Having seen the mountains on a clear-sky day, I know they exist. Had it not been for the two nights of wind which knocked much of the pollution from the sky, I doubt I would have believed the mountains were truly there. They are beautiful - lined with traditional gers and fences forming a labyrinth board at least part way up - and truly a sight to see.
Sometimes it is difficult to convey meaning through words. I could write a hundred times "It is cold in Mongolia" and the words would be completely insufficient. Inhaling deeply outside is like being kicked in the stomach by a donkey - it simply knocks the wind out of you. Icicles form on your nose and eyelashes within the time it takes to get from the church ger to the outhouse.
I'm here as a student: an intern. I'm learning from the United Methodist Missionary community in Ulaanbaatar. I'm completely convinced that I need some good, stearn lessons from seasoned veterans to whip me into shape so that I can be an effective missionary. Our church did things right in Mongolia, and it's thrilling to learn from the missionaries here.
Every day is different. I teach English, visit hospice care patients, hang out with children and youth, play dominoes with the senior citizen group, take part in Bible studies, or anything else I'm told to do. Worship is an experience, and it's a joy to be a part of it.