i am slowly learning the art of successfully using a porcelain squatty potty. i was first indoctrinated to its cousin, the ‘cho’, while in kenya where a small tin and wood structure enclosed a hole in the ground. the hole was rather large, i thought, which made maneuvering a little easier and safer feeling. with my flashlight held firmly in my mouth, i would spend my time in there totally enthralled by all the various large bugs cavorting about me. craziness i tell ya. then while in japan last year, with a bladder about to burst, i quickly overcame my hesitancy to use a very rural public squatty potty that was flat to the ground. wearing long pants proved to be disastrous; in my hurriedness, i failed to observe my surroundings, slipped my pants down, only to realize much too late that they were soaking up the urine of previous visitors, which was swimming all about my feet. i thought that after my initial horror i would be able to shake it off, after all, i once had urine thrown on me by an angry patient and suffered no ill effects other than my wounded pride. however, i spent the remainder of the day ruminating about the very unpleasant dried urine touching my legs, so sure my travel buddy, ben, was being his gracious self in not commenting on how un-sweet smelling i was. ugh. tough lesson for sure.
having to use the squatty only a few times in thailand, i never gave too much thought to the process other than remembering to pull my pants up to my knees before pulling them down; great haste was my goal. my home here in the phonm kul village gives me two choices – an elevated squatty potty, or the great outdoors. at first i would go in and out of the ‘bathroom’ as quickly as possible, convinced something horrible would befall me. soon, though, i began to linger and check things out more closely. not too many bugs, curious i think; the bugs own this place like nothing i 
have ever seen. there is a large reservoir next to the potties filled with cloudy pond water which one dips a small-handled plastic pot into for flushing purposes. several of the pots have rather large holes on the bottom – it is wet everywhere, and not with just pond water; the splashing of liquids and semi-solids is quite evident. wah! ‘it’s really ok’, i attempt to convince myself. it did not take long for me to realize that where one placed their feet on the potty was pretty critical. yes, i was contributing to the splashes that gathered around. yes, my shower shoes were quickly becoming ‘toilet only’ shoes; yes, it is slippery; yes, controlling the flow rate is crucial. it has become a sort-of game for me, one in which i am finding some ridiculous satisfaction with every success.
i have observed with fascination how cambodians, from the youngest to oldest, squat. a lot. and for extended periods of time. how can this be? i find it painful to squat for only mere moments it seems. after a while i noticed that their feet remain flat on the ground rather than staying on the balls of their feet as i do when squatting. one day while playing my game of control, i noticed my heels high up in the air – a light bulb comes on – i should be flat-footed. without hesitation, down they go … and off I slip. dang, a large portion of my skin hits a wet surface. wah in a big way! but i 
am way too determined to wonder what i just fell into and want to figure this out. so, i pick myself back up and onto the foot holds with my heels down. and wait. nope, not much of a difference. another light bulb goes off – perhaps i could multi task and get some squat sets in; my thighs and butt would be happy for sure i think. i look down and begin to consider how this can be accomplished without slipping off. it dawns on me, i’m losing it. ok, what else is there – ahh, my nasty feet. along with the dirt all about me, there are enough layers of mud caked around my toe nails to build a small mud castle. and the green algae-looking growth in the tile cracks would make a lovely paint for the castle. i then begin to count the bug bites around my lower legs; pretty impressive. I wonder how many bug varieties were responsible. oh, and there are a few stray hairs sticking out; alrighty then.
next there is the delicate matter of toilet paper; none is provided. or ever used by the cambodians except as napkins. and when you remember to bring it in with you, it cannot be placed in the ‘bowl’. oh, the dilemmas – how long does one wait to be semi-dry before calling it quits; how long can i hold my breath this time; where does one leave the remembered roll without it becoming wet and useless; where does one place the used tissue without a trash can while performing the flush before you can get to the makeshift trash bag down the walkway – having to pick it out of the pond water from whence it fell is horrifying; how am i ever going to scrub all of these various substances off of my hands and feel clean enough. one must be industrious for sure. i am finding new uses for my chin, and maybe my neck muscles are becoming stronger. perhaps this is not so terrible. inevitably i return to my previous speculations as to how the cambodians go through this process with what seems like little effort. i could not stand my deliberations or the mystery any longer – i asked seang, our translator, exactly how one takes care of their business here. let me just say…leaves. enough said. i need not ponder this any longer.
this brings me to the point of these musings – God’s indescribable peace. the squatty potty and its environs are just plain scary and hard. and grossly filthy. i cherish a clean bathroom, and i have been really stretched in a huge way with this. yet, i am finding this crazy peace while squatting in the midst of all the germs and grime. i have long experienced the peace of God amidst the trials in my life. during my struggles and heartache during these almost two short months of being on the race, this peace has been so multiplied and deeply rooted that it has astounded me. i have attempted to describe it to some of my teammates, but i have been unable to articulate the perfect words. i can only rest in it, and be ever grateful to my Savior for extending His tremendous grace and mercy to me in this beautiful way. i’ve wondered if this is what it feels like to be in His perfect will – deep ‘son thet pheab’ (peace) and ‘amnor’ (joy). one day while walking with my friend jessel to the cho in kenya, she was lamenting about having to go in. my reply to her was ‘count it all joy’. the next day, as i squatted, i found this taped inside the tin wall at eye level; i think it says it all, and speaks well as to where my heart is presently:
