chronicles of young

Dear Mongolia, May I bless you. I cannot yet do that with my skills and I cannot speak your language, but more importantly I cannot see beyond even the next hour (thinking what am I going to do for this morning at work lol). 将来的事，除了耶和华，谁能测度？ Yet the skills and experiences that I acquire, the people that I meet, I know they are leading me on. Where, I do not know, but God knows. Maybe I will bless you from afar. I really love your horses, yaks, cows and sheep, and the grandeur of the vast nature out there. (Sometimes more than your people, I confess) My heart sinks when I think about how the nomads are suffering because of the dzuds ("severe winters made worse by preceding droughts), and so many are flocking to the UB capital but face other kinds of hardships. But perhaps, in that city that has become so familiar and dear, there will be a brighter light found among the city lights, that does not cease shining, especially in the darkest night. Dear Mongolia, I guess ...