Love and a Cuss

A year ago today we held our first youth group. You can read about it here.
I guess I grew to love them…

Pulled from the archives.

April 2013

I had an interesting little session with God this weekend. I had to go for a walk and sit on a hill throwing pebbles at a pile of dung, hoping the noises the cow over there was making were not as disgruntled as they sounded.

The last thing I wanted was to be mauled by a mad bovine in the Mongolian countryside.

When you’ve packed 26 kids and their baggage into a bus for a weekend outside the city, there is more stuff there than backpacks and sleeping bags.

No one thinks about the MK who cuts. No one knows just how much of a social stretch this is for the kid who is sitting on their left. No one knows which pair of siblings is holding the secret that their family is moving in a month. Not across the street – across countries. Across the world.

What do you do with the girl who’s grandma just died?

What do you do with the boy who’s just been rejected by his best friend and girl of his dreams?

After about lap 6 around the hasha (the typical fenced yard) in the wind it’s become difficult to talk any more, I’m shivering so hard, but that’s okay because I don’t do much talking anyhow. I’m hearing the fears of moving to America or returning from a year in Canada. I’m hearing about best friends who were supposed to come back but now plans have changed. I’m hearing about parents who work hard. I hear about families that fight, brothers that have left and left wounds.

I hear 4 kids in a row tell me the hardest thing about living in Mongolia is that people come and go, but mostly they go. Families are on separate continents. Friends don’t stay. ‘Home’ is a confusion and fantasy.

These kids are incredible. They have a grit they do not know, and unique is too cliché a word for them. I see God’s masterpieces here.

And so after holding a kid in the wind for about the seventh time and organizing an impromptu game for the umpteenth, it was about time for my own walk. So I sat on a hill and said “shit – shit – shit” while bawling my eyes out for these kids whom I love.