Handcrafted Answer to a Prayer

When did I first start praying for this young woman?  I do not remember.  Long before I was introduced to Uka, I knew I would need to meet her.  I would need her friendship and camaraderie.  I would cherish her insight into her culture.  I would learn from her as I passed along my own experiences.  And together we would birth a bilingual kids ministry.

Because that is not something you should try doing solo.

When did I start to ask God for a person to fill this role?  It must be about two years ago...

God is funny and mysterious.  He lives outside of time.  So He had been working on an answer to my new prayer for over two decades.

Meet Uka.

Uka!

"I was praying, and think we need to communicate with our children's parents about what we are doing in class so they can talk about it at home," Uka mentioned to me as we got together to pray for our Antioch Mongolia's kids.  Seriously, I had the same idea two weeks ago, chica.  But got overwhelmed with the idea of how to do it in our bilingual setting.

This scenario is recurrent with the two of us.  God drops His ideas into both of our heads.  And where I hit the 'but how do we do that in Mongolia?!?' wall, Uka has an idea of how to get us there.

I'm not telling you much about the inside of this fascinating, faithful woman of God, yet.  I'm looking for words.  Genuine.  Sold out.  Child-hearted.  Wise.  Quirky.  Creative.  Humble.  Talented.  Multifaceted.  Beautiful.

Uka moments after her baptism - summer 2013

I wish you could see her for a Sunday with our children.  There is a genuine smile of joy blazing from her eyes as much as between her cheeks.  When anyone talks to her, from the littlest to the oldest, they have her full attention - she is down at their level, listening with her ears and her eyes, actively loving.  When she translates she matches my energy, like a harmony being sung by my side, and fills in the gaps that my cultural bent creates.  When she prays, she is in her Daddy's lap and demonstrates invitingly how close anyone can be to Abba.

Dance party at kids' church!  Uka is the tall 'kid' in back.

This is the one God prepared as an answer to my prayer of two years ago.  This is Uka.

pause - insight into my life

You might say I'm a bit of a control freak.  A perfectionist.  Hmm.  Many have said the latter.  I know I am also the former.

Giving over a project, a plan, a class, a lesson.  Knowingly or subconsciously, I grip my little kingdom. I do not like to let go.  I do not share well.  

I need to grow here.

A lot.

But I trust Uka.  Entirely.  With kids, with teaching, with translation.  Easily.  Freely.  Joyfully!

And in January I had the joy of sitting in the nest and watching this young woman take her first flight.  She ran our children's department for two weeks while I was away for a conference in Thailand.  The photos and stories she sent while I was away made my heart sing.

You should know something else about Uka.  She doesn't have my control-freak hang-ups.  As soon as she was released to lead she immediately set others among our volunteers, and even our kids, free to fly in their own ways.

I'm glad I am only planting this sapling.  If I were to hold onto it, I'd limit its root space out of fear of it not growing 'just right'.  Uka will free this ministry to grow into much more than I could.

Uka on right - faithfully translating for me.

Reminds me of a song I listened to again today.

"What you have done, others will do,

bigger and better and faster than you,"

(Rick Pino's "Pioneer")

I do not mind that.  At all.  Uka and others will grow this children’s ministry and release it to flourish.  I am just happy to fulfill another line of the same song.

"But the Father in heaven, He is glad you can go,

For those who come after you will need the road."

Uka teaching our kids

It turns out that I was not the only one praying about this ministry to children long ahead of its birth.  Uka let me know months after she joined me that she had asked God to give her an opportunity to learn how to minister to children.  When she discovered what we were planning for the children of this then church-to-be, she knew that she wanted to be a part.  But she wasn't sure if I would want her help.

Oh, girl.  If she hadn't jumped in.  Oh.  I'm glad I do not have to think about what that would have looked like.

I am thankful, instead, that this will be beautiful.  And that Uka’s prayers were answered along with mine.

The beauty of answered prayers.

Tsagaan Sar and the Beginning of the Adventure

Monday afternoon, February 11, 2013.  Mountain peaks waved at us through an undercast sky as I strained to look past the shy, Korean teen seated next to me.  As we broke through the clouds I hoped to catch a glimpse of my new home.  Occasionally she would pull away and allow me a glance as rectangular buildings and white dots of gers filled the edges of the valley.

Ten minutes later I pulled backpack over thick, Russian coat, and dragged an overly-stuffed carry-on behind me as stewardesses wished me a good day in Korean.  Cold leaked around the edge of the jetway.  After my passport had been stamped and two bags and a box were loaded onto a cart, I found my way to the lobby of the tiny international airport.

My teammates, Josh and Sagana, and their 4-year old daughter appeared through the doorway just as I was extracting my winter boots from one of my suitcases.  They helped me grab my luggage and we cut through the near zero (F) winter air and loaded into their car. 

“Happy Tsagaan Sar!” I was reminded again by my teammates that I had arrived on the first day of the Mongolian New Year.  “Are you up for an adventure?”

Absolutely! 

Rather than driving east into town, we headed northwest to a ‘suburb’ of Ulaanbaatar.  And less than an hour after arriving in Mongolia I found myself stepping through the colorful doorway of a precious elderly woman’s ger – the traditional Mongolian felt home, complete with wood-burning stove.

Visiting a ger - Mongolian home.

“Be sure not to step on the lentil.  Try not to point your feet at the fire,” Josh instructed. “And do not walk between the two support beams in the center of the ger.”

I was then taught the traditional greeting for Tsaagan Sar: Ahmar ban oh? (Амар байна уу?) - meaning 'Are you peaceful?'  Placing my arms under the arms of the head of the home, the precious wrinkled face bent in to sniff me, first on my left and then on my right.

After the formal greetings we were instructed to sit down around a table.  The feast laying before us consisted of an entire steamed sheep’s back, a tower of cookies, and various bowls and plates of side dishes and candy.  I was handed a bowl of some type of yogurt or buttery milk and drank a sip before passing it along to the others. 

My first Tsagaan Sar feast.

Soon we were joined by another couple who also greeted the owner of the home, and then each of us.  These two sat at the head of the table as honored guests, because of their advanced years. Thankfully, these visitors had lived in the States for a number of years and both spoke English fluently.

The homeowner, all this while, was busy adding wood to the fire, placing a giant pot on the stove, and then loading a sieve of some kind with frozen buuz, the traditional meat-filled dumpling of Mongolia.  As I watched her work, Sagana informed me that many families will prepare and freeze around 1,000 buuz in preparation for Tsagaan Sar.  After loading the steaming basket into the giant pot and placing the cover on top, our hostess set a large rock and a solid iron axe on top of the whole assembly.  The weight of these two objects would press the lid down, trapping steam to cook the buuz. 

Cooking buuz - delicious Mongolian dumplings.

Yes, that is an axe on the lid of the pot.

Perhaps 20 or 30 minutes later, off came the axe, the stone, and the lid.  Dishes were heaped with steaming-hot dumplings and the plates passed around the table.  After her guests seemed sated on buuz, our hostess sat down on the edge of her bed and dug around for a few moments in a pile next to her.  Then she was up on her feet again to present a gift to each one of her guests.  With surprise and joy I received a brightly colored pair of socks and a bar of chocolate, while Hope showed off her new mittens – the kind that has a string that hold them together through the arms of your coat.

Buuz.

New mittens!

After saying goodbye in no particularly formal way, we piled back into the car in the now starry evening.  We would visit two more homes, both in town, to repeat the same traditional greetings, the tasting of yogurt, milk tea, mutton and buuz.  At the final home I was even treated to my first taste of airag – traditional Mongolian fermented mare’s milk.  I actually liked it!  Each visit ended the same way.  Eat buuz, receive a gift from the host (one should always show delight and surprise by the gift!), and then bundle up in scarf, hat, gloves, boots and winter coat, thank the host and out into the chill of -20 degrees Fahrenheit night.

By the third and final day of Tsagaan Sar I had visited seven homes, had my left and right ear sniffed by many friendly faces, eaten more buuz than I could have imagined, and received everything from a cute shopping bag to gloves to about the equivalent of 5 dollars in Turigs (the local currency).  What a welcome!

Ahmar ban oh?  Are you peaceful?  I pray you know the presence of the One who came to restore peace between the Father and His children.  And that the people of the steppe will soon know His peace as well.

Enjoy the long awaited photos!

Sweet little one who let me hold him for most of my visit.

Serving the fat-tailed sheep.

Trying on a deel - traditional Mongolian outfit.

With neighbor friends visiting Sagana's beautiful mother.

Another feast!