I’ve been gone for eight months. Eight months.. Every night when I lay my head down and reflect on the events of my day, I thank God for calling me to this journey. So far I’ve ended my day in least 35 different places around the world, but whose counting? I’ve slept at airports, in my tent, on a train, at a monastery, under a disaster relief shelter, above alligators, and next to chickens. It just keeps getting more unusual but yet it all seems so normal now.
My new normal is spending 6 hours on the “hotel bus” to then drive 2 hours to my home for the month at New Hope for Orphans in Kompong Cham, Cambodia. The seven people on my team roll out our sleeping bags inflate our sleeping pads and make ourselves at home on the empty living room floor. We take bucket showers and use squatty potties without even flinching – well except on occasion when giant slimy toads or hairy 8-legged creatures try to interrupt your shower time. We eat rice on rice and that’s okay because while the nutritional value is low it’s a great thing to help you digest whatever mystery meat might be on the table. During the first couple of weeks on the race, everything I ate was probably worth writing home about, but now it’s just what we do. And I actually enjoy it. What do you mean the electricity stays on all the time in America? And you can actually go to sleep without a bug net to protect you? Both concepts I’ve pretty much forgotten all together. But who needs electricity when your days are filled with the giggles and endless energy of children? Who even notices the nightly attack of mosquitoes when every morning you can wake up to the sun rising over the endless rice fields?
There have been several moments since I left in January, but especially this month in Cambodia, where I have to stop and ask, ‘Is this really my life?” God’s been showing me how to embrace every moment – the normal and the not so normal – by simply staying present and seeking Him. As a result I get to live out dreams that I never could have imagined on my own.
I get to spend my mornings bringing Bible stories to life, I get to turn rainy days into games of mud football, I get to watch old movies and learn new games, and I get to worship alongside orphans who lift up their precious voices to their true Father in heaven. I have no choice but to make room in my heart for each of these children and the house parents who love them like their own. Unfortunately my new normal is always changing, always packing, and always saying goodbye. That last one is the hardest. And gets harder with every passing month. I’ve only been here two weeks now and can tell that this month will be no exception – these kids have found a permanent place in my heart and in my prayers.
“An adventurous life does not necessarily mean climbing mountains, swimming with sharks, or jumping off cliffs. It means risking yourself by leaving a piece of you behind in all those you meet along the way.”
