Growing up with two sisters my days were filled with protected adventure and my closet filled with dolls and dress up clothes. Never having a brother I oftentimes wondered what it would be like to have a boy in the family. Would he make me watch movies about superheroes, would he pick on me, would he be protective of me?
I now have 12 brothers and a resounding yes to answer all of those questions.
(The youngest brother Pol, 1.5 years old, who joined the family a year ago after being found on the side of the street.)
Coming to Cambodia we thought we would be working in an orphanage, only to pull up to an empty building marked with a “house for rent” sign on its gated fence.
We were redirected and now live in an apartment with our fourteen new brothers and sisters all who have began to outgrow the orphanage and are learning from our contact, Rotti, about being leaders in the church.
We live as a family here and they call us sister.
“Sistaaa, time for dinner!” “Sister, you told me you'd teach me a song on the guitar today…” or “daaa daa!!” as Pol insistently yells running around the house with a mischievous look in his eye and a bare bottom.
(Mai Mai – the youngest sister (4) – who is off the charts with spunk, energy and a desire to be loved well)
It's weird living with all these boys.
We watched spiderman. And avengers. Well half of both, because I fell asleep.
They like to make fun of us and mimic Amy's laugh.
They think it's hilarious to trick us and tell "white lies" in order to confuse us, which creates chaos and laughter.
We go out for ice cream and tease them about their girlfriends that may or may not exist.
And they are insistent on serving us anyway they can. Whether they do the dishes or let us have the best seat on the tuk-tuk.
They're protective of us and count us when we are walking around the village to make sure we are all accounted for.
They make sure we don't touch the metal railing when it's raining and that someone always accompanies us after 6 p.m – in case it gets dark while we're out – or maybe they've learned that if they come out with us ice cream is usually included.
(Pon Leu, he seems peaceful here as he is picking flowers for us in a lily pad pond, but he finds particular enjoyment from popping out behind the staircase to scare me whenever the opportunity arises.)
One thing that remains the same in this family and my family back home is a love for music.
We get to teach English lessons in the morning, but they want to be able to lead worship in church and we spend the afternoons teaching music lessons and new worship songs to them.
With two sisters and a music teacher for a mom, music is a big part of my childhood and family. There wasn't a day that went by where a song wasn't sung in my house, which makes this ministry both comforting and familiar to me.
My mom would have a serious hayday here and I'm pretty sure this month is turning me into her, a revelation I had after I told one of the boys he needed to play his guitar and sing his song in church.
It's fun to bring what I learned growing up and be able to give this gift to them and they are so eager to learn and practice every chance they get.
We wake up in the morning to someone playing on the keyboard or singing in the staircase and in the night we fall asleep with the echoes of guitar and worship on the roof ringing in our ears.
This family may be completely opposite of mine back home, but through all of the differences we found a level of connection.
Through all the mischief we found music.
It connects us on a deeper level than ice cream and super hero movies. And it takes everything lost in the language barrier and translates it into a beautiful song.
