Humility

From the moment we arrived in Tsaganuur, I knew that what laid ahead was going to be completely unknown, challenging, and eye opening. It has been all of that and more leaving me, who normally has words for everything, at a lost as to what to say. I worry that my words will not capture the rawness of the human experiences here, nor the overwhelming hospitality and welcome we've been given, nor the growing admiration I have for my brother. I fear writing more to dishonor this experience, but trust that a beginning attempt will start much further reflection on these past days.

(This is the view of Leo's soum coming in from the road past the lake.)

I have found myself humbled and not in a pretty way. Sometimes I think of humbling experiences and imagine someone simply kneeling before something or someone in a beautiful, graceful way. My humbling has come in the form of knees been kicked out from underneath me and face planting the cold ground--leaving me with a sickening understanding of where I was and where I now look to be. The bitter weather (though nothing compared to what winter will bring) has forced me to ask for help knocking me off my experienced-traveler-I-can-handle-it-all pedal stool. As a person who likes being independent and low maintenance, the idea of having to wake up your younger brother because you're cold in the night is horribly humbling. As shivers ran through my body, Leo awoke to me trying to find more layers and got out of his sleeping bag giving it to me and taking the blankets from the other area. The next night, he made two fires so that I would be warm--toasty even. I am humbled by his effortless selflessness.

And I am humbled by the way he lives his life here. Perspective granting seems one way to describe it, but it is so much more. He wakes up every morning at 6:30am to chop coal and collect dung so that he can start a fire for his house. How many times have I thoughtlessly turned a thermostat up without any thought for those who have to work so hard for their homes to be warm? He boils water for coffee and to brush his teeth and wash his face. How many time have I instantly had hot water to wash my face with and never thought twice? He goes outside to use an outhouse that all eight or so of his hashaa family use. Their is no shower to use, no faucet to wash your hands, and no running water in the entire village. How often do I use water and never think of its refreshing, life sustaining qualities? And this is just my brother's morning routine. His Mongolian life could not stand in a more stark comparison to the American life I have and many of us have. I am humbled by how challenged I feel, by how fearful I feel of a lifestyle without all the material goods, and by how little faith I have in my ability to live in such a way.

I have been humbled as we have been honored. With Leo being the only American in this village and the only American to have lived in this village, Dad and I have been welcomed as royalty because of our connection to him. The way we have been welcomed speaks not only to the gracious hospitality of this village, but also to the relationships Leo has built. We were welcomed at the school where Leo teaches with what was called a welcome tea. It was far from a tea. Dad, Leo, and I were seated at the head table with the director of the school and other administrative folk. Every other teacher was seated on long benches leading up to the head table. Our table was covered in its entirety with food--bread, fruit, sweets, cheese, horse sausage, pickles, cucumbers, and more. Throughout the tea, we were continually encouraged to keep eating as speeches and toasts were made honoring our presence and speaking the praises of Leo as a good teacher. We were even given the gift of a performance of Kazak and Mongolian dances and songs by students in their traditional ware. To close, we took a group photo and then almost one by one the other teachers asked to have their photos taken with us. It was overwhelming and heart filling and more food than could have been consumed by an army was left over. We were reminded over and over again of their pride in their school, their gratitude for our visit, and for the care they have for Leo. We were honored and yet humbled by such generosity, such thought, and such care that had taken place to organize the event. I was humbled by what my brother has begun to build and humbled by a culture who welcomes with their all.

And lastly, I have been humbled as I am reminded constantly that God comes with many different faces and in many different climates and in many different situations if only we have the eyes to see. God doesn't simply reside in Latin America where it is easy for me to see Him. God is present here too yet in ways I have not previously experienced. With new eyes, keen to see Him, I am challenged and humbled by a God who cannot be limited by past experiences, but asks for us to seek Him in new ways and within new faces wherever we go.

All my love.