I remember meeting our host, P.Tom (Pastor Tom) for the first time. He started off the conversation with a joke. I remember his laugh and how contagious it was. I remember instant excitement about the upcoming month rush through me.
I remember staying up till 1am helping Brooke string different pieces of yarn all over the house. She wanted to carry on her Easter morning family tradition. Each person was to grab a slip of paper with their name on it, and follow the yarn that was weaved around objects all over the house, leaving a trail to find the hidden easter basket.
I remember getting caught up in that yarn and having to cut and re-tie pieces together because we weaved ourselves in. I remember laughing so hard. I remember it was easier to army crawl or roll on the floor to the stairs than to move in a out of the yarn when we were finished.
I remember waking up on easter morning, celebrating Jesus with my team.
I remember BLACKWOOD, the coffee and restaurant joint we walked to everyday for unpredictable wifi. The waiters and waitresses smirked whenever we walked in and said “We’re back again!”. I remember their green tea lattes and iced cappuccinos for 10 Ringet. ($2)
I remember walking into town everyday in the 100 degree weather, having to wear long shorts and longer short sleeves. I remember the confused faces, double takes, and stares of locals wondering who the six white people where.
I remember the “White tent”. Our favorite street food vender. A family owned business that was opened every night, and used to racers. They memorized our favorite orders and sometimes gave us free drinks.
I remember laughter. High pitched giggles filling the walls of the preschool next door. I remember my favorite little boy, Samuel, speaking with a Nigerian accent and lisp. It was almost to cute to handle.
I remember meeting Samuel’s mother. A young women, from Nigeria. She moved to Malaysia to study. Her husband is living in the hospital, in desperate need of a liver transplant. I remember the tired look on her face and desperation in her voice as she told me she is out of hope and rescources. The only thing she knows to do at this point is pray. I remember trying to encourage and comfort her. I remember walking back into my house, sitting down and crying over the situation, knowing I can’t do anything to help her. I continue to pray for that situation.
I remember meeting teacher Ina. A muslim women who taught the class I assisted and taught. She would tell me about the Malay and Muslim culture during our breaks
I remember teacher Ina telling me about the rules Muslim women had to follow in marriages. I remember sitting back in humility and reflection about how much freedom I have had my whole life.
I remember how weird it felt to teach english to young students who knew more languages than I.
I remember jumping on a Ferry to get to Penang Island and seeing the beach for the first time in a while. I remember snorkeling, island hopping, and swimming with sharks for less than it would cost me to rent a hotel for a night in the states.
I remember chillin on the beach at night, watching locals perform fire shows. We sat with a man from Australia and exchanged stories.
I remember our host teaching us about Spiritual gifts and praying over us individually. I remember him confirming my very prayer aloud to me- not knowing that had been my prayer to begin with. Those are the moments that show me how real God is, and that he DOES speak.
I remember the Wednesday night market. The whole town was there, shoulder to shoulder walking under the line of tents selling smoothies, meat dishes, fruits, donuts, Indian food, and Malay food.
I remember the moment I realized the diversity of students in the preschool. Malay, Muslim, Indian, and Nigerian.
I remember sleepless nights for weeks on end because of the heat.
I remember the bugs and sleeping with bug spray and itch cream to re-apply without having to fully wake up.
I remember spending my Easter morning listening to music and worshipping Jesus as I painted watercolor at BLACKWOOD coffee house.
I remember being asked to teach the 4 & 5 year old class for the first time. I caught a glimpse of what my sister does everyday. Major props, sis.
I remember my hosts telling us about their decision to home school their children because the public schools teach Muslim religion. I remember hearing them explain that they are fully depending on God to provide the funds to make homeschooling possible. A week later, my teammate informed us her parents (former homeschooling parents) wanted to fund the materials needed. I remember the praise and relief in the eyes of P.Tom and Sharmila.
I remember hard team times. Rough conversations, and tension. I remember difficult team dynamics and choosing to press in to the uncomfortable to try and make things better.
I remember dancing in the middle of the street at night when it began to rain. I remember pure laughter and joy, rejoicing in the cool weather.
I remember morning runs and afternoon workouts in extreme heat.
I remember reading “Rising Strong” by Brene Brown. I couldn’t put it down.
I remember walking into town and my teammate being punched in the arm from a man on a motorcycle driving by. Not everyone is a fan of white people, or christians.
I remember trying Daal and Rotee for the first time- Indian food. So good.
I remember my teammate reading “LOVE DOES” by Bob Goff aloud as we sat and listened.
I remember the fight for strong wifi to talk to my family. I remember walking to four different cafe/ restaurants and purchasing something at every location so I could access their wifi and finish the same conversation. Family is worth the hassle.
I remember praying over a group of teenagers that were Indian, wanting to be Christian. I remember reflecting on my religion, and how easy it has been for me to practice with the support of my nation and family.
I remember loving my hosts, but struggling against the desire to be home most of the month. I remember fighting the urge to daydream about America, and work at focusing on where I was at.
I remember dealing with spiritual warfare and often feeling a dark presence around. I remember learning from our host about locals worshipping dark spirits and praying against Christians in town. I remember joining together everyday and night with my team to pray over our ministry, safety and the house. Greater is He that is with us than he that is in the world.
I remember seeing Muslim women covered from head to tow, only showing their eyes. I remember the flood of emotions for those women, and the conversations it brought up with my team.
I remember wanting to rent a jet ski. They take me back to my favorite childhood memories in Tahoe with my family every summer. They were expensive to rent and I decided it wasn’t worth it. I remember swimming in the ocean with my team, and a local Malay drove by, randomly picked me up and let me ride and drive his Jet ski. For the next 15 minutes, I was I was in Tahoe with my family, and it was the best 15 minutes that whole weekend.
I remember my hosts asking us to pray for a miracle for the preschool and hearing that they needed to make a decision within the next three days about pay cuts or staff cuts. We prayed. On the third day, P. Tom got a call from a man who wanted to sponsor the exact amount of money needed.
I remember seeing God work, feeling His presence and celebrating the resurrection of His son in Malaysia. I remember feeling deeply loved by my hosts and building a relationship I hope lasts throughout my life.
