A phrase I’ve often heard from my momma’s lips is “new normal.” Nobody knows the definition of normal – it’s one of those things that is what you make it (Life lesson #63), so you’d better get used to the idea.
Everyone’s ‘normal’ is different and though our lives in UB are indeed unique, I am sometimes surprised by the fact that we are doing just that – living.
I think our TREK experience has been different than I expected because (in some ways) it is more laid back than I thought. We are not here for one month, intensely pushing to cram all sorts of activities and building projects into our short time.
We live here.
We have built friendships. We take the bus.
We walk on the sidewalks and have seen a season change and with it, people too.
It’s almost weird how normal life is here.
Some things are actually not that different from life in America.*
For example, the other night we even went to a babyshower:
It’s not hard to find ketchup:
Hair seems to grow in Mongolia too:
We cook dinner:
And do the dishes too.
Sounds kind of ‘normal’, right?
Well, one thing I’ve been learning through the last 6 months is that it doesn’t take extraordinary people to be ‘missionaries.’ It’s not only people who live in grass huts or the Nomads of Mongolia that need Jesus. It’s your neighbours. It’s people in church and out of it. It’s all of us.
And the crazier thing is that it doesn’t take nuns or adventurers or those who can preach well to share the love of God. Maybe I don’t have to eat weird food to be a missionary. I can take a kid out for a milkshake and ask them what they would ask God if they had a chance, regardless of what continent I live on. I can pray for people while I do my supper dishes no matter what language they speak and I can be an example in how I live my life – no matter where I am.
Missions is a lifestyle. Loving God and loving others – I don’t care how you do it, and no matter how normal or boring your life may seem. We all eat ketchup, and we can all make a difference in others’ lives. You don’t need to travel to Mongolia to figure that one out. Take my word for it : )
(*Or Canada. We have no Canadian kids at youth, so I’m used to referring to the whole North American continent as “America.” Bear with me, Canadians. In this case, it doesn’t really matter.)