Civilization

I woke up this morning to a faceful of baby. I’m in Singapore for Christmas and staying at my gramma’s house. So is my uncle. And his wife and 3 babies. In a day, I went from being in one of the poorest countries in the world to one of the riches. I arrived to 3 toddlers in nothing more than their undies running around my gramma’s house – a stark change from Cambodia. The kids there wear shirts but not undies. Well, not just that. There’s more…

As I took a walk around the block of my gramma’s house, to get some air and clear my head, every other car that greeted me was a Mercedes or a Jaguar. It seemed like my gramma and her neighbour were the only 2 houses that had not succumbed to extensive improvements and renovations. The air was clear and fresh, smell of tropical flowers and greenery moving slowly along with the breeze. Freshly manicured gardens, sidewalks lined with trimmed lawn and clean streets. Gorgeous, sturdy houses in brick, wood and glass lined the streets. Inside, you can see Christmas trees, lights and sometimes hear someone playing the piano or a radio tuned to jazz or classical music. I walked to the gas station and noticed the big, shiny cars lined along the gas pumps. A far cry from the shanty houses and dusty streets of Cambodia.

All at once, I felt attracted yet repulsed by the perfection and wealth of Singapore. Attracted by the beauty, the cleanliness, the comfort. Repulsed by the abundance, the hording … the ignorance. Repulsed that just a few hours by plane were one of the poorest countries in the world but here we live in ignorant bliss. Torn. To be attracted into this culture, this shiny new world, would be to turn my back and forget all I had seen and heard the past 3 months in Cambodia. And yet to be repulsed by it would mean turning my back on the very culture that I grew up in. And that would render me an arrogant hypocrite.

And unbeknownst to anyone, this battle raged deep within my soul. You see, on the outside, not much has changed. Christmas presents, calls to make, people to meet, appointments to keep… But on the inside, there’s something that’s different. I don’t know what. But walking down the streets, talking to people, I feel like an alien in a foreign world. But no one knows, no one sees. I guess I could use the analogy of a soldier coming back from war. He looks fine from the outside but he’s seen things, heard things and felt things unimaginable. But coming home isn’t as blissful as it should be. Because life continues on the outside – in “civilization”.

Now, I have by no means experienced war or something equally terrifying. But my eyes have seen, my ears have heard and my heart has been broken by just a small glimpse of the devastation of humanity against the absolute purity of God’s love. Now, the world hasn’t changed. God hasn’t changed. He’s always been there. Always been powerful.

But I guess I have.

I know I said I would take a hiatus from my blog but I am writing this to remind myself. Because it is so easy to forget. So this is me whispering in my ear: do not forget, do not forget, do not forget… do not forget!

Amen

Haitus

For readers and writer alike, I would like to give all a break from my unceasing ramblings. I am quite rambled-out for the moment and will be busier (as will you, during this festive season) these couple weeks. Firstly, this week is exam week at school coupled with teacher's training but unexpected visitors from overseas. We will also be holding our Christmas concert this Saturday. Please be praying for all of that. And then I will be heading down to Singapore for a week to visit family and spend Christmas. Back to Cambodia on Boxing Day and back to school the day after. Report cards go out and the new term begins.

I might give a few updates or insights meanwhile. Never say never. But this is notice to vacate the edge of your seat and cease with the nail-biting suspense for the next episode of 'Adventures of Me'.

May you have a refreshing and renewing time this Christmas and a rich and meaningful New Year filled with love and life unimaginable.

So this is Christmas...

The teachers just finished our meeting trying to put together a Christmas performance for the kids at our school's Christmas concert on Saturday. All the kids will perform. Some classes will sing. Some will act. Hopefully, all will put on a good show for the parents and the higher ups.

So this is Christmas.

I love Christmas. The music, the food, the fellowship, the family, the meaning behind Christmas. Everything. But this Christmas is slightly different. There is added pressure. The kids. Most of them don't celebrate Christmas at home. Most of my kids are Buddhist. Sharing my experience of Christmas is important. Sharing the fun stuff is significant to them. And sharing the meaning behind Christmas is crucial. Christmas is not about presents. Not about songs and decorations. It's about a time when the world recieved a Saviour.

To do that professionally and with love is hard to a bunch of screaming kids whose first language is not English. And to live out the joy and life that Christmas reminds us of to the teachers and parents is hard. Recently, I've not quite been myself. I have to be serious and professional with the other teachers and I have to be the strict disciplinarian with my kids. At home, the principal is my roommate. She's my friend and companion but, technically, she's also my boss.

So I find myself sitting in school typing away and remembering the times when I didn't care about what people think and was a bit of a rebel. I've mellowed. Not been a rebel for so long. Haven't sang and danced and acted silly in so long. Things like that are frowned upon here... Or maybe, I've forgotten. Forgotten how to be bold. Forgotten how to go against the grain. Not just for the sake of being different but because we all benefit from a bit of change and a bit of challenge. A bit of reminder why we do what we do. Iron sharpens iron. I'm a bit like jello these days.

Or maybe, I am growing older. Watching what I say, what I do. Walking nicely, sitting straight, smiling and nodding at parents, using my 'professional voice' all the time... Is this what growing older is supposed to be like? It's hard to tell if I've taken a step forward or 2 steps back anymore.

Well, this is a detour from the topic of Christmas. But I guess it is also an apt topic. New birth. Great beginnings. God reaching down to grab us out of the miry clay we've been sitting in. My miry clay consists of fear, bitterness, apprehension, disapointment, pride... The list goes on. Everything that I wished I lived up to but never could and never can! But this, what God is offering, is the greatest rescue the world has ever know. A Saviour!

We may grow old but we never quite grow up. Up to where we want to be, where we wish we could be. In moral standards, in professional career, in life and in love... And we never grow tired of needing to be rescued. God knows I need a Saviour. On days like these. Everyday.

Jesus is “‘the stone you builders rejected, which has become the cornerstone.' Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.”

Acts 4:11-12

Merry Christmas one and all!

Lazy Sundays

Right now, I'm sitting on a chair, my feet up and typing as a cool breeze dances around my room on a lazy Sunday afternoon. My roomie's put on some amazing Christmas music. It's Michael Buble now. We have red and green lanterns up on the frame of our door and I have internet in my room for the first time since I've got here. Internets IN my room! And it disconnects only 2 times every half hour and not like 5 times every half hour! And I just had a decadent lunch of bacon, eggs, toast and fruit. BACON.

It is at this moment I feel like this is too much. I am too spoilt. Too blessed and so underserving. For small mercies and life-changing redemption, God is good. Too good.

Miracles

So I did it. Spoke at the university meeting and I thank God that He guided me through it all! So let me tell you what happened – it’s quite a story.

So I get there and the band is still practicing. I’ve never been there that early because I usually come late after work. Thumbs twiddling, I start to pray. Please, God, speak through me and not with my own words. My roommate arrives. I show her what I will speak about. God’s grace. She uses my notes as a fan. We laugh.

Then, it starts to rain. It is both a great blessing and a curse. A blessing on a humid, balmy night. A curse because being in a chapel with a huge tin roof, you cannot hear anything over the clatter of rain beating the roof like a drum. The band plays on as the rain pours down. God, my first time speaking to this bunch of kids and they won’t really even hear me with such noise. God, You provide, with faith I pray. As my time comes closer, the rain lets up. Praise God! He is answering my prayers! He is good.

Minutes before I am called to speak, the power goes off. The sound system is down and we stand in pitch black. Pitch black literally. God, my first time speaking and not only will they not really hear me but they won’t even see me? Very funny, God. But thanks for the reminder to remain humble. Humility, humility, I mumble to myself.

I get up and stare into blackness and a few lights from people’s cell phone. It feels like a candlelight vigil. “Hello, I can’t see you”, I say unsure of how I should begin in the awkward darkness. Just then, the power flickers on. Lights, sound and no rain. Wow, nice one, God!

I begin. I’m sure some of it was lost in translation but I lay everything out. The depths of my heart served on a platter to about 40 Cambodian students. Tried to be honest. The funniest part was when I shared my most intimate secret and the translator didn’t get it. I had to repeat it 4 times! By that time, half the kids were cracked up laughing. But I pray that some of the students got something out of it. I know I was blessed preparing to talk about God’s grace, and experiencing His grace this very night.

Even as I type this moments after the meeting, it is raining outside. But just for an hour, Jesus stopped the rain. And it feels like He did it just for me. That’s a pretty awesome feeling.

Prayer Requests

This week is getting hectic and to be honest, my brain is a little to fried to give proper updates although Cambodia still amazes me and takes my breath away every single day. I wish I could share it all with you. But I can’t. 

These are the serious and important bits anyways. You probably won’t get this in time because I probably won’t get on the internet to post this before but here goes. I would love prayer for (1) my school kids, (2) my church ministry and (3) Revival Meeting aka Life University campus ministry.

1. School kiddies

Last week I shared the gospel during morning devotions and this past week, I shared about the Holy Spirit. Pray that the seeds sown would take root and that the kids would not be manipulated into religion but seek truth.

2. Church ministry

Life Bible Presbyterian English Service is the only English service in Sihanoukville. The foreign teachers at Life University and Life International School (my school) run the service. I started my bible study at church this morning. I have 3 guys and 3 girls. Most of them have been exposed to Christianity and have started getting involved in ministries but do not have a personal and real relationship with God. Pray for them. Pray for me.

Also, this Wednesday, I have the honour of leading the Prayer Meeting at church. I pray that prayer (that sounds weird huh?) will not just be a time of asking and pleading with God as it has been in the past few weeks but a time of giving. Giving of our hearts, giving of our desires for His and real confession and repentance. So often we have a list of things we think we need from God. But I pray that we first come humbly seeking His will for our lives.

3. Revival Meeting

The campus Christian fellowship has a weekly meeting on Mondays they call Revival. This Monday, I have been asked to be the speaker to the 60ish Cambodian students who come out to the meetings. Some of them are Christians, some are not. Some are curious. But most see being a Christian as a set of moral rules or simply going to Church and fellowship. Pray for understanding and clarity (I will have a translator). Pray for wisdom. Pray that God would speak through me. Pray for open hearts.

Thank you.

Myth

Myth busted: You need to comb/brush your hair regularly. One thing I forgot to bring to Cambodia in my rush to pack and leave Canada is my brush. I have hardly brushed or combed my hair in 2 and a half months (don’t look at me like that) and my hair has never been better. Ok, it’s no Herbal Essences ad but it’s as good as it gets, I reckon. Living off 20kg of belongings isn’t too bad! My closet consist of a single rack and a $5 bamboo shelf.

Blessings

Like reaching an oasis in a desert, my roommate and I decided to check into a hotel for a night this long weekend. It’s the Water Festival. This hotel was NICE. Cable TV, internet, a/c, HOT showers, clean sheets, swimming pool and complimentary breakfast buffet where they provide fancy dishes to put jam in! I swam once that day and the next morning before we checked out. Heavenly.

The night before, I got to call friends and family on my cell phone too. Talked to my mammy for the first time in 2 months :) The excitement continued with skype chats with friends, my brother and my mother again at the hotel. Ah... internet! Talked to friends on msn, got new music and watched youtube! It was quite the weekend in my books.

But then as some of you might have seen from Facebook, I also rented a moto and took it for a spin in an empty soccer field with cows grazing around. Unfortunately, I took a turn too sharply. And the next thing I remember was my elbow on the ground and my butt a little sore. And then I saw a cow stomp closer and closer. And my friend shouting in the background: “Run! Run! Run!” I tried to run but my legs were stiff with confusion, fear and thinking: Is this for real?

Suffice to say the cow was more interested in sniffing out the moto and all I had to do was step back and let it scold the moto for making crashing noises and scaring her calf. But I left proud of the slight scrape on my elbow, and a ridiculous story that will live on for generations. The moto refused to start after that fall but some nice local boys playing soccer helped us get it started. Anyways, I think I’m getting better at the moto although the fall shook me a little and I’m more weary of the turns. But if I can manage the roads next time, it’ll be my ticket to freedom (now, I just need to get the language down). Especially with my friend putting ideas in my head about buying an electric-powered moto for $200 from Phnom Penh that is lighter, smaller and perfect for my size. Maybe next time… Open road, blue skies, endless beach here I come!

But all in all, a weekend full of God’s providence. I am so blessed to be living here. I am blessed with an amazing family who prays for me back home. Friends who encourage me from thousands of miles away. And every hot shower that is like dew from heaven!

Melancholy

I was going to title this post Sadness but it’s not quite sadness. I don’t know if it’s melancholy either but that’s closer I guess. It plays to the soundtrack of Everything by Lifehouse. So if you have that song, feel free to play it now.

Cambodia is a place full of people with stories. Their eyes and face tell a million stories. So much tiredness and life experiences, yet such a hope and assurance that there’s no other way but up from here. Today, I talked to Vuthi. He is a Theology graduate from Life University and helped out at the Life International School for 2 weeks. I asked him how many brothers and sisters he has. He said 8. I said wow. And still calm, his eyes smiling, he said some of them have died from an illness so he does not have 8 anymore. Just as a matter of fact.

I don’t know if this makes sense but I guess that conversation sums up what I have come to think of as the mood here in Cambodia. Hardship is a part of life. The younger generation sometimes complain about the hardship and the older generation (not that there’s many since the Khmer Rouge) bear it quietly. But for everyone, they wear it proudly as a battle scar. It’s almost as if poverty and hardship are part of the Cambodian culture.

Coming from Singapore, Canada and Australia where, comparatively, people bleed money, this everyday exchange of topics like illness, death, poverty and prostitution like the exchange of weather news is slightly unnerving. I have to constantly remind myself: this is not normal. I have to. Or else fall into a state where I become blind and accustomed to street kids coming up to me and asking for food. Blind to the old lady who asks for change. Blind to the Night Clubs and Karaoke Lounges with dim lighting and scantily clad young girls with too much make-up hanging around the lobby looking unhappily haughty. By that I mean brothels if you didn’t catch my drift.

But at the same time, I don’t want to pity the Cambodians. I am no better than them. I just had the privilege to grow up with more money. Giving them money or food is tricky too. Some people say we “spoil them” by doing that. But then, how do I just stand by and watch dirty little kids who can’t afford to go to school while I have a well stocked fridge, food on my table everyday? Although, I do understand the other side of the dilemma. Handouts aren’t sustainable.

Anyways, enough of my dilemma and back to the people. Melancholic. I wish I could videotape each of them telling their stories, their expressions, their past and the hope mingled with sadness at the future they see. They see a bright future. Sadly, not in their generation. Most of who I have talked to are around my age or just a bit older – at the start of their lives and career. Yet they cannot hope to dream too big for themselves. They have to save their biggest hopes for the next generation. Maybe I should make a movie. Perhaps after I write my book. Or after I write that play, as suggested by Pritee. 

This is Cambodia. And despite appearances, Cambodia does have a Hope and a Future.

Visual Memoir Captured in Words

So I have been sending the students home on the school bus every day until December. I get the scenic view of the town. It is spectacular, wild and beautiful. These are mental pictures I have taken from the bus ride and other adventures:

I saw a 4-foot shark tied to the back of a moto. 

I saw a dog talking to some goats as a naked baby watched in the distance.

I saw an old white man sitting on his front porch looking bewildered with his frizzy white beard hanging down to his pot belly.

I saw 2 guys sitting in a hammock they pitched under an 18-wheeler.

I saw a baby taking a bath in an old paint bucket.

I rode on the top of the hill behind my school which looks down to the town and a breath-taking view of the cove that Sihanoukville sits in. It looks like the Mediterranean. The colourful houses, the deep blue sea and the cloudless, endless sky. 

Beauty

My roommate was asleep so I snuck out to the hallway and sat at the end where it opened to a view of the town and the sea. I had my bible in hand and ear phones plugged in. It was a spectacular night. Balmy and still but every so often, a light breeze would lick the ends of your hair as if taunting and teasing you with the promises of rain. Rain would be a much needed relief from the heat and humidity. As I sat looking out to the dark sky that night, I was captivated by beauty. I clenched my jaw as I smelled the thick, fresh fragrance of moisture in the air. It smelled good. Too good. Do you know that feeling you get when you are so overwhelmed with something amazing and your spirit is so uplifted you cannot help but frown with the intensity of the experience? This probably sounds weird but that happens to me.

So I sat frowning at the sky. And this is the great part. The lightning. Creeping, sweeping across the sky. Silent. With not a sound to announce its presence but the power of its light. A flash. A flash. Another flash. Each one looked as if it could light the entire universe. Each split second turning night to day. And in the background, music like a symphony orchestrated specially for nature’s performance. “He’s alive! He’s alive!” sing Shane & Shane in Embracing Accusation.

Looking at nature’s light show, I see beauty. I see that God is alive.

Science explains how lightning occurs. How rain forms. And shows us what happens when day turns to night. But science holds no reason, no purpose. It merely explains the existence of something. I do not live for mere existence. There is purpose for life.

Now this is eternal life: that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom You have sent.

John 17:3

Love

Over time and space, God has taught me an important yet simple lesson. People are but instruments of God’s love. They are not the source of love. I knew it in my head but I didn’t experience the fullness of God’s love extended through people until now. And even now it is a shadow of God’s love in all its glory. When I saw God’s hand extended, I saw people. And I put my trust in that. I am just now learning to see beyond the human hands and into the true heart of God.

Tonight, I was coughing much. If you didn’t already know, I’ve caught a bit of a cold and am a little bit – well, more than a little bit – impaled by my illness while still having to teach full days of classes. So I was coughing merrily and minding my own business when the lovely Korean missionary couple from next door knocked on my door and asked if I was okay. They said they had medicine.

Mr. Roh: You stay here. We get the medicine for you.

Me: Uh ok. Thank you! *cough cough*

Mr. Roh: Remember, this is for night time. Drowsy. And this for day time.

Me: *cough* Thank you *cough* so much!

Mr. Roh: Now you sit down. We pray for you. (Speaks in Korean to his wife and we all sit down and pray).

I was touched. For a moment I felt loved and taken care of. I miss my parents. But I also felt God’s provision and grace. It is His love that is extended through human hands.

Bitterness

As I soaked in this concept of freedom, it was like God was unloading every part of my life that was heavy from the surface to those that were buried deep under my skin. This is the story of my bitterness. The first thing that I had to let go of was the stress of work and ministry. Next was living in a foreign country with all its customs, traditions and nuances. Then, the isolation and separation from loved ones and things familiar. And then a few days ago, it hit the big one. My bitterness and hurt that ran deep. Baggage that I carried with me from years past and from Canada to Cambodia.

Forgive me as I write the depths of my heart on the world wide web. But I pray that as I wear my heart on my sleeve that it might shed light on the depth of God’s healing love and extend an honest example of the depravity of humanity clashing with the radical but absolute love of God.

So back to bitterness. As a child, I feared people. Being vulnerable in front of people was humiliating. So to protect my huge pride, I kept my life private. Just God, my family and me. Protected from scary people, I thought. It helped me as I moved to Australia at 16. When I moved to Toronto the next year. And when I left again for an international exchange program. But when I came back to Toronto the following year, God had broken me. Broken my pride. I had nothing to hide behind and for the first time in my life, I opened my heart up to a community around me. It was exhilarating, exciting and rewarding. Until I graduated.

Disclaimer: I can be a little over-dramatic at times 

My life was to take a massive turn and I was not prepared for it. I was set to go to Art School after graduation but God had other plans. God called me to work. And God called me to Asia. I was faced with one of the biggest decisions of my life on top of the transitions that came with graduating, summer work, volunteering and spending time with my family. It was to be the most challenging summer of my life thus far. And it was a summer I had to face alone. 

You see, the world does not revolve around me. Surprise, surprise. I wasn’t the only one going through difficult decisions and busyness. Friends were caught up with life and so was my family. It was a big summer for my family. My sister was getting married and my brother was having his first baby. My world was changing. And so fast! So while on the outside, I seemed alright, inside, I felt utterly abandoned and hurt. I desperately wanted someone to be there as I looked at job prospects and prepared to leave the life that I had fought so hard for in Toronto. (Life hasn’t been easy in Toronto you see). In my pride, I desperately wanted someone to care that I was leaving and promise to keep in touch and reminisce about the good old times for the last time before my life would change forever. But there was no one.

In the last 2 weeks of summer, I signed a 1 year contract to teach, packed and booked my flight to Cambodia. It was so fast, I packed my hurt and abandonment in my suitcase, carried it halfway around the world and buried it under work, busyness and ministry. But there was no peace. Because deep in my baggage was that hurt which had become a heart of stone.

And a few days ago, as the Holy Spirit was digging through my burdens and baggage, it was like the shovel hit a rock. A rock of emotion and hurt that I had secretly nursed. It was a buried boulder which showed its ugly face every so often when I felt beat down and exhausted from the daily routine of Cambodia. Since then, like an excavation in progress, Jesus has been knocking away chunks of rock and, surprisingly, it’s not that hard and big as I though after all. In my stupidity, I forget just how big God is and how small my issues are in comparison. And now I can breathe again. Each taste of sweet, fresh breeze like a small but life-giving blessing in a desert.

This is freedom. Freedom from hurt, bitterness and fear.

Month + 2 weeks = Freedom

Wow, looking at my last blog posts, God really does answer prayers. One thing that I have been pondering upon has been the concept of freedom. A verse that I have been reciting over and over again in my heart has been John 8: 34 – 36.

Jesus replied,” I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

I didn’t get it. I still don’t fully get it. But I so desired this freedom that the Bible talks about. Not just a temporary outlet or break from reality but true freedom from my stress, my hurts, and the weight of the world which I bear on my shoulders sometimes. I did not have that. Every night I sleep, I think about my kids and the responsibility of their education and future, and the great needs of Cambodia weighed heavily on my mind. And every morning as I wake up at the crack of dawn, my body remained weary and my soul exhausted. I was a slave. I could not run away from the pressure, the stress of work and the many lives that seemed thrust into my care. And I got more frustrated in my personal life as I drifted farther and farther away from people I loved and used to share my life with back home. Trapped in this cycle of stress, loneliness and exhaustion. This was not freedom.

But as weary miner trying to dig his way out of the dirt and darkness, Light found me and pulled me into His loving arms. I have seen but a glimpse of this Light and it is the most brilliant concept, object, reality I will ever live for. As I sat, soaked and pondered, Jesus spoke. So simple. So true. It seems silly when I write it down but so profound in what it means to me.

This is what I have been learning on freedom:

1. Freedom is not a feeling that comes. Not a decision I make. Not something I can knock into my head by repeating it or pretending it. It is in seeing the Gospel of Jesus, intellectually and experientially having that truth deposited into my soul by the grace of the Holy Spirit. Ball’s in His court. I helplessly and humbly have no part in it except to respond and receive. Nothing more, nothing less. That is all. All or nothing.

The reconciliation is represented as work of God. It begins with God and is accomplished by Him. “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself” (2 Corinthians 5:19). This emphasis on divine monergism advises us that reconciliation is a work that does not, as such, draw within its scope human action. As accomplishment it does not enlist, nor is dependent upon, the activity of men.

Reconciliation is a finished work. God is not only the sole agent but also the agent of action already perfected.

- John Murray in Redemption Accomplished and Applied

2. In my quest to give God my all or nothing, I sought to take hold of every aspect of my life and, disciplining and dealing with what held me back. But it is not about seeking everything of me that was wrong. It is about seeking the One thing of God that is important. This is freedom. 

3. I do not answer to anyone but God. Not my kids, not their parents, not the other teachers. The only one I answer to and am held accountable to is God. And He already paid the price.

4. They are not my kids. They are His. Let go.

5. When I feel that I have a standard to reach, important things to get done, I don’t. I really don’t. Nothing, absolutely nothing, comes close to resting with Jesus. Even if it means pushing aside a week of lesson plans to sit and listen to that one song about God’s love.

6. And as I started to taste this freedom, I was worried that it might once again slip from my grasp but Jesus assured me with this:

But the Counsellor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

John 14:26 – 27

Peace. Hmmm… Freedom and peace. This week has been no different than others. Still tired. Still no internet. Still no hot showers. Children still running amok. But there is a peace. Not a cheesy happy hippie peace but something deep stirring in the pit of my stomach that makes the sky look richer, brighter, more beautiful. Because I am reminded of His beauty. And it is brilliant.

Hungry

Hungry I come to You for I know You satisfy

Thirsty I come to You for I know Your cup does not run dry

So I wait for You

So I wait for You

I'm falling on my knees, offering all of me

Jesus, You're all this heart is living for.

Month + 1 day: Back to School

Going to visit Jess is always great but puts ten million thoughts into my head with ideas, inspirations, thoughts and memories. I came back to school having to catch up almost a week of work for being away. Martha, Martha, Martha, call me Martha (if you don’t get it, reference Luke 10:38 – 42, the Holy Bible). So while I intended to spend the rest of Sunday in Sihanoukville alone with Jesus, I did not. And school has been brutal since then. Physically, mentally and spiritually.

My class has 15 boys and 5 girls. 3 times more boys than girls and 3 times the noise, bad behaviour and pranks. As a first time teacher without education, experience or training, teaching and lesson planning is hard. As a first time teacher with 15 boys, and roudy boys at it, is a real challenge. Other teachers have told me that teachers always cry the first year they teach. I came close today.

Morning devotions, my Grade 1 class was the noisiest (even noisier than the Kindergarten kids). The principal called them out on their behaviour. And I’m not going to lie, it hurt my pride but it also kicked me in the gutt. You know what they say: there are no bad students, only bad teachers. And boy do I feel like I’ve failed to love and care for my kids.

Today, Yeongin, who is a missionary kid from Korea was behaving badly again, talking loudly, screaming, singing, and just disrupting class. I told him to stand outside my class if he didn’t want to learn in class. He absolutely refused to get out of class and short of dragging that kid out by force, I let him stand in a corner inside class. But every time he gets punished, it never gets to him. Turn my back and he’s at it again. Behaving badly is one thing but sometime during class, I caught him showing the finger to the other kids in class. Not going to lie, I got mad. Scolded him, told him that it was not a nice thing to do and all he did was grin his cheeky grin at me. Moments later, I see 2 other kids show the finger back to him. After much scolding, I sat down in front of the class and came so close to sobbing right there. So frustrated. So helpless. Not knowing what to do with this 6 year old missionary kid who refuses to listen. And there and then I feel the weight of being responsible for the kids, of the judgement of the other teachers and people dropping hints that I have to manage my class better.

I don’t know how. I cannot. I have not the strength (even just physically to stand there and shout and call on kids and run after them). I’m at my wits end. Do I shout? Do I encourage?

My fists are clenched and my heart is heavy. Not a great start to this all or nothing commitment. Let go and let God, Camille. Let go and let Jesus take control. Open hands, open hands. Where nothing is mine, I hold nothing back and I receive fully from God’s grace.

Therefore, I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her.

Hosea 2:14

Lord, in the desert you speak. In the nothingness, You allure and captivate me. I am at the point of nothing. Will You be my all?

1 Month Anniversary: A Fantastic Weekend

After the amazingness of the conference and all that I’ve learnt, I headed to Jessica’s for the weekend. Jessica Nguyen is Diane’s cousin and my hero – true woman after God’s heart who has encountered and chosen to obey God in a radical way.

Friday night we went grocery shopping. Best grocery shopping experience ever! Perhaps it’s because the supermarket is about 3 times the size of the one in Sihanoukville. And we only have one supermarket by the way. I took a picture of the ice cream isle – very large and exciting indeed! I saw foods I’ve not seen in a month and marvelled at the modernity that is Phnom Penh. Sihanoukville has changed me. I wonder how it will be like when I go back to Singapore or Canada

Jess bought chocolate and we spent the rest of the night at her place watching Date Night on an actual TV. After I had a proper shower with HEATED WATER. Haven’t had a hot shower in more than a month. Jess’ was the closest thing to a 5 star hotel I’ve experienced in a while. But better. Because nothing beats spending time with a good friend from back home who shares a similar experience and spiritual background as you. Chocolate, good conversation, hot shower and internet – man, like cold lemonade on a hot summer day.

Saturday we took it easy. Started the day off with an extended breakfast on the 3rd storey balcony of Jess’ house listening to worship music. Then headed to the Russian Market for most of the day! Handicrafts, ethnic jewellery, cheap clothes, smelly meat market, a real good grilled tuna melt topped off with a banana cake and a brownie made for a perfect day. But the day was not over. Jess and I crashed when we got back, tired from the heat and bustle so we ate leftovers for dinner. But that to me was great. What was really great was the conversation. Sharing life, sharing struggles, sharing joys, sharing testimonies and sharing about our God who sees, saves and is glorified through each pain, sorrow and tear shed.

Sunday was a blast as well. Got to visit a church with a white pastor who preached in fluent Khmer. The service was alright but what was cool to see was that foreigner and local worshipped the same God together in different languages but the same hearts’ cry. After which, I dashed to the bus station, caught my bus, sat and talked to my smelly, yet friendly bus mate from Guildford, England, and arrived back in Sihanoukville with a million thoughts running through my head.

One thing that Jess shared was that coming here and moving on was the concept of all or nothing. Giving her all to God in exchange for all of God. And anything less than all is nothing. A deep commitment, the ultimate surrender. And that made me think. I need that. No, I desire that, I require that, I can do nothing but that. Yet, my self is weak and my desires are contrary but I have decided to start on this journey of all or nothing. Not because there is nothing to turn back to but because I have glimpsed at the beauty of All and can settle for nothing less.

“Women Are Like White Cloth And Men Are Like Gold”

There is a saying in Khmer which translates to: women are like white cloth and men are like gold. What this means is that when you drop white cloth in mud, you are unlikely to wash away the mud as easily as you would a bar of gold. This is the mindset of women in the sex industry in Cambodia and most of Southeast Asia. Girls coming out of the sex trade have a harder time integrating back into society than boys do. This is a reality girls face in Cambodia everyday. Boys get educated, girls support the family.

But whether boys or girls, many of them are children. Of the estimated 14, 725 (from 1996) prostitutes in Cambodia, 16% are minors with an average age between 12 – 16 years old. And every year, close to a thousand new minors enter the industry.

And of that 14, 725 prostitutes, almost half are Vietnamese. There is not even a 40% proportion of Vietnamese in Cambodia which means that a massive proportion of Vietnamese in Cambodia are in the sex industry. If you are a poor Vietnamese girl between the age of 8 – 17 years old, the chances of you being forced into prostitution sky rockets.

Yet, even with the advent of the sex industry over here I have to constantly remind myself that this is NOT normal. Just because I see it everywhere does not mean that I get cynical or glaze over it.

This is what the Lord Almighty says: “Administer justice, show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor. In your hearts do not think evil of each other.”

Zechariah 7: 9

This does not mean to say we become do-gooders, superheroes or vigilantes but that acting justly comes out from an overflow of being intimately indwelled by a God who is the source of justice itself. Sometimes, nay, most times I fall short. Not that my works of service fall short in themselves but that I do not desire to be filled with the holy justice of God. In my natural desire, I have rejected God, and in so doing am unable to administer justice, show mercy and compassion in and through my own strength. 

Yet I cling on to the hope that God is able and I am not. My hands are small but His are big. And that in 1993, a mere 1% of Cambodians were Christian. 99% Buddhist. In 2003, this rose to a small 4%. But imagine this, a 4 fold increase in a decade! And I am part of that 4%.  This is not just about numbers but that change is happening in Cambodia. Like a thousand year old tradition is waking up from its slumber. Like light dawning on a country in the shadow of age-old rituals, supersitions and discriminatory injustices for far too long. 

In Him was life and that life was the light of man. The light shines in the darkness but the darkness has not understood it.

John 1:4 - 5

1 Month – 1day: The People I Met

Very excited right now. Remember how I prayed that God would connect me with the people who He wants me to connect with? Well, an answered prayer! So during one of the breaks I got my cuppa tea and went to stand in a corner slightly tired of trying to fit in and just resigning to the fact that I’m either white nor Cambodian. Then as I was sipping dejectedly, this man comes up to me and asks if I’m Singaporean. I awkwardly say yes (I could tell people have been talking in Khmer trying to figure out WHAT I am). Turns out the man did his Masters in Law in Singapore and just wanted to say hello. He wasn’t quite a part of the conference but was the translator. And he’s the Director of the Legal Department in the Senate in Phnom Penh and a Professor at the Royal University of Law and Economics. Pretty impressive. Handed me his name card.

At lunch, I met this Cambodian lady again who works for iCAN, one of the organising partners, who sat next to me yesterday when I mentioned I worked for a Christian school. She asked if I was a Christian and when I said yes, she enthusiastically said she was a Christian too. So this afternoon so happened that I sat next to her at lunch too. And we were the only 2 left eating since everyone else was finished and left the room. So we had a good 10 minutes to ourselves and I got to hear her personal testimony.

After lunch, one of the groups presented their discussion answers. Their representative was a teacher from Logos International School, the biggest Christian international school in Cambodia. Cool, I thought. I’d love to talk to those people from Logos since our school is small and starting out and really could use some ideas and connections with bigger schools. So at break time, I determined to put aside my awkwardness and talk to the teachers from Logos. But before that, let me get some juice. Grape juice, since my tummy is hurting. There were 2 tables with juice – one on the left, one on the right. I head for the one on the left and the Logos teachers head for the one on the right. As I reach the table, I see someone grab the grape juice and finish off the last few drops of it. Dang. So I head to the table on the right and for some reason the Logos teachers were still lingering there. I make my move.

Turns out that one of the teachers in the group is also a grade 1 teacher! As am I. And very friendly and interested in connecting with us. She even offered to grab my email and wrote her email and phone number down for me even without me asking! I’m feeling quite blessed right now at the providence God has placed on my life!

And to top the day off, we had a talk by Patrick Somethingsomething, the Director of International Justice Mission (IJM) in Cambodia on the current situation of sex trafficking in Cambodia. It was very matter-of-factly, very thought-provoking and very convicting.

Oh yea, on a side note, I was nominated by my discussion group to present our answers to all the participants because I was the only one in my group who spoke English. So the upside is that people now know I am not Khmer and approach me in English. The downside is that people point at me and speak in Khmer and all I can catch is “Anglaise, Anglaise!” – meaning English, English!

Still don’t get this whole networking thing. I feel like I’m a school kid at the end of the year getting people to sign my yearbook. So awkward. But I’m so blessed to be able to be at a conference with some awesome people and hear first hand about what’s happening in Cambodia.

1 Month – 2 days: Thoughts on the Conference

Head is spinning. Mind is blown. The conference is organised by the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Centre based in the UK and was held in the iCAN British International School in Phnom Penh. First of all, most amazing school I’ve ever seen! Small but very well equipped and well designed.

Second and most importantly, amazing people there. The trainers are International Child Protection Network big wigs from the UK and they got the British Ambassador and special folks to open the session. Quite the affair. Quite the place to network too if I knew how to network. Also, conference has drawn people from all sorts of organizations, schools and ministries. Got the people from the Ministry of Education – don’t really care for them honestly because they’re older Cambodian men who seem more interested in the free food than the conference actually. There’s the policemen with their uniform. Foreign teachers, local teachers and lots of NGO personnel. Now, those are the interesting folks.

When I first came to Sihanoukville, I noticed a sign for a gallery at the beach for art that beach kids made. The organization is called Cambodian Children's Painting Project. That got me excited because it was exactly what I was interested in. Turns out the Director of that organization was in the bus with us from Sihanoukville and I got to meet her. She’s Canadian, from Edmonton. Tall, tanned lady – the kind you look at and think: she’s one of those cool, adventurous grandmothers who have decided this is how she will spend her retirement. But somehow, I also get a sense that this lady is looking for something more. Something that will satisfy her more than just doing humanitarian work…

Met a whole bunch of people from other NGOs that work with street kids. Village Kids, Riverkids Foundation, M’Lop Tapang… The guy from M’Lop Tapang, connected with various international players including the International Justice Mission, is particularly interesting. M’Lop Tapang is an NGO based in Sihanoukville and focusing on beach kids so their strategy is very particular and localized. And if you’ve read my previous blog posts, I have had an interest in beach kids and how to interact with them. So the presentation from M’Lop Tapang was such an eye-opener and an answered prayer. Praying, too, in the next few days that God would connect me with the right people to help with implementing programs in my school and, personally, maybe even getting into more community development stuff in the future. Got some name cards – people like to give me name cards when they find out I’m foreign I think. That is, if they find out I’m foreign.

So I’m usually quite honoured when people say I look Khmer. But after a while, it gets REALLY FRUSTRATING. Why? Because I CAN’T speak Khmer! I just get pushed around and people speak over me and look at me weird when I don’t laugh at their jokes or acknowledge them. And I can see that they think I’m dumb or something because I’m always looking lost. But I feel so arrogant every time I declare that I don’t speak Khmer and that I’m not Khmer – like I don’t want to associate with them. For the first time, today, I wished I was white. Man, sometimes it’s so much easier to stand out as the foreigner. I was looking at all the white people in their little cliques speaking English and I was so jealous. Wasn’t one of them so I couldn’t join them. Not one of the Khmer people either. So there I was during break time and lunch time – the awkward little Asian girl who can’t speak Khmer. Today was tiring – had a million people come up to me and speak Khmer, had to explain a million times that I wasn’t Khmer and see their puzzled expression of “but you look Khmer so you must speak Khmer”. Oh, the adventures of me.

However, all in all, a very, very exciting opportunity. In the middle of June this year, I decided in my room in Toronto that I wanted to get into international development and that if it was God’s will that He would open doors. I had no clue where to begin, and no contacts. 2 weeks later, I find myself interning for a not-for-profit that does development and community awareness through art. 3 months later, I’m on a plane heading for Cambodia for a year. And now, I’m in a meeting with NGOs, government officials, social workers and UN personnel from Cambodia, UK and all over the world really. Wow, maybe if I ask God for a moto, I’ll get one for Christmas! Kidding. God is no genie in a bottle. No, definitely not. He is way more gracious, way more powerful and way more amazing. He’s not only a good God but a just God. He is a God of justice.

1 Month – 2 days: Thoughts on Phnom Penh

The best way to discover downtown Phnom Penh is on the back of a moto, worming your way between a Lexus and a Toyota, wind in your hair, dust in your eyes, flashes of lightning illuminating the moody clouds at night.

I felt like a kid in a candy store looking at all the bright lights of Phnom Penh. And was thinking what a big and modern city Phnom Penh was. A sign that I’ve been spending too much time in seclusion in Sihanoukville.

I don’t really like not knowing where I’m going and sitting on the back of someone’s moto I just met a few minutes ago. So I determined, today, to get my moto license one day. One day, I’ll make it happen!

Visual Candy:

1. 3 dead pigs on the back of someone’s bike

2. 10 meter giant lobster on top of a lobster restaurant

3. And my all time favourite, pigs on a spit. Lots of them.

Some bits of Phnom Penh remind me of BJ. A smaller, dirtier, messier version of BJ. And swap half the bicycles for motos and half the cars for tuk tuks.

1 Month – 3 Days = 2 Boys + 1 Girl on a Moto

So, Phnom Penh, teacher from Life School, his friend picked us up from bus station, 3 of us plus our bags on a motorbike, me looking at diarrhoea on a plate (aka street food) and gulping it down. Hoping I’m fine tomorrow morning. Had to politely decline diarrhoea in a cup. Will let you know tomorrow if I survived the night. If you don’t understand my writing, neither do I. Tired. In Phnom Penh now for a conference on child exploitation education. Excited.

Too much to say, too busy/tired to write

Twenty Something Plus One: School Updates

We have a new principal! My roommate, Megan, a kindie teacher from Alabama has offered to take up the position. So things are looking up. Still a whack load of work to do but at least we have direction now. Some things I am excited about:

1. Morning Devotions

We are looking for a kids’ bible study curriculum so that we can have consistency with morning devotions for the kids and not just wing it every morning. Usually, each teacher picks a story from the bible and we end off with singing and dancing from a Vacation Bible School (VBS) CD we have. It’s been good but a little unorganized sometimes. So I suggested going through the book of John from beginning to end so that we focus on Jesus and who Jesus is before going into the more complicated stories. I am excited because, for me, growing up in a Christian school, I heard and I knew all the stories, all the verses but I wish at such a young age, that someone had really explained Jesus. Not just that Jesus is good and Jesus is love but that Jesus is GOD. Jesus is GRACE. Jesus is EVERYTHING the other bible stories point to – would have saved me a couple years trying to figure that out for myself maybe. I hope and I pray that this time, when the kids hear about Jesus, that He will not just be a story about someone great but that He would be life itself.

It excites me to think something small like devotions in the morning could have an impact for eternity, even if just for the life of one child.

2. A New School Building

This is more a long term vision. Currently, we have a school that’s nursery until grade 4. Next year, when the kids in grade 4 go up to grade 5, we will have no more classrooms. Also, our playground is basically a plot of dirt with a broken slide and a couple muddy tyre swings. So, hopefully a ne building which will not flood every time it rains heavily. Without a new building, our kids don’t have a school next year. Plus, we need more teachers. Most of us are already doubling up on classes and on little to no pay. And it’s crazy to think that the future of 80 kids are in the hands of about 10 teachers not old and not experienced enough. Megan is 25 with just 3 years teaching experience, and doing Grad School in the U.S. part-time on top of being a teacher and principal in Cambodia. All the other foreign teachers are under 26, hardly any experience and hardly any money ourselves. Most of the Khmer teachers are have a basic education or working through college now. An impossible situation. An unlikely bunch of people. But a God of the impossible.

3. A Photocopy Machine

Our school needs a photocopy machine for worksheets and materials for class. Right now, we use the machine in the University Library which means we have to trek up the hill every time we need something copied. And we only also have a 50 page limit every time we copy something. So somehow, by God’s grace, we will be getting a photocopy machine. Anyone got ideas how to get hold of a couple thousand dollars or a machine?

4. Conference on Child Sex Trafficking Education

I got picked to go to this conference in Phnom Penh. So if everything works out, I will be going to Phnom Penh next week to attend a 3 day conference informing me, as an educator, about child sex trafficking in Southeast Asia, how to inform other teachers in my school about that and how to teach my kids in class about it as well. Very informative. I am excited to learn. I am excited to meet other teachers. I am excited to go to Phnom Penh. I am blessed to be able to get this kind of training – for free. Thank you, God.

Please pray with me for all these things – the kids, our facilities, finances and myself. Thank you for partnering with me.

Day Twenty Something: Lost Count

I watched an episode of Friday Night Lights few nights ago. It’s the one where the star quarterback, Jason Street, has been paralysed and is now in the rehab centre for a few weeks now. His annoying but brutally honest roommate comes up to him taunting him about how he’s still in the honeymoon phase where people are still visiting and sending gifts. But after some weeks, a few months, these things dwindle and finally, people forget and move on. But the thing is, you don’t. You can’t. Because you’re still paralysed. Harsh! But true.

After a few weeks here, I feel like I’m at a turning point too. A few weeks of hardly any internet, no phone, no TV, no contact with the outside world and no church was tough. Very tough. New country, new culture, new job, new people, new language. It felt sometimes like I was paralysed (no offense to people with physical disabilities). I’ve had to learn a lot of new things and let go of things that I was used to in a developed country. But I think I’m on my way over the hump. The hump that is made up of floods, the bugs, the power failure every morning and every night, initial adjustment, pressure, confusion…

That also means people start to forget and move on. I forget too… Less emails, no more messages, no wall posts on Facebook. Yesterday, I got to talk to my daddy for 5 minutes. The first voice I’ve heard from home in 4 weeks. I only had 50 cents in my phone so I got cut off after 5 minutes and I just stood there in the dark corridor crying. It’s been so long since I’ve heard a familiar voice. So long since I felt like I was someone’s daughter, someone’s loved one, and be vulnerable and dependant. Often, checking my email is depressing. All junk mail. But then, it also starts to hurt less. I am slowly getting used to it. And one thing precious that I cling to is Jesus. On this side of the world, that’s all I have. That’s all I can hope in. That’s all I can count on. Not always easy to remember but something I can’t afford to forget.

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

John 8:36

What does it mean to be forgiven of my sins? To be justified, to be set free? Absolutely free? What is freedom? True freedom? Freedom from my hurts, my shame, my bitterness. Freedom from fear of failure, fear about what people thing, what’s expected from me. To be so intimate with God that you are so sure that He will catch you when you fall that falling holds such a freedom. Oh God, that is deep stuff.

Days of Our Life International School

Marcus has not drawn Srey Leak a picture in 3 days. He has taken to drawing cars and playing with the boys again. He still interacts sweetly with Srey Leak but I think the infatuation has passed. And so has my hope. Hahaa kidding! And so, like sand that keeps piling into the drain every time it rains, these are the Days of Our Life International School…

Day Twenty Two: The Drama, the Scandals and a Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Who knew teaching was the least of my worries when I came here to teach? Teaching is tough alright but it’s the baggage that comes with teaching that is the problem. Well, there’s the other teachers and all the politics, there’s the parents (OH GOSH), and then there are kids growing up and growing astray. And when all of those factors add up, you just sit there thinking where did I go wrong? Today, I got a complaint from a parent, slack from some teachers and misbehaving kids.

The teachers I can handle. Some parents are a bit of a pain. They expect teachers to raise their kids for them. And getting a parent to understand where you’re coming from can be almost as hard as getting their little kid to understand brain surgery… in English. But then, when the kids themselves act up, you realize you’re so much more responsible for their education but also for the kind of person they turn out in the future. And that’s weighty. At 22, I’m not ready to be a mother. Not especially for 25 roudy kids!

But the thing that gets me by and gets me high is watching young love blossom. Ahhh… the blissful trappings of innocence. While some boys his age are starting to get into things like fighting, boobs, and other grimy things 8 year old boys get up to, Marcus is sweet, polite, still playful but listens well and tries hard to do what he’s told and learn from mistakes. When no one in the whole school volunteers to pray during devotions, Marcus steps up. But not before he looks around to make sure no one else has volunteered. At 8, Marcus has mastered the art of being a man. He is a bundle of a tanned brown boy with long lashes and a sweet voice. And Marcus is in love.

Well, maybe not love. But over-dramatization of young affection gives me something to smile about. My version of a soap opera while working with kids all day. Marcus likes Srey Leak. I like Srey Leak. She is the janitor’s daughter. Very sweet, very smart. Good choice, Marcus!

Ok ok, Rewind! How did I find out that Marcus likes Srey Leak? During Grade 2 English, I made the kids draw each other and they could pick their partner themselves. Marcus who sat all the way at the back called dibs on Srey Leak almost as quickly as I could finish my sentence. Not very scandalous.. but the next bit is sweet.

Marcus drew a very nice picture of Srey Leak. In pink with a giant heart shape on her dress. And then I gave them more time to draw after they were done. The kids could get more paper from me.

Marcus grabbed a sheet and earnestly asked: “How about Srey Leak? Can I get one for Srey Leak?”

“Yes, you may”. How could I deny young love?

He draws Srey Leak. Twice. One on the front of the page, one on the back. And then runs to the front of the class to put it on her desk.

But what warms my heart is to see that boys are not as fickle as perhaps previously thought (I am quite cynical you see). The next day was no different. Marcus again asks for more paper to draw a picture for Srey Leak. I relent. So Marcus got a special sheet. Not playing favourites here but I just cannot stand in the way of this boy’s endeavour. That would just be cruel. This time, he draws Srey Leak and himself next to a car. Hmm... looks like a date of some sort I’m thinking.

Turns out too that Marcus and Srey Leak get seated together in class today because new students arrive and seating arrangement gets shuffled. I wonder if the other teachers know. So now I look at them and I smile to myself seeing them interact. Marcus all chivalrous. A student in front of them stole Srey Leak’s eraser. Srey Leak is too sweet to get mad but Marcus calls out for me, the Teacher, and supposed superhero in this scene. But I come too late. Marcus has snatched the eraser back from the clutches of destruction and handed it back to the damsel-not-so-in-distress. The day is saved by Marcus.

It’s day 3 of the saga now and Marcus runs and plays with the boys like no tomorrow, gets his shirt muddied and his shoes wet but comes back to class and is as sweet as a pumpkin with Srey Leak. Haha.. this gives me hope about boys. I am not one to get into silly romantic fancies but kids don’t cover anything up. They mean what they say and do. And their affection is so pure and innocent.

I am excited to see Marcus grow up. I am also excited to see what impact he has on his parents and this world.