eleutheroo

things that make you...

2012-02-02T23:43:00.002-05:00

...well, I am not sure exactly what they make you do. Giggle? Furrow your brow in confusion? Roll your eyes? Stop in your tracks? Catch your draw before it hits the floor? Go huh, really?

But, here are a few random things from my week, let me know what they make you do!

1. My landlord came up to my apartment the other day to collect the month's rent and utilities. His first words to me were (in Khmer, of course), "You were so beautiful and white when you came back from America, but you are already ugly and black." He giggled and told me he was just kidding, which I knew he was, and I laughed to...but mostly at the fact that I don't think I have gotten that much darker in the last month.
2. I have officially determined that, against all laws of nature and gravity, my hair gets curlier as it gets longer. Weird.
3. There are heroes living in corners of the world that most people never see. One of those heroes is a woman who has voluntarily taken in the most beautiful (and difficult) epileptic little girl who has irreparable brain damage. I wish I had gold stars to give her.
4. Betel nuts really do stain your teeth a nasty color.
5. While sitting in a sweet grandmother's tiny wooden house, I was asked in Khmer about the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians. What would I say to them? How would I help them? Uh...talk about being caught off guard...

nutrition

2012-02-01T01:30:00.002-05:00

I have been thinking a lot about nutrition and health and different kinds of foods recently. I think part of it stems from wanting to get back on a normal diet after often being at the mercy of others' choices while in America, and some is likely a result of a class I am taking that has talked a lot about health inequalities.
It is no secret that I really enjoy cooking. I love fresh food and trying to make things from scratch. I love vegetables and fruits. I like variety and lots of colors. I like creating things and adapting things. In many ways Cambodia has assisted in this. There are many things I enjoy that I have to make from scratch here, or I prefer to now because I do not want to sell my left arm to buy it in the supermarket. I have learned that it is often easy (and so much cheaper!) to make my own. I make my own tortillas, pita bread, English muffins, seasoning mixes, soup bases, hummus and so much more.
I much prefer to eat non-processed foods whenever possible, and I am thankful that being here, with all kinds of fresh produce cheap and accessible, makes it completely affordable. Seriously, it makes my heart so happy to be able to buy a pineapple for $0.50 or 2lbs of tomatoes for less than $1.00.
That being said, as I have researched and become more educated about health benefits of different foods, I have realized just how much most people are lacking good nutrition in their diets. The amount of processed food available to us is staggering, and I really do question what they put in bread to make it last so long when my homemade bread molds in just a couple days. Then, I look at the diets of people here which consists of much more fresh ingredients than processed ones...for those who can afford it. For those who cannot, rice porridge and instant noodles make up a less than nutritious substitute. It kind of makes me want to be a dietitian. Not really, though. It does make me wonder how much better our health and lives, in general, would be if we ate less macaroni and more mangoes, less burgers and more bulgur. I do not have the answers, and I will not pretend to.
Truth is, I am still going to drink my morning coffee and have the occasional diet coke, but I am always on the lookout for new ideas to improve the nutrition in my life. And, I am just trying to eat more broccoli than brownies...

creative outlets

2012-01-28T02:44:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I feel like my creative outlets are extremely limited here. Now, truth be told, I think this is more just my feeling than it is an actual reality. There are plenty of "crafty" materials available. They just are not stocked in the neat aisles to which I am accustomed. And, I may have to do some significant "shopping around" to find all the things I want to do a particular project.
All this said, I am determined to be more crafty and creative with the things I have already and those I am able to locate somewhat easily. Another one of those seizing the day things...

Example A:
I have several t-shirts that have seen better days, and so I found this and was inspired. I think it turned out pretty cute, and it cost me nothing but a little bit of time.

Hooray for creative outlets! I am hopeful that I will come up with some other fun, simple projects...or I may have more headbands than t-shirts!

zack morris

2012-01-27T05:49:00.002-05:00

Yes, I am going there. Who remembers Saved by the Bell? You know, when you wake up in the morning and the alarm gives off a warning, and you don't think you'll ever make it on time?
Saved by the Bell was part of the Saturday morning line-up when I was young. I wager that I have seen nearly every episode from saving the duck from the oil on the football field to summers working at the beach. But, this post isn't about any of that.
The other day I had this deep desire to be Zack Morris. Why? Because Zack Morris had this amazing ability to freeze time. He could freeze everything around him for an indefinite amount of time while he processed through a situation and determined what his appropriate course of action would be.
I have been trying to process through various situations. I have been trying to determine my course of action. I have been praying for wisdom and guidance and a clear path. But, sometimes it sure would be nice to freeze time for a few moments while I figured it all out.
It might be kind of cool to have high-tops and a giant cellular phone, too...

Maybe I'll just stick with the freezing time thing...

carpe diem

2012-01-20T21:11:00.002-05:00

I have had this blog post on my list of things to do for nearly a week, and I just kept failing to actually do it. So, carpe diem! Seize the day! This may be part of the reason I have not made this blog post earlier. The last week has been busy, but not a bad kind of busy. And, it is all part of what I am realizing more and more each day.
Carpe diem! Seize the day!
For some time now God has been impressing upon me the importance of living where I am and enjoying the moment. Wherever I am, be all there. That is what I want to do. I want to enjoy life, every moment of it. I do not want to dwell on the past. I do not want to be anxious for the future. I want to get all that I can out of where I am right now. Where I am right now is good, very good. There are difficulties. There are uncertainties. There are yet-to-be-fulfilled dreams. There are unspeakable joys. There are life lessons in abundance.
So, as part of my endeavor to seize the day, every day, I am seeking to do and to experience things that another season of life may not afford me to do. I am determined to read more. I have scads of books that I want to read. I love reading and learning and experiencing. I am also studying (as an official student) again, and I am loving it! Granted, I have only started classes a couple weeks ago, but it is such a privilege to be a student, and I want to maintain that attitude. I want to expand my "culinary" skills. I love cooking and baking, and I am challenging myself to try new things and enjoy the process. I want to be better about investing quality time in my relationships with friends and family. They are worth it. I want to slow down and enjoy what is before me. I don't want to be in a hurry to get through life. I want to enjoy this time with the Lover of my soul. I want to earnestly seek Him every day.
I am aware that at this point in my life I have the time to do many of these things, but I may not have this time in the future. Someday I may not be able to sit down on a Saturday afternoon and read classic literature. Someday I may not have the opportunity to spontaneously go out for coffee with a friend. Someday I will not have the hours to invest in studying theories or watching documentaries. Someday I will be thankful that making my own pita bread is "no sweat." Someday I want to look back and know that I truly lived every moment of this season, learning well, loving well.

"What do people really get for all their hard work? I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end. So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God." Ecclesiastes 3: 9-13

something false and finite

2012-01-11T02:55:00.003-05:00

One of the great blessings of writing and journaling is being able to look back over life and remember and reflect. I just spent a little bit of time looking through some of my past blog posts, and I was reminded of some things. I was reminded of joys and sorrows and hopes and fears and experiences and thoughts. It was a good reminder. We tend to forget a lot. At least I do. I mean, I have a stellar (almost freakish) memory most of the time. But, I heard someone, somewhere say that our problem is that we remember the things we should forget and forget the things we should remember. We remember how many times we have failed or others have failed us, but we forget God's forever faithfulness.
I will be completely honest in admitting that I have been in a state of forgetting. I have been forgetting how good God is. I have been forgetting the unbelievable things He has done in and through me. I have been forgetting about where He has taken me from and where He is bringing me to. I have been forgetting about the joy that waits anew each morning.
But, after taking a few moments to look back, I am remembering again. I am remembering those darn Israelites. Talk about forgetful. God delivered them from the Egyptians, and even gave them all the Egyptian's gold and valuables. God parted a SEA(!) for them to walk across on dry land. He gave them manna from Heaven. He made pure water come forth from a rock. He brought quail to them (both low to the ground and out of season). He provided them with indestructible tunics and sandals. He promised them a land flowing with milk and honey. But, they forgot. They grumbled and complained and cashed in their promised future for something false and finite.
Oh, how sometimes I want to cash in for something false and finite.
The problem is that I know it is false and finite, and so I can't do it. I have searched for ways to justify it. I have argued every possible angle. I have painted elaborate pictures of Egypt, leaving out all the things it lacked. I have wanted to settle, to flop down right where I am at and say, "this is good enough." I have seen what appears to be greener grass on the other side of the fence and caught myself trying to swing my leg over to that side.
Sometimes false and finite things are so pretty and shiny and easy-looking.
And so, it is good for me to remember that things aren't always what they seem, that "good enough" is never enough, that God's faithfulness has no measure, that love covers a multitude of sins, that I cannot go back but can go forward, that pain is hard and real and does not need to be excused, that the future is bright and hopeful and true, that joy is chosen and embraced. I am thankful for writing and remembering because while I live in the false and finite, I live for the True and Infinite.

saying good-bye

2012-01-06T00:03:00.002-05:00

Typically, I am not a fan of saying good-bye. I prefer "see ya later"s or "talk to you soon"s. And, in leaving America a few days ago, I was certainly feeling the heartache of saying good-bye to so many people that I love, so many people that I miss terribly. Such a bittersweet feeling.

But, this is about a different good-bye. Six days ago I, along with the rest of the world, said good-bye to 2011. While I will admit that it was quite a whirlwind that I can hardly believe went so quickly, I was not sad to say good-bye. I would consider myself to be quite a positive, optimistic, joyful person, and thus, I acknowledge that the goods of 2011 outweighed the bads. However, 2011 was not the best year I have ever had by any means. There was much chaos and confusion and frustration and transition and grief and unknown. But, I am confident that I came out of it with a lot more character than I went into it with.

2011, thanks for the lessons, and I happily bid you farewell.
2012, I am welcoming you with open arms and an open heart. I am confident that you are going to be good in ways I cannot yet see.

Here's to saying good-bye and moving forward with hope!

every minute

2012-01-02T23:43:00.002-05:00

I am long on staying. I am slow to leave, especially when it comes to you, my friend. You have taught me to slow down and to prop up my feet. It's the fine art of being who I am. And I can't figure out why you want me around. I'm not the smartest person I have ever met, but somehow that doesn't matter, no, it never really mattered to you at all. And at the risk of wearing out my welcome, at the risk of self discovery, I'll take every moment and every minute that you'll give me.

I like relationships. Deep ones. In the past couple months, I have been incredibly thankful for the amazing people in my life. I am thankful for friends with whom I can kick off my shoes and stay awhile, friends with whom I can be completely me, friends with whom I can cry both tears of joy and tears of pain, friends with whom I know the welcome will never wear out, friends with whom I can further discover myself.

And I can think of a time when families all lived together, four generations in one house, and the table was full of good food and friends and neighbors. That's not how we like it now. 'Cause if you sit at home you're a loser. Couldn't you find anything better to do? Well, no, I couldn't think of one thing I would rather waste my time on that sitting here with you. And at the risk of wearing out my welcome, at the risk of self discovery, I'll take every moment and every minute that you'll give me.

I am confident that I would qualify as a "loser" if the requirements were that you sit at home without anything better to do. Fortunately for me, I quite enjoy being that "loser." I am incredibly thankful for my family, for my friends, for tables full of good food and rooms filled with laughter and joy. No, there is nothing I would rather waste my time on.

And I wish all the people I love the most could gather in one place and know each other and love each other well. And I wish we could all go camping and lay beneath the stars and have nothing to do and stories to tell. We'd sit around the campfire and we'd make each other laugh remembering when. You're the first one I'm inviting, always know that you're invited, my friend. And at the risk of wearing out my welcome, at the risk of self discovery, I'll take every moment and every minute that you'll give me...

There are people I love from all corners of the globe, and I earnestly desire that all the people I love would be able to gather in one place. No matter where I am, I am always missing someone. However, I think this has made me appreciate, cherish even, every minute that I am able to spend with people. I am thankful for whatever time I am given with them. Sometimes it just isn't enough, but I am thankful just the same and hopeful that there will be more cherished moments. You're always invited, my friend...

"Every Minute" by Sara Groves

sigh

2011-12-29T21:46:00.002-05:00

I don't really have a good title for this post. I am not sure what it is really about except for the surprising ways beauty sometimes sneaks in and overwhelms us.
I lived in Indiana for the first 23 and a half years of my life. And, I am still convinced that some of the best sunsets in the world have been seen standing next to the big red barn in my parents' backyard. Reds and yellows, oranges and purples, pinks and blues. Absolutely breathtaking. I am not sure what those sunsets really represent in my life, but I do know that they continually remind me that the beauty of God transcends all time and space. I know that sometimes beauty is so overwhelming that it makes you rush out the back door wearing mismatched flip flops and no coat, despite the frigid temperatures. It makes you grab your camera in a vain attempt to capture the brilliance of color that cannot be contained. It makes you shiver in the cold and silence just to enjoy the secret that lasts but a few moments. *sigh*
And, then, the snow. I am not a lover of snow. It is cold. It is not fun to drive in. It melts and gets slushy. It gets dirty from exhaust and mud and becomes ugly. But, I cannot deny the wonder of a silent snowfall. I cannot deny the awe that comes when I climbed into bed knowing that it was brown and dead outside only to arise to a powdery, white world. Snow and I get along pretty well if out interactions take place in the manner that the above photo was taken--looking out the window with a hot cup of coffee or tea in hand. It is unfortunate when the beauty is spoiled with the mud and the dirt and the busyness of life. *sigh*

Sometimes I think beauty is meant to surprise us. Sometimes it only lasts a few moments before it is spoiled. The sunset is only really beautiful for a few minutes before it disappears. The snow is only stunning until the cars drive through and the flakes begin to melt. However, their beauty remains the same, whether I can see it or not, whether I appreciate it or not. I suppose that is reason enough to store up the beautiful things in the recesses of my heart, so I can pull them out after the sun sets and the snow melts. *sigh*

books!

2011-12-28T18:37:00.000-05:00

I may have an obsession. It is certainly a weakness. It could be a personality flaw.
I love books. A lot.
I can't seem to help myself.
I love the scent of libraries. Used bookstores give me thrills. I like turning pages. I get lost in novels. I hunger to learn about the lives and experiences of others.
Generally, I would not consider this a problem, regardless of what others may think.
However, I am not sure this pile of books (along with my brand new Kindle!) are going to manage to fit in the limited suitcase space available to me. As I started adding up the books I got used, received as gifts, or purchased for the classes I will be starting in January, I was a bit overwhelmed. I had hoped that receiving the Kindle as a gift would help curb my need for physical books. I am still hopeful that it will, but for now I am stuck deliberating between shoes or novels, jeans or nonfiction, hair gel or classics.

a lot of talk

2011-12-27T17:02:00.002-05:00

"For the Kingdom of God is not just a lot of talk; it is living by God's power." 1 Corinthians 4:20

Oh, those verses that just stop you in your tracks. This verse was one of those the other day. I was reading along, and all of a sudden, Wham! That is absolutely right. The Kingdom of God is not just a bunch of talk, but we make it that way sometimes. We learn all the right answers. We can regurgitate them at all the right moments. We can tell people who are having a rough time to "just have a little faith" or "God won't give you any more than you can handle." We can talk about how all the world is filled with sunshine and roses...but it's not.
The world is not all as it should be. There is ugliness and darkness and pain. Life is hard, and it hurts sometimes. Things happen that we don't have any way of explaining. There isn't enough "talk" to make these things right. There isn't enough "talk" to bring comfort to the hurting. There isn't enough "talk" to answer the million questions that race through our minds.
But, there is still a Kingdom with an almighty King sitting on the throne. God's power is greater than our questions, our pain, our struggles. Living in God's power is what it is about, and living in that power is the only way to bring even a glimpse of the Kingdom of God to this earth...

inconvenient

2011-12-13T16:25:00.004-05:00

death can be so inconvenient
you try to live and love
it comes and interrupts

Death interrupted just over a month ago. My beloved Grandpa passed away. I wasn't expecting it. No one was. I think I thought he could never die. And, really, he didn't. He just moved on. And it happened exactly how he would have wanted it to...working on his farm, with his hogs.

He worked harder than anyone I have ever met.
He was tough as nails (though you may not know it from the pink hat and giant shades).
He was full of wisdom and life and knowledge and love.
He is what legacies are made of.
And, he was mine for the last 25 years.
Inconvenient, yes. Blessed beyond words, absolutely.

leaves

2011-11-29T11:02:00.006-05:00

Leaves. A few weeks ago I was wandering about Paris. It was stunning. I took an obscene number of photos of leaves. Yes, leaves.

Living in Cambodia, there is not much difference between seasons. The options are pretty much rainy or not, hot or hotter. At least those are the only weather seasonal shifts.

There are always seasons of life. I have always loved autumn for that reason. Autumn teaches us how to shift seasons well. Never has death looked so beautiful as orange and yellow and red. Summer is filled with sunshine and fun and happiness. Then, autumn comes sneaking in. It smells so good and feels so crisp and looks so beautiful that we forget all these things are signs of dying.

But, dying doesn't have to be ugly. Dying can be beautiful. Sure, the death itself is usually pretty ugly (think barren trees, gray skies, and brown grass). However, the ugliness is really just a precursor for the beauty around the corner.

It was such an unexpected blessing for me to be able to enjoy the beauty of autumn this year. I loved crunching through leaves in my boots. I loved sitting on a park bench with a scarf around my neck smelling roasted chestnuts. I loved watching the leaves flutter to the ground. I loved the brilliant glow of the sun as it set. And, I loved realizing that the changing of seasons is stunning and meant to be enjoyed.

awkward

2011-11-03T00:20:00.002-04:00

Some things in life are just awkward. I feel like maybe I am one of those things. And, for the most part, I am completely ok with being awkward, but sometimes awkward equates to difficult.

Nearly two years ago, I moved to Cambodia. For the first several weeks it was pretty awkward. I did not know where I was, where I was going, how to do simple tasks on my own. I did not understand what was being said around me. I was left in awe walking through the "meat" section at the "supermarket" seeing things like pig intestines and coagulated chicken blood. (Seriously, what do you even do with that stuff?!?!) I stuck out like a sore thumb everywhere I went with my white skin and pointed nose. I was perpetually stared at.

And, some of those things have not changed in the past two years. I still get stared at. I still stick out with my white skin (though I regularly get comments from Khmer friends about how "black" I am becoming). I still don't know what to do with coagulated chicken blood (but I think it is often put in soups...). But, I have learned to navigate my life here. I have learned how to weave through traffic, how to use the sidewalk as an extension of the road, how to effectively use cars as shields when making left turns. I have learned to find things on my own, to bargain in the market, to have full conversations with people. I have learned patience and flexibility and how sometimes it is necessary to push your way forward rather than wait in a non-existent line because I am the only one who gets offended when someone cuts in line. I have learned so many things that I can't articulate or explain, so many things that are only learned by firsthand experience.

Soon I will be in America to visit. And, I think I am going to be awkward...really awkward. I know that things will be familiar, but I am not sure they will feel "normal" anymore. Driving in lanes? Cold weather? Everyone speaking English? No Korean soap operas on television? Fixed prices? Aisles full of all different types of cereal?

I know it sounds silly. I spent 23 years with all of those things being completely normal, but they aren't anymore. So, bear with me in my awkwardness. Don't laugh at my wide-eyed awe in the cereal aisle. And, try not to roll your eyes at my rice cravings...

the freedom project

2011-10-26T22:38:00.002-04:00

This year CNN launched "The Freedom Project." It is an effort to bring attention to the issues of modern-day slavery and to get people thinking about what they can do to end it. There are many things being done around the world. And, this week happens to be about Cambodia, about places I know, about people I love, about things most people would rather not think about.

So, take a look here and pray with me for these beautiful people. Be forewarned that the content is intense.

shoes

2011-10-20T23:23:00.002-04:00

Shoes are not worn inside homes in Cambodia. The results of this include shoes of choice being of the "easy on, easy off" variety (usually flip flops), and it usually means that you can guess how many people are inside a house based on the size of the shoe pile in front of the door.

I will admit that one of my subtle fears in living here has always been that I will come outside and my shoes will have disappeared.

This week my fear came true. After my language lesson the other day I walked to the door to slip on my favorite pair of black flip flops only to find that they were gone. There is a huge gate and several parked motorbikes between the front door and the outside world, which meant that another student or teacher had walked off with my shoes. And, as soon as I looked at the shoe rack, I knew it was true. There was a pair of black flip flops sitting on the shoe rack out front, but they were not mine. They were close in size, but they didn't fit my feet properly. There were no little teeth-marks where a friend's puppy had attempted to steal them from me over a year ago. They were not mine. *sigh*

But, sometimes it doesn't hurt to walk around in someone else's shoes for awhile. Sometimes it makes us realize just how someone else feels, how they see the world. Sometimes it is really easy to grow accustomed to our own shoes, to the way they have molded to fit our feet, to the calluses that have developed in all the right places, to the comfort and familiarity. Walking in someone else's shoes can be awkward and uncomfortable, but maybe it is ok to get a little bit awkward and uncomfortable sometimes, maybe when our feet go places they have never before been, our eyes and hearts and hands will go to new places, too.

And, here's to hoping that I can swap back my shoes on Monday...

naivete?

2011-10-18T03:10:00.002-04:00

Honestly, I don't think of myself as naive or extremely gullible or unwise.

But, I do think of myself as someone who chooses to believe the good in people rather than the evil. I really try not to make quick judgments or sweeping generalizations about people. I take great effort in really trying to understand people and learn rather than go about thinking I have it all figured out. Admittedly, I fail at this sometimes. Sometimes I make false assumptions. Sometimes I am sure that I know the best way to do something...and I don't. Sometimes I just get carried away.

Ok, so that sets the groundwork for my thoughts today.

I have lived in Cambodia for nearly 2 years, and even before I arrived, I was repeatedly warned about the selfishness and ugliness of Cambodians. I chose to just take the warnings in stride and employ wisdom. I had no plans of staying out until all hours of the night (or morning). I knew that I should watch my purse regardless of what country I live in. I was aware that my white skin was pretty nearly every time require me to pay more in the markets. All those things were ok.

But, as I try to be a positive person, it bothers me when I hear so many stories about people having their purses stolen or pulled off their motos at night or having their phones and wallet stolen if they are in a traffic accident. I know those things happen. I know people to whom they have happened. They happen everywhere. They happen in all big cities. And, thankfully, they have never happened to me.

Instead, I have had Khmer people run out to the street with iodine and gauze when I have fallen off my moto, saying "I clean for you. You go to doctor. Doctor help." I have had sellers in the market give me the "Cambodian price" and throw in extras because I "stay here long time." I have had Khmer friends drive alongside me to get home at night if they think it is too late. I have friends who have passed out on the street and rather than raiding their purses, people stopped, rubbed their temples vehemently with tiger balm (as you do) and called the last number dialed on their phones in hopes of finding a friend.

And just today, I walked outside the gym (sweaty and smelly) to find that my moto would not start. I tried to start it. The young Khmer girl who works at the gym came out to help me. But, our attempts to kickstart the bike were fruitless. So, I called a friend to come meet me (and bring me money because I didn't have enough to pay a mechanic on me) so I could take my bike to the mechanic. As I was waiting, three Khmer men (moto-taxi and tuk tuk drivers) came over and offered their assistance. They all looked at the bike intently, tried to start it, attempted to kickstart it, tried to push start it. They told me that in their expert opinions that it was possibly a problem with my battery. After my friend arrived, I asked the men where the closest mechanic was and they pointed to the end of the next block. (There are "mechanic" shops everywhere along the side of the road.) I pushed my bike down the street, and looked expectantly at this small man who had been changing the oil in a Toyota Camry. After a few futile efforts, he also concluded that it was likely a problem with my battery, but unfortunately, he couldn't fix it for me because he works mainly on cars. He points on down the road to the next place. So, I push my bike on. Before finding another mechanic, I get to a fairly main street and look around, not seeing where to turn. Fortunately, a group of moto-taxi drivers are gathered near the street corner and see me pushing my bike. They call to me, asking if I have run out of gas. I inform them that I have gas but that my moto won't start, that maybe there is a problem with my battery. So, with five of them gathered around, they again make several futile attempts to start my bike and conclude that indeed there is a problem with the battery. (I am still doubtful that any of these men know anything about the actual mechanics of a motorbike.) One of the guys tells me to hop on my bike and he will push me to the mechanic down the street. He is not planning to push my bike himself but rather drive his moto slightly behind me with his foot on my exhaust pipe pushing me down the street. And, hey, it was not as terrifying as I thought it might be! And, after the mechanic finally looked at my bike and changed my sparkplug (I think. I don't claim to actually know anything about the mechanics of a motorbike either.), I was out $3.25 and a good hour and a half. But, I was so blessed by those men. I was blessed with their willingness to help me, without expecting anything. I was blessed that I was able to talk to them and understand them. I was so thankful for their help because without it I may still be pushing my motorbike through the streets of Phnom Penh.

So, maybe some would call it naivete that allows me to see the good in people, to not always assume that people are out to exploit me or steal my purse, but I think I would rather be naive and thankful than suspicious and judgmental.

malaysian madness!

2011-10-13T00:34:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I took a vacation to Malaysia with a few friends. It was so nice to get away and have some fun in a beautiful country with green parks and beautiful beaches and jungle and shopping malls...and delicious food. We pretty much ate our way through Malaysia, and it was amazing!

There were four of us that explored Kuala Lumpur for a day and a half before we headed in opposite directions to beaches!

Chinatown offered some fun and laughs!

And, we felt like we spend much of our time in KL waiting for buses, so what else do you do when you sit at the bus stop for 30+ minutes? Take crazy posed photos, of course!
Our experiences in Little India were less than amazing... I was at least in a good enough humor to smile about how our orders of diet coke somehow turned into tin cups of beer, but Kelly was less than amused after hours of searching for where to buy bus tickets and putting off lunch until 3pm! (And, we did have to pay for the beer we did not want or drink...and never got our diet cokes...)
Danielle and I actually have an embarrassing amount of photos with poses very similar to this one. This was at the top of the KL tower, looking out over the city.

After a couple days in KL, Danielle and I took a bus to Penang where we stayed with a very gracious family. We explored Georgetown and stumbled across some amazing treasures...like Cafe Amelie. It was the cutest vintage cafe!!

We took a jungle hike...

...that ended on a beautiful beach.

And, we just wandered and relaxed and had an amazing time of refreshing!

Malaysia is a land of incredible diversity. It was so interesting to walk down the streets surrounded by Chinese women wearing stiletto heels next to Arabic women in burkhas with Indian men selling curry and roti in a corner shop. It is such a unique taste of Asia, and one that I was glad to experience.

But, I will say that as nice as it was to have a holiday, it was even better to arrive home again. I love the feeling of flying into a familiar place with a language I understand (most of the time), with sights I know. Oh, Cambodia, how you have wrecked me...

new grip

2011-10-12T00:22:00.002-04:00

"So take a new grip with your tired hands and strengthen your weak knees. Mark out a straight path for your feet so that those who are weak and lame will not fall but become strong." Hebrews 12:12-13

Have you ever had the experience of reading through your highlighted, marked up, scrawled in Bible and discovering a gem that is completely untouched?

I had that feeling earlier this week as I was reading a passage in Hebrews. I will admit that I tend to be a person who errs on the side of over-highlighting in my Bible. People often look at my Bible and ask if I left any verses un-shaded. I just can't help myself. It is all so wonderful and powerful and alive!!!! It gets me excited! Anyway, back to my point. I was reading through a passage in Hebrews, and somehow I had highlighted all around these verses but left these out of the fanatical coloring. As I read them over again, I was shocked that I wouldn't have colored them and underlined them and made notes in the margins around them!

Why?

Because taking a new grip with my tired hands and strengthening my weak knees is something I have to do daily. I will be the first to admit that I am completely unqualified to do what I do, that I have so much to learn, that I am just trying to fumble my way through life in an effort to help more often than I hurt. I don't want others to fall as they try to follow my wild and crazy path. I want to make the path straight and clear, that others may be strengthened, empowered, encouraged.

So, as I read these verses, I wanted to shout, "YES!" Tired hands and weak knees. I have those. But, sometimes a new grip makes all the difference, and that is where I am right now. I am taking up a new grip on life, a new grip on my work, a new grip on what I do in Cambodia, a new grip in my relationships with others, a new grip on my Savior. And, the path is becoming straighter and the strength is washing over me...

And, if you are wondering, there are now marginal notations surrounding these verses.

courage

2011-10-06T01:26:00.002-04:00

I recently read To Kill a Mockingbird again. It is one of my favorite novels. It is chock-full of wisdom and insight and beauty and truth. I think if I could choose any literary character to sit down and have a chat with it would be Atticus Finch. In the book, Atticus shares about what courage really means.

"Courage is not a man with a gun in his hand. It's knowing you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."

Sometimes I find myself hesitating to stand up for truth, not wanting to make unpopular decisions even when they are the right ones. Sometimes I find myself feeling defeated before I even begin. Sometimes I want to shy back and just prepare in advance to lick my wounds. Sometimes I wonder if it is worth the effort and heartache of fighting when it seems that the results have already been determined.

Yet, I find myself fighting on. Sometimes I feel like I am skillfully wielding a sword, slaying my enemies. Sometimes I feel like I am crouching behind my shield, just trying to avoid the major blows. And, most times, I am somewhere in between.

"I can't just fight when I think I'll win...that's the end of all belief." ~ sara groves

And so, I fight on because sometimes you do win...

coping mechanisms

2011-10-04T00:53:00.005-04:00

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live in a foreign land?

I dreamed of living in a foreign land from the time I was young. I envisioned myself in a dusty village with grass huts and red dirt roads. I imagined myself carrying baskets on my head and wrapped in colorful sarongs.

But, that is not exactly where I have found myself. Instead, I live in a dusty city with thousands of motorbikes, cars, tuk tuks, and the occasional ox cart battling for space on the roads plagued with giant pot holes. I do not carry baskets on my head, but I do often have a backpack strapped on my shoulders. I can more often be found in jeans and flip flops than in colorful sarongs (ok, let's be honest...I never wear sarongs, though some women do).

It is not what I expected, but I love it. I have grown and changed so much as I have lived in a foreign land that no longer feels so foreign. I have learned to live here, and live here well.

And, one thing I have learned is new coping mechanisms. Coping mechanisms are things we use to handle stress and difficult situations. When I was living in America, I had a myriad of coping mechanisms that I employed when life was stressful. I remember coming home many times after a stressful day at work and making a beeline toward my running shoes. After a 3 or 4 mile run, the world was a better place. Or, when my mind was filled with thoughts and questions, I could get into my car, crank up the radio, and roll down the windows, and even if answers did not come, life was happier. And, I have also been known to aimlessly walk about bookstores or Target or dollar stores and pick up various items I don't need and then circle the store placing all the unnecessary items back on the shelves and leave with nothing. Why? I don't know. Sometimes I just like looking at things and thinking and dreaming and not having to talk to anyone.

But, none of those things are options here. It is dangerous to run in the afternoons with the crazy traffic. While I love driving my motorbike, there is not a whole lot of open road on which to drive. And, well, stores are just different here...and people follow you around the store (literally follow about 3 feet behind you). So, I have had to learn some new coping mechanisms, and in the process, I have found that I have become a much more patient, more tolerant, more loving person. I have become slower to anger, more relaxed. I have become more dependent on the Lord because I realize how much is entirely out of my control.

So, what are my new coping mechanisms? I think they are continually changing, but I would probably place early (like 5:15am) morning runs, coffee (there are worse things, right?), and much to my chagrin...facebook. However, I find that above all other things I am daily realizing my need to be vitally united to Christ, to seek Him in all things, to glorify Him with the way I live wherever I live.

"I am the Vine; you are the branches. Whoever lives in Me and I in him bears much (abundant) fruit. However, apart from Me [cut off from the vital union with Me] you can do nothing." John 15:5

eyes to see

2011-09-21T00:29:00.002-04:00

I want to have eyes to see. I have prayed to have eyes to see. To see people. To see needs. To see truth. To see justice. To see beauty. To see pain. To see love.

And, I know that God has heard my prayer.

I am blessed. I know this. I don't doubt it. Sure, I have "suffered" at different times in my life, but God is faithful. I can push through difficult times and endure suffering because I am confident of God's goodness. I want to be like Paul when he says, "Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little" (Philippians 4:11-12). Contentedness is something I feel I maintain most of the time. My feathers just don't get ruffled about too many things. Traffic jams? No big deal...it's good to slow down sometimes. Ants in my cereal? Just stick it in the fridge...they'll die. Sweating through my clothes for the 6th time in a single day? At least I have a shower with running water.

But, there is one thing that really stirs me up, one thing that really grinds my gears. It makes my blood pressure rise. It makes my palms sweaty. It might even make steam come out of my ears. I get incredibly upset when I see others suffering unjust treatment. It has bothered me for as long as I can remember. As an elementary school student, I remember being confused and upset when teachers treated other students poorly. Teachers tended to like me because I listened and obeyed well, always finished my homework on time and correctly, and was willing to help others. So, I don't ever remember being treated badly by a teacher. I do, however, remember other students being called inappropriate names, having their desks taken away from them (and given a cardboard box to put their schoolbooks and supplies in while they sat on the floor), being accused of cheating without any grounds, and being humiliated in front of their classmates for asking questions.

Those things upset me then. I remember praying for a long time that God would heap other people's pain on me, that I could take it, that they should not have to suffer, that I would still trust Him regardless of what happened to me.

I think that I had hoped that maybe as I grew older, I would find more justice in the world, that my eyes would see more joy and less pain.

Unfortunately, that has not been the case. I do see joy. I see it everyday. I feel it everyday. But, I also encounter injustice. People are still called inappropriate, shameful names. People have their homes ripped away from them. (Check out this link.) People are still accused of things they did not do. People are still publicly humiliated. People still stuffer unjustly. And, it still upsets me. Every. Single. Day.

O, LORD, may I always have eyes to see people as You see them...and a heart to love them as You love them...

inside out

2011-09-17T00:45:00.002-04:00

"The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. The world would take people out of the slums. Christ would take the slums out of people, and then they would take themselves out of the slums. The world would mold men by changing their environment. Christ changes men, who then change their environment. The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature." ~ Ezra Taft Benson

God changes hearts. He just does. I am living proof of this. He gave me a heart of flesh for my heart of stone. That is how He works. He starts on the inside and moves outward.

Romans 10: 9-10 says, "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by confessing with your mouth that you are saved."

Heart. That is where change happens, where belief happens. I have been thinking about this a lot lately. I have been thinking about how Jesus lived and interacted with people, about how He chose to help. And, I have wondered what Jesus would do now, what Jesus would do when faced with the things I see before me. Jesus does not fit into a nice little box. He cannot be pegged. He cannot be generalized. Why? I think it is because He saw people. He saw people from the inside out. He did not see lepers and thieves and prostitutes and officials. He saw hearts. When Jesus saves, He doesn't take people out of the sin. Rather, He takes the sin out of the people. There is a difference.

When you take people out of the sin, nothing happens on the inside of them. They just learn to live in a trouble-free bubble...if such a thing existed. But, when you take the sin out of the people, their hearts are changed. They see the world differently. Just ask Zacchaeus.

"Jesus entered Jericho and made his way through the town. There was a man there named Zacchaeus. He was the chief tax collector in the region, and he had become very rich. He tried to get a look at Jesus, but he was too short to see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree beside the road, for Jesus was going to pass that way. When Jesus came by, He looked up at Zacchaeus and called him by name, "Zacchaeus!" He said. "Quick, come down! I must be a guest in your home today." Zacchaeus quickly climbed down and took Jesus to his house in great excitement and joy. But the people were displeased. "He has gone to be the guest of a notorious sinner," they grumbled. Meanwhile, Zacchaeus stood before the Lord and said, "I will give half my wealth to the poor, Lord, and if I have cheated people on their taxes, I will give them back four times as much!" Jesus responded, "Salvation has come to this home today, for this man has shown himself to be a true son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost." ~ Luke 19:1-10

Zacchaeus was changed from the inside out. His heart changed first. He had an encounter with the Savior of the world, and He was forever changed. Jesus never asked him to give money away or make amends with those he cheated. Jesus didn't have to ask. Jesus cares about our hearts, and when our hearts are after Him, our outside reflects that. Jesus is far more interested in taking the slums out of people because then the people will walk right out of the slums.

"The LORD doesn't see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." ~ 1 Samuel 16:7b

legacies

2011-09-14T00:38:00.003-04:00

Today is September 14. And, as I looked at the date this morning, I remembered.

I remembered an amazing woman.

My Great Grandma Lola was born on September 14, 1904. And, I am confident that the world changed for the better on that day.

She lived the most extraordinary life doing maybe some of the most ordinary things--playing sheet music at the local dimestore, learning to drive her father's car at the age of 14, raising 2 children and gaining 5 more, crocheting and giving away more afghans than should be humanly possible, loving grandchildren and great grandchildren and great great grandchildren.

I have great memories with her. I remember dancing to old records in my grandparents' family room. I remember staring into a painting of a lake together and imagining stories of mermaids and friendly sea monsters.
I remember sitting next to her on the porch swing at her old house on Lynn Avenue, looking at the flowers and listening to her stories.
I remember where the secret candy drawer was. I remember her wall of cards and family pictures. I remember never being able to sneak out the door without a hug and a kiss.
I remember watching her live with a deep love of people. I remember that she never met a stranger.
She left a legacy. She had such an amazing impact on so many people, and I know that her influence on me has helped to shape me into the person I am now. I have had people compare me with her before, saying that we are similar in some ways, and that is one of the greatest compliments I could ever receive. I sincerely hope that I am able to love and to influence as she did. I count it such an honor to have such a wonderful woman of God as my great grandmother, and I hope that someday I am able to leave a legacy behind that will honor her and, more importantly, honor our God.

I want to leave a legacy

how will they remember me?

did I choose to love?

did I point to you enough to make a mark on things?

I want to leave an offering

a child of mercy and grace who

blessed Your name unapologetically

and leave that kind of legacy

~ nichole nordeman, "legacy"

dessert

2011-09-12T03:33:00.003-04:00

Cakes, cookies, pies, ice cream.

Desserts are, uh, a bit different in Cambodia.

On Saturday I went to see a movie with a Khmer friend.

*Side note: Cambodia just got its first movie theater in July--a real movie theater with cushy seats and popcorn and non-pirated movies.

Ok, back to the story. After my friend and I watched Cars 2 in 3-D, we decided we should have a snack. As we wandered through the "mall food court" (it does not look anything like what you are picturing), she pointed to a stall and asked if I had ever had those. Now, I knew they were supposed to be desserts. And, I was not entirely sure what they were or what constituted the dark syrupy stuff over them. But, I had a a pretty good hunch that there were potatoes. Yes, potatoes. (I forgot to take my camera, so you will just have to imagine with me for now.)

My friend assured me that I was correct. And, she proceeded to buy a plate of a mixture of 4 different desserts, including two different types of potato, taro, and some banana, all with different syrups and coconut on top.

I will be honest. While one might think the banana would be the tastiest to the American palate, I think it was my least favorite. The potatoes were yummy!!! There was one that was served kind of caramelized. It was delicious!

So, I may have been converted into thinking that potatoes can be a good choice for dessert, but I am not sure I will ever voluntarily choose the ever-popular coconut milk "pudding" with corn, mushrooms, and other unique choices for my after-dinner delight.

juxtaposition

2011-09-05T09:26:00.003-04:00

Juxtaposition.

Sometimes I feel like this is a good word to describe my life.

Side by side. This is how things go. My personal space bubble has grown much smaller since living in Asia. Many things are just close together, sometimes very close together. I remember the first time I realized that it was not in the least bit awkward to scoot myself up against a strange man who was driving a motorbike taxi so that my friend could squeeze on behind me without her rear end completely hanging off the back of the seat. I stand closer to people in lines now because I have learned that if you leave even the slightest gap that someone will cut in front of you. I have grown accustomed to touching the people sitting on either side of me at church, despite the fact that we have separate chairs. Yes, side by side is a normal thing to me.

But, sometimes side by side is not so comfortable. Sometimes side by side is never something that you get used to. Sometimes side by side reveals only contrast. Sometimes side by side is a barefoot child trying to sell flowers to the driver of a Lexus at a stoplight. Sometimes side by side is a family living in a fishing boat next to a new eco-resort. Sometimes side by side is a woman finding treasures in my garbage.

Sometimes side by side is floating wooden houses just a couple miles from artistic latte pours.
Sometimes I wonder what God thinks of juxtaposition. Sometimes I wonder if He intentionally places contrasting things side by side. Why? Maybe so we can see the ridiculousness of the grandiose. Maybe so we can be appalled by the injustices. Maybe so we just stop and remember that regardless of our differences or preferences we are living side by side.

spoons

2011-08-31T22:09:00.004-04:00

There are some things in life that just ooze an indescribable beauty, an inexpressible joy, an incomprehensible love. This little girl is one of those things.

She is my friend's daughter. I was visiting my friend a couple weeks ago, and as we were chatting, this vibrant little girl began pulling all of the kitchen staples from the shelves, all of the spoons, a pile of wooden chopsticks, and even a few random flip flops. She announced to us that she was a 'neyeck looah' (seller). Then, she held up a spoon, looked at me with the most serious face and told me that the spoon was 3000 riel (75 cents), ok? I told her that was too expensive and asked if 1000 riel was ok. She refused to drop her price. Instead, she picked up a smaller spoon and asked for the same price. Shrewd businesswoman, that one.

But, spoons. I have been thinking about them lately. Some people are born with silver ones in their mouths. Some people aren't. Some people have spoons on the less fancy side, or even the disposable side. Some people opt for chopsticks instead of spoons. Some people prefer to use their hands and some bread as a scoop. It is interesting to me how our "spoon" choices can sometimes divide us. I think sometimes we are dreadfully afraid of diversity, of change, of something new. We are content to be around people who are just like us, who use the same spoons we do. Is it because we don't want to be embarrassed when we don't know which of the 12 spoons on the table to use? (Just start from the outside and work your way in...thanks Pretty Woman.) Is it because we are afraid we are too clumsy to use chopsticks? (Practice makes perfect.) Is it because we don't want to get our hands messy? (Allow me to introduce you to a little something called soap and water...) Perhaps there are many reasons spoons cause us anxiety, whether we realize it or not. But, really, spoons are not meant to be a point of division. Spoons are about scooping and combining and stirring and including.

So, that and 3000 riel will buy you a spoon from this precious child...

3000 riel, ok?

planting

2011-08-23T05:21:00.005-04:00

A large crowd soon gathered around Him, so He got into a boat. Then He sat there and taught as the people stood on the shore. He told many stories in the form of parables, such as this one: 'Listen! A farmer went out to plant some seeds. As he scattered them across his field, some seeds fell on a footpath, and the birds came and ate them. Other seeds fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. The seeds sprouted quickly because the soil was shallow. But the plants soon wilted under the hot sun, and since they didn't have deep roots, they died. Other seeds fell among thorns that grew up and choked out the tender plants. Still other seeds fell on fertile soil, and they produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted! Anyone with ears to hear should listen and understand.' Matthew 13:2-9

Last Saturday I joined some of the teachers and other students at my language school for a field trip to the countryside. We drove about an hour and a half outside of the city to a beautiful village. I LOVE the Cambodian countryside. Really, I love any countryside. As a child I took for granted that I lived among green grass, clean air, wildflowers, crickets chirping, starry skies. I never thought too much about the sensation of mud squishing between my toes or about the art of being able to identify poison ivy from several yards away. And, I didn't realize how important those things are to me, how life-giving they are to me until I moved to a city. A city with few trees and lots of concrete. A city that regularly smells of sewage and where grass is for looking at not for walking on.

All that to say, I was excited for the opportunity to get out of the city and see some green. The added bonus was that we were going to be learning more about the rice-planting process...and maybe even do a bit of sowing ourselves!

I love the simplicity of country living in Cambodia. I mean, why not take your cattle for a walk through the neighbors' yard while they sit outside and a snack of green mango dipped in chili salt? And, they will probably share with you while you pass by!
After learning a bit more about the rice planting process, Muyteang and I are heading toward the rice paddy, which we were assured was both leech- and snake-free!
Dany wanted a picture, too!
I love the brilliant green of rice paddies. This field was already planted. Gorgeous!
Our rice-planting instructors demonstrating proper technique. Be sure to roll your pants up well!
Much of the rice-planting done in Cambodia is done without the aid of machinery. The majority of farmers cannot afford modern machinery, so it is a lot of hard work. My understanding of the whole process is a bit limited, but I will explain to you the process as I understand it. At the beginning of the rainy season, fields are plowed, typically using a team of oxen and manual plow. Seeds are then sown in one field, or part of a field. After about a month, the seedlings are uprooted, tied into bundles (like the ones in the picture above), and transported to the other fields, which have been plowed and prepared for the seedlings. The seedlings are then planted in rows in the WET fields with enough space for them to grow and spread. This transplanting process is what we were doing last week. After this, the seedlings will grow for another 3-6 months, depending on the type of rice, before being harvested. There is the very brief version of (my understanding) rice-planting.

So, after our demonstration by the local experts, we slipped off our shoes, hiked up our pants, and in we went!
My friend Becki and I were hard at work, but our teacher Anin had a few suggestions for us.
Some children from around the village came out to watch all the foreigners try their hands at rice-planting.
I am pretty sure this hat made all the difference in my rice-planting abilities.
And, seriously, how can you not fall in love with this beautiful land? God certainly did make some beautiful countryside in Cambodia!

After about 20 minutes of planting and feeling as though we had made enough crooked rows in this poor auntie's rice field, we waded out of the rice field, washed off the mud, and walked back to the village church where we played Khmer games together, chatted with the local kids, ate rice (what else?!?) together, and visited some homes in the village before heading back to the city. It was a beautiful day! It was such a great experience to share in something, even if for a short time, that is so much a part of people's lives here. And, I was reminded of the importance of intentionally sowing seeds in fertile soil. It is such a painstaking process to produce a great harvest of rice, but the returns are amazing. The Kingdom of God is no different. Sometimes sowing seeds is a painstaking process, but the returns are well worth the work and the time. Because God has the perfect place in His Kingdom for ones just like these...

reminders

2011-08-17T10:35:00.002-04:00

During my language lesson today my teacher and I shared our testimonies. For the past several weeks, we have been talking about Bible stories and praying and talking about how Jesus changes hearts and lives. I have shared parts of my testimony with her before, but we really talked about it today, and she asked me questions. She asked about difficult times in my life, about what things occurred in my life to bring me to a place of really believing and trusting Jesus, about how I knew Jesus was real. And, as I shared with her, I was reminded of this post that I wrote more than a year ago. I was reminded of my scars. I was reminded of how much God changes hearts, how He changed my heart and still does. I was reminded about how much I prayed that God would take away my scars...and He said no.

I remember being baffled as I cried out to the Lord to take away my scars, especially my self-inflicted ones, and He refused. I knew He was more than capable of doing something so small.

But, He said no.

Many times throughout the Old Testament people built altars to the Lord. They often served as reminders of God's faithfulness,of God's goodness, of God's promises. And, even though these reminders were built, they were not usually enough to prevent the people from forgetting. God knows us all too well. He knows we are merely dust and have the memories of goldfish sometimes. And, it seems that many times we have an impeccable memory when it comes to things we should forget but cannot seem to recall the things we should store in the very front of our memory banks. Maybe that is why Proverbs 7:3 says, "Tie them [God's commands] on your fingers as a reminder." God knows that if we don't attach them, they will be forgotten.

And, so, He said no to taking away my scars. He told me that I needed them. He told me that they were my "altar." He told me that they were my forever reminder of His faithfulness, of His goodness, of His promises. They are attached to me, and I cannot forget them.

And, besides, in God's hands the pain and hurt look less like scars and more like character...

Thanks, Sara Groves.

gifts

2011-08-16T23:27:00.002-04:00

"A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other....It is the one and only Spirit who distributes all these gifts. He alone decides which gift each person should have." 1 Corinthians 12: 7, 11

Gifts. We all have gifts. We all have God-given abilities. We all have hopes, desires, dreams. We all want to do something or to become something. We all want to do something that we love, something that makes our hearts leap with joy, something that brings us satisfaction and peace. Right?

I have been thinking a lot about what gifts God has given me, about what abilities I have. Now, I want to preface what I say with stating that I believe God can do anything through even the most unlikely vessel. He enables and equips even when it makes no sense to our carnal minds. I can attest to this in so many ways in my own life. "God will make this happen, for He who calls you is faithful." (1 Thessalonians 5:24) If God says to do it, He will make it possible for you to do it, whatever "it" may be.

But, God also distributes gifts to us. He loves us so much that He has gifted every person in unique and individual ways that His Kingdom might be furthered, that more may know His name. And, there is no greater joy than to know the Creator of the universe, the Lover of souls. While I do think the primary reason that God has gifted us is for His glory, I also think it is because He loves us, because He desires good things for us, because He has abundant life planned for us, because He wants joy to overflow in our hearts. As I seek to develop the gifts God has placed inside of me, I find so much joy, so much peace. I have spent a lot of time over the past several weeks and months meditating on what gifts God has given me, trying to sift through the desires of my flesh and the desires of my spirit, which desperately wants to honor my Father. And, over the course of the last several weeks, I have had several dreams and gifts re-awakened in my life. Many times it has come in unexpected ways--conversing with a friend, coming out on the other side of difficult trial, sitting in silence with the Lord, reading Truth, seizing opportunities. When I sit back and observe what has taken place, I am awestruck. I am simply amazed at how God has worked everything in me together for His good. His gifts are good.

"You fathers--if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead? Of if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him." Luke 11: 11-13

God understands what it means to give good gifts to His children.

So, God's gifts are good. But, there is this part of me that has been wondering if it is wrong or selfish or silly of me to focus my energy on only pursuing the use of those gifts that bring me joy and satisfaction. As a follower of Jesus, shouldn't I be willing to do anything? Shouldn't I be willing to joyfully clean toilets every day of my life, knowing that I am working as to the Lord and not as to men? Shouldn't I be willing to step up and "do what needs to be done" because there doesn't seem to be anyone else doing it? Shouldn't I just humble myself a little more and ignore that this isn't what I thought I signed up for? It is all part of dying to yourself, right? It is all part of taking up that cross daily, right?

Or, is it?

The flip side? Does God enable me to do things well that He has not called me to do? I mean, I know that I can fumble my way through things. Given some time and direction, I can figure most things out, and I might even be able to do something competently. (This would be where my determined spirit comes in handy.) But, simply because I can do something competently, that does not mean it is what I want to do or would choose to do or is what I should be doing. And, as I have been thinking through all of these things, weighing out (and repenting for) my own selfishness, desiring to please my God first and foremost, making choices that have not been popular, I have come back to this.

"Yes, the body has many different parts, not just one part. If the foot says, 'I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,' that does not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, 'I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,' would that make it any less a part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything? But our bodies have many parts, and God has put each part just where He wants it. How strange a body would be if it had only one part! Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. The eye can never say to the hand, 'I don't need you.' The head can't say to the feet, 'I don't need you.'...If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it, and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad." 1 Corinthians 12: 14-21, 26

Selah. Pause. Calmly think of that.

If God has distributed us as the parts of His body, if He has put each part where He wants it, if He has deemed all parts necessary, why are we striving to "serve" in positions He never intended for us to be in? A foot will never be sufficient as a hand. Sure, you might be able to adapt and learn to do some things that a hand can do. Maybe you learn to pick quarters up with your toes. Maybe you can learn to press the volume controls on the television. But, you will never be a hand. It will never be natural to do things a hand does...because you were never supposed to. And, so long as you are striving to figure out how to do what the hand is supposed to do, you are not able to do the job of the foot that you have been appointed to do, gifted to do, enabled to do. Additionally, the hand is not able to do what it has been gifted to do...because your striving, your desire for control, your selfishness has crowded out and silenced the hand's gift to the body. It is not wrong to choose to operate in the gifts God has given to us. It is best. There is nothing wrong with joyfully scrubbing toilets. There is nothing wrong with sitting in a cubicle analyzing endless data. There is nothing wrong with teaching children to read and write. There is nothing wrong with planting and harvesting rice and corn and wheat. There is nothing wrong with offering listening ears to those in distress. There is nothing wrong because it is right, it is true, it is what God intended...

Father, forgive us for our striving that has not honored the gifts You have given us, and forgive us for all the ways we have disabled our other parts...

bread

2011-08-09T01:46:00.002-04:00

Bread. It is arguable that the house in which I grew up was never without bread. It was typically an accompaniment to a meal, if not the basis for the meal. There are so many ways to eat bread. It is a great filler, a great way to supplement some meat, potatoes, and vegetables. Bread is a staple, which must always be kept on hand.

At least that is what I grew up believing.

And then I moved to Asia. The land of rice. And, somehow over the last year and a half I have grown to love rice. Rice has replaced my bread. It is a rare occasion for me to have bread at home, which could potentially be attributed to the fact that sometimes within minutes of bread entering the house a swarm of ants has laid siege or the extreme humidity causes bread to go stale and mold in about a day. But, I do love rice, and it is a rare day for there to not be rice in my house.

And I have been reading Exodus. Manna. God provided the Israelites with manna. What is this? That is the exact question the Israelites asked. Manna was the substance that God gave to sustain the Israelites, to fill their bellies, to accompany their meat and veggies. There was always enough. The shelves of Heaven were always stocked.

And now I read the newspaper. I view pictures. I have a deep ache in my heart...over this.

Where is the bread? Where is the rice? Where is the manna?

There isn't enough. The bread box is empty. The rice sack is void of a single grain.

People are starving. Beautiful, beautiful people are dying. Mothers and fathers. Sons and daughters.

I have a terribly difficult time reconciling all of this in my mind and heart. How can it be that there is so much bread, so much that gets discarded at the end of every day? How can it be that there is so much rice, so much that gets heaped on my plate? How can it be that I have watched so many people dig through garbage in hopes of finding some of that "old" bread or "wasted" rice to satisfy the rumbles of their stomachs? How can it be that there are little girls and stooped grandfathers whose skin cracks and hair falls out because there is no bread? How can it be that there are baby boys and wrinkled grandmas whose eyes are sunken and ribs protrude because the rice is gone?

How can this reality be so far from my own?

I ache for these people. With all that is in me, I want to help them. I want to offer them my rice, my bread. But, I wonder if my bread will make any difference.

"As they were eating, Jesus took some bread and blessed it. Then he broke it in pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, 'Take it, for this is my body.'" Mark 14:22

Broken bread. Jesus, the bread of life, broke Himself to pieces. He always broke the bread because one single loaf might feed a hungry little boy, but broken to pieces, a single loaf can feed thousands. I am not sure if this post is really about bread or about brokenness, but one thing I do know is that the shelves of Heaven are still stocked...

redemption

2011-08-07T05:03:00.002-04:00

Redemption. This word, this concept, this gift has been on my mind a lot lately. I have been trying, unsuccessfully, to wrap my mind and heart around it. It is so big, so all-encompassing, so free.

O Israel, hope in the LORD;

for with the LORD there is unfailing love.

His redemption overflows.

He Himself will redeem Israel from every kind of sin.

Psalm 130:7-8

Unfailing. Overflowing.

That is how my God operates. He only does things in abundance. He consistently overwhelms. He restores completely...and then adds some on for good measure.

I have been taking a look at the book of Exodus, at the lives of Moses and the Israelites, at the faithfulness of God, at the deliverance of God's chosen people. And, as I have been reading and studying and meditating, I have been learning so much about what true redemption looks like. Somehow in all of my previous study I have overlooked some profound gifts the LORD gave to the Israelites, some beautiful ways that He provided for His beloved children. He never forgets. He notes every detail.

And, the following is something that I love, love, love about God's provision...

And I will cause the Egyptians to look favorably on you. They will give you gifts when you go so you will not leave empty-handed. Every Israelite woman will ask for articles of silver and gold and fine clothing from her Egyptian neighbors and from the foreign women in their houses. You will dress your sons and daughters with these, stripping the Egyptians of their wealth. Exodus 3:21-22

Seriously, God? The oppressors are really going to look favorably upon their slaves, sending them out of their country with all of their silver and gold and wealth? That is really hard to believe...

And the people of Israel did as Moses had instructed; they asked the Egyptians for clothing and articles of silver and gold. The LORD caused the Egyptians to look favorably on the Israelites, and they gave the Israelites whatever they asked for. So they stripped the Egyptians of their wealth! Exodus 12:35-36

Yes, seriously. Redemption. The Israelites must have looked like some kind of procession leaving Egypt, having replaced their shackles with solid gold bangles. The juxtaposition of their fine robes next to their dark, leathery skin probably evoked a bit of confusion among those they met on the road. Their sun-kissed skin and calloused hands would be a sure sign that they were laborers, that they were not strangers to hard work under the hot sun, that they were likely property of another. But, their fine clothing would suggest something quite different, something like redemption.

But, it seems that as time marches on we forget the blessed redemption in our lives. We turn aside. We avert our eyes, searching for something different. And, when we do, life somehow blows up in our face. This is not a new occurrence.

When the people saw how long it was taking Moses to come back down the mountain, they gathered around Aaron. 'Come on,' they said, 'make us some gods who can lead us. We don't know what happened to this fellow Moses, who brought us here from the land of Egypt.' So Aaron said, ' Take the gold rings from the ears of your wives and sons and daughters, and bring them to me.' All the people took the gold rings from their ears and brought them to Aaron. Then Aaron took the gold, melted it down, and molded it into the shape of a calf. When the people saw it, they exclaimed, 'O Israel, these are the gods who brought you out of the land of Egypt!' Exodus 32:1-4

Fail. It happens to the best of us. We are really excited. We are marching on the right path, wearing our fine clothes and beautiful jewels, walking in freedom. And, then, life explodes. Things are taking too long. Things are not going the way we planned. Surely, things need to change. And, so, we try to force our own change...sometimes using the very abundance God gave us when He redeemed us from our past errors. Have you ever wondered where the Israelites came up with all these gold rings? Yes, Egypt. God brought them out of their oppression wearing crowns of victory...that they then melted down into a worthless idol.

I want to shake my head at their foolishness. I want to judge their stupidity. I want to (not so gently) remind them from where they have come. I want to implore them to have patience, to wait on the LORD, to remember how He has saved them, to hold fast to His promises, to don their gold rings as a reminder of God's redemption.

But, who am I?

How many times have I forsaken the redemption that is mine? How many times have I forced my own way? How many times have I melted down my reminders and shaped them into something I felt I could better understand, something I could wrap my mind around? How many times have I looked back and thought, "Maybe that wasn't so bad. And, the future looks too hard, so maybe I will just try to squeeze myself back into that familiar place where at least I know what to expect"? How many times have I rushed ahead and wasted opportunities and gifts? How many times have I questioned how this wilderness could possibly be where God wants me to be?

When he finally came to his senses, he said to himself, 'At home even the hired servants have food enough to spare, and here I am dying of hunger! I will go home to my father and say, 'Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. Please take me on as a hired servant.' So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. His son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son.' But his father said to the servants, 'Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.' So the party began. Luke 15:17-24

There are those fine clothes and gold rings again...

Redemption.

rainy afternoons

2011-08-01T23:16:00.002-04:00

I love rainy afternoons, provided that I don't have to go anywhere, of course. I like to listen to the drops ping, to watch puddles grow, to smell the crisp air, to feel the mist and breeze. I like to pick up a good book and a hot cup of tea and just enjoy it. I like to bake cookies. I like to just be. Rainy afternoons are good for my soul, and there have been a lot of them over the last few weeks.

But, like all things, rainy afternoons lose their luster after awhile.

I know there are some things in which I am a creature of habit, but I don't normally think I am prone to extremes. I find that I never have answers when asked extreme questions.

If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Do you think you will live in Cambodia forever?

What is the BEST book you have ever read?

What is your favorite thing to do?

If you could do anything for the rest of your life, what would you choose?

I don't have good answers to any of those questions. Do others really have answers to these questions? There is so much that I don't know, so much that I want to know. How could I possibly choose one food to eat forever when there are so many that I have yet to try? My favorite thing to do? There are so many factors that come into play. The rest of my life? I don't really want that kind of pressure in my life. I will be satisfied to know about tomorrow.

There are seasons in life. There always have been.

for everything there is a season,

a time for every activity under heaven.

a time to be born and a time to die.

a time to plant and a time to harvest.

a time to kill and a time to heal.

a time to tear down and a time to build up.

a time to cry and a time to laugh.

a time to grieve and a time to dance.

a time to scatter stones and time to gather stones.

a time to embrace and a time to turn away.

a time to search and a time to quit searching.

a time to keep and a time to throw away.

a time to tear and a time to mend.

a time to be quiet and a time to speak.

a time to love and a time to hate.

a time for war and a time for peace.

ecclesiastes 3:1-8

And, right now, it is the season of rainy afternoons. It is a season of change for me, a season of transition. And, I may get tired of the rainy afternoons before the sunshine returns, but my God remains the same. His goodness and faithfulness does not change. And, so, I will welcome the rainy afternoons and rejoice both in this season and in the one to come...

shhhh...

2011-07-26T01:54:00.003-04:00

God is speaking.

He is speaking to my heart. He is challenging me. He is loving me. He is changing me.

I didn't expect to be in this place, but here I am. And, it is good because God is here. And, it is difficult but God is here.

"As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord's feet, listening to what He taught. But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, 'Lord, doesn't it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.' But the Lord said to her, 'My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.'" Luke 10:38-42

The truth is that I am God's beloved child above all else. I am His. He has a lot to teach me, to show me, to speak to me. And, I don't want to be too distracted to listen. I want to be quiet before the Lord. I want to listen to Him speak.

I tend to be a slow reactor to things. I like to think things through. I like to choose my words carefully. I typically do not make quick decisions, and even though it may look like that from the outside sometimes, it is often something that began stirring in me long before others may know.

And, I am confident that I am on the brink of a new season, and I keep hearing,

"Shhhh... I am speaking. You need to listen and listen well."

And so, I am waiting and listening.

"somewhere in the back of my mind, I think You are telling me to wait, and though patience has never been mine, Lord, I will wait to hear from you..." ~ sara groves, "hello Lord"

latex gloves

2011-07-17T23:54:00.002-04:00

sometimes simple things make the most difference in the world. i try to remember that, especially on days that are difficult. i have had a lot of difficult days recently, so i have spent a lot of time remembering simple things, praying that God will show me simple things, small things.

last week, one of those simple things involved a latex glove.

please note: i am not a doctor. i am not a divine healer of wounds. but, i have a Savior who is.

and last week, i sat on some dirty concrete with a clear plastic box containing band-aids, gauze, nail clippers, iodine, and latex gloves. pretty professional, eh?

i had clipped some long, dirty fingernails earlier and distributed a couple band-aids, but after it looked like all the needs had been met, i started jumping rope and chasing balls with the hoard of children that had gathered for our lesson that day.

but, as things were winding down and crafts were being finished, someone walked up to me and cast her eyes at a little girl sitting on the side with her mother. the mother wondered if we could clean her daughter's wounds. so, i made my way over. and, the 8-year-old girl immediately began to fidget, telling her mom "no, no, no" as tears welled up in her eyes. she knew it would hurt and she was scared. i sat down with her and asked her name. i told her my name. i asked her what had happened and if it hurt. she told me that 6 days before she had been burned with hot water. and, yes, it hurt. i showed her my big toe and the sore that remained from an accident earlier in the week. i told her that i understood that it hurt. i asked if i could help her, and she timidly nodded in agreement. her mom helped her unbutton her pajama top and take it off, revealing more burns.

it was at this moment that i realized my absolute inadequacy and prayed for wisdom, for mercy, for compassion. and, as i started to put on my latex gloves, i pulled one off again. i put it to my mouth and inflated it. i tied it closed and handed it to her. i told her that if it hurt, to squeeze the fingers tight. so, she did. as i swabbed her open wounds, i told her she was brave and strong. and, she smiled through the pain. i cleaned her chest. i cleaned her neck. i cleaned her forehead. she had already been to the doctor and previous bandages had been removed leaving sticky residue. so, i used wet wipes to remove the stickiness. and, after i was finished, i helped her put her yellow pajama shirt back on. with the help of a khmer co-worker, i told her mother that the wounds were healing well and to just keep them dry and clean, that they would be all better soon.

and, i watched them walk away toward their home...holding an inflated latex glove.

"we cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love." ~ mother teresa

Lord, teach me to love well in small things...

cheers!

2011-07-10T09:15:00.003-04:00

There are many, many things that I love about my church here. I love worshipping alongside my brothers and sisters, and I love that it happens in more than one language every single week. I love that services always allow for time to pray for the nation and to genuinely pray for the person sitting next to you, really finding out what his or her individual needs are. I love that people dance like fools during worship, and when I say dance like fools, I mean the whole room is sometimes bouncing like a mosh pit. I love that time is fluid, and if the service needs to go long because the Spirit is moving, no one minds. I love that there is time to mill about the room and meet new people...and there is never a week when there isn't someone with whom to chat. I love that somehow there is always room for another row of blue plastic chairs in the back.

But, one things that I have grown to love so much is the weekly welcomes. I say I have grown to love this because the first time I experienced it, I was slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable. Every week after the week's announcements, someone takes the opportunity to welcome those who have come for the first time--first the foreign guests, and then the Khmer. They play music and everyone claps as, much to their chagrin, the foreigners rise to their feet and are met by the ushers to receive information about the church's programs. Then, the music changes and the clapping changes rhythm as the Khmer guests are invited to stand. I have never been to a church where people are so welcomed and honored as guests...every single week.

And, today I was so incredibly blessed by this because there were cheers.

There were cheers when the Khmer guests stood up to be welcomed. There were several Khmer people who came for the first time today, which always makes for a great day. But, 5 of these guests were extra special. They came with crimped hair and make-up. They had ponytails and painted fingernails. But, they weren't women. And, everyone in the room knew it.

In Southeast Asia, "ladyboys" are very common. In Thailand, they walk the streets freely, but in Cambodia, they often only come out at night. They are marginalized. They are abused and beaten. They are known to be violent. They are a rare sight during the day. They are not accepted. They are hurting. They are broken. And, they are loved by God.

And, they are loved by the body of Christ who cheered for them this morning. Today was the day of salvation for some of those boys, and freedom is here...and so is an amazing network of support in the body of Christ.

tigers and airplanes

2011-07-08T06:29:00.002-04:00

The door has been open all day, every day for the past week and a half. On Tuesday he showed up at the front door. He inched his way inside a little at a time--inside my heart, that is. He came in the door with a few other boys from the neighborhood.

On Tuesday we sat on the dusty floor and bounced balls back and forth to each other, laughing when our balls would crash into each other and go flying. Then, after an hour of that, he produced a huge stack of miniature cards deep from within the pocket of his navy blue shorts--the remains of his school attire from studying in the morning. We then sat for another hour surrounded by stacks of cards, carefully cupping our hands and slapping the floor trying to flip the stacks of cards over. I am pretty sure that I was losing miserably after several rounds as my stack of cards was dwindling, but I made a sad face and noted how many more cards he had than me. So, he gathered together a stack from his pile and added them to mine. Pretty sure that goes against all the rules... Then, it was time to go home. We waved good-bye and said, "see you tomorrow."

On Wednesday he popped right in the door after lunch. He came running to meet me. He found the balls, and we started playing again. We bounced balls. We laughed. He told me that tomorrow we would play the card game again. Ok? Ok. But on Wednesday, I had to leave early. I had a class to get to, but I assured him we would play tomorrow. So, I waved good-bye.

On Thursday he came to the door and ran inside. I saw his eyes scan the room before he saw my face among the sea of white faces. We found balls and played basketball with hoops made out of cardboard boxes and duct tape tied to the grates of the front gate. We found rackets and a birdie and played badminton. And, as promised, we played the card game again. I was still not very good at it, but he taught me a new way to do it that is a little easier (and might be the way 3-year-olds play). We chased each other. We growled like tigers. We laughed. A lot. He pretty much has the best giggle ever. Seriously.

On Friday he came back. We played some cards. We drew pictures. He drew a picture of me, and a picture of his house. We bounced balls. We growled like tigers. We did puzzles. But, then I had to go out for a while because I had work to do. So, I made sure to tell him that I had to go but would come back. In the meantime, he could stay and play with others.

An hour and a half later I returned and was greeted with an attack hug while I was still standing in the doorway. I was pulled inside. I was shown the many "tattoos" that had occurred all over his arms and legs (and the other boys) while I was out. (Maybe we should have put those markers away...) Then, he drew a brown airplane on a sheet of yellow construction paper and asked me where I wanted to go. He assured me that he knew how to fly an airplane, and he could take me anywhere I wanted to go. So, we went to Australia and China and America and England. He would ask where I wanted to go, and then get up and "fly" his plane around the room and come back and ask where next?

But, there is no airplane that can take me to a place that my heart would be happier than sitting with this new 9-year-old friend growling like a tiger.

loving a person...

2011-07-05T09:20:00.002-04:00

loving a person just the way they are, it's no small thing

Sometimes I wonder how much things I do really matter. Sometimes I doubt that I am really making a worthwhile difference in my tiny corner of the world, let alone the world that looms over and around me. Sometimes I feel like my attempts to live like Jesus are futile. Sometimes I ache to relieve some of the pain that surrounds me every day. Sometimes I contemplate my true purpose.

But, today, I made a new friend. He is about 9 years old. I sat with him for hours. We bounced balls. We looked for the source of police sirens. We played a game with Ben 10 cards on a dusty, tile floor. We sat on a stoop. We tried to scoot out of the sun. We laughed. We kicked balls. We were joined by some other friends. We ate bananas. We waved good-bye and said, "see you tomorrow!"

And, today I remembered.

loving a person just the way they are, that's no small thing...that's the whole thing

sara groves, "loving a person"

joy

2011-07-03T03:39:00.003-04:00

12 things that brought me joy before 12pm today.

1. Running in the "quiet" and "cool" of the morning.

2. Driving FAST on the highway!

3. Drinking iced coffee out of a plastic bag.

4. Sitting in a red plastic chair with some of my Khmer brothers and sisters to worship our awesome God.

5. Chatting with a family about how much I DON'T love "prahok." ("Prahok" is fermented fish paste for those of you who may not have had the unfortunate encounter with it's assaulting odor and taste.)

6. Dirt roads.

7. Rice paddies.

8. Grilled fish and green mango salad.

9. Meeting my friend's beautiful grandmother.

10. Ongkoi layng. (Sitting around with friends.)

11. Getting my broken mirror fixed...finally.

12. Beautiful, beautiful friends in a beautiful, beautiful country.

words

2011-06-30T09:38:00.003-04:00

I love words, in all of their many forms. I love reading. I love writing. I love games with words. I love speaking words. I love teaching words. I love making puns with words.

But, sometimes words are difficult. Sometimes there are no words to communicate things. Sometimes it is hard to choose the right words. Sometimes words are used carelessly. Sometimes words contradict the things we say with our bodies.

As I continue to study another language, I realize more and more the complexity of words. But, more than that, I learn that sharing words together can add so much to a relationship. I have had really awesome, really intentional time with amazing men and women in the past couple weeks, men and women with whom I struggle to use the right words. I struggle to explain myself. I struggle to string together coherent sentences. I struggle to understand the words they speak back to me. I struggle as I try to speak their heart language to them because they deserve to be heard and understood and spoken to in the language of the nation they call home.

But, I am getting there. I am learning. I am learning new words every day. And, I am learning that sharing words together is important and making the time to share those words is even more important. I am thankful for intentional sitting on the side of the street for 30 minutes talking about life because that is what makes my friend feel loved and shows her that Jesus loves her. I am thankful for ice cream and choosing flavors to share together with a beautiful friend. I am thankful for sitting on the floor eating rice together, sharing about how we can pray for each other's families.

I am thankful for God's gifts in my life, and I am thankful that many of those gifts have come in the form of kind-hearted, beautiful people.

pots, jars, & failures

2011-06-16T05:28:00.004-04:00

I am not sure how to start this post, not really sure how it is going to come out, but I am going to try. Here we go...

"When a potter makes jars out of clay, doesn't he have a right to use the same lump of clay to make one jar for decoration and another to throw garbage into?" Romans 9:21

I have been spending a lot of time recently thinking about how God has made me, what He desires for me, what that looks like in action, and living in a state of needing constant reminders that He made me the way He did for specific reasons.

Sometimes I just feel so different...

I feel as though the way God has wired me, the way I think, the way I choose to live, the way I approach people and situations, the way I feel...is just different. And most days that is ok. But, sometimes I realize that others don't see what I see, that they don't feel what I feel, that they can't fathom how I live, or that my mind and heart operate the way they do.

In recent weeks I have found myself asking God, "why?" Not an angry questioning but a sincere wondering.

"Should the created thing say of the one who made it, 'He didn't make me'? Does a jar ever say, 'The potter who made me is stupid'?" Isaiah 29:16b

I don't find myself questioning God. I know He made me. I know He didn't make a mistake. I know He is not stupid. But, sometimes in the midst of pain, of failure, of misunderstanding, the questions arise again.

Why am I this way?

How is this all going to work together for good?

Am I the only one like this?

What do I do with what I have been given?

How do I channel my entire self to be a vessel to further God's Kingdom?

Will other people always look at me with raised eyebrows and gaping mouths?

Or, maybe this is all just part of the journey, the journey of brokenness. We are fragile.

"We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves." 2 Corinthians 4:7

I am powerless and fragile. In a single moment, this jar is cracked. In a split second, this pot is shattered to pieces. But, I suppose that when that shattering occurs, that is the point that the Light spills forth. And, everything that I think, that I feel, that I see, that I learn, that I know reminds me that the Light is meant to overcome the darkness...

(If you made it through this post and it made any sense to you at all, you deserve a gold star!)

childlike

2011-06-11T10:54:00.002-04:00

Jesus tells us that if we want to enter His Kingdom, that we need to be like little children. So, sometimes I like to bust out my inner child, and thankfully, I live in a country full of people that like to do the same. Cambodians LOVE games that most of us would play with children. But, who decided kids get to have all the fun?!?!

Check out this link to see my friends and I playing a game at a birthday party for 2 of my teammates.

(And, yes, I did win.)

t-shirts

2011-06-10T00:58:00.002-04:00

Some things in life are just humorous. T-shirts in Asia fit into this category. I found this gem of a t-shirt a few months ago, and while I normally laugh and keep on walking, I found this one too strange to pass.

No, I don't really think love is like a box of puke, but I think it is funny that apparently someone with limited English ability decided that "love" and "puke" belonged together on the same t-shirt.

The chronic misspellings and unclear English on shirts (and virtually everything else) here add some much-appreciated humor to my life. So, as I gad about the city, I am overwhelmed with shirts boasting furry bears, words like "Hapy day, Mr. pig," and "Where are you mr. right man?"

Oh, Asia, I love you...

mercy

2011-06-02T21:40:00.002-04:00

"But when the Pharisees saw this, they asked His disciples, 'Why does your teacher eat with such scum?' When Jesus heard this, He said, 'Healthy people don't need a doctor--sick people do.' Then He added, 'Now go and learn the meaning of this Scripture: "I want you to show mercy, not offer sacrifices." For I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners.'" Matthew 9:11-13

I have been a terrible blogger lately. I am sorry. I keep meaning to blog, but then life happens, and I just don't get to it. But, I have been thinking a lot lately...and living...and experiencing...and changing...and loving. So, here goes a glimpse into my mind and heart lately.

Truthfully, my heart's desire is to love...fiercely and deeply. I just want to be like Jesus. I am painfully aware of my failures and selfishness. I can identify with the Apostle Paul when he says, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners--and I am the worst of them all" (1 Timothy 1:15). But, every day His mercies are new, and I get another chance "to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your [my] God" (Micah 6:8). In trying to do this, I have learned some things about myself, about how I feel, about how I love, about the mercy Christ has put in me that comes out of me.

I love the unlovely.

There is a little boy that I know. He is a bit of a punk. He doesn't listen. He likes to pick fights. He is missing one of his front teeth. He makes life difficult. Activities go much smoother when he is absent. But, I love him, and I am determined to win him over...and I think I am succeeding. The other day I was sitting on the dirty ground with some of my teammates and a bunch of kids preparing to join in singing some songs and witnessing a drama about how we can't wash away our sins but Jesus can...and a little boy came and wiggled his way in to sit beside me. He scooted right up to me and leaned against my arm...and he sat through the whole story without trying to pinch another child or trying to sneak a ball out of our supply box or trying to test our team's patience any number of other ways. And, on that day, I won the battle. He was loved...and he knew it.

The war is still being waged, but when it is all said and done, mercy and love will win. And, I am determined that no matter how long it takes, no matter how much patience I have to muster, no matter how many times I am pinched, he, and so many others like him, will know he is loved. These are the ones that need love, and no matter the cost to me, I am determined that they will know and experience love...

double life

2011-05-20T23:45:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I feel like I have two completely separate lives--my American life and my Cambodian life.

In my American life I have family and friends. I have hobbies. I have things that I like to do and have had a myriad of experiences. I love to wear jeans and flip flops, to drive with the windows down and sing with the radio, to bake and create new things in the kitchen, to curl up with a good book. In America I look forward to summertime with fresh strawberries and sweet corn, long days full of sunshine, morning runs down quiet streets. I look forward to bonfires and hoodies in autumn. I suffer through the winter months drinking as much hot tea and hot chocolate as possible. I look forward to time with family at Thanksgiving and Christmas devouring green bean casserole and scalloped potatoes and pumpkin pie. I look forward to spring and the green buds on the trees, the first daffodils and tulips.

In my Cambodian life I have "family" and friends. I have things that I like to do and have had a myriad of experiences here, too. I love sitting on the floor and sharing food with people. I love leaving my shoes at the door before going into someone's house (including my own). I love buying mangoes and pomelos along the street. I love weaving through the organized chaos on my moto, but I don't love having helmet hair every day of my life. The seasons are different here. I look forward to the season of delicious mangoes and lychee and mangosteen and papaya, but I don't enjoy the perpetual state of sweat that accompanies it. I look forward to the relief that comes with rain, the thunder and the sound of rain on tin roofs as I go to sleep at night. I look forward to the "cool" season when I might actually be tempted to put on a hoodie and drink some hot chocolate.

The thing that is interesting to me in all of this is that my lives often seem so very separate. My roommate and I had a conversation about things we used to do/wear in America, and it was really funny because they were things we definitely would not have guessed about the other because we live differently here. We have helmet hair here, not real hairstyles. We wear clothes that hide sweat here, not trendy clothes. We wear flip flops pretty much every day, not cute flats or fashionable boots. We lack hobbies because we are either too busy to do things or it is too hard to find materials to do them or takes too much effort (or finances) to do it. The people we love here and spend our time with have never met, and in some cases barely speak the same language as, the people we love and would spend time with in America.

Sometimes I love my double life. I love knowing that I have friends on both sides of the world, but the problem with that lies in that there is always someone to miss. And, there are very few people, if any, who understand that it isn't really a double life but two completely different sides of the same life...and that is difficult to explain or understand...

Regardless, I am so blessed and so thankful for my life, for all its uniqueness, for all its facets, for all the opportunities to share with so many wonderful people of all nations and colors and languages...

too much

2011-05-12T03:44:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wondered how much is too much?

Lately, I have found myself wondering if "too much" really exists, if it is even possible.

Is it possible to give too much?

Is it possible to show too much mercy?

Is it possible to offer too much grace?

Is it possible to love too much?

Is it possible to care too much?

I have been pondering these questions and thinking about my Savior, thinking about what He did and what He asks of me. If I had a nickel (or 100 riel) for every time I have heard someone say that they admire my "sacrifice" or the work that I am doing, I would be a wealthy woman. Though, if I did have that extra money, I doubt it would stick around too long...there are just too many places to sow it. My whole point is this:

I am not anything spectacular. I am but dust. I am a sinner who is thankful that God's mercies are new every morning. I have the wonderful love of my blessed Redeemer way down in the depths of my heart. And, that blessed Redeemer went to hell and back to save me. So, who am I to even suggest that anything He asks me to do is too much?

"This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you." ~ John 15:12

hunger

2011-05-09T08:57:00.002-04:00

What does real hunger look like?

I see hunger pretty much daily. I see women with sunken cheeks tote around babies with orange-frosted hair and bald patches while they carry a small metal bowl, usually empty. I see little boys trifle through rubbish bins to pull out half empty bags of sugar cane juice. I see old men with wrinkled faces and squinting eyes squat in the shade with palms together begging from passersby. I see children on the top of the garbage heap digging for bits of leftover rice. Sometimes I have little boys look into my grocery bags and then look at me with their cloudy brown eyes.

But, this isn't the only kind of hunger I see. As I was sitting in church yesterday, I was in awe of the hunger in that room. I was in a room surrounded by Khmer people, most of them young adults, and they were hungry. They were hungry for the Creator of the universe, for the Lover of their souls. And, I was humbled because I want to be that hungry for the things of the Lord. I want to know and live as though He is my daily bread, the air I breathe, my satisfaction.

"God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied." ~ Matthew 5:6

resources

2011-04-29T23:11:00.003-04:00

There are so many things that I am constantly learning, and the other morning I was reminded of how resourceful we can be when we have to be. What reminded me of this? Well, I saw a couple men trimming a tree...with a meat cleaver.

I chuckled to myself as I watch this man stand on a ladder hacking away at a mango tree with a meat cleaver, but then I started to think about the many things I see (and do) each day that I wouldn't in the States because we have more "sophisticated" tools to accomplish certain tasks. I was thinking the other day that I have no desire to ever own a microwave again. Go ahead, let your jaw drop. But, I haven't used a microwave for months, and I don't miss it, and I think I am better for it. I have learned how to do so many things since coming here, everything from making my own cream soup base to making great homemade tortillas and pita bread. When I want any kind of beans, I have to think ahead of time so they can soak overnight and then I have to have enough time to cook them. (By the way, did you know that pinto beans take almost 3 hours to cook?!?!) I am working on perfecting the art of carrying anything and everything on a motorbike. This week I successfully carried a box with a birthday cake, but in the past I have balanced multiple bags of produce, packages from the post office, iced coffees hanging from my handlebars, etc.

I think when given the opportunity, people can be incredibly resourceful and imaginative, but I think our "sophisticated" tools stifle that a bit. I am so thankful for all that I have learned and continue to learn about using what I have available to create something or to accomplish something. I mean, really, why go to the trouble of buying a hedge-trimmer when the meat cleaver does the job just as well?

faint not

2011-04-27T21:48:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I find that life gets a bit overwhelming. I love my life. I really, really do. And, I cannot imagine doing anything else or being anywhere else right now.

And, most days I don't think too much about the smell of sewage assaulting my nose or the perpetual state of sweat or the chaos of navigating the streets.

Most days these things are all overshadowed by wonderful things, such as taking cupcakes to a friend and then sitting on the floor of her house with her and her husband and their new baby talking about life and love and thanking Jesus or being so excited to see my language teacher/friend for the first time in weeks that we hardly get any real "studying" done because we are just talking about life or seeing my "little brothers" grow and learn.

But, there are some days when my prayer is this...

"o my soul, faint not, no faint not

o my soul, keep up, up

in love

where there is hatred, let me sow love

where there is injury, let me pardon

where there is darkness, let the Light come, come

o my soul, faint not, no faint not

o my soul, keep up, up

in love"

~ jenny & tyler, "faint not"

running

2011-04-17T05:51:00.004-04:00

I love to run. I started running about three and a half years ago, and though prior to that time, it was not something I really enjoyed, I quickly fell in love with it. I loved the way it made me feel. I loved the fresh air. I loved running along trails. I loved the time it gave me to just think, to pray, to clear my head. Running has become a great source of stress relief for me.

I love the way a new pair of running shoes feel. I love breaking them in and making them mine. I love the blood and sweat involved. There aren't usually tears, but it has happened on occasion.

I love racing! I love competition. I love pushing myself to do something. Running has taught me a lot about pushing myself. I am always amazed about what my body can do if I just push. I love the feeling of achieving something, of accomplishing something great.
I am not sure I ever expected to be a competitive runner. And, truthfully, I don't know that I would call myself a competitive runner. But, I miss the competition. I miss the challenge. I have still been running over the last few months, but I was just telling a friend the other day how much I miss training towards a goal, how much I miss racing. Running on a treadmill for 30 minutes a day while staring out a window is just not the same. I miss being challenged and pushed. I miss knowing that someone is timing me, that someone is chasing me, and that I am chasing someone. I am so thankful for a friend who encourages me to occasionally rise early, before the traffic chaos ensues, and run with her. A few weeks ago we ran about 8 miles, and it felt so good!!!! I cannot even tell you what it did for my soul...

And, speaking of my soul, there is another race to be run. Sometimes I think there are a lot of parallels between the races--the competitive running race and the race of life. There are so many things to be done, so many people to be loved, so much world to change. And, it is easy to get lazy, easy to get on the treadmill and run 30 minutes, get off and go about your day. Some days I feel like that is exactly what I am doing. I am going through the motions in my own little corner of the world but not running the race to win, not looking ahead and pushing myself to pass the next obstacle. Instead, I think about my overworked lungs and tired muscles. I think about how nice it would feel to just stop, and really, who is going to really notice or care if I stop and walk?

But, I realize that it does matter. I notice such a difference in me, both physically and mentally, when I take a break from running, when I get lazy. And, the same is true when I get lazy in running the race for eternity. There isn't time to be lazy, and it is time to lace up the shoes and ramp up the speed. There is a race to be won...

"No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling me." ~ Philippians 3:13-14

beautiful things

2011-04-16T10:50:00.004-04:00

There are so many beautiful things, and sometimes I forget to notice them. I really try to remember to look for them, but I live in a land of concrete, littered with plastic bags and pollution and dust and poverty. So, most days it really does take a valiant effort on my part to see the beauty. But, other days the beauty has no problem finding me...

Thank You, Jesus, for a beautiful sunset cruise down the Tonle Sap River...

...and for green trees and fresh air and rushing water just a few hours from home...
...and for bright-colored flowers weaved together in a crown fit for a princess...
...and for changed hearts and lives.

You make beautiful things,

You make beautiful things out of the dust.

You make beautiful things,

You make beautiful things out of us.

~ michael gungor

two hours

2011-04-10T10:24:00.002-04:00

one day last week in the span of two hours, I was...

kicked

pinched

bitten

yelled at

pinched

spun in circles

bruised

kicked

tugged on

pinched

grabbed

pinched...hard enough to draw blood

sat on

...and smiled at.

one day last week in the span of two hours, I had the most awesome opportunity to love a boy whose feet are stained black, who digs through the trash in search of snacks discarded by others, who dances to music that only plays inside his head, who wanders the streets alone. I love that boy, and I am sure he doesn't know how much...but it is certainly more than two hours worth...

bee bahk jeut

2011-04-01T11:07:00.004-04:00

"if you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling yourself. you are not that important." ~ galatians 6:2

some things are not pleasant. some things are difficult. some things are awkward to talk about. some things are uncomfortable. some things are ugly. some things are twisted. some things are disgusting. some things make us feel sick to our stomach. some things give us "bee bahk jeut."

i find that i often go through cycles of frustration. sometimes i just ignore feeling like i am alone (or in a very small minority) of people who genuinely care about trying to make the world a more beautiful place by living love. other times i want to (but rarely do) scream with frustration because i can't understand why anyone with the power and ability to help and love another person would choose not to do so. and, occasionally, i make an attempt at pulling out my soapbox to encourage others to "learn to do good. seek justice. help the oppressed. defend the cause of orphans. fight for the rights of widows" (isaiah 1:17).

i have learned that expressing strong emotions is not something that cambodians tend to do. i recently had a discussion with a friend about how she has had some cambodian friends of her disclose that it is better for them to not ask someone who is crying or clearly upset about what may be wrong or why he/she is feeling sad. it is better not to ask because they might share about a sad or difficult experience, giving the listener "bee bahk jeut."

learning this gave me new insight, but i was also discouraged. what is so ugly within us that we would rather watch someone suffer alone and in silence than to possibly expose ourselves to feeling sadness, to having "bee bahk jeut"? i had thought to myself that surely this is just a difference between cultures, something that must be worked through. but, as i thought about it more and read frustrated emails from people who were really excited to make a difference in the world but were now ready to throw in the towel because of the discouraging responses they had received from people, i realized that not wanting to expose ourselves to "bee bahk jeut" has nothing to do with any culture. maybe we call it something different in america but the principle is the same. in khmer, they call it "bee bahk jeut" which basically translates to "sad/difficult heart." it speaks of those things that make our hearts ache, that cause us to feel pain.

nobody likes to feel sad. nobody likes to have a broken heart. nobody likes to be in pain.

but, i honestly believe that if we share life (and all the loveliness and ugliness in it), we would find more joy than sorrow, more healing than pain, more beauty than ashes, more strength than weakness, more justice, more righteousness, more kindness, more goodness, more gentleness, more peace, and more love...

bride

2011-03-29T10:17:00.000-04:00

I have been reading through a lot of the Old Testament recently, and in doing so, I continue to be amazed by God's love and mercy. Those Israelites certainly tested God's patience. Time and time again they turned away from the Lord only to find death and destruction and oppression. Then, they come back to the Lord with their tails between their legs, pleading for forgiveness, promising to be faithful. And, so they are for a little while. But, then they are drawn away again by something shiny or tasty or something that makes them feel good about themselves...

Not so different from today, eh?

God has been speaking to me, reminding me that He is coming back for a blameless, spotless bride. He is not coming back for a selfish, unforgiving prostitute. I most certainly want to be the former and not the latter.

"Then the Lord said to me, 'Go and love your wife again, even though she commits adultery with another lover. This will illustrate that the Lord still loves Israel, even though the people have turned to other gods and love to worship them.' So I bought her back for fifteen pieces of silver and five bushels of barley and a measure of wine. Then I said to her, 'You must live in my house for many days and stop your prostitution. During this time, you will not have sexual relations with anyone, not even with me.' This shows that Israel will go a long time without a king or prince, and without sacrifices, sacred pillars, priests, or even idols! But afterward the people will return and devote themselves to the Lord their God and to David's descendant, their king. In the last days, they will tremble in awe of the Lord and of His goodness." ~ Hosea 3:1-5

Come on, Church, let's plan a wedding...

elephant

2011-03-22T08:56:00.002-04:00

overwhelmed.

I would say this is a word that often describes how I feel about my life. It isn't a bad thing. In fact, most of the time I think it is a good thing. I spend most of my time here feeling overwhelmed with the tasks before me, which leaves me in a position of forced dependence upon the Lord. And, as much as I am overwhelmed, I am also constantly amazed at how the Lord works, at how He uses my weakness to reveal His perfect strength and competence. There is no task that is too great for Him.

I spent some time today doing some training with my co-workers, my co-laborers in the Kingdom of God. And, as we finished up training, my question was this: "Are you overwhelmed?" The honest answer from this was that they were indeed a little overwhelmed, that their heads hurt a bit with all the information, that there seemed to be so many problems and so few solutions. And, I agree with them. There is so much work to be done, and there never seems to be enough time or resources to do it. But, the bottom line is that God changes hearts, and He is faithful to do His part when we are faithful to do ours.

I shared with them what someone once told me.

"How do you eat an entire elephant? One bite at a time."

The response I received from this...

"Can we eat a chicken instead?"

No, brother, a chicken isn't big enough for my God...

hands & feet

2011-03-19T03:50:00.003-04:00

I have held these hands, and I have cleaned these feet.

Nails pierced Jesus' hands and feet to save the hands and feet of these.

Oh, Jesus, help me be Your hands and feet...

culture shock

2011-03-18T05:21:00.002-04:00

I have been thinking about making a post related to this for quite some time, but I have been hesitant to do so for a variety of reasons. However, during a conversation with a friend who is going on her fifth month here, she asked me if, after nearly 16 months, I was over the culture shock. And, how did I respond?

Well, I feel like the answer is a bit complicated. Because the truth is culture shock is complicated. Culture shock does not just mean that you are shocked by the obvious differences between your "home" culture and the culture in which you are currently living.

There are many things that don't hold the same "shock" factor that they may have initially.

Examples:

Traffic no longer causes me anxiety (at least not anymore than it would in America).

I don't bat an eye (or crinkle my nose) when I walk past the raw meat hanging in the market, even in the late afternoon when I know it has been sitting in the heat all day.

I enjoy being able to buy my snacks on the street without getting off my motorbike.

I am accustomed to seeing men pulling off the street, walking up to the nearest wall or tree, and peeing wherever they so desire.

Those things don't shock me anymore. But, those are not the things that culture shock is really about. There are so many more facets to it. The deeper you immerse yourself, the more there is to unpack. People handle emotions differently here. People make decisions based on things that will likely never make sense to me.

I love my life. I love Cambodia. There is nowhere else I would rather be at this point in my life, and I know that this is exactly where I am supposed to be. But, that does not mean that every day is easy, that I am not still shocked by things. It just looks different. And, I can't even articulate it, really. I can, however, tell you what I have realized about myself and how I know in myself that culture shock still happens.

Examples:

One day I can have full conversations with people in Khmer. The next day I cannot understand simple questions and phrases I have known for months.

I call a friend while standing in the aisle at the "Western" grocery store because there is a new flavor of pop-tarts. (I don't like pop-tarts, and I would never pay upwards of $5 for a box of them...but they are familiar.)

Sometimes all I want to do is sleep, but I can't...

After eating rice nearly every day for weeks (which I do like!), all I want to do is eat bread, bread, and more bread!

I am not sure that culture shock ever fully goes away, but it changes. I am aware that I feel it, but most days it isn't a big deal. And, on days when I really feel it, I go buy a loaf of bread, a diet coke, and watch a few episodes of The Office.

And, through it all, God is there.

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." ~ Hebrews 13:8

life

2011-03-15T05:11:00.003-04:00

"Did you ever imagine that your life would come to sitting on the dirty ground at the base of a Buddhist temple next to a puddle of urine?"

This was the question posed to me yesterday by one of my teammates as we sat amongst a group of children reviewing good manners and how God created the world.

And, the answer is no. I don't think I ever imagined that this would be a normal part of my life. I am not sure I knew what "normal" life would be for me.

There have always been (and still are) a myriad of things that I have wanted to do and hoped to do. But, at the heart of it, I really just want to love people, to really know them and experience life with them. I want to share life with them. I want to share Jesus with them.

Isn't that what life is about?

palace

2011-03-02T10:10:00.004-05:00

I live in a palace.

At least I think I do. My roommate and I moved in mid-December to a new apartment. We basically had one day where we could look for a place, and we found it. Home. We moved into a two bedroom, furnished apartment. We both knew the place we were living before was temporary, and so it was ok to go without a bed (we had foam mattresses on a tile floor), without any hot water, without a washing machine, without any real furniture to speak of. It was fine. And, then we moved into our palace.

Here is the tour. Our front door.

Our living room as you stand in our front door.
The other side of the living room.
The kitchen as seen from the long hallway that our bedrooms are off of. You can see our dining table and chairs and our cabinet for dishes.
Kitchen counter, gas stove, and DOUBLE sink (these are rare here!). (Also, you can kind of see the door open behind the window. There is a balcony all the way around, and a bathroom is located outside with the washing machine. We hang our clothes to dry on racks out there as well.)
The rest of the kitchen--"pantry," bottled water, refrigerator, and oven.
This is my bedroom.
And my bedroom from the other direction.
And my bathroom.
The rest of my bathroom with the plastic drawers.
The layout of Ruthie's bedroom and bathroom is a mirror image of mine.

And, this is the view from the front of our balcony.
I realize that for most of you reading this, it looks less than palatial. You may look at it and think that it looks bare or wonder at the fact that all the windows have bars. But, I realize every day how incredibly blessed I am as I come home to my palace.

giving

2011-02-27T02:48:00.002-05:00

"You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don't give reluctantly or in response to pressure. 'For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.' And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others." ~ 2 Corinthians 9:7-8

I had a conversation recently with someone about how I wish I was able to give more. I wish that I had more money to give away. I wish I had more time to give away. I wish I could help people more. The person with whom I was talking seemed surprised by this because she replied with "but you give more than anyone else I know."

I thought about this. I knew she meant that I gave up so much in order to come to Cambodia, to love the people here, to live among them. And, sure, I guess I did have to give things up to move here, but most of that seems pretty miniscule to me. I knew she also mean that I gave my life, but I feel like that is not dependent upon where we are. God asks us to yield our lives to Him, there is no physical location mentioned. So, I don't think it should matter whether I am in Cambodia or Indiana or any other place on the globe. I am required to surrender my life to Him just the same.

I simply want to give to people. I want to meet needs. I want to bless people. I want to be able to take a friend out to dinner and be able to pay for their meal without thinking that doing so may be a real strain on my budget. I want to be able to buy fruit for kids I know who only ever eat rice porridge. I want to be able to give more to the local church so that they can increase their outreach--because their outreach is 10 times (minimum) more effective than mine. And, it isn't that I haven't or don't do these things, but I want to do them MORE!

God has challenged me to evaluate how I am living and how I am giving. I encourage you to do the same because the truth is that you can't out-give God, but I might like to try...

what are you looking at?

2011-02-25T10:00:00.002-05:00

Khmer people stare. They just do. They stare more than any other people I have encountered.

By nature I am a people watcher. I am an observer. I love watching people and analyzing situations. I like making up stories for people I pass in the market, for the man who changes my flat tire, for the woman I see at the gym every morning. But, I try not to stare. Why? Because I have been told since I was small that it is rude to stare. So, I continue to do the natural American thing of quickly glancing away when someone catches me watching them, or maybe I try the awkward smile approach.

Those rules do not apply in Cambodia. People stare. They sit on the side of the road and turn their head as they watch you walk by. No shame. They stand 3 feet away from the table at which you are eating and watch you chew every bite. No shame. They follow you around the store with their eyes glued to you as if you might magically disappear if they turned away. No shame. They turn their heads at stoplights (if they choose to stop) and look at you until the light turns green. No shame.

It used to bother me that people constantly followed me around stores like a tail, or that every person along the street watched me. But, in many ways I have become immune. I often don't think about the fact that I am being stared at until someone else mentions it.

The truth, though, is that I wonder what kind of stories are being created about me. I wonder what these people think of me when they see me. I wonder if they try to determine my nationality, or if they are admiring my white skin or pointed nose. I wonder if they see the joy of Jesus in me. I hope so...

"Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary, use words." ~ St. Francis of Assisi

slow fade

2011-02-24T08:48:00.002-05:00

Is it a slow fade or a steep cliff? That is one of the questions that has been running through my mind over the past several days.

Last week I read an article in the newspaper here about an American man who had been arrested on charges of sexually abusing three Khmer boys that he claimed he had "adopted." The boys ranged in age from 10 to 15. Apparently the man had invited these boys to live with him, and he was supporting their families in various ways as well as paying for the boys to attend school.

The American man came to Cambodia in 2009. He came to volunteer. He came to volunteer at a children's hospital. He came to volunteer at a children's hospital because he is a pediatrician.

During his first several months here in 2009, this man kept a blog. And, I may have stumbled upon it last week after reading the article in the newspaper. I read his posts about navigating Phnom Penh, about eating spiders, about making friends, about visiting villages, about eating rice, about seeing patients with tropical diseases he had only seen in books previously.

And, I wondered. Was it a slow fade or a steep cliff? Was it a series of events or a single rash decision? How did he (or anyone) find himself in a state that rationalized being able to abuse children? My hunch is that no one wakes up one morning and suddenly decides to steal the innocence of children. My hunch is that it is a slow fade, that it sneaks up on them, that evil comes in through the cracks like smoke until everything inside suffocates. My hunch is that after awhile the senses get dulled to the wickedness, to the prowling lions.

"Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour." ~ 1 Peter 5:8

tears

2011-02-21T08:53:00.000-05:00

“It is better to bleed than cry,” or so the saying goes. But, sometimes bloodshed is simply not enough to make the pain go away. I learned this many years ago as I tried to make the pain within me lessen by increasing the pain on the outside. I carved into my flesh. I watched the blood spill out. But, the pain didn’t even compare with the hurt I still felt inside. When I look into his eyes spilling over with tears and his face contorted with frustration, I can vividly recall the feelings of pain and confusion and the inability to express it. Sometimes I watch from a distance. Sometimes I hold his hand and I am certain that he transfers more feelings to me than just the gritty filth that coats his palms. Sometimes I see his rotting teeth when he belly laughs. Sometimes I wonder how he made it out of the house without any pants (or underwear), but then I remember that he doesn’t have a house to leave. Sometimes I witness his impressive ability to use his big brown eyes, matted hair, and general filthiness to gain both the pity and the leftover food of passersby. But, never do I question the crocodile tears that leave streaks on his sunken cheeks. Sometimes the tears begin because he gets pushed off the swing. Sometimes the tears begin because he wants a ball he can’t have. Sometimes he cries over normal four-year-old things. But, sometimes the tears go beyond that. Sometimes tears are the only way he knows to express the pain he lives each day. The tears come, but doubtfully could he tell you why as this is all he has ever known. Never has he known a warm bath and a full tummy before snuggling with a teddy bear in a cozy bed. Go ahead and cry, buddy. Sometimes crying expresses the feelings bleeding can’t…

100

2011-02-18T22:38:00.002-05:00

This is my 100th blog post. A lot has changed both around me and within me over the last 100 posts. My perspectives have changed. My opinions have changed. My life looks different. My heart looks different. I am not sure that I can articulate what exactly has taken place in me over the last couple years. This is may not be what I thought my life would look like. This may not be according the plans I had made for myself. But, I am so thankful for my life, for my experiences, for the faithfulness of my God. I know that my journey is really just beginning. There are so many things that I know will still change within me and around me, and I know there are many changes that I haven't even realized. Sometimes, though, I catch myself...

I catch myself substituting the Khmer word for an English word when speaking with an American or other native English speaker. I have to consciously think about using the words "maybe" or "thank you" because the Khmer words are my default.

I catch myself raising my eyebrows as a way of saying "hey, how are you?" to a friend and pointing at things using my lips...both of which would probably communicate the wrong idea in America but are completely normal here.

I catch myself wandering through markets with raw meat swinging by my head and stepping over bowls of chicken blood without a second thought.

I catch myself driving aggressively and putting myself out in the middle of traffic, running red lights, driving down the wrong side of the road, and noticing the corners where the traffic police usually park themselves (in order to avoid getting stopped for "making mistake").

I catch myself realizing that I live in Cambodia.

I catch myself daily knowing that I cannot do anything that I do without the grace of the Lord.

There is so much more that I want to say. There are so many things that I love. There are so many things that are still changing within me. But, right now, I just don't have the words...maybe I will find them in the next 100 posts...

"i'm not who i was when i took my first step, and i'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet..." ~ ginny owens

super bowl!

2011-02-14T05:28:00.003-05:00

Last Monday, my alarm started buzzing at 5am. After hitting the snooze once, I hauled myself out of bed and into the shower. Threw on some clothes and headed out the door. Why, you ask? Because the Super Bowl was on, my friends.

I do not claim to be the most knowledgeable about the game, but I do really enjoy watching it. And, after not having seen a game for well over a year, I jumped at the opportunity to join some friends to watch the big game.

So, my friends, Steph and Jen, and I got up early and headed to a sports bar that was opening up extra early just for the crazy Americans who wanted to watch the game.

So, here I sat drinking my latte and eating my omelet in a bar filled with Americans watching the Packers battle the Steelers. It seemed strange not to have chips and salsa or chili or snack mixes to munch while watching, and we definitely missed out on all of the classic Super Bowl commercials. But, it was definitely worth the early morning!
Now, if I can just find some place to watch all the March Madness...

bloodstains

2011-02-13T21:53:00.002-05:00

I got new running shoes yesterday. New running shoes are one of those silly, simple things that makes my heart incredibly happy. I love lacing up a new pair of shoes and heading out for a run. I started running about three and a half years ago. I never thought I would enjoy it as much as I do, but it has become one of my greatest sources of stress relief. It is processing time for me. If I am unable to run for a few days (or a few weeks), I notice a marked difference in my attitude and my overall well-being. I love being able to run outside and breathe in fresh air, but here I settle for a treadmill in front of a window with the stale smell of sweaty bodies. And, the truth is that running 3.5 miles on a treadmill in the morning changes everything for me because I get to spend those thirty minutes with Jesus, talking with Him, worshipping Him.

Anyway, my running shoes were pretty well thrashed after running a half marathon in December, but good quality shoes are pretty sparse here. And, if you can find them, they are at least twice as much as what I would pay in the States. So, when I found out that a friend from America would be coming to Cambodia in February, my first question to her was whether or not she would bring me new shoes. Even before I got her confirmation, I started looking online for a good deal and a good pair. The problem with shoes is that it is really hard to know if you will like them or if they will fit well without being able to try them on, and this was going to be a commitment...no exchanges or refunds. So, I looked. I read comments. I prayed they would fit. And, I ordered.

Yesterday, I pulled them out of their box, discarded the tissue paper, and slipped them on. Awesome.

But, I have a belief about running shoes. I don't believe that they are really broken in until there is blood on them. No pain, no gain. So, this morning I headed to the gym, laced up my shoes, and ran. As you may notice in the above picture, my shoes are bloody. That is not a shadow on the heel of my right shoe. It is blood. It soaked completely through my shoe. I knew after 5 minutes there was a blister. I didn't care. I ran anyway. I didn't even look. I pushed through, and I loved every minute of it. Despite what you may think based on this, these are good shoes, and they do fit well. This is normal. I am used to it. And, I will put a band-aid over the blister and run in them again tomorrow. Trust me, a little bloodstain never hurt anyone.

In fact, a bloodstain saved my life. A bloodstain changed my life. A bloodstain helps me overcome every single day.

"And they overcame (conquered) him by the means of the blood of the Lamb and by the utterance of their testimony, for they did not love and cling to life even when faced with death [holding their lives cheap till they had to die for their witnessing]." ~ Revelation 12:11

i saw what i saw

2011-02-08T08:22:00.002-05:00

i saw what i saw and i can't forget it

i heard what i heard and i can't go back

i know what i know and i can't deny it

something on the road cut me to the soul

There are things that I see regularly, even daily, that I don't always stop to think about. But, whether or not I acknowledge it at the time, the things I have seen have forever changed me. Even if I wanted to forget (and I often do), I couldn't. There are times when I would like to put life in reverse for a bit in order to erase what I have heard, but I can't. And, the truth is that, knowing what I know, I can't deny what I have seen, heard, and experienced.

I have seen tiny babies take naps on straw mats on the side of a busy street and lying inside styrofoam coolers (without the lid, thankfully!). I have seen 2-year-olds play naked in a park. I have seen teenage girls sell their bodies for just a few dollars. I have held the hands of a teenage sex worker who is HIV+. I have seen six-year-old little girls tote around infants with soiled pants. I have seen the bruises on the face of a woman whose husband gets drunk and beats her. i have seen all of this in the last 48 hours...

your pain has changed me

your dream inspires

your face a memory

your hope a fire

your courage asks me what i'm afraid of

and what i know of God

we've done what we've done and we can't erase it

we are what we are and it's more than enough

we have what we have but it's no substitution

something on the road cut me to the soul

your pain has changed me
your dream inspires
your face a memory
your hope a fire
your courage asks me what i'm afraid of
and what i know of God

i say what i say with no hesitation
i have what i have but i'm giving it up
i do what i do with deep conviction
something on the road cut me to the soul

your pain has changed me
your dream inspires
your face a memory
your hope a fire
your courage asks me what i'm afraid of
and what i know of God

your courage asks me what i'm afraid of
your courage asks me what i am made of
your courage asks me what i'm afraid of
and what i know of love
and what i know of God

~"i saw what i saw" sara groves~

boy, oh, boy

2011-01-31T08:02:00.002-05:00

There have been so many times over the past year that I have seen and heard things and wondered how these things could be happening and why people could realize they were happening and not do something. One of these big areas are the numbers of boys I regularly encounter who are at risk and being abused. The reality is that many organizations who say they work with "children" really mean that they work with "girls." They help girls who are sexually abused and exploited, but they forget about the boys who experience the same violence and exploitation.

Last week, I heard a man that I greatly respect, a man who advocates for the rights of ALL children, say something very poignant about the world's deficiency in assisting boys and young men who are victims of sexual violence. He said that secular organizations are afraid to help male victims for fear that they may be labeled "anti-gay" while faith-based organizations are afraid to help for fear that they may be labeled "pro-gay."

Meanwhile, there are boys suffering unspeakable things.

I am honored to work with these boys alongside others who don't care what the world thinks but instead just want to love like Jesus loves.

horrors

2011-01-29T21:00:00.002-05:00

Last night I attended a film screening for Enemies of the People. It is a film about a Cambodian man's journey to understand how and why the genocide took place in Cambodia from 1975-1979. Nearly 2 million Cambodians were killed during those few years, including the filmmaker's father, mother, and brother.

It was an incredibly powerful film, and the filmmaker was present to answer questions following the screening. While I watched the film, my heart ached for the people who spoke of losing family members, the sight of mass graves, and the guilt they carry for sins they had committed. Then, my heart was broken after the film when several Cambodians who were present spoke of their gratitude to Thet Sambath (the filmmaker) for sharing this with the world. Some of them spoke of their own experiences. Some of them spoke of how they have tried to understand what it must have been like for their parents and grandparents. And, they cried...

Emotions, especially for men, are generally viewed as completely unacceptable in Khmer culture. There is a saying in Cambodia that boys begin hearing from the time they are very young. "It is better to bleed than cry." Displays of emotion are not acceptable, and many times this does not even translate into tears, it translates into faces of stoicism. These men cried...in a room full of strangers...over the horrors in their past...about the nightmares they have had nearly everyday since.

God sees their tears. And, my hope is that they will now let Him wipe them away...

*Note: Though I do not know when, this film is supposed to be shown on PBS in America sometime this year, so continue to check your local listings because you do not want to miss it! Also, there are some screenings in the coming weeks, which are listed on the website, so if you live nearby any of those places, check it out!

hello?

2011-01-23T21:08:00.002-05:00

I stumbled across this article today. And, it provided a bit of humor for me, so I thought I would share it with you.

For those of you who will not go and read the article, it talks about the hilarity of cell phone usage in Cambodia. It is hot market, folks! And, since the article does not go into great detail as to how cell phones work here, I will explain a bit more as it is much different from America.

Basically, one purchases a cell phone and a SIM card, which is attached to a phone number. Then, you purchase phone credit. Phone cards look similar to scratch off lottery tickets...and used ones are littered everywhere! You purchase phone credit in a variety of increments ($1.00, $2.00, $5.00, etc.), scratch off the back of the card, and enter the code that appears. You can then make phone calls and send text messages to your heart's content...or until the money runs out. But, the beautiful thing is that you do not have to have credit on your phone to receive calls or text messages. As a general rule, most Cambodian people that I know do not regularly have credit on their phones, thus you should not expect phone calls to be returned or text messages to be replied to. Sometimes they will use the glorious "missed call" to let you know they need you to call them or have arrived at your house. In that case, they call you, let it ring once and hang up before you answer so there is no charge. The other interesting thing is that many Cambodians change SIM cards as often as they change clothes. Based on no scientific research but only my own observation, I would surmise that most people have a minimum 2-3 SIM cards that they use interchangeably, in addition to borrowing from whichever friend they are among who might have a few cents of phone credit. Oh, caller ID, how useless you have become...

Cell phone usage is but one of the areas that has thrust Cambodia into the modern world. Cambodia is developing and changing at a frightening pace, and the influences from other nations are not creeping in, they are storming in with bells and whistles. Today is not the day that I will discuss the multitude of reasons this is dangerous for the nation's future, but please do pray for Cambodia. And, next time you see that fool with 2 cell phones clipped to his belt, just remember the orange-robed monk attempting to have simultaneous conversations on three phones while his other five sit in a pile beeping with alerts of received text messages.

humbled

2011-01-22T01:31:00.002-05:00

I just finished watching At the End of Slavery. It is a documentary put together by International Justice Mission, or IJM, about the work that is happening around the world to combat modern-day slavery. It is a well done, informative, realistic picture of modern-day slavery.

I sat humbled.

As I watched the pictures flash across the screens, I recognized my home, my city. They talked about realities in Cambodia. There was footage of scenes that I see daily. There were streets pictured that I drive down regularly. This is where I live. This is where I work. These are the people that I love.

And, I am humbled. Every. Single. Day.

I am humbled that God allows me the privilege to be a part of the work that He is doing in this nation and in this world. I am humbled that He trusts me with His message of hope, love, and freedom.

I don't deserve it. I don't understand it. I haven't earned it. But, I suppose salvation is just like that, too. I don't deserve it. I don't understand it. I haven't earned it.

But, it's mine...

ah-tee-tahn

2011-01-21T08:53:00.002-05:00

Language learning and I have a love-hate relationship.

I love being able to communicate with both friends and strangers in their native tongue. I love being able to explain myself and what I want. I love to be able to show people that I care enough about them that learning their language is important to me. I love being able to have precious moments with people that involve more than just confused glances and hand gestures.

But, I will be honest. I hate studying. I hate homework. I hate feeling overwhelmed with the vast amount of language that I do not know. I hate that I have been studying Khmer for a year and still struggle to have basic conversations most days.

A couple months ago, my "neyeck crew" (teacher) began praying with me before each of my lessons. She would pray for me to be able to speak well, to have good health, to have wisdom, and other things depending on the day. Then, she would ask me if I understood what she prayed. Generally, I would understand some of it but not all. And so, my lesson would begin.

Time out. I will take this moment to share a little about the Khmer language. There are many ways in which Khmer is a simple language. It does not have tones, which many other Southeast Asian languages have in abundance. It has a simple grammatical structure. There is no conjugation of verbs. But, it does have a few different vocabularies. The set of language used with families and friends is completely different than the vocabulary used with monks. And, that is different from the language used to speak to, of, and about the king. The king's language is also the vocabulary used to talk about God. So, understanding "church talk" is really difficult for me because the words are completely different from those that I hear on a normal basis in everyday conversation. Time in.

After a few weeks of my teacher praying for me, she then turned the tables. She taught me proper address, proper "prayer language," and proper prayer ending. The first few days she let me read my prayer from my notebook, but one day she left me with this warning, "Tgnai praya-hoah bong aht ahn ah-tee-tahn" (Thursday you cannot read the prayer). So, when that Thursday came, I fumbled through a prayer with my teacher's promptings. Since then, she has continued to challenge me to pray for new things, to expand my prayers.

Ah-tee-tahn. It seems so simple. But, I cannot tell you what it has done in my heart to pray in Khmer, to be able to pray for my Khmer teacher in her native language. In the past week, I have found myself thanking God in Khmer, agreeing in prayer with my Khmer brothers and sisters in Khmer. The more I learn, the more I connect, the more I fall in love with my God and with Cambodia. Awkun Preah-ong. Thank You, God.

unto us a child is born...

2011-01-12T09:14:00.004-05:00

Christmas is over, I know, but I thought I would just share a little about what my Christmas in Cambodia looked like. First, it was certainly not white, but there were no lack of Christmas trees, tinsel, and inflatable Santas. I had hoped to escape the inflatable lawn decorations when I came to Asia, but alas, they have found their way here. I saw snowmen and snow globes and penguins on a see-saw and Santas that rose three stories high. In a nation that loves any reason to have a party or celebrate, they have risen to the occasion.

Sadly, many people do not understand the meaning of Christmas aside from a fat man in a red suit with a white beard. Along with my friends and teammates, we set out to make sure that the children we work with knew the true meaning of Christmas. We had been sharing about the story of Jesus' birth all leading up to a Christmas party!

We played games!
We ate snacks, including delicious Christmas cupcakes!
And, we performed the Nativity with costumes and all!
It is hard to see in the above picture, but we work with children in a public park, which means that anyone can listen in or watch our daily activities. On this particular day, we drew quite the crowd as we draped ourselves in sheets, donned pipe cleaner halos, and carried about sheep made from paper plates and cotton balls. The children gathered around to listen to the story of Jesus as they sipped their orange fanta and licked the cream from between their sandwich cookies. And, the street beside us began to clog with moto-taxi drivers who were sitting on their parked bikes watching the group of foreigners and Khmer dress in silly costumes. It was so much fun to share with the kids, and they all had a blast!

It is amazing what joy you can communicate with an aluminum foil-covered star and paper bags tied with ribbon brought to a baby (who might be a 21-month old baby girl) by girls with blonde hair and blue eyes.

The bottom line is that unto us a child is born. Thank You, Jesus!

victory

2011-01-07T09:18:00.003-05:00

Today is Victory Day.

On January 7, 1979, Cambodia celebrated as the Vietnamese overthrew the Khmer Rouge. This was the end of nearly four years of starvation, torture, and genocide. Nearly two million people were killed in violent, unspeakable ways during those years. People were forced from their homes. They were forced to labor in fields of which they were never able to eat the fruit. They were beaten with sticks and garden hoes. They were poisoned. They were tortured. Children were brainwashed and told to kill their families. They were thrown into mass graves.

And, much of the world was silent, unaware, deaf to the cries of the Khmer people.

But, January 7, 1979, that was a day of victory. Regardless of the disputes Cambodia may have with Vietnam and the battles that have continued between the neighbors, Vietnam helped Cambodia find a glimmer of hope that day.

Cambodia's history is ravaged with war, with poverty, with hopelessness, with fire, but somehow she is rising from the ashes. If ever there was a day to celebrate the truth of that, January 7 is it.

Revelation 12: 11 says, "And they have defeated him by the blood of the Lamb and by their testimony. And they did not love their lives so much that they were afraid to die." I pray that one day the whole of Cambodia will realize true victory in Christ Jesus. They already have an amazing testimony if only they would accept the blood of the Lamb...

racing

2011-01-04T04:44:00.002-05:00

As I mentioned in a previous post, I recently ran a half marathon. On December 5th my friend Kara and I ran a half marathon around Angkor Wat and the other temple ruins in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Siem Reap is about 200 miles from Phnom Penh. We headed up there on a Saturday and finalized our registration, receiving our extremely large t-shirts and bib tags. Then, we spent the night with a friend who lives and works in Siem Reap, ate huge plates of spaghetti, and turned in early for the night. We had to leave for the race at about 5am in order to get to the starting location before the gun went off. After months of training, we were excited for the race to be over! Here is a picture of Kara and I pre-race.

The course was absolutely beautiful! This was my second half marathon, and the scenery for this one was much more fun than my first race. The course wound around temple ruins, through trees and past lakes. Whole villages of people came out to see the runners, and the children lined up for high-fives as we ran past. There were plenty of runners who used the opportunity to capture candid shots near the temples while I kept my eyes on the finish line and counted down the kilometers to the end. I will admit that I was in MUCH better condition for the last half marathon that I ran about a year and a half ago, but I finished with a time of 1:58:42 which I was happy with. Some friends had come up for the weekend to cheer me on as well, and they met me at the finish line with water. It was so awesome that they came all that way just to watch me run!

I will admit that I was feeling a bit like death after the race. I was dirty. I had blisters. My legs were stiff. I was tired. But, I made it!

And, after a shower, Mexican food, ice cream, and a nap, I was feeling much better. Kara and I even wandered into town in the evening for some great street food.
a plate of fried rice with soup-$1.25

a chicken skewer with salad-$0.75

a sense of accomplishment at completing a half marathon-priceless

excuses

2011-01-03T04:24:00.002-05:00

"Jesus replied with this story: 'A man prepared a great feast and sent out many invitations. When the banquet was ready, he sent his servant to tell the guests, "Come, the banquet is ready." But they all began making excuses. One said, "I have just bought a field and must inspect it. Please excuse me." Another said, "I have just bought five pairs of oxen, and I want to try them out. Please excuse me." Another said, "I now have a wife, so I can't come." The servant returned and told his master what they had said. His master was furious and said, "Go quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and invite the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame." After the servant had done this, he reported, "There is still room for more." So his master said, "Go into the country lanes and behind the hedges and urge anyone you find to come, so that the house will be full. For none of those I first invited will get even the smallest taste of my banquet."'" Luke 14:16-24

Excuses.

"But, I can't put the dishes away. I can't reach the cabinet."

"But, I can't take the trash out. It's raining."

"But, I didn't have time to do my homework."

"But, I am not any good at math."

"But, I forgot you asked me to clean my room."

"But, why should I be nice when she is so rude to me?"

"But, I am too busy to do that for you."

"But, I just couldn't do what you are doing."

"But, I don't want to..."

We learn pretty early how to make excuses, how to shift blame, how to absolve ourselves from responsibility or guilt. As I read the above passage of Scripture, I was reminded of the danger of making excuses. You see, God is preparing a banquet, and I desperately want to be in attendance. There is a place card with my name on it, and I don't want to forfeit my seat. I want to dine with my Savior. I want to break bread with Almighty God. I want to be with Him, to live in awe of Him for all eternity. I know that there is plenty of room at His table, but I also know that in order to get in the door my name has to be on the guest list. I don't want to get to the door and merely offer an excuse, something like, "But, I was really busy, and I just forgot. Can't I come in anyway?" God is clear about what the answer will be, and I never want to be too busy for Him. Instead, I want to be the one who is so excited about my invitation to the banquet that I am searching the highways and hedges looking for more people to present with invitations.

I am determining that this will not be a year of excuses but a year of choosing to honor my Lord in all that I do.

time

2011-01-01T10:02:00.002-05:00

2010.

Where did it go?

I feel like 2010 was one of the most amazing, most challenging years for me, filled with mountains and valleys. I am not even sure how to sum up the year, so I will try to pick my top ten from 2010 (seems appropriate, right?).

1. I officially made Cambodia my home.

2. I visited Vietnam, Thailand, and Australia (including my uncle and cousin), as well as several Cambodian provinces.

3. I was blessed with two new nephews (love you, Aden and Caleb!)

4. Logged more hours than I can count behind the wheel of a car in order to visit as many people as possible while I was in America for 9 weeks during the summer.

5. Had my heart officially stolen by the children of Cambodia.

6. I ran a half marathon around Angkor Wat.

7. I learned enough Khmer to carry on conversations with people (and I am still learning!).

8. I celebrated my Grandpa's 85th birthday with him. I love you, Grandpa.

9. I made many great friends, said good-bye to many wonderful friends, and welcomed new friends into my life.

10. I purchased a motorbike and joined the chaos of the streets in the Penh.

I feel like this list is terribly inadequate in trying to share a glimpse of my life. So many things have happened, and God has been faithful through it all. He never changes. And, I am excited to see what He has up His sleeve for 2011.

plastic drawers

2010-12-21T21:05:00.004-05:00

I am blessed. That is the bottom line. I have been given more than I could ever deserve. I have more than enough.

That being said, I struggle daily to live in the world around me.

I just moved into a new apartment. And, as you do, I went to buy odds and ends to get settled into my new home. I didn't need a lot. (I try to be a minimalist.) There were a lot of things that my roommate and I decided that we didn't really need, or at least didn't need right now. But, there was one thing that we both wanted...

Plastic drawers. We each wanted a set of plastic drawers to put in our bathrooms, which have ZERO storage. We just wanted a place to put extra rolls of toilet paper. A place to put our toothpaste. A place to put other bathroom products.

Yet, as we examined our plastic storage choices in order to buy the smallest and cheapest option that would meet our needs, we felt frivolous.

As we held our plastic drawers on our tuk tuk ride home, we asked ourselves when plastic drawers became frivolous. When did they go from the "cheap" option, the choice of college students, to a purchase that requires fighting a guilty feeling? When did buying some plastic tubs become a purchase that requires saving up? When did I it become difficult to know that I live in a country where most people don't have enough "extra" stuff to fill three plastic drawers in their bathroom? When did I realize how blessed I really am? And, why did it take so long to realize?

winds of change

2010-12-16T03:49:00.002-05:00

I do not claim to be a lover of change, but I'm not a hater either. I do not usually welcome change with open arms, but I don't hide in the corner hoping that change won't be able to find me. If that were the case, I would likely be hiding in a cave right now. Why? The winds of change are upon us. So much is happening right now. I have already had to say good-bye to a great friend/roommate as she finished her time here. I was sad to see her leave, but I am excited for where God is going to take her in the future. And, I know it wasn't a forever good-bye, but it was definitely an indefinite "until next time." Another great friend is preparing to leave in just a few days. I can hardly imagine Cambodia without her in it. We have traveled together. We have eaten together. We have played games and watched movies together. We have vented to each other. We have shared our deep love of Mexican food. And, again, I know this isn't a forever good-bye, but it is a good-bye to this season of life for both of us.

Relationships are a funny thing here. People regularly come and go, sometimes for a short time and sometimes for a long time. And, relationships develop at a faster pace here because of necessity. We need each other, and we realize that we need each other even if it is only for a short season. I believe that I am more thankful for my relationships with people now than I ever have been because I realize how precious people are and how much I value them. I am thankful for my time with people whether it is 2 days, 2 weeks, or 2 years.

And, then, there are people who are riding these winds of change with me. I am moving to a new home in just a few days with my super wonderful roommate. I am looking forward to many things in my new home, not the least of which is a real bed. I really hate the process of moving. I hate packing and moving boxes and unpacking. But, I love being settled and feeling at home. I am excited to buy an oven and bake pies and casseroles and cookies with my roommate. I am excited to experiment with new recipes and have dinner parties. I am excited to have movie nights in a place where we have a TV on which to watch a movie and furniture on which to sit.

Sometimes change is really good. And, sometimes change helps us to move forward after we say good-bye to people and things we love. But, it is always good to find comfort in knowing that God remains steadfast. He never changes.

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." Hebrews 13:8

pray

2010-12-03T03:22:00.002-05:00

We pray for children

who put chocolate fingers everywhere,

who like to be tickled,

who stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants,

who sneak popsicles before supper,

who erase holes in math workbooks,

who can never find their shoes.

And we pray for those

who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,

who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,

who never "counted potatoes,"

who are born in places we wouldn't be caught dead in,

who never go to the circus,

who live in an x-rated world.

We pray for children

who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,

who sleep with the dog and bury goldfish,

who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money,

who cover themselves with Band-aids and sing off key,

who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,

who slurp their soup.

And we pray for those

who never get dessert,

who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,

who watch their parents watch them die,

who can't find any bread to steal,

who don't have any rooms to clean up,

whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,

whose monsters are real.

We pray for children

who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,

who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,

who like ghost stories,

who shove dirty clothes under the bed, and never rinse out the tub,

who get visits from the tooth fairy,

who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,

who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,

whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those

whose nightmares come in the daytime,

who will eat anything,

who have never seen a dentist,

who aren't spoiled by anybody,

who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,

who live and move, but have no being.

We pray for children who want to be carried and for those who must,

for those we never give up on and for those who don't get a second chance,

for those we smother...

and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.

~ Ina J. Hughs

moo-ay chnam howie!

2010-11-29T04:53:00.002-05:00

Last Friday was a special day for me. It marked "moo-ay chnam howie," or one year anniversary, in Cambodia. It was one year ago that I stepped off a plane in Cambodia not knowing what the future might hold. It was one year ago that I fell in love with Cambodia and her people. It was one year ago that I was overwhelmed with new sights and smells and sounds that quickly became normal. It was one year ago that my life was changed forever, and I knew I could never go back.

A lot has happened in the last year. My views on many things have changed. One year ago I would not have guessed that I would be sitting where I am, doing what I am doing. But, I would not trade it for a moment. The past year has involved so much growing and stretching and learning. I know I am not the person I was one year ago. I have seen entirely too much. I had planned to post a list of things that have shaped me and changed within me over the last year, but with all the events of the last week here, I simply haven't had the capacity to do it yet. But, hopefully I will soon!

i saw what i saw and i can't forget it

i heard what i heard and i can't go back

i know what i know and i can't deny it

something on the road cut me to the soul

your pain has changed me

your dream inspires

your face a memory

your hope a fire

your courage asks me what i'm afraid of

and what i know of love

we've done what we've done and we can't erase it

we are what we are and it's more than enough

we have what we have but it's no substitution

something on the road cut me to the soul

your pain has changed me

your dream inspires

your face a memory

your hope a fire

your courage asks me what i'm afraid of

and what i know of love

your courage asks me what i'm afraid of

your courage asks me what i am made of

your courage asks me what i'm afraid of

and what i know of love

and what i know of God

~ i saw what i saw, sara groves

tragedy

2010-11-23T00:42:00.002-05:00

I don't have a whole lot to say today.

I am really sad but safe.

The tears keep welling up in my eyes.

My heart is aching.

The streets are quieter today.

The celebrations ended with tragedy.

Please pray for Cambodia today.

You can read about what has happened here.

Jesus wept

2010-11-16T23:03:00.002-05:00

There are mysteries of God that I am sure I will never understand until I see Him face to face. But, as I draw near to Him, I find that He reveals more and more of Himself to me. I have earnestly prayed that God would break my heart for the things that break His, that I would be moved with compassion as Jesus was.

"When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on them because they were confused and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." Matthew 9:36

Jesus loved with reckless abandon. He loved deeply and radically. He loved those the world deemed unlovable. He pursued the outcasts. He dined with murderers and thieves. He invited Himself into the homes of the poor and the hated. He communed with the stigmatized. And, He wept.

"Then Jesus wept." John 11:35

Weeping is not merely a glistening tear falling down one's cheek. Rather, it is a fit of tears. Weeping is typically associated with a deep burden, not a fleeting emotion. It is not a cry of momentary anger or frustration. It is not what we do when we see a touching movie or even when our favorite football team loses the Super Bowl. Weeping is a result of an ache so deep in our hearts that the only One who can truly touch that place is our Abba Father. Jesus understood weeping.

"But as He came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, He began to weep. 'How I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace. But now it is too late, and peace is hidden from your eyes. Before long your enemies will build ramparts against your walls and encircle you and close in on you from every side. They will crush you into the ground, and your children with you. Your enemies will not leave a single stone in place, because you did not accept your opportunity for salvation.'" Luke 19:41-44

I feel like God has taught me a lot about this kind of compassion over the last several weeks. I live in a place filled with brokenness and beauty. I can easily be overwhelmed by hopelessness until I see the flicker of hope in another's eye. I live in a place that is dark and thus have to carry the light of life within me wherever I go. There have been many days where I have wanted to stop, to sit, and to weep. Weep over the deception in which people live. Weep over the filth in which people live. Weep over the rejection people feel. Weep over the injustice that surrounds them.

But, I have yet to actually release the floodgates. Sometimes my eyes well up. Sometimes a tear or two will escape. But, a flood is coming soon. A cleansing flood for both me and for this nation I have come to love so deeply.

"Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning." Psalm 30:5b

Bangkok

2010-11-14T03:15:00.003-05:00

I had an opportunity last week to travel to Bangkok, Thailand for a few days. It is amazing the differences that can exist a mere one hour flight away from my home. Thailand is still Southeast Asia, and there are many similarities between Thailand and Cambodia. However, the differences between the two capital cities were striking. It was surreal to be able to use the sky train and taxis to get around the city in Bangkok and to see countless buildings that towered over me.

And, it was great to be able to contact with some friends! I met Brook and Sara a couple years ago as they were preparing to move to Thailand, and when I was certain I was moving to Cambodia, we agreed that we would be way too close together not to visit. It was so much fun to be able to spend some time with them in a nation that they love and share life in Southeast Asia with them. Four of us came from Cambodia (3 of us who are living here, and one who was visiting), so we had a great time of fellowship with one another. Friends are such a blessing!

We didn't have plans to do too many tourist things, but we did make a trip to Jim Thompson house. Jim Thompson is the man who introduced Thai silk to the rest of the world. He mysteriously disappeared in 1967 while on a vacation in Malaysia. It was an interesting visit to the beautiful home that he had built in Bangkok before his disappearance.

As I mentioned, our goal for the trip was not to be super tourists. We actually had a short list of things that we wanted to do--things that we don't have access to in Cambodia. The list included eating good Mexican food (which we did 3 times in 4 days), eating good Thai food, seeing a movie in a real theater, and exploring to find other things we don't have in Cambodia. Franki and I getting excited about seeing a movie with a big bucket of popcorn. Unfortunately, we all forgot our jackets, and by the end of the movie, we were all fearful of hypothermia! But, it was so fun!
And, yes, we found Starbucks, which was not hard since there are over 30 of them in the city. A toffee nut latte was the most spectacular treat!

As much as I love Cambodia and can't imagine living anywhere else, it is nice to be able to visit a city with a few more luxuries and reminders of America once in a while. It did my heart good to have a little bit of time away to rest and regroup!

wisdom

2010-11-03T04:26:00.003-04:00

Several weeks ago I made a post about one of my Khmer brothers, so this week I decided it was only fair to make a post about my other Khmer brother. I had a super proud "bong srey" (big sister) moment last week that I wanted to share.

Last week while doing our regular afternoon ministry with a group of children, we encountered a situation that we hadn't had to deal with yet. Our ministry takes place in a public area, which also happens to be a location frequented by tourists. Thus, there are often foreigners wandering about with fanny packs and cameras hanging from their necks, and the vast majority of them cannot resist taking pictures of the children jumping rope or sitting in a circle singing songs. This is nothing new to us, but we have learned to simply ignore it and continue on with our lessons. However, this particular day a tourist grabbed the attention of a group of about five boys who were more than happy to pose for a series of photos. After several snapshots, one of the boys took advantage of the situation and asked the young woman for a dollar.

Now, pause. Do not EVER give money to begging children. It is never appropriate. It is a bad practice. It creates cyclical poverty. It creates a climate of handouts rather than hand-ups. And, in many cases, begging children are exploited children. So, just don't do it. Ok? Thanks!

Ok, press play. Unfortunately the young tourist was happy to oblige the boy and pulled out a crisp one dollar bill. Insert chaos. The recipient of the dollar skipped off waving the dollar in triumph while the other boys chased him to try to get a piece of the action. Other boys mobbed the tourist in hopes that she would share the wealth with them also. However, she didn't have enough dollars to go around and simply smiled, shook her head, and walked away.

And, now the proud big sister moment. My wise-beyond-his-years "p'own bproh" (little brother) took command of the situation. He corralled all the children, made them sit down in a circle with him, and asked for the dollar. The dollar was yielded, and he went on to explain to the entire group that it is never appropriate to ask others for money. He explained that it is important to work hard and earn money honestly. Then, he informed the children that we would keep the dollar and use it to help purchase fruit for them, which we bring with us for a snack each day. This opportunity also led to a discussion of being careful in talking to strangers and not automatically trusting everyone who approaches them and offers them something.

I was literally bursting with pride as I watched my 17-year-old brother take command of the situation without the prompting of anyone. I am so incredibly blessed to have him in my life.

He certainly possesses wisdom far beyond his years, and I pray for him. I pray that he would increase in wisdom and knowledge as he grows. Luke 2:52 says, "Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and all the people." This is what I pray for my brother--that he would grow in wisdom and stature and in favor with both God and men. I think he has a pretty good start already!
And, for some reason, I have a lot of photos of him in this same position. I promise he does work...and work hard!

Oh, and in case you were wondering, his name means wisdom.
And, here I am with two of my most favorite Khmer brothers! It is a privilege and honor to work with them each day.

how do you pray?

2010-10-30T02:34:00.002-04:00

As I was listening to a podcast while I ran ten miles this morning, I was challenged to pray in a new way. The pastor shared about how when we pray for people, especially those on the mission field, we consistently pray for their safety. We pray that they will be safe and that God would protect them from danger, that they would not face any trials or tribulations. We essentially pray that their lives would be trouble-free.

Now, while most of us would gladly accept a pain-free life, the reality is that is not just going to happen. We live in a fallen world. There is an enemy out to destroy us. But, we know that ultimately we have victory. We already know how the story ends.

In the podcast, the pastor shared that we should pray that God would show up in our lives, wherever we are, whatever we are doing. We should pray for the power of the Holy Spirit to work in and through us. We should pray for divine appointments that will further the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We should pray for the fruit of the Spirit to be apparent in our lives. We should pray for patient endurance and ultimate victory in every challenge that comes our way.

God has not called us to a life of safety. Jesus did not lead a "safe" life. Paul did not lead a "safe" life. "In everything that we do, we show that we are true ministers of God. We patiently endure troubles and hardships and calamities of every kind. We have been beaten, been put in prison, faced angry mobs, worked to exhaustion, endured sleepless nights, and gone without food. We prove ourselves by our priority, our understanding, our patience, our kindness, by the Holy Spirit with us, and by our sincere love." 2 Corinthians 6:4-6

I think that those words imply that Paul lived anything but a safe life. I am reminded of Lucy's question in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. She asks, "Is he safe?" To which Mr. Beaver responds, "Safe?! Of course he's not safe, but he's good."

How true are those words! My God is not a God of safety, but He is most definitely a God of goodness. So, when we pray, maybe we should focus more on bringing forth God's goodness in all situations than praying that God would protect us and keep us safe from the things He may want to use to teach us.

My prayer today:

"I have not stopped thanking God for you. I pray for you constantly, asking God, the glorious Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, to give you spiritual wisdom and insight so that you might grow in your knowledge of God. I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope He has given to those He called--His holy people who are His rich and glorious inheritance. I also pray that you will understand the incredible greatness of God's power for us who believe Him. This is the same mighty power that raised Christ from the dead and seated Him in the place of honor at God's right hand in the heavenly realms. Now he is far above any ruler or authority of power or leader or anything else--not only in this world but also in the world to come." Ephesians 1:15-21

emergency

2010-10-20T02:30:00.002-04:00

I recently finished the book Forgotten God by Francis Chan. It was an excellent book, and one I am sure that I will be going back to reread very soon. But, the book in and of itself is not really what I am going to talk about today. Rather, I am going to share some quotes from the afterword that served as both an encouragement and a challenge to me.

Francis Chan shares a story of how he sat next to an individual who runs an anti-trafficking organization at a dinner and how he learned about the children who were caught up in this horrific "industry." (I use the word "industry" because it is one of the top money-making industries in the world, despite being illegal.) He speaks about how his heart broke hearing the stories, how we wept all night, how he imagined such things happening to his own children, how he heard God call him to love these children as if they were his own. But, then he talks about how his zeal fizzled over the course of the next several months as he became distracted and discouraged, as he encountered individuals telling him that he couldn't save the world and that he was already doing more than his fair share.

Then, he shared that he and his wife had decided that all the royalties from the book Crazy Love would be donated to a charity that assists in alleviating poverty, bringing freedom, and empowering communities around the world. And this is what he says as quoted in Forgotten God,

"People told us that we were being foolish and irresponsible with the gifts God gave us. They said we should have at least put some away in case of an emergency. My response back was, 'Is it not an emergency that children in Cambodia and Thailand and even the United States are being raped every single day of their lives? Why is that not an emergency?' I think the church often inadvertently teaches that the sex-slave trade is not an emergency. And this, I believe, is sin. Is an emergency only an emergency if it affects me and my immediate family?"

As I sat in my kitchen in Cambodia reading this, I wanted to cry. Why? Because it is an EMERGENCY! It is an emergency right outside my front door. It is an emergency that I see children every day who are being abused, raped, and sold. And, it is not just an emergency in Cambodia. It is an emergency everywhere. Yet, the church has often downplayed the emergency by sending band-aids when an ambulance is what is required. It is easy to read a book or hear a story about the children who fall victim to the sex trade, but I assure that it is different when they have faces and names. I assure that it is different when you sit in the dirt and color with them, knowing that in a matter of hours they may be raped yet again. I assure you that it is different when you hold their dirty hands. I assure you it is different when you teach them to sing their ABC's. I assure you it is different when you see them slowly dying of HIV. I assure you that if you saw these things you would think it was much more of an emergency, and I assure you that my God believes it is an emergency.

It's time to sound the sirens, church!

"Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will hear their cries and comfort them. You will bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed, so mere people can no longer terrify them." ~ Psalm 10:17-18

pink or blue?

2010-10-16T06:02:00.002-04:00

If there is one thing that living in another culture does to you (though it does many!), it would be that it forces you to evaluate your "normal." As much as we may hate to admit it, we are a product of our culture. We have been influenced and swayed and petitioned to believe certain things are true and factual and, in essence, normal. Then, if we go and plop ourselves in another culture, our entire world is shifted as a drastically different normal sets in. This can happen anywhere. Take a kid who grew up on the beaches of Florida and set him on the streets in Harlem. Or, take a kid who grew up on the streets of Harlem and set him on a farm in the Midwest. Or, take a girl who grew up on a farm in the Midwest and plop her in Cambodia...

I just thought I would share some of the ways God has challenged me and revealed to me some of the cultural things I grew up believing to be normal but have since realized are a bit flawed. The title of this blog post is but one of them. Pink or blue? Pink is for girls. Blue is for boys. This is normal and acceptable, right? I mean, yes, girls can like the color blue and wear blue clothing and the like. And, boys can even pull off a pink shirt, provided that it is the right shade. But, we dress our baby girls in pink and our baby boys in blue. Because pink is a feminine color, right?

Hold on.

Stop right there.

How can a color be feminine or masculine?

Colors do not have any anatomy that would suggest they are male or female. They do not give off any kind of hormone or other indication of their femininity or masculinity.

They are merely colors.

In Cambodia, there are no gender-based colors. Grown men drive down the street on pink motorbikes with absolutely no shame. Baby boys and baby girls are more easily distinguished by their lack of diapers than by their pink or blue booties. One of my male Khmer friends commented the other day about how much he liked my bright fuchsia-colored phone. Instead of being surprised by this, I just thanked him and told him how much I paid for it.

Which brings me to my next cultural point. In America, it is certainly a cultural taboo to go about asking people how much they paid for things. I mean, everyone likes to share about a good deal that they got on something. But, it is not appropriate to walk up to a stranger on the street, tell them that you like their pants, and then ask how much they paid for them. It is kind of on the same level as asking someone how much they make. It is a conversation that you may have with family or good friends, but it is not one that you discuss with strangers while standing on a street corner waiting for the light to turn green. Or is it?

I recently learned that a perfectly appropriate and expected question when someone is speaking with you and likes something you are wearing or carrying is "How much did that cost?" Being from a culture where that is not an appropriate question AND realizing that I live on considerably more than the average person here, I am naturally uncomfortable with this question. However, I am learning that it is just part of life here, so I suck it up and hope that my bartering skills allowed me to get a good deal. Or, I revert to my old familiar lie, "I don't remember."

Culture is a fascinating thing. Can you think of any aspects of your own culture that you have caught yourself questioning?

hand wash only?

2010-10-10T01:18:00.002-04:00

Ok, I will be completely honest. I have always been one of those shoppers who checks out the washing instructions on clothes prior to falling in love with something. Why? Two reasons. 1. I do not want to pay to have something dry cleaned, and 2. I HATE hand washing clothes. In order for me to buy something that requires hand washing, I need to really love it...and also know that I am likely not going to have to wash it every time I wear it (i.e. sweaters or dresses).

But, Cambodia puts an entirely different spin on things. Cambodia (at least where I am currently living) stamps "hand wash only" on every article of clothing I own. T-shirts. Yes. Jeans. Yes. Athletic shorts. Yes. And even towels. I thought I would put up a little video of what my "laundry room" looks like.

That is where the hand-washing festivities take place, folks. And, they happen there every three days or so because if I wait longer than that it literally takes me HOURS to do my laundry. If I do it every three or four days it is manageable to stay on top of the laundry mountain.

Now, with all that being said, I just want to say that I have learned not to despise my laundry time. It has actually turned into a great opportunity for me to be quiet and pray or to put on my iPod with some worship music. The Bible tells us to make the most of every opportunity (Ephesians 5:16), so for this season of my life I realize that means praying for mountains to be moved while I wring out my running shorts...

a spirit of fear

2010-10-06T23:36:00.001-04:00

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline." ~ 2 Timothy 1:7

Fear. It is something that runs wild in Cambodia. Fear of shame. Fear of man. Fear of evil spirits.

This week in Cambodia is Pchum Ben, or Ancestors Day.

Pchum Ben is a Cambodian holiday during which the gates of hell are thought to open and the spirits are released. People travel to the pagodas to offer food and clothes to the Buddhist monks on behalf of their deceased ancestors. The thought is that by offering food to the monks it will vicariously feed their ancestors. There is great fear during this time that people will be haunted by evil spirits, but if they feed the evil spirits, they will be too busy eating (or something) to bother people. Other practices involve scattering rice in open fields and throwing sticky rice balls onto walls for the spirits. Many people travel to the provinces around the country to visit their hometowns and the pagodas there. They are incredibly fearful of the spirits of their relatives coming back to haunt them or kill them.

The darkness here makes me more and more aware of my great need for God and my incredible thankfulness for His love and power. "But you belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory over those people, because the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world." ~ 1 John 4:4

My heart's desire is for the people of Cambodia to realize the futility of the sacrifices they make and to turn their hearts to the One True God who delivers them from fear and infuses them with power and love. May they know that once they taste the Bread of Life that they will never hunger again--no need for throwing sticky rice balls at the gates of hell.

Please join me in prayer.

but, will you?

2010-10-04T22:10:00.002-04:00

"A man with leprosy came and knelt in front of Jesus, begging to be healed. 'If you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean,' he said."

Faith. Believing God. Being confident in that which we cannot see. Being assured of that for which we hope.

It is a simple idea. Not too difficult, right? Well, maybe it isn't too difficult for some, but I think for most, including myself, it is much easier in theory than it is in practice. And, actually, I often find myself like the man with leprosy. I don't doubt that God can do what He says He will do, rather I doubt whether He will or not, whether He will do it for me. I am quite confident that I am completely undeserving of the grace He grants me each day. His mercies are new every morning, and believe me, I know that I need new ones each and every day! And, just in doing that, He has already given me more than I could ever repay. He sent His Son to endure pain and hardship on this earth, to die a sinner's death though He was without blemish, and all of it was for me. So, who am I to ask for anything more than that? I do understand that if He chose to, He could do much, much more for me. But, is He willing?

"Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out and touched him. 'I am willing,' He said. 'Be healed!'" ~ Mark 1:40-41

Yes, my friends, He is willing...

walking

2010-10-03T09:33:00.002-04:00

"No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good, and this is what He requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." ~ Micah 6:8

Walking with God. This is something I have been thinking on a lot lately. What does it mean to really walk with God? I don't know that I have the answer, but Enoch did.

"Enoch lived 365 years, walking in close fellowship with God. Then one day he disappeared, because God took him." ~ Genesis 5:23-24.

Enoch understood what it meant to walk with God. He walked in close fellowship with God. Fellowship is a word we throw around a lot in the Church. We have "fellowship time" and "fellowship dinners." But, what does fellowship really mean? Fellowship means unity. It means partnership and close friendship. Those are words I would love to use to describe my relationship with God, but in good conscience, I am quite sure that I shouldn't. I don't walk with God like I should. I do not have fellowship with Him as I should. Why? Because I fail to hold up my end of the partnership. Does He require too much? What exactly does He require?

He requires all of me, and no, it is not too much. Enoch understood that.

And, when he did, God took him. But, I do wonder, since Enoch walked in such close fellowship with God, did he even notice right away that he had left this world and gone on to something better, or were his eyes so fixed on the Lord while he was on earth that the transition into eternity was seamless?

Dear God, may I live knowing that today is the beginning of eternity with You.

destiny

2010-09-26T03:38:00.001-04:00

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him." ~ 1 Corinthians 2:9

God has blessed me with so many amazing people in my life, so many people who encourage me, who challenge me, who love me. I never cease to be amazed at how richly God blesses His children, though we never, ever deserve it. In the past few weeks, I have been especially blessed by one young man in particular.

I never had a biological little brother, but God has certainly blessed me with a lot of “little brothers.” I never really thought I wanted a younger brother growing up. I guess I figured the torment I received from my older brother was enough! (Just kidding, Ryan! I love you!) But, God has thought otherwise throughout my life. I have been blessed to have some amazing young men in my life. And, I know that my relationships with each one of them has brought me to where I am today, doing what I am doing now.

Destiny? Maybe…

In being here, I have the absolute honor and privilege of working alongside a couple of amazing young men to impact this nation. Whether they like it or not, I have adopted them as my little brothers. They themselves are brothers but so different (as so often happens). Today I am going to talk about one of them. (I am sure the other one will get a post at some point in the future.)

“My heart breaks for Cambodia.” Those are the words that appear when you ask this 18-year-old, recent high school graduate about what motivates him. His heart breaks for the ugliness in his nation. He wears a bracelet that says, “seek justice,” and he does. He loves deeply. He prays faithfully. He inspires and challenges me daily. He holds little girls’ hands to cross the street. He carries little boys on his shoulders. He sees the world around him and all of the things that are wrong and genuinely makes strides to change them, to bring God’s kingdom to earth. He has wisdom and maturity and faith far beyond his 18 years.

The future ahead of him is great, and I am so thankful that I am allowed the privilege to be a part of it for a season.

And it just so happens that his name means destiny…

good friends

2010-09-13T08:32:00.001-04:00

I recently got a new Bible. The Bible that I had lugged everywhere with me for the past seven and a half years finally decided that it couldn't do as much traveling. The binding completely broke, which means that Hebrews 12 through Revelation completely fall out now (in addition to a few chapters in Matthew that were casualties of another disaster). I love that Bible, and it still came to Cambodia with me. But, I don't feel comfortable carrying it around in my backpack or taking it to church every Sunday because of the risk of losing pages. That Bible contains my life over the past seven and a half years. It is colored and underlined and full of notes in the margins. The pages are dog-eared. Not only is it God's written Word, but it is also the story God has been writing in me.

Needless to say, buying a new Bible was tough...but exciting at the same time. I knew the day was coming and had prepared myself well. I was actually excited about clean pages. Reading an unmarked Bible is like discovering God's truth for the very first time.

That being said, I have really been enjoying reading in my new Sword. And, this past week I decided that James and I, we would have been good friends. I love the book of James. So, when I read through it this past week for the umpteenth time, it was like meeting an old friend but seeing him with fresh eyes. James is practical. He is straightforward. He does not sugarcoat things. He is not afraid to be honest. He challenges. He goes against the crowd. He upsets the apple cart. He packs a powerful punch in 5 short chapters. Every time I read through the book of James, I come across something I missed the last time, or I had at least forgotten since the last time.

"My dear brothers and sisters, how can you claim to have faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ if you favor some people over others? For example, suppose someone comes into your meeting dressed in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, and another comes in who is poor and dressed in dirty clothes. If you give special attention and a good seat to the rich person, but you say to the poor one, 'You can stand over there, or else sit on the floor'--well, doesn't this discrimination show that your judgments are guided by evil motives? Listen to me, dear brothers and sisters. Hasn't God chosen the poor in this world to be rich in faith? Aren't they the ones who will inherit the Kingdom He promised to those who love him? But you dishonor the poor! Isn't it the rich who oppress you and drag you into court? Aren't they the ones who slander Jesus Christ, whose noble name you bear?" James 2:2-7

I read this passage, and I had images of some beautiful, fun, dirty children pop into my mind. I spend my afternoons with them in the dirt. We sing songs. We play games. We throw balls. We use glue and markers. We jump rope. I have no doubt that the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. And, honestly, I have little problem with the poor and dirty of this world.

I have a far greater problem not making judgments about the fancy and rich. I am much more comfortable on the dusty streets of a poor farming village than I am in the midst of a banquet in a grand hall. Ask me not to judge the poor, and I will happily oblige. Ask me not to judge the wealthy, and I will bite my tongue and pray for God's mercy.

Now, I didn't actually know James, but I do wonder if he felt the same as me. He saw how the wealthy were treated in comparison to the poor. He saw that the poor were often marginalized, but I wonder if he himself had a greater challenge in not favoring the poor over the wealthy. I don't have the answer, but regardless, I am confident that James and I would have been good friends...

all before lunch!

2010-09-02T10:32:00.002-04:00

I know many people often wonder what I do with my days in Cambodia, so I decided I would give you a little rundown of what a day sometimes looks for me. Today, for example, started out a little like this...

Wake up.

Spend some time with Jesus.

Shower. (This is shower 1 of usually 2 per day.)

Breakfast.

Catch up on emails.

Go through some research.

Khmer lesson.

Buy a helmet.

Bike to office supply store.

Answer phone and have a conversation to set up a meeting for the next day all while riding my bike in traffic.

Go to the market and buy a papaya and some pomegranates.

Go to another market to buy some vegetables.

Bike home carrying my bag, a bag of office supplies and two bags of produce.

Sit down to sift through some more research.

And, lunchtime.

I won't even go into what the rest of my day looked like, but it did involve less running around than my morning. Now, I wouldn't say that today was a "typical" day, but I certainly wouldn't classify it as unusual.

Life here operates on a different schedule, and it is one to which I am growing quite accustomed. I love having freedom in my days and in my schedules. I love being relaxed and focusing on people and relationships. And, I love fresh papaya!

roots and wings

2010-08-30T00:38:00.002-04:00

"a bird may love a fish, sire, but where would they live?"

I have been pondering this for the last several days. As I left to travel to Cambodia this time around, my heart was a bit torn. I am so excited about what the future holds for me. I deeply love Cambodia and her people. I love the work that I do here, even when it is incredibly difficult and exhausting. I love life here. I love the activity. I love riding on the back of motorbikes and bartering in the market. I love my friends here. I love seeing God move here.

But, I also realized that I love Indiana summer--the smell of cornfields and the sound of quiet. I love my family and my friends. I love cuddles with my nieces and nephews. I love baking in the kind of kitchen I am used to. I love cool morning runs.

So, it was hard to say good-bye to those things for who knows how long, even though I knew I loved what I was going to be receiving on the other side of things. I am finding that choosing to live my life with God tends to be like this...remembering my roots but embracing my wings.

"then I shall have to make you wings..."

*and props to anyone who can name that movie*

are you mad at me?

2010-08-18T15:46:00.004-04:00

He's not mad at you...

He's not disappointed...

His grace is greater still...

than all of your wrong choices

These are some of the lyrics to a song by Pocket Full of Rocks, and they have been running over my mind quite a lot lately.

Based on all of my "Christian understanding," of course I know that God is not mad at me. Of course He isn't disappointed. And, of course, His grace both covers me and empowers me to be better. That's the right answer, isn't it?

But, knowing all of that doesn't mean that I still don't marvel at the thought of Him not being mad at me and disappointed in me for all of the awful decisions I make, the evil thoughts that I think, and the good things I simply don't do. He has every right and reason to be disappointed in me. He has 24 years of ammunition against me, and I add to it every day. Yet, somehow God looks past all of that and sees something else in me. I certainly don't deserve that.

Most people live with a subtle dread that one day they will be discovered for who they really are and the world will be appalled...we come into the world with a longing to be known and a deep-seated fear that we aren't what we should be. ~ The Sacred Romance

I have often read those words and marveled at how true they resonate with me. Don't we all wish that someone really understood us? That someone really could relate to us and understand how we think and feel? But then, doesn't it terrify us that someone will actually get a glimpse of what goes on in our minds and be absolutely horrified? I know that I am not what I should be, and I would wager that many other people would acknowledge this about themselves as well. However, it is one thing to acknowledge this about yourself, but it is an entirely different ball game when someone else realizes you for what you really are and knows that you are not what you should be. And, isn't that the exact position God is in? He knows exactly what we're thinking, how we're feeling. He knows our faults. He knows our successes. He knows our inner beauties and our deepest ugliness. Yet, somehow He comes out on the other side and isn't angry or disappointed, and I am left questioning,

"Are You sure You're not mad at me? Not even disappointed?"

And, often, before I even give Him a chance to answer, I think,

"Because I am. I am disappointed in myself. I am angry at myself for the stupid things I do."

Meanwhile, I think God is shaking His head (not His fist) and marveling at the forgetfulness of humanity. And, like Jesus said to Thomas, "Reach your finger here, and look at My hands; and reach your hand here, and put it into My side. Do not be unbelieving, but believing," He says it all over again to me. He says, "Look from where I have brought you, dear child." And then, as He said so many years ago,

"It is finished."

so...what's on your list?

2010-08-10T09:41:00.002-04:00

In preparing for the next phase of my life and heading back to Cambodia, I have been asked several times if Cambodia is where I feel "called." The short answer to that is yes...for now. I do feel called to be in Cambodia for this season of my life. There is actually nowhere else I would rather be right now. I LOVE the nation, the people, and the work that I do. And yes, it is incredibly exhausting and draining and hard, and I really have no idea what I am doing. But, thankfully, God has it all under control; He just needs some hands and feet on the ground to get things done, and I am happy to oblige. However, I do not anticipate being in Cambodia for the rest of my life. There are so many things for which God has burdened my heart. There are so many things that I want to do and to see and to change, so many people with whom I want to share my Jesus. So, I thought I would list a few of the things on my "before I get to Heaven list."

1. Run a marathon.

2. See Victoria Falls.

3. Take culinary classes.

4. Write a book.

5. See a Broadway show in New York City

6. Live in Africa.

7. Have my own motorbike.

8. Live in a house with a HUGE kitchen...with a double oven! (Not convinced this one will ever happen, but this is my dream list so I can put whatever I want!)

9. Visit 6 of the 7 continents. Antarctica doesn't interest me. (I only have one more to go! Anyone want to buy me a ticket to South America?)

10. What is be on Jeopardy!?

So, what are some things on your lists? And, I would really love to hear from anyone that reads this blog. I keep hearing about people who say they follow my blog, but I have yet to receive any feedback from you!!!

perspectives

2010-08-05T17:43:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I find that I need a good dose of reality, a good reminder of just how blessed I am. And, that reality is that I was born into privilege. Simply because of the color of my skin and the country of my passport, I have more than the vast majority of the world. I don't know what true hunger feels like. I don't know what it is like to not have my basic needs met, to not have a roof over my head at night. Sure, there are plenty of things that at different times I have been sure that I needed. But, I don't really need much. I have what I need. So, just in case you are like me and occasionally need to be reminded about the blessings you have in life.

Almost half the world, nearly 3 billion people, live on less than $2.50 a day.

At least 80 percent of humanity lives on less than $10 a day.

The poorest 40 percent of the world's population makes up less than 5 percent of world income. The richest 20 percent of the world's population makes up 75 percent of world income.

24,000 children die every day from poverty.

Nearly a billion people entered the 21st century without being able to read a book or write their own names.

Less than one percent of what the world spent on weapons every year was needed to put every child into school by the year 2000...it didn't happen.

For every $1 in aid that developing countries receive, $25 is spent on debt repayment.

In 1998, $8 billion was spent on cosmetics in the United States while an extra $6 billion would allow for basic education to be available in all developing countries.

If you find this list interesting and would like to read more, check out this site.

"Not that I am implying that I was in any personal want, for I have learned to be content (satisfied to the point where I am not disturbed or disquieted) in whatever state I am. I know how to be abased and live humbly in straitened circumstances, and I know also how to enjoy plenty and live in abundance. I have learned in any and all circumstances the secret of facing every situation, whether well-fed or going hungry, having a sufficiency and enough to spare or going without and being in want. I have strength for all things in Christ Who empowers me [ I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him Who infuses inner strength into me; I am self-sufficient in Christ's sufficiency]." Philippians 4:11-13

Overwhelmed?

2010-07-22T22:33:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I was listening to a podcast about poverty, the developing world, and Christians' responsibilities in regards to it all. It is a series that I have been listening to for a while now, but I hadn't had an opportunity to listen for a while. So, yesterday, I busted through four episodes while I picked blueberries. Now, I feel like I need to go listen to them all again because they were that good!

There was one line in particular that really struck me in listening. In one of the episodes and gentleman who was being interviewed about his work in Mozambique said something in a way I had never considered before. He said, "Satan loves to overwhelm Christians into apathy."

Wow!

I feel like that statement packs a powerful punch, and one that is true more often than I would like to think. As an individual who strives not to become overwhelmed by all of the needs in the world but rather focus on those that I can do something about no matter how small, I know that I sometimes DO get overwhelmed. I think about how big the world is and how small I am. I see pictures of people in lands I have never known suffering from ails I will never know, and I wonder whether there is really anything I could do to make a difference in their lives. I walk down the streets of lands that I know and see people in need and hope someone else helps them, justifying my behavior by focusing on my perceived lack rather than my actual abundance.

I often have people tell me how wonderful the work I am doing is and how admirable it is that I would give up my time and energy to work for no pay in order to be in Cambodia and reach the people there. While I understand why they say these things, I know that for me there is nowhere else I would rather be. And, for me and what God is asking me to do, I need to continually be examining myself. Am I being overwhelmed into apathy? Regardless of where you are or what you are doing, I think we all find ourselves there sometimes. But, I desperately want to be overwhelmed into action, not apathy. I want to know what is going on in the world, and I want to throw myself full force into making the world a better place. One step at a time. One life at a time. It is the only option I have, and it is what my King has required.

"So any person who knows what is right to do but does not do it, to him it is sin." James 4:17