Month Ten – Cambodia
What a month.
Nearing the end of the Race it would have been easy to check out, to go through the motions, to be here but not be present. But the Lord had such different plans for how He wanted me to end, and He used Cambodia to bring them to light.
This month was a month where the Lord called me deeper and I wholeheartedly wanted to follow. And even though I stumbled plenty along the way, He brought me insight and joy in facing frustrations and in when an end is coming.
When our host, Chanla, picked the RTB Wolf pack plus Rosie up from the bus station in Phnom Penh in his truck tuk I knew this was going to be a month for the books. The eight of us, and all of our packs, piled in on top of each other and headed for the ferry. We were doing ministry across the river from Phnom Penh in the more rural village of Areyksat for the month.
A short fifteen-minute ferryboat ride later we arrived at Chanla’s parent’s home where we were told to establish camp in their living room. Shirletha promptly set up her tent of solitude outside while the seven of us navigated around each other, blowing up sleeping pads and hanging up bug nets. Trying in vain to create some sense of personal space.
We were told the next morning we would be kicking off ministry for the month bright and early at 8 AM. Coming off of our last month where we ‘slept in’ until around 9:00 every morning made 8:00 seem like it was the crack of dawn. We soon came to find out though, that Grandma never slept and woke up to chop wood or sing around 5 AM every morning, so none of us made it past 6:30 anyways.
In the mornings we ended up either teaching at the preschool, playing retail professionals working at the shop, walking around like the ragamuffins we are sharing the Gospel in the streets, or working on the family lemon grass farm.
Chanla’s sister, Toni, taught the preschool in the mornings so we would assist her in teaching fruits, vegetables, colors, the alphabet, snack time, break time and anything else that was on the schedule. The kids did not care that we could not understand how we had no idea what they were saying. They were just so overjoyed, some to the point of tears, that we were present and helping be ‘teach-ah’ for the month.
Ok the tears might not have been of joy but terror of strange white people, I just am going to think on the brighter side.
And working alongside Toni was one of the greatest parts of the month.
When it came to their shop we helped man the counter and give them respite in their day in and day out activities. It was an investment him and his wife made in order to be a light to those around them and eventually provide jobs for people in the congregation of his church. Chanla and his family were always thinking of how to best serve others.
Lemon grass farming was a whole new venture for us. Beginning with the long pants, shirts, and tall socks we were advised to wear, we knew it was going to be an experience that would be a more memorable part of our Race.
The process was to cut the bushels and then sort them into bundles a certain weight in order to later be sold. Some of the bundles were taken and replanted on the farm in order to grow a new crop in three months time. We got filthy and the lemon grass cut our arms up, but I loved this part of the month. We became a part of the family business and I learned a trade I am sure I will be successful with back in the States if I need a fallback plan on my future.
Farmer Kelly Anne…well, maybe not.
In doing street ministry we were given pamphlets written in Khmer about the love and mercy of our God to hand out. We passed many protectively loud dogs, chickens trapped under chicken wire coops (I get the correlation now), giant, skinny, white cows hiding out under houses for shade, mud piles in the road threatening to slip us up, and beautiful, smiling people who graciously accepted us through their doorframe as we awkwardly bowed and said the two words in Khmer that we know – Hello and Thank you.
On Sundays one of us was asked to give a message so for the three Sundays we were there. Molly, Anna, and I gave messages. I loved the challenge of going deeper into a topic that the Lord wants other people to hear. We needed a translator, obviously since none of us spoke Khmer, so we either had Chanla or Toni do the honors. And if you ever need a laugh, like the entire congregation did, just picture Toni and me on stage next to each other. Like I didn’t need further emphasis on how giant of a human I am everywhere else in the world.
In the evenings we were blessed with the opportunity to teach English. I say blessed because I already expressed my true feelings on the subject in a previous blog. Molly and I taught the high school class and every night was a new undertaking. Beginning with us manually twirling on the ceiling fans hanging from the tin roofs.
With Molly having the teaching skills and my ability to write on a white board, we were a match made in heaven. Maybe it was the mystery of our American accent and how we spoke and none of them understood us, but our high school students were quick to fall in love. Teaching English was an endeavor I knew I would eventually have to endure on the Race and these are the kids I am so glad I did it with.
Our last night with them, our goodbyes made six of them cry and many ‘I love you’s’ were said. A few marriage proposals through scarves might have occurred, we’re not quite sure, but we accepted none the less from our troublesome boys in the back who had dubbed themselves the ‘Team’.
I would call that a success as a teacher since I have no previous experience in the matter.
This month we were transported in a truck tuk where we wedged the eight of us in to be dropped off at the various ministry locations everyday. If I was lucky though, I was given the chance to drive a scooter and relive my glory days of owning one back in the States. It was not quite the same with the roads being unpaved and everything, but I still confidently took the wheel like I knew what I was doing. And I often had Molly put her life in my hands and jump on the back.
It was renewed freedom and joy to independently drive something again and laugh the entire time.
We spent an afternoon of beauty salon. One of my best friends at home, Anna, who is a cosmetologist, is going to kill me for this, but Molly took child art class scissors to my hair to attempt to tame the mane. And I am pleased to announce, she succeeded from watching Alyssa cut hair all Race. I’m always up for new ‘why not?’ experiences anyways.
Sorry Anna, I’m coming to you and your angelic hands as soon as I get home though, I promise.
One bright and sunny morning we headed over to Phnom Penh to pick up pamphlets to hand out doing street ministry from the Christian bookstore. Chanla, apparently decided to forgo putting gas in the tuk tuk. We came to find this out half way up the hill part of a bridge on our way there though. Hence, one of my favorite Race memories was born.
Cassidy, Rosie, and I got out to push while Bethany took on the most important job of filming the entire thing. We pushed it to the point of the bridge that then took a downward hill and we all jumped in like an ungraceful bobsled team and road our way down until we hit traffic and then got out to push it through to the gas station.
Cassidy wrote a blog, perfectly capturing this particular adventure.
Every little experience I had this month added up to be a giant and beautiful jumble of adventures the Lord wanted to take us on.
Whether it was chickens running around at my feet while teaching, a giant spider in the bathroom, ants sending Cassidy into a frenzy, bags of tea from heaven served at the stand down the street, overcoming spiritual warfare with Jesus on our side, waking up at 5 AM to music blaring out of speakers down the street celebrating that their new house was built, our matriarchal crazy grandma, or meeting unlikely but incredible new friends from Texas on a short term missions trip and doing eyeglass ministry with them, this month was one for the books.
