Flypaper Heart

Today I woke up to an interesting post on my Facebook wall.

(Yeah, yeah, I know. I should be waking up to a shower and breakfast before I even touch that devil social media. #grownupproblems)

It was posted by the first high school small group leader I ever had. She said she was "encouraged by your courage and loyalty to these kids all over the world" and that she's "enamored by your zest for life and commitment to these kiddos."

And, after I wiped my eyes and stopped blushing, I started thinking about a few things. 

First, since 2010 I've been able to teach hundreds of kids--from Uganda to student teaching to China to subbing to Mongolia. It's almost unfair just how many students I've been able to have under my wing.

And I'm only 23.

Second, I never would have described myself as courageous. I just go where the Father tells me to. I usually fight with Him about it for a little while, but I always give in...and it always ends up being exactly what I need for my next step of growth.

Always,

always,

ALWAYS.

Third, because I've had so many students over the last four years, I've found that my capacity to be broken and to love has expanded more than I ever imagined it would.

When it comes to my students, no matter where they are or in what capacity I'm teaching them, I have what I call a

Flypaper Heart

My kids--my babies--my students--always stick fast and hard.

I still pray for my kids in Uganda from time to time.

I still talk about the kids from my fourth grade student teaching placement.

My heart still breaks when I think about my babies in China.

Right now I miss the students from the school where I sub. 

And after only six weeks with them, I'm stuck on these Mongolian middle schoolers.

(WHO THOUGHT I'D EVER, EVER, EVER TEACH EIGHTH GRADERS???)

(Sorry. I just can't get over it.)

While it's important to me that my students meet standards, learn a lot, and--as is the case right now--practice their English, the most ESSENTIAL lesson I want them to take away from my time with them is that 

They. Are. Loved.

They may not be the smartest, funniest, or most popular kid in class but they are valuable.

They may not be treated kindly at home, but when they are in my class they are wanted.

I may have to get firm with them, but it's only because I want what's best for them.

Above all that, my greatest desire is that they would know the Father's love because it simply shines through me.

That after I leave this earth, I'd be able to spend eternity with them.

I'm not the world's best teacher, but I'd say that any teacher worth her buttons would say the same thing.

I have one week left with these eighth graders.

I love them, I'll miss them, and I'll forever be glad that I got to spend two months with them.

After that, I'll get to see my babies in China for a week.

(AND YES, I'M ABSOLUTELY FREAKING OUT.)

Then I'll return to my school in Tennessee for a few more weeks of subbing and, hopefully, an interview for a classroom next year.

Being a teacher is not always fun, but it feels like an extension of myself. 

It fits the heart I've been given.

Now...please enjoy these pictures from the party I just hosted for my manic middle schoolers.

Chinggis, Terelj, Selenge, and other things that are hard to pronounce.

It almost feels unfair that I've gotten to go to Asia AND see as much of nature as I have.

Especially Mongolian nature. 

Did you know that Mongolia is beautiful? 

Anyway, here's an account of two grand days in nature I've had over the last two weekends.

FIRST.

Do you all remember the Mongolian girls I mentioned meeting in Pigeon Forge in 2010? Well, I reconnected with them and one of my friends, Oonoo, was loving enough to take my teammate, Angela, and I out to the countryside with her husband and son. We visited the giant Chinggis statue and Terelj National Park. 

We saw this guy and his giant birds outside the statue.

All stainless steel, baby.

The biggest boot in Mongolia.

Angela loves Chinggis.

Oonoo also loves Chinggis.

Oonoo's little boy--be still my heart.

I took this picture while stranded on a mountainside in Terelj National Park.

Stranded?

Yes. 

Because I'm an idiot who doesn't know when to stop climbing rocks before my fear of rolling down the mountainside kicks in.

Not my best Chaco photo. 

Angela made it to the top, though. What a boss.

I promise it was steep, you guys. Oonoo's husband came up and rescued me. This is why I shouldn't climb really big rocks.

Then we snuggled/rode/conquered/sang a remix of "We Three Kings" on the backs of a couple of dromedaries.

This is Turtle Rock, which looks like a turtle from any angle but this one. 

SECOND.

Last weekend, our organization took a gaggle (seventeen, to be exact) of us out to Selenge, a province by the Russian border.

It involved two overnight trains (with about 6 combined hours of sleep), which was basically one giant, mobile slumber party.

Saturday morning was rough, but the rest of the day made it worth it.

We started with a quick trip up to the border.

Then we went to see the "Mother Tree", which I accidentally kept referring to as "Eywa" (thanks, Avatar).

The "Mother Tree" is a sort of holy relic. It's so holy, in fact, that it withered under the weight of all the food, dairy products, scarves, and liquor bottles that have been offered to it. What you see in the picture above is Mother's stump, into which people are whispering their wishes.

There is actually more than one holy tree in that spot and there are plenty of places to pitch all of your perishables. 

Late afternoon found us at another spot on the Russian border. 

Oh my stars and garters, it was breathtaking.

(that's not a real eagle, by the way)

I was a little excited.

We were all a sleep-deprived mess at the end, but WOW.
Mongolia, I have been pleasantly surprised.