I’m in Saang, Cambodia. It’s the bush, and I am not completely positive of where it is on a map. It’s about an hour outside of Phnom Penh, but you could suggest any direction and I would trustingly and naively agree. Such information isn’t at all necessary to my being here. I gave up my once-obsessive need to know everything. It’s actually quite freeing.
For the time being, I’m living inside my tent on the second floor of a building called The House of Love. Sleep happens on an inflatable pad, on the ground. It’s a bit like having a camping trip every night, four of us right next to each other, our tents side by side. We try our darnedest to not let mosquitoes or ants inside.
There’s no air conditioning, despite the 100 degree weather and we have no fans. It’s the rainy season here in Cambodia and the weather can be a little finicky at times. Some days the heat is unbearable and I don’t stop sweating. Other days, there’s a cool breeze coming through our huge, open windows and the sky is dark with clouds. Rainstorms are sudden and severe.
Despite the heat, I’ve come to kind of love it here. These months are getting shorter, I swear it, and I find myself already leaving this place. Only a few more days until we travel to Vietnam and Cambodia becomes a part of my memory, rather than my current reality.
Every day I find myself in the same place, an occurrence strange to me. There have been few times on this Race where my ministry has been the same thing all month. Here, you can find me at a private school every afternoon. Having been given the privilege to teach English, we spend our time with Cambodian schoolchildren.
It makes me smile, every single day.
Contractions, adverbs, plural nouns?
They might not be the most exciting to some, but to me? oh my gosh it’s a red-letter day, everyday. Complete freedom has been given to me to be an absolute nerd. I’m free to correct pronunciation, for pete’s sake. For a few hours everyday, I have a white board marker and an eraser. It’s a dream come true. #nerdalert.
There’s something about the way these kids can’t pronounce “flashlight” that makes me grin. So what if they are sometimes a little bit unruly? Who really cares if they never understand why the plural of “ox” is “oxen”? I adore them, regardless.
Faces beam as they stand and say, “Good afternoon, teach-ah!”
Without a doubt, they are the most precious kids I’ve ever had the honor of teaching. They smile at me, they laugh with me, they attempt to teach me Khmer. Five ten-year-old girls sit in the front of the classroom; they are always whispering and giggling.
Seeing their joy, in no way inhibited, makes it so easy to see God in this place. Jesus wanted the little children to go to him, and I’m starting to understand why.
I’ll let you in on a secret.
Before this year, I would have told you that I really don’t like kids. I don’t have young siblings, I haven’t ever worked at a daycare or a school, I never really babysat. Until recently, my high school aged cousin was the youngest in our extended family. I haven’t been around kids much. I thought children were obnoxious, whiney, messy, and frustratingly repetitive.
Kid, how many times do I have to tell you that “ball” has two L’s and not one?!
Not my favorite.
Then came the Race. I have encountered, worked with and dealt with children every month.
Out of necessity, mind you.
In Moldova we ran an after school program for the neighborhood kids.
In Nepal I lived with five orphan children.
In India our ministry was loving on the kids at Jireh House.
In Africa there's no escaping them; they flock to muzungus like it’s their job.
In Thailand I had a nine-year old little brother that was with us constantly.
This is the third country I've taught in. Nine months down and I’m finally starting to like them. My preconceived notions have gotten a good hacking. Huge chunks of my prejudice have fallen off. It’s sometimes difficult to love them, but it’s getting easier to see them as Jesus does.
God’s probably rolling his eyes at me saying, “Jenna, it’s about time!” In a loving, fatherly kind of way, of course. Not in a condescending, annoyed way.
This month, he’s showing me his love through the children of Cambodia. He’s unlocking a love in me that I didn’t know I possessed (probably because it’s his). He’s showing me joy in their eyes, and it’s breathtaking.
