normal clothes-changing location (the front steps, which were pitch black by that time) and forcing me to change behind a crib. My pants would not come off quickly, and Gany had laughed at me, remarking that it's always when we want to be discreet that we are unable. When I finally leaped into my pajamas, I glanced over to see the three older boys staring at me.
Then we passed a guest house that advertised tank driving. We stared at each other in shock--surely not real tanks? I railed at her, saying she should have arranged for me to stay there so I could drive through the streets of UB in a tank.
She said I would probably end up a dictator, for these three reasons: 1. I throw children against steps, 2. I dress little boys inappropriately, and 3. I call children mean names. More stories are necessary.
1. One afternoon at the orphanage camp, two girls were sitting on me, one on each knee. I had accidentally bounced them like riding a horse, humming the William Tell Overture. They loved this, and made me repeat it ten times. This made my legs extremely tired, so as was my way of getting out of those situations, I pretended to need something from the room. But the girls wouldn't get off. I would pull one away and go for the other, but the first had already relatched herself to my knee. Eventually I just stood up, which caused one of them to fall backwards and bang her head against the stair edge. I made sure she wasn't bleeding copiously, said, "Uuchlarai! Sorry!" and ran into the room out of self-preservation.
2. Gany's accusation is not quite accurate. There was one toddler with the biggest, most adorable eyes in the world. The orphans don't tend to worry about masculine or feminine clothes, especially not hats, especially not for the littler kids. So I took a picture of him wearing a flowered hat (that's him in my arms in the picture on Facebook). Later they put a girly beaded head adornment on him, and he was so freaking adorable I took another picture. So no, I don't dress kids inappropriately, but yes, I do document the occasions on which I find them as such.
3. I only learned two of the orphan's names. Yes, that's horrible. But I had my own names for them, and while we were eating khuushur, I got their real names from Gany by telling her what I had named them. Some were at least nice, such as Big Eyed Toddler (previously mentioned) and Adorable Girl I Haven't Done Much With. Others were funny, such as Sleepy Potty Toddler and Girl I Slept Holding Hands. But yes, some were mean. BUT, I should point out that Gany immediately knew who I meant when I asked the names of Cranky Toddler and Annoying Girl.
It is maybe possible that Gany's joke in Tserig is true: I have gotten meaner in Asia. But no, I think I have always been mean. However, my meanness makes for hilarious sidewalk stories with friends.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Romance Lost and Also Church
Tsogi broke up with Gany on Monday night, which is why we waited until Wednesday to hang out with the orphanage kids (for those too unaccustomed to heartache to understand, she wanted a day to grieve). The kids provided a distraction, but now that we're back in UB, I think depression is setting in. And what better way to deal with boy pain than to hang out with your best friends?
As such, I have been abandoned as she and Anya go off to have a sleepover and a picnic tomorrow, to avoid him or the talk of him at church. I say abandoned with all forgiveness, because I can't think of anything worse than discussing your pain with your friends, then having to say it all over again to translate for your USian friend.
But it's all gotten me thinking. Gany and Tsogi seemed perfectly happy to me. I was completely surprised when I found out he had dumped her, and then outraged when I found out why. Apparently he doesn't think she loves him because she doesn't cling to him and call him all the time. What the what? I know that Mongolian boys tend to be more sensitive than USian boys, and also he is three years younger than Gany. But really? Boys want that possessive emotionalism?
Regardless of whether he is unusual or the norm, this breakup is only solidifying my cynical side. That is unfortunate, because a week ago, the two of them were reawakening my natural romantic side. I had been thinking Romantic Thoughts and dreaming of Romantic Possibilities.
Now I don't know. On one hand, I'm kind of pissed at myself for being so commitment-phobic. I want so badly to adopt a kid, and honestly, I'm several years past able. You only have to 18. But I am terrified of dating someone, let alone marrying someone, let alone taking care of a kid. So I want to open myself up, I want to believe in lasting relationships. But then a relationship I admire falls apart, and I just sort of close down.
Maybe this is an overreaction based on people I've really only known for a couple weeks. But it's just one more reason on top of others. And yes, of course, there are couples I admire, but how do you guarantee you get one of those? Seems like you can never really be sure of the future, of yours or your partner's or your child's. And I hate not knowing things. So. I guess I just blunder on?
..
I was left to my own devices both Saturday and Sunday. Duma picked me up Sunday morning to take me to church; she was a translator for the Heart Project at the Pauil's a couple years ago.
The praise band was incredibly sparse--just Galaa on guitar and the main girl singer. I guess everyone else (including Tsogi) was avoiding church. This is why relationships in a group of friends can be disastrous!
However, church was mostly very awesome! Chatty Johnny's father saw me, and sent the adorable little kid to sit with me. He proceeded to point out that my shirt was pink, that he was drinking juice, and then whisper/slobber into my ear.
As cute as he is, it was very difficult to concentrate, and I wanted to, because Doug (who allowed Gany and I to hang out with his VA team on that horseback riding adventure) was preaching on missions. This is the second time I've heard someone talk about how Mongolians seem divinely prepared to be super missionaries--they are natural nomads, and they can easily get into blocked countries such as China, because they are internationally seen as peaceful herders. Doug encouraged them to conquer the world like their ancestor Chinngis Khan-- but to conquer with the love and life of Jesus rather than to destroy and rule.
It was all very awe- inspiring, and he's leading a four day conference for their church starting Tuesday. I hope I can convince Gany to go.* After the service was over, I was pleased to realize that I have friends! Without the safety of Gany around, I still managed to stay after church nearly an hour, talking with Galaa and the guy I think Gany wanted to set me up with (not Chinguun...my word, too many boys). Also I posed for pictures when I noticed a large crowd of youth not-so-sneakily being paparazzi. And I talked to Doug for awhile, and played with Johnny a bit!
This is a little bit like home, and I've only been here three weeks.
*Ack! Of course I can't go! I leave Tuesday night. Because my flight is so late, nearly Wednesday morning, I've been thinking Wednesday, which became Wednesday night in my head. Gany just corrected me, and now I have lost a whole day in UB!
As such, I have been abandoned as she and Anya go off to have a sleepover and a picnic tomorrow, to avoid him or the talk of him at church. I say abandoned with all forgiveness, because I can't think of anything worse than discussing your pain with your friends, then having to say it all over again to translate for your USian friend.
But it's all gotten me thinking. Gany and Tsogi seemed perfectly happy to me. I was completely surprised when I found out he had dumped her, and then outraged when I found out why. Apparently he doesn't think she loves him because she doesn't cling to him and call him all the time. What the what? I know that Mongolian boys tend to be more sensitive than USian boys, and also he is three years younger than Gany. But really? Boys want that possessive emotionalism?
Regardless of whether he is unusual or the norm, this breakup is only solidifying my cynical side. That is unfortunate, because a week ago, the two of them were reawakening my natural romantic side. I had been thinking Romantic Thoughts and dreaming of Romantic Possibilities.
Now I don't know. On one hand, I'm kind of pissed at myself for being so commitment-phobic. I want so badly to adopt a kid, and honestly, I'm several years past able. You only have to 18. But I am terrified of dating someone, let alone marrying someone, let alone taking care of a kid. So I want to open myself up, I want to believe in lasting relationships. But then a relationship I admire falls apart, and I just sort of close down.
Maybe this is an overreaction based on people I've really only known for a couple weeks. But it's just one more reason on top of others. And yes, of course, there are couples I admire, but how do you guarantee you get one of those? Seems like you can never really be sure of the future, of yours or your partner's or your child's. And I hate not knowing things. So. I guess I just blunder on?
..
I was left to my own devices both Saturday and Sunday. Duma picked me up Sunday morning to take me to church; she was a translator for the Heart Project at the Pauil's a couple years ago.
The praise band was incredibly sparse--just Galaa on guitar and the main girl singer. I guess everyone else (including Tsogi) was avoiding church. This is why relationships in a group of friends can be disastrous!
However, church was mostly very awesome! Chatty Johnny's father saw me, and sent the adorable little kid to sit with me. He proceeded to point out that my shirt was pink, that he was drinking juice, and then whisper/slobber into my ear.
As cute as he is, it was very difficult to concentrate, and I wanted to, because Doug (who allowed Gany and I to hang out with his VA team on that horseback riding adventure) was preaching on missions. This is the second time I've heard someone talk about how Mongolians seem divinely prepared to be super missionaries--they are natural nomads, and they can easily get into blocked countries such as China, because they are internationally seen as peaceful herders. Doug encouraged them to conquer the world like their ancestor Chinngis Khan-- but to conquer with the love and life of Jesus rather than to destroy and rule.
It was all very awe- inspiring, and he's leading a four day conference for their church starting Tuesday. I hope I can convince Gany to go.* After the service was over, I was pleased to realize that I have friends! Without the safety of Gany around, I still managed to stay after church nearly an hour, talking with Galaa and the guy I think Gany wanted to set me up with (not Chinguun...my word, too many boys). Also I posed for pictures when I noticed a large crowd of youth not-so-sneakily being paparazzi. And I talked to Doug for awhile, and played with Johnny a bit!
This is a little bit like home, and I've only been here three weeks.
*Ack! Of course I can't go! I leave Tuesday night. Because my flight is so late, nearly Wednesday morning, I've been thinking Wednesday, which became Wednesday night in my head. Gany just corrected me, and now I have lost a whole day in UB!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Hanging With Orphans
The kids at the Light Orphanage are deceptive. They are smiley, helpful, and completely adorable. The older ones kiss and carry the younger ones. They all help set up dinners and bedtime. They are some of the best kids I've ever met.
It's easy to forget they are orphans. Their parents either died or abandoned them at the hospital because they could not afford to take care of them. Some of them are healthy, but one has a serious mental disorder and another has had major reconstructive surgery and therapy on her legs and arms. One has heart problems and another has lung problems, neither of which the orphanage can afford to preemptively fix.
When I first got to the camp where the orphanage spends three weeks every summer enjoying the fresh country air, I was mobbed by huggers and hand holders and lap sitters. I'm used to kids liking me, but not nearly that fast, before I even spoke to them. As cliche as it is, these kids are attention starved. They are well taken care of at this private Christian orphanage, but they are cared for en masse by three or four women at a time (for 19 kids). They rarely get the one-on-one attention they deserve.
I guess I think that is my job for these three days--to lavish them with attention, love, eye contact, and smiles.
..
Right after the verse where James says that religion that God finds pure and faultless is to look after orphans and widows in their distress, he talks about how we shouldn't show favoritism. So of course while I took care of orphans, I struggled with favoritism. Hopefully I didn't show it too obviously, but I definitely had favorites.
My all time favorite was Usukhbayar. He is 10, and completely made of gangly boy limbs. He knows a few words in English, and delighted in learning to say "I love milk tea. I love Jesus. Good morning." He is one of the oldest kids there, and he happily takes care of the little kids, putting them on their potties, carrying them up mountains, or cleaning up after they eat/spill food all over the place. He loved to ask for my notebook so he could draw Disney princesses, and then we would play this hand clapping game for way too long.
Second was Amraa, who is all boy. He refuses to eat normally if a more interesting way is possible, and I was always about to take a picture of his awesomeness when one of the women in charge would scold him. This is why I will be a terrible mother. He is 7, and he has this wild smile that I found completely adorable.
Always I like the boys. The girls were super cute and very sweet, but the ones who stole my heart were boys. I want a bunch of boys. They're so much fun.
..
I have newly learned that I am a horrible person. Segi is 6 and she has a pretty severe brain condition. She can't talk, and she has to wear a diaper and be fed. She constantly mumbles, jerks her head around, or bangs her head on the floor. Even when she's clean, she smells of stale vomit, and the other workers mostly throw her in a corner so she won't burn herself or get into something she oughtn't.
I knew I should spend time with her. If Jesus is the least of these, then Jesus was in her. But I just didn't want to. Her hands were always sticky, she drooled, and I had to breathe carefully to avoid her odor. I hated myself for being so disgusted. I try so hard to be above social judgments, and what can be more pitiable than a mentally ill child?
My guilt did build up to the point that I went to her and just stroked her back for awhile. I don't think she gets much physical affection at all. Of course, when I did this one good thing, she latched on to me, and came up to me often, grabbing my hand and drooling on my pants. And not once, in three days, did I ever like her. I tried to pay attention to her. I knew that is what I ought to do. And even though I did spend some time with her, I'm ashamed to admit the majority of the time, I consciously chose to spend time with the healthy, happy kids rather than with her.
It does nothing to benefit that poor girl, but at least for me it was good to have my selfishness and sinfulness so obviously shoved in my face.
..
We all slept in one room, and slim mats were laid out in big sections, so we all kind of slept together. The first night, one girl found a bug in her bed, so she ran screaming to the adults, and she slept between me and a worker. In the moonlight, I saw her face turned toward mine, so I patted her hand. She grabbed it and held it with both of hers on her stomach, stroking my arm and playing with my fingernails until we both fell asleep.
..
The women who work at the orphanage are fine. More harsh than my "everyone is special" American mentality sometimes liked, but they take good care of the kids. The thing is, there is only so much of a relationship that can have with kids when you are taking care of 17 at once. Added to that, they only work eight hours a day. The kids don't have consistency in their adults. They don't have one on one affection and unconditional love.
I thought they had a pretty good situation at first, and definitely, this orphanage is far and above better than most. But none of that can compare to having two parents who love you, who will be with you every day of every week of every year, who will discipline you and hold you and kiss you and tell they love you.
These poor kids. I am definitey for sure 100% adopting. I wish more Christians would do the same. There really can be no greater gift than to take an orphan into your family.
..
I never knew it was possible for five kids to fit on my lap at once. Even though I knew my job was to love these kids, by Wednesday night I was dreading the following two full days with them. They were perfectly cute. But there were so many of them, and they all wanted my attention and my physical affection. It was exhausting! I took to hiding in the room for a few minutes of peace and quiet before they found me and demanded that I fly them like airplanes on my feet or hold them or pretend to be a marionette to their strings.
You'd think that God asking you to hang out with adorable kids for a few days would be easy, but for me? It was akin to roofing a house, how draining it was.
..
One of the things I wanted from this trip was confirmation about working in an orphanage, and I have to admit, I still don't know. I am more adamant than ever that it is Important Work. I am newly aware that it is incredibly difficult and emotionally draining, and that without the process of letting go of kids you come to see as your own but have to give up so they can have a real family.
So. I've also become more sure of how God works in my life. That adventures and next steps are not something to be rushed, that God set up this trip to Mongolia in such a cool way without needing my input. So what I've decided is that yes, I am open to orphanage work, but God will have to set it up. If I pursue it on my own power, I have no doubt that I will crumble under it's pressure. But if I wait for His timing, I think it will still be draining, but I will be able to endure.
Unti then, I get the feeling I will be in Peoria for awhile, at least a year or two more. But who knows? Now that I'm prepared for that possibility, God might change things up on me. That's all part of trusting Him, I guess!
It's easy to forget they are orphans. Their parents either died or abandoned them at the hospital because they could not afford to take care of them. Some of them are healthy, but one has a serious mental disorder and another has had major reconstructive surgery and therapy on her legs and arms. One has heart problems and another has lung problems, neither of which the orphanage can afford to preemptively fix.
When I first got to the camp where the orphanage spends three weeks every summer enjoying the fresh country air, I was mobbed by huggers and hand holders and lap sitters. I'm used to kids liking me, but not nearly that fast, before I even spoke to them. As cliche as it is, these kids are attention starved. They are well taken care of at this private Christian orphanage, but they are cared for en masse by three or four women at a time (for 19 kids). They rarely get the one-on-one attention they deserve.
I guess I think that is my job for these three days--to lavish them with attention, love, eye contact, and smiles.
..
Right after the verse where James says that religion that God finds pure and faultless is to look after orphans and widows in their distress, he talks about how we shouldn't show favoritism. So of course while I took care of orphans, I struggled with favoritism. Hopefully I didn't show it too obviously, but I definitely had favorites.
My all time favorite was Usukhbayar. He is 10, and completely made of gangly boy limbs. He knows a few words in English, and delighted in learning to say "I love milk tea. I love Jesus. Good morning." He is one of the oldest kids there, and he happily takes care of the little kids, putting them on their potties, carrying them up mountains, or cleaning up after they eat/spill food all over the place. He loved to ask for my notebook so he could draw Disney princesses, and then we would play this hand clapping game for way too long.
Second was Amraa, who is all boy. He refuses to eat normally if a more interesting way is possible, and I was always about to take a picture of his awesomeness when one of the women in charge would scold him. This is why I will be a terrible mother. He is 7, and he has this wild smile that I found completely adorable.
Always I like the boys. The girls were super cute and very sweet, but the ones who stole my heart were boys. I want a bunch of boys. They're so much fun.
..
I have newly learned that I am a horrible person. Segi is 6 and she has a pretty severe brain condition. She can't talk, and she has to wear a diaper and be fed. She constantly mumbles, jerks her head around, or bangs her head on the floor. Even when she's clean, she smells of stale vomit, and the other workers mostly throw her in a corner so she won't burn herself or get into something she oughtn't.
I knew I should spend time with her. If Jesus is the least of these, then Jesus was in her. But I just didn't want to. Her hands were always sticky, she drooled, and I had to breathe carefully to avoid her odor. I hated myself for being so disgusted. I try so hard to be above social judgments, and what can be more pitiable than a mentally ill child?
My guilt did build up to the point that I went to her and just stroked her back for awhile. I don't think she gets much physical affection at all. Of course, when I did this one good thing, she latched on to me, and came up to me often, grabbing my hand and drooling on my pants. And not once, in three days, did I ever like her. I tried to pay attention to her. I knew that is what I ought to do. And even though I did spend some time with her, I'm ashamed to admit the majority of the time, I consciously chose to spend time with the healthy, happy kids rather than with her.
It does nothing to benefit that poor girl, but at least for me it was good to have my selfishness and sinfulness so obviously shoved in my face.
..
We all slept in one room, and slim mats were laid out in big sections, so we all kind of slept together. The first night, one girl found a bug in her bed, so she ran screaming to the adults, and she slept between me and a worker. In the moonlight, I saw her face turned toward mine, so I patted her hand. She grabbed it and held it with both of hers on her stomach, stroking my arm and playing with my fingernails until we both fell asleep.
..
The women who work at the orphanage are fine. More harsh than my "everyone is special" American mentality sometimes liked, but they take good care of the kids. The thing is, there is only so much of a relationship that can have with kids when you are taking care of 17 at once. Added to that, they only work eight hours a day. The kids don't have consistency in their adults. They don't have one on one affection and unconditional love.
I thought they had a pretty good situation at first, and definitely, this orphanage is far and above better than most. But none of that can compare to having two parents who love you, who will be with you every day of every week of every year, who will discipline you and hold you and kiss you and tell they love you.
These poor kids. I am definitey for sure 100% adopting. I wish more Christians would do the same. There really can be no greater gift than to take an orphan into your family.
..
I never knew it was possible for five kids to fit on my lap at once. Even though I knew my job was to love these kids, by Wednesday night I was dreading the following two full days with them. They were perfectly cute. But there were so many of them, and they all wanted my attention and my physical affection. It was exhausting! I took to hiding in the room for a few minutes of peace and quiet before they found me and demanded that I fly them like airplanes on my feet or hold them or pretend to be a marionette to their strings.
You'd think that God asking you to hang out with adorable kids for a few days would be easy, but for me? It was akin to roofing a house, how draining it was.
..
One of the things I wanted from this trip was confirmation about working in an orphanage, and I have to admit, I still don't know. I am more adamant than ever that it is Important Work. I am newly aware that it is incredibly difficult and emotionally draining, and that without the process of letting go of kids you come to see as your own but have to give up so they can have a real family.
So. I've also become more sure of how God works in my life. That adventures and next steps are not something to be rushed, that God set up this trip to Mongolia in such a cool way without needing my input. So what I've decided is that yes, I am open to orphanage work, but God will have to set it up. If I pursue it on my own power, I have no doubt that I will crumble under it's pressure. But if I wait for His timing, I think it will still be draining, but I will be able to endure.
Unti then, I get the feeling I will be in Peoria for awhile, at least a year or two more. But who knows? Now that I'm prepared for that possibility, God might change things up on me. That's all part of trusting Him, I guess!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
I Stop Being Sad and be Awesome Instead
I am naturally a useless coward. When Roy users to have friends over, I would lock myself in my room for hours on end to avoid facial recognition or verbal contact. When I found out a high school or college class would necessitate more participation or oral reports than I was comfortable with (i.e. any at all), I would promptly head to my advisor's office to drop it and add a less stressful class in its place.
So today when Gany said she felt bad, so could we wait to go visit the orphanage kids in the countryside tomorrow, I agreed, though dreaded the long hours of safety in my elephant-wallpapered room. Until Anya asked for my rent payment so her mom could buy food, and I told her I didn't have enough. She had to go to work, and not knowing the extent of my cowardice, calmly asked if I could run to the bank. "Um? The bank? Like the ATM at the Chinngis Hotel?"
"Actually, there's another one you could use. Past the wrestling palace, you go east, and to the north--"
"Wait. Stop. That is not helpful."
After she carefully explained how to get to the TDB Bank, both verbally and theatrically, I left the apartment, armed with her mom's phone set to call Anya. I wandered the streets without names or signs, turning left and right and keeping a mental picture list ("remember to go through the playground, and turn at the green fence. Digital Photo Shop, remember the Digital Photo Shop"). I reached wrestling palace and crossed the busy street. If there's one thing I am proud of, it's my ability to cross busy streets with confidence.
And there is was! The TBD Bank! Unfortunately, after standing in line for a teller, I found out they only exchange tugrugs for dollars, and you can't withdraw dollars from your card. Off to the Chinngis Khan Hotel after all, which I totally knew how to get to by myself. I withdrew the necessary money, then stepped outside to survey my new kingdom. I breathed in the slightly dirty UB air and set off for the apartment with an adolescent boy swagger. I wanted to grab people by the shoulders and shout in their confused faces, "I am walking by myself! I am finding places! I am so independent! Do you see the awesomeness seeping out of my every pore? I am full of awesome!"
But I didn't. I figured that my tarnish my victory.
I gave the money to Anya's mom, then turned around to face the city once more, this time for a celebratory iced mocha at the UBean, and for the opportunity to brag on myself in my blog. I am awesome in the lamest ways.
So today when Gany said she felt bad, so could we wait to go visit the orphanage kids in the countryside tomorrow, I agreed, though dreaded the long hours of safety in my elephant-wallpapered room. Until Anya asked for my rent payment so her mom could buy food, and I told her I didn't have enough. She had to go to work, and not knowing the extent of my cowardice, calmly asked if I could run to the bank. "Um? The bank? Like the ATM at the Chinngis Hotel?"
"Actually, there's another one you could use. Past the wrestling palace, you go east, and to the north--"
"Wait. Stop. That is not helpful."
After she carefully explained how to get to the TDB Bank, both verbally and theatrically, I left the apartment, armed with her mom's phone set to call Anya. I wandered the streets without names or signs, turning left and right and keeping a mental picture list ("remember to go through the playground, and turn at the green fence. Digital Photo Shop, remember the Digital Photo Shop"). I reached wrestling palace and crossed the busy street. If there's one thing I am proud of, it's my ability to cross busy streets with confidence.
And there is was! The TBD Bank! Unfortunately, after standing in line for a teller, I found out they only exchange tugrugs for dollars, and you can't withdraw dollars from your card. Off to the Chinngis Khan Hotel after all, which I totally knew how to get to by myself. I withdrew the necessary money, then stepped outside to survey my new kingdom. I breathed in the slightly dirty UB air and set off for the apartment with an adolescent boy swagger. I wanted to grab people by the shoulders and shout in their confused faces, "I am walking by myself! I am finding places! I am so independent! Do you see the awesomeness seeping out of my every pore? I am full of awesome!"
But I didn't. I figured that my tarnish my victory.
I gave the money to Anya's mom, then turned around to face the city once more, this time for a celebratory iced mocha at the UBean, and for the opportunity to brag on myself in my blog. I am awesome in the lamest ways.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Ain't No Party Like a Tourist Party
There's this man named Doug who comes to Ulaanbaatar every summer, often leading mission teams from his hometown. Four others joined him in having a medical clinic in the Gobi this past week, and they also encouraged and taught the local church there and baptized 16 believers. Gany knows Doug, so when she found out he was taking his team to a ger camp, she said, "Can Tricia and I come too?" No one can resist Gany, so yesterday, we met the team (plus two Mongolian translators) at a hotel and rode in a microbus a couple hours to Terelj.
It is an absolutely gorgeous place, complete with a giant rock shaped like a turtle. And we had a girl-ger! With beds and sheets and pillows and stuff! And, best of all, there were actual toilets that you could sit on. Although I did get stuck in one, had to throw my body against the door, and then wait for Gany to find me and pull while I pushed. But I digress.
We ate khuushur after arriving at the camp restaurant. We were going to go horseback riding after eating, but it was raining, so we waited for it to blow over. Not much later, I got on a Mongolian horse and rode through mountains and plains so awesomely it deserved to be in a movie. Best place to ride a horse ever. And we had total control over the horse, though we mosty stayed in a group. I tried to get used to trotting without screaming, and even learned to stand up while trotting so as not to jolt my brain out of place. However, I tried nothing faster than a trot, because one guy on the team did, and he fell off. Oops.
We rode up to a temple, but instead of climbing a bazillion steps, I joined Gany and our 9-year-old guide in hunting for baby strawberries in the woods. They were delicious, and when we met up with the team half an hour latre, Doug asked if we'd picked any for them. I said, "We were going to, but...I ate them." That was a lie. I didn't even think of anyone else.
After riding back to camp, we at dinner, then congregated in the girl ger to sing John Denver (is that his name? I don't even know) songs and a Mongolian praise song in Mongolian. Gany and Gana (the boy translator) said I have a very good accent. Gany's been praising my language skills all trip, which I've waived off as ridiculous. But that leads me to some thoughts about the team.
I learned that yes, I do kick butt at language compared to other foreigners. Some of the team claimed they were too old to learn a nerw language, so they didn't try. Some seemed to think it was a game, shouting the words they learned when even I could tell it was wildly mispronounced. But mostly, I rock because I actually attempt the phlegmy sounds. I don't get why others...don't? They're pretty important. So yeah, ego boost to me.
I was also grateful to be traveling alone, because I've gotten to have a more authentic experience, I think. The team has been staying in hotels and dining in restaurants, whereas I am solitary enough to rent a room in a family's apartment, and I have a Mongolian friend to try street-food with. The team's ger experience was a sparse, clean, tourist ger with a full bathroom. My ger experience was seven people on beds and on the floor, cooking and dressing and sleeping all at once, with the bathroom being....anywhere you wanted.
And I love that even though I obviously stand out physically, I do not think I scream "tourist" simply because my companions are always Mongolian. I absolutely hated walking around with five other Americans, some with backpacks and cameras slung around their necks, and those big hats only tourists wear to avoid the sun. I felt fake and separate from Mongolia, as well as a huge target for pickpockets.
Oh! And also! (so I have more thoughts about the team than I realized) they are the sort of Christians that I knew existed, but never quite saw in action. For so long. They are the people who say "hallelujah!" when they reach the top of a staircase and legit give credit to God for allowing us to illegally try on Hun outfits before we found out we weren't supposed to. I just...think "hallelujah" is more sacred than staircases? And that God is probably bigger than supporting petty crime?
However, they also prayed about everything, and while I found it odd when Doug stopped to pray for one team member's nausea to settle, it was a kind of oddness that I admired. I want to learn from their spiritual action but not their rampant spiritual language.
Interesting experience.
It is an absolutely gorgeous place, complete with a giant rock shaped like a turtle. And we had a girl-ger! With beds and sheets and pillows and stuff! And, best of all, there were actual toilets that you could sit on. Although I did get stuck in one, had to throw my body against the door, and then wait for Gany to find me and pull while I pushed. But I digress.
We ate khuushur after arriving at the camp restaurant. We were going to go horseback riding after eating, but it was raining, so we waited for it to blow over. Not much later, I got on a Mongolian horse and rode through mountains and plains so awesomely it deserved to be in a movie. Best place to ride a horse ever. And we had total control over the horse, though we mosty stayed in a group. I tried to get used to trotting without screaming, and even learned to stand up while trotting so as not to jolt my brain out of place. However, I tried nothing faster than a trot, because one guy on the team did, and he fell off. Oops.
We rode up to a temple, but instead of climbing a bazillion steps, I joined Gany and our 9-year-old guide in hunting for baby strawberries in the woods. They were delicious, and when we met up with the team half an hour latre, Doug asked if we'd picked any for them. I said, "We were going to, but...I ate them." That was a lie. I didn't even think of anyone else.
After riding back to camp, we at dinner, then congregated in the girl ger to sing John Denver (is that his name? I don't even know) songs and a Mongolian praise song in Mongolian. Gany and Gana (the boy translator) said I have a very good accent. Gany's been praising my language skills all trip, which I've waived off as ridiculous. But that leads me to some thoughts about the team.
I learned that yes, I do kick butt at language compared to other foreigners. Some of the team claimed they were too old to learn a nerw language, so they didn't try. Some seemed to think it was a game, shouting the words they learned when even I could tell it was wildly mispronounced. But mostly, I rock because I actually attempt the phlegmy sounds. I don't get why others...don't? They're pretty important. So yeah, ego boost to me.
I was also grateful to be traveling alone, because I've gotten to have a more authentic experience, I think. The team has been staying in hotels and dining in restaurants, whereas I am solitary enough to rent a room in a family's apartment, and I have a Mongolian friend to try street-food with. The team's ger experience was a sparse, clean, tourist ger with a full bathroom. My ger experience was seven people on beds and on the floor, cooking and dressing and sleeping all at once, with the bathroom being....anywhere you wanted.
And I love that even though I obviously stand out physically, I do not think I scream "tourist" simply because my companions are always Mongolian. I absolutely hated walking around with five other Americans, some with backpacks and cameras slung around their necks, and those big hats only tourists wear to avoid the sun. I felt fake and separate from Mongolia, as well as a huge target for pickpockets.
Oh! And also! (so I have more thoughts about the team than I realized) they are the sort of Christians that I knew existed, but never quite saw in action. For so long. They are the people who say "hallelujah!" when they reach the top of a staircase and legit give credit to God for allowing us to illegally try on Hun outfits before we found out we weren't supposed to. I just...think "hallelujah" is more sacred than staircases? And that God is probably bigger than supporting petty crime?
However, they also prayed about everything, and while I found it odd when Doug stopped to pray for one team member's nausea to settle, it was a kind of oddness that I admired. I want to learn from their spiritual action but not their rampant spiritual language.
Interesting experience.
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