I realize that I have not written in quite awhile. I’ve begun many posts, yet finished none. I have no explanation. This is simply an acknowledgment.
Welcome to Cambodia
I have lived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia for thirteen days. As always, Time is trying to pull a fast one on me by causing each day to fly by while I watch helplessly as if trying to grab ahold of the strings of a kite that is already lost to the wind and the ocean blue sky. The days have been good to me, though. I know I have not talked about Ghana, but I will. Ghana was far too good not to share with you.
Cambodia. Phnom Penh. I love everything about you; the way the buildings are sort of meshed together, yet each one unique to the next; the feel of freedom rushing through your hair as you fly down the street on the back of a moto enjoying the wonderful life the Lord has granted you; the tuk-tuk rides, bumping along to the song of the city; I love the plant life—existing all over cafes and in dreamy garden nurseries; the noodles, soups, and milk teas; and the people, hearts so kind.
We live in the city, above the church we are working with this month. All six of us are sleeping in a very long office room five floors up. I have a dreamy space by the window, called “my room.” This is strange, but one of my favorite aspects of life right now is how often I have to run up and down five flights of stairs. It is a dreamy stairwell. Sometimes I have Jesus dates there. It is a prime stairwell for singing eerie songs. When it rains, the sound of the drops echo throughout. On our floor live twenty college students and three families. Nights are late, cooking together, attending Bible studies, playing cards.
Each of us teach at least one English class a day. We rotate certain ministries and team appointed jobs. I taught English in the mornings with Adriana, our first full week, to the college students who live with us! We had a blast becoming teachers. The first day, I almost knocked down the white board somehow, and laughed at everything and everyone because I am sometimes a horrible teacher with no self control. The next day, I wrote grammatical errors in every sentence on the board, quite by accident. Every so often, the students will raise their hand, and point out one of my mistakes, and I will say CORRECT! I WAS TESTING YOU. Yet most days, I am quite presentable and can properly think and speak like a real person, and I make a good teacher those days.
We each teach a class or two in the evening as well, with different age ranges. My class is older elementary, younger junior high students. We have all become real teachers now, and I know this because after class I stand by the desks to hug each student, and then I sigh as if I have been teaching eight hours a day, five days a week for thirty or forty years, and I turn around and start picking up trash. I do not even stir at the paper airplanes I find, which I had so excitedly made a fuss about the first couple days. “MY FIRST REAL PAPER AIRPLANE MADE DURING CLASS WHILE I WAS TEACHING I MUST BE A REAL TEACHER.’ I realize, it is the feeling in me now when I pass by paper airplanes with only SLIGHT excitement, that makes me more of a teacher than anything. The children are so sweet and adorable, and I truly love teaching them. Sometimes during lessons, we break out in hand whistles [whistling in a very cool way through your hand] and singing the Greats, like Celine and Whitney. And sometimes we so diligently study that we have no time for fun and games. Anyway, I have had a billion little blessings by all the hugs I receive at the end of each day.
Other ministries include: passing out flyers, church visits, and bible studies. We go around the city and pass out flyers telling of the free English classes that are given at the church. Sometimes it becomes a challenge of trying to quickly hand each paper to those on a fast passing moto, while we laugh our heads off at our successes and failures. In the afternoon, we visit church members in their homes or work places, encouraging and fervently praying for them. It was such a blessing to be able to sit and hear the miracle story of one woman and her healthy sixth-month old baby whom the doctors said would not make it. Her baby girl Rebecca was such an energetic little sweetie, trying to escape my arms as if she wanted to hit the ground runnin. People need to visit other people more often. There’s something special about going into someone’s home bearing gifts, playing with the children, talking about life, yet more importantly listening…listening to their struggles, their joys, their stories. I’ll write another blog about my viewpoint on evangelism, because I have come to appreciate so very much the blessing and honor of having personal conversations with people around the world, the street, the store, the town or village, the cafe, the airport……sharing in the joys of life and also all I have ever known about my Jesus. I don’t say “my” because He is only mine…but because I am so incredibly fond of Him..and He is also mine.
Last week, Adriana and I were in charge of meals! Grocery shopping like locals, and putting garlic on everything. I never realized how much I actually enjoy cooking for people. I mean, I know I love experimenting with food, but I have just come to the realization that I do often find joy in cooking for others. And it is so easy to be filled with excitement when doing anything with Adriana! She looks at life through bright eyes and it is catching.
Dre, it has been an honor to be a fellow chef with you, as well as an English teacher to our college dorm mates in the mornings. You are such an enthusiastic person that sees all the possibilities of life and more, through everything you do. It is extremely encouraging to witness you live your life 🙂
The very best part of all this is that we get to live with the college students; and be apart from bible studies, church, and English classes, we are able to actually hang out with them and have good conversations [and hilarious ones more than not]. We have ridden on the backs of their motos to adventure to Silk Island where we swam in the dreamy river, or played soccer and volleyball with an entire team :), or played card games late into the night, cooking Khmer food alongside them, worshipping our Lord in unison, and smiling at each other constantly because we adore every single one of those precious humans.
Why is it so easy to love someone after only a week of knowing them? This makes for hard goodbyes, but easy hellos. Well, more on that later. I am cutting myself off from writing an entire book on here.
