Two weeks ago, I stepped on Cambodian soil for the first time. I didn’t think I had expectations, but after spending a couple of weeks here, I realized, I did. For every new day, a new lesson is learned, and God’s heart is exposed. With each new lesson, another expectation I didn’t know I had is broken down. It’s hard; I’m not going to lie, but the outcome is beautiful.
The people here are teaching me more than I can teach them. I grew up being told third world countries are dirty, poor, and hopeless. Cambodia isn’t this giant exception.By American standards, it is dirty, and the people here are poor, but they are most definitely not hopeless. Everyday I see muddy trash heaps; I’ve seen families living in the dump. Plumbing is sometimes questionable, and it isn’t surprising when the electricity goes out. Constantly I scrub dried mud of my leg because it’s rainy season and all the sky gives is rain that turns dirt roads into murky puddles.
The dirty muddled in with the poor creates this perception of hopelessness, and I think that is what happened with me. There is one specific evening that replays in my head regularly, and it ties into this beautiful picture of Jesus. A picture of community, a joyful and laughing culture, and I have learned so much from it.
When I spend my day inside the four walls of the schoolyard, it is good. I can hear the giddy chatter between students as they wait for the gates to open while I swing in my hammock on the front porch. I can bask in the greenery. I listen to the rain. It is peaceful, but it is easy to get stir crazy. When the clouds hold back, however, we are able to go out, visit, and pray for people in the village. I’ve never walked away without feeling God deep inside my soul.
Let me tell you! I don’t remember the day, but on one of them, we went to Chun’s (a teacher at the school) house. I have never seen a more hospitable and loving family. As we walked down a long, muddy driveway that was surrounded with rice fields on both sides, an old house came into view. We were shown around with excitement, and led to a sitting table behind the house where a new house was under construction. Most of what was said, I could not understand because everyone was speaking in Khmer. A few of us were oohing and awing at the puppies and kittens running around when before we knew it, Ha (another teacher at school), started climbing a coconut tree and throwing down coconuts.
While this was happening, I looked to the left of me and saw this small woman-smiling ear-to-ear and hugging Ally. Her eye caught mine, and she came to me speaking in smiles and Khmer. Before I knew what was happening, I felt a string of kisses on the tattoo that sits above my right elbow. Looking at me, she gave me two thumbs up before kissing my cheek and laughing with joy.
Her eyes sparkled radiant, and she shared a joy with me I’ve not seen in America. I wish I could have picked her brain because her spirit glistened. We may not have shared the same language, but she taught me something, that’s for sure! She shattered expectations and showed me the love and beauty that the people in this country share.
Some may say, “It’s just a tattoo.” But, it is not. For me, it is a form of worship. It not only reminds me of the growth I’ve had over the past few years, but it proclaims where I will continue to grow. It is a picture of hope, of the third world and Cambodia. It is a picture of a box. A grey box that we all try to stuff the meaning of life into. It represents our human definition for success, right, and wrong. The gray flowers around it are cute, but they are boring, much like my life was without Jesus. But, out of the box, there is an explosion of color. Of fire. It is a representation of a God bigger than the box we put him in. He adds color and excitement. He gives freedom.
I put Cambodia in a box, but her kiss opened it up.
Her joy reminded me that just as oil and water can’t mix, where Jesus is present, hopelessness can’t exist. When our perspectives are our own, we live in a grey box. It might be nice and idealistic, cute and comfortable, but it is not freeing, and it leaves us stuck.
Explosions and fireworks are fun. They ignite a sense of childlike wonder and imagination. They bring us out of the box and show us what is to be child of God: free, full of hope and ready to play! 
