It's said that a picture is worth a thousand words. There seems to be something profoundly unique about capturing a moment on film, freezing time, standing still for just a second. In Mongolia, one of the most enjoyable times was when I let some of the kids play around with my camera. They went berserk, taking pictures of anything and everything. The concept of stopping the essence of time in a small device and viewing it again and again seemed to appeal to them immensely.
The most refreshing, revitalizing and remarkable aspect of the Mongolia trip was the purity and sincerity of the people we were so blessed to meet. The physical Mongolia in itself is breathtaking. The sky stretches limitlessly, the fields sprawl unapologetically, and the cows, goats and sheep meander languidly in the greens.
However, the beauty of the people, the generosity of their hearts, the simplicity of their lifestyle, the radiance of their smiles and the honesty of their spirits was unparalleled to the magnificence of the landscape. I was so touched by Dorcho the missionary, who left Ulaanbataar when God called him to the small village of Batshireet. He exemplifies strength of spirit and his quiet demeanor is most respectful. I wish I could share about all the people that taught me various lessons there, but that would really take quite a long time. If you want to know, you can ask.
There is one person, who I must discuss. A nine-year-old girl named Marla, the missionary's oldest daughter. Between the two of us, there was only a handful of words that we could communicate. Most of the time was spent laughing, giggling and singing three Mongolian VBS songs. She is quite possibly the most joyful little girl in the whole universe. Marla is a mirthful creature, her smiles never cease and she will join you in song at any moment, regardless of her off-pitch tone -- which makes her even cuter still. Every time I saw her smile, I could not believe God could create a being so sparklingly lovable. I was amazed by her cheeriness and was blessed by her innocence. Often, children remind you of how old you are, of how much you've grown since you were their age. Marla reminded me that I was still a child, free to break into silly songs and engage in sillier dancing at any moment.
I miss this girl with all my heart. She'll probably never even know the impact she's had on one cynical, twenty-something Korean-American with a ridiculous penchant for 냉면.A picture may be worth a thousand words... but some memories are too priceless for any worth.
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