Clean the Sacred Spaces

Being in Kolkata has been a whirlwind of emotions. I am not only fulfilling a lifelong dream, but also coming at a time of critical discoveries in my life. I am coming to terms with what the next season holds. Coming to terms with the little girl who dreamt of Mother Teresa all those years ago, learning that she held the future all along. I walk around with joy on my face and a lump in my throat, constantly overwhelmed with paradoxical emotions. 

When those emotions become to much, I go to Mother Teresa's tomb. I cry and I pray and I learn. Her tomb is the ultimate sacred space, simultaneously exposing and healing wounds. 

Today as a few of us left mass a nun asked if we would come help her clean out the room where the tomb is. She closed the door and we began- sweeping the floors, cleaning the windows, wiping down the tomb. 

In that moment it became painfully clear to me what the next season will be- it will be a time of cleaning the sacred spaces. Doing work that is not in slums or crowds, but behind closed doors. A time to stop producing and creating, but instead gently finding order among chaos. It will be lowly, dirty and difficult- but through it all things will be made new. 

Three Crying Babies

Right now I am working with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata. In the afternoons I am in a home for severely handicapped children who are orphans. 

These children are the epitome of beauty and authenticity. They have no concept of hiding emotions or living anywhere but the present. When I hold them and smile they smile back with all of the joy their bodies can contain. Some of them can't contain it in their bodies, and they begin to shake and shriek in excitement of the moment. 

But then I have to walk away, to change another diaper or feed another child. That's when they begin to grieve. Once again they are overcome with the emotion of the present. Those who can't move weep, those who can't cry convulse. 

I spend these hours trying to balance bringing love with the pain they inevitably feel when I walk away. 

On one of those afternoons I was struggling to balance two baby boys. Each of them would cry if I put them down and calm down once they were held. I spent some time trying to go back and forth from holding one to the other. Until I finally managed to cradle one in my left arm and the other in my right. As soon as I had soothed them both, another child in front of me began to cry. 

It took everything in me to contain my tears until I made it home. Because in this moment something I have held all my life was made clear. 

I have always felt like I was made to sit in suffering, share the burden, and alleviate it with love. But there is so much suffering in this world that I cannot hold one thing without letting another go. I want a cause to give my life to, yet I am drawn to all of the causes. I feel it all so deeply that I can't manage to hold on to any one thing. I get caught in this cycle of pouring myself out until I am so empty that I have nothing left to give.... 

So what do I do? 

Sometimes I get angry at God, I curse the universe for exposing me to suffering that I feel so deeply but cannot resolve. 

Sometimes I get angry at others, I resent them for being able to choose apathy when I am being torn apart with empathy. 

Sometimes I get angry at myself, I lie and tell myself there's no point in carrying on if I can't carry it all. 

But being here in the presence of Mother Teresa's work I am realizing that there must be another option. I think I've been drawn to her all my life because this is the lesson I must learn time and time again- that all we can do is be love and be present. The beauty of Mother Teresa's life was that she always focused on the small things, on the one person in front of her. When she sat with a leper, she gave all of her energy to that leper in that moment. She did the same with the Pope, with children, with the dying, with her sisters. Whether she was in places of joy or suffering, prestige or lowliness, honor or humility- she was always there fully. She didn't resent others or herself for being what they were. She didn't agonize over which struggle was hers to engage with. Instead she simply sat so fully in the presence of God and others that eventually she became a mirror reflecting Christ back to each person she sat with. 

Maybe I don't have to learn how to hold three babies at once. Maybe I can hold one child with all the love I have to give, and for that moment that will be enough. 

Belonging To A Tribe

Right now I'm in the Northeastern mountains of India. We are staying with tribal people called Rongmei. We climb through mountains to meet families and churches, we eat with our hands and follow other customs. Honestly it's the cliche "missionary experience" I always imagined as a child. And it's wonderful. The culture is full of rich and historic meaning, everywhere you turn there is new beauty in both the people and the landscapes. 

Hearing their stories and living their way of life has me thinking a lot about belonging and tribes. I hear a lot of authors and speakers from the States talk about "finding your tribe" or "belonging to a tribe". This beautiful practice of doing life with people who can understand where you've come from and where you're going, people you're safe with. 

I see so much power behind this. Standing alongside brothers and sisters, looking back at all you have overcome and learning through generations. Being with people where you have a sense of belonging and purpose, mantras and chants and ways of living. So many great movements begin with a tribe saying they collectively choose to live a better way. 

But with that I also see the danger of tribal thinking. I see how some are excluded because they don't follow the tribes way of doing or seeing things. I see how tribes become echo chambers in which we all become pleased with the uniformity of our war cries. 

It seems like tribal culture can give life to those who have lived under oppression, it is a foothold to reach up and find your worth as collective souls. But when that same tribe becomes those in in power rather than the oppressed, tribalism becomes a weapon of destruction. 

I'm not talking specifically about this tribe in India, I'm talking about humanity. Throughout history, so many religions, nations, and people groups have moved from belonging to each other in times of oppression to using their collective power to oppress others. Look at America-- what once was a tribe of misfits seeking new opportunity and justice is now seen around the world as a war-hungry nation of greed and ignorance. Or Christianity-- what began as followers of radical inclusion and love without limits is now seen as people with picket signs and megaphones excluding those of various gender/sexual identities and ethnic backgrounds. 

As I reflect on belonging and finding a place in the world, I'm asking myself- Do I want to belong to a tribe? And if so, what tribe? Emergent Christianity? Monasticism? Missionary life? Secular humanism and science? I love all of these things, yet claiming any one as my home tribe feels like a rejection of the others. 

Spiritual leaders I love speak about being able to "transcend and include". How do we transcend the exclusion of tribalism while including the richness of shared histories and sense of belonging? 

I don't have a grand eloquent closing for this post, so I leave you all with a paraphrased passage of Advent that I've been contemplating recently- 

Isaiah 2:1-5

It shall come to pass that the mountain of God will be established above all mountains and hills, and all nations shall flow to it. 

Many peoples shall come and say, "Come, let us go to the mountain of God. Let us learn God's ways and walk God's paths." 

For out of Zion shall go forth the law and the Word from Jerusalem. 

Disputes among many nations shall be settled. 

And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore. 

O house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light of the Lord. 

May those of us from all tribes trade our weapons of war for tools of new life. 

Uncertainty- A Dream Come True

In a few days I am going on a trip to India. I'm going with two missionary families, one family from Cambodia and the other from India but serving in Cambodia. I'll be there for an entire two months, and will be doing so many different things throughout several states. We will be building homes for families facing persecution, teaching at churches in different parts of the country, running a kids camp, joining in an Advent program, and so on... To finish it all off, I'm going to spend a few months on my own with Mother Teresa's Home for the Dying in Kolkata.

You see, I have wanted to go to Mother Teresa's center since I was about 8 years old. As a child she was the person I most looked up to, my favorite celebrity.. I have read countless biographies about her and her work. I hoped that one day I would be able to save up enough money to at least go see her center where it all started.

A few months ago I decided I wouldn't put off this dream any longer, after all I'm already on this side of the world. I told my boss and dear friend that I wanted to take some time off to go to India and spend a couple weeks at Mother Teresa's center in Kolkata. My friend laughed in surprise and  proceeded to tell me that their family was planning a trip to India and could use the help, she asked if I could come with them and stay after to visit Kolkata.

Now here I am, about to go do that which I always dreamed about... and so much more. I am finding that it is not only my dreams that are coming true, but more is being added to them. I never even thought I would be able to stay with local families rather than at a hotel, I never considered being able to travel to multiple states of India rather than only one. It is all so much more than I ever could have imagined.

Along with all of these new opportunities come new uncertainties as well. I'll be giving a sermon to hundreds, which scares the living daylights out of me. I'll be unable to work for money and left hoping it works out. I'll be sharing personal parts of my story with strangers. At the tail-end when I go to Kolkata, for the first time in my life I'll be alone in a city where I don't know a soul. It is all so much.

And let me tell you, it is 100% worth it.

There is so little we can be certain of, only so much can be held in these small hands of mine. Any experience that can be perfectly planned out and understood is too small to change you. I'm finding that when everything goes according to my small plans, I miss out on so much. These transformative moments cannot be planned or manufactured. The dream come true lies in the great unknown.

I get the sense that these next two months will be something I look back on for years to come and say, "that fundamentally changed who I am". I have butterflies in my stomach like one often does at the beginning of a grand adventure. And I know that so very much of it will not go according to plan.

So bring it on.

Life in Community

I was sick this past month with Dengue Fever. It was an extremely difficult experience. I can honestly say I have never been so sick in my life, walking even 4 steps left me breathless and weak with my heart beating out of my chest. During this I didn't even have the strength to sit up for more than 15 minutes at a time. I was completely and truly helpless.

And you know what else? I was surrounded by community. Friends who heard I was sick messaged me to check in on me. Others came to my home and prayed for me. One of my dearest friends even brought soup and other foods to help me gain strength again. My roommate checked on me regularly and cooked and cleaned for me for over a week. When I began to recover my roommate even brought a rolling chair into our kitchen because I couldn't stand for long but wanted to be able to get my own food. I was completely overwhelmed at how people cared for me and came alongside of me.

I've always been someone who wants to serve, but was afraid to be served. I usually get into community to be near others, but then keep them at arms length when my own weakness comes up. The people who have surrounded me here in Cambodia have completely destroyed all of the walls I built around myself with their persistent love and caring.

When I first came to Cambodia I realized I needed to learn how to let others help me. Throughout my time here that lesson seems to come up again and again in different ways. I'm learning to not only be okay with being helped, but to love the back and forth of true friendships. There is a beauty to having people who we can lean on in tough times without feeling guilty, and having them feel the same toward us. We are made to live this way, to live in community.

I'm not saying it's easy- it's hard to be vulnerable and expose your weakness to others. But I have found that it is in my weakness that true strength arises. By letting go of my need to be my own hero, I find that I have more people caring for me than I ever could have hoped for. We are more together than we ever could be on our own. That, my friends, is the beauty of life in community.

Grant me the serenity

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The Serenity prayer, I remember first hearing of it when I was in a 12 step program in my teenage years. Since then I have repeated the prayer to myself in particularly difficult times. 

Today was one of those times. Those moments when your heart is broken so deeply that you have to beg God for the strength to make it through. 

I was in a village that my organization recently began reaching out to. As usual, I would ask to hold most babies I came across. As I held one particular child, the woman who handed him to me began to gesture as if she wanted me to go away. She pointed to the child and pointed to me and gestured for us to go. One of my Khmer coworkers and friends began to listen to the woman and translate to me what she was saying. 

The child was her nephew, the child of her younger sister. The mother was barely 17, the father in prison. They were a shame to the family because they weren't married. The baby boy had asthma and there was no way for them to afford additional medical bills. This woman was asking me to take the child as my own. As we stood there she began to become more adamant, as the child looked at me she would gesture to me calling me "mother". It was all I could do to hold this sweet boy without crying. 

In these villages I stick out as a foreigner, I've been in places where people have "joked" about selling their child to me so the child would have a better life. But this was the first time where they were completely genuine, asking me to just take the child and give them nothing in return. I held this unwanted baby in my arms, wishing I could tell him as he grows that he is always infinitely wanted. 

As I held him, I begged God for serenity.... the serenity to accept that I cannot take this beautiful boy from his community. The serenity to know that there are "unwanted" children like him all over the world that will never even be held. Serenity to keep me from falling into a puddle on the floor because it is all too much. 

In that moment, I was reminded of the beauty of the serenity prayer- that it moves beyond acceptance of what is into courage of what can be. 

So I will continue to ask for the courage to change the things I can. I will be brave enough to wake up each morning and resist the urge to turn away from suffering. I will courageously love these children for the moments I am with them, without worrying about the time when I won't be around. I will continue to invest in and support this organization I love that is going to support this community for years to come, long after I have moved on...

In these moments I cry out in grief and hope- God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. 

Love is enough.

Mother Teresa is one of my dearest spiritual teachers. I have loved her since I was a small child, and even more so since the deconstruction and rebirth of my faith. I was recently reading (another) biography of hers and in it the author spoke about how the Mother would respond when people said that her work was so small compared to the great destruction throughout the world, that it was only a drop in the ocean. Her response...

"I do not add up. I only subtract from the total number of poor or dying. With children one dollar saves a life. Could you say one dollar buys a life? No, but it is used to save it. So we use ourselves to save what we can."

 This was always her mentality, with all things. Rather than dwelling on what was lacking or what could not be done, she put all of her energy into each moment and interaction. Her life was a series of intimate moments with thousands of people, each one changed by the crossing of their paths.

The same day I read that was a day that we were having a special kids camp in the village, where we would teach, play with, and feed nearly a hundred children. It's a wonderful event that is both difficult and rewarding! As we were doing this, I pointed out to my friend/leader that I wished I could pull one girl aside to braid her hair. She told me a bit about this child, that her brother and parents had AIDS. They left her and her brother with their grandmother each day, who was usually extremely drunk.

I wished I could take her and her brother away with me, I wished I could remove them from this life of suffering. I realized that this story was not unique, almost every child in this center has experienced abuse of some form. Yet when they came to this place, they could be children again. Here they could play and eat, they could be with people who see their pain and love them when they have nothing to offer. Here they were safe and cherished, even if only for a few hours each week.

I often lose sight of this perspective. I get so overwhelmed with the pain and suffering of the world that I forget to see the hope. In all honesty, occasionally I will suddenly be struck with all of the pain- I will once again realize that each day so many are being abused, starved, evacuated, and abandoned. In these moments I usually sob for a few hours until I can finally fall asleep. This happens more often than I'd like to admit.

I forget what Mother Teresa carried with her always, a focus on what can be done rather than what cannot. When she didn't have the means to give money or medicine, she gave kindness. She gave all that she had, even when all she had was a warm smile and gentle hands. In these moments, love is enough. It's not about whether we can save the whole world, because we simply can't. It's about realizing that what we have is enough for this moment, and every moment hereafter.

You have heard it said.... But I say to you.

This was one of Jesus' common refrains. He would often bring up a common phrase or a piece of scripture and flip it around. He would take it one step further, usually calling out prejudice, unknown biases, and religious laws. With one phrase, he would humble the proud and give hope to the weak.

Yesterday I was at a service with a friend who just moved to Cambodia, the preacher said to talk amongst ourselves about advice we were given when moving here or advice we would give to newcomers. She said that she thought it was important to not immediately view parts of the culture and the country as good or bad, but to first just see them as different. I couldn't agree with her more.

And it got me thinking about how this culture has allowed me to see spirituality and life in an entirely new light. The lifestyle of these people better resembles the culture Jesus would have grown up in, both of these lifestyles a world away from the American culture I grew up in. And while I have only been here a year, I'm glad to say that my view on nearly all parts of life has been turned upside down. Because here life is more than consumption or efficiency, it is about connection and relationship. I have found deeper meaning in every aspect of living through this culture, and I hope it has forever changed me.

So you may have heard it said this way, but after a year in Cambodia I say to you...

You have heard it said that order brings peace, but I say to you that it is in the chaos that we find true meaning and the peace it brings.

You have heard it said that you should first care for you and yours, but I say to you that when you care for the other you will find that others care for you, and we are collectively provided for.

You have heard it said that you are blessed with an easy life, but I say to you that you are cursed with an easy life. Because it is only a crutch that leaves you weaker the longer you rely on it.

You have heard it said that you should always reach for the best, but I say to you that when you avoid the worst you miss out on the growth and all that you could have been.

You have heard it said that your work is what you do in the world, but I say to you that being is what you do in the world, and your work only funds and flows from your being.

You have heard it said that to give love is the highest calling, but I say to you that learning to receive love is the root of it all and the only way to truly give love to others.

Learning to feel.

Most of you know that I spent the last month without a job. After a few life-changing events over the past year, I realized that I needed to take some time to simply be rather than always focussing on doing. In this I found that I have always used work (monetary work or volunteer work) to distract myself. I poured myself into other tasks and people to avoid what was happening within my own heart.

Being busy and helping others has been my drug. When my emotions were too confusing or intense I would shut them off and instead focus on someone else's struggle. Because it was easier to help them than it was to help myself. The problem is that like any other drug, you need more and more to feel satisfied; Until you reach the point where you are only a shell of the addiction. Even my loss of faith was triggered not by my own suffering, but by seeing the most extreme suffering in others after working with the aftermath of a natural disaster and slavery.

So this past month without work, it has been my rehab. Truth be told, it really did feel like I was going through withdrawals in the beginning. Out of nowhere I would burst into tears, having no idea why. Or, I would suddenly be overwhelmed with joy and laugh for no reason at all. There was a week where I couldn't sleep properly for days, I just laid awake wrestling my thoughts. Other times, I couldn't summon the energy to get out of bed and slept for unreasonable amounts of time, losing track of the days. Oftentimes I would feel completely numb, without anyone else to pull emotion from I had to look my own feelings right in the eye and welcome them back in. I needed to make amends with myself.

Now, a month into the process, I feel unlike I ever have. I have learned to sit with my own emotions without seeing them as my enemy. I can be sad or happy or tired, but I am still me. I recently helped a friend with a project for a kids' program. I have done that type of work so many times, but this time it felt new. Before I would have used something like that to feel okay about myself, to feel fulfilled. Now, I am already fulfilled and the joy of the work simply adds to my life.

I've learned a lot of other lessons in this time. On a daily basis I have spent hours reading, reflecting, writing and in contemplative prayer, because of this it feels like I've had the growth and learning of a year in only one short month. Yet through it all, this is the most beautiful lesson I have learned yet. I have learned that I am a whole person, I am able to feel and love and be valuable simply because I am. And more than anything, I am excited to see all of the beautiful things that come out of this foundation.

To be yourself is all that you can do.

Today I visited one of my friends who works in the red light district.

We caught up and made small talk, she let me pick the music in the bar. I asked her to show me a song that she loves. She showed me this:

She told me about the lead singer killing himself, she said he did it because of the thoughts. She said sometimes at night, she has the thoughts too. She told me that when that happens all she can do is cry until she falls asleep.

I told her, "me too". I told her about listening to that same CD in my car while I had the same thoughts. I asked her to please stay until she is old and gray.

We spoke about other things throughout the night. She told me about her opening this new bar/brothel because the owner of the old place didn't "respect" her. We updated each other on how each of our siblings are doing as they grow older.

As I left she asked me to pray for her, like she always does when we visit.

And I cried the whole drive home. Because that is all I can ever do- I say "me too", I pray, and then I drive away. Somehow it just doesn't seem like enough anymore.

I'm sorry there isn't a nice little bow to wrap it all up at the end of this one guys. It's just one of those nights.

It was there all along.

I spent this past weekend in the province of Svay Rieng. My dear friends and former coworkers at Children At Risk invited me to join them (and a team from Taiwan) for some well drilling and community work in a village where they are building a new center.

When we went I had the chance to see how the well drilling process goes from start until the water begins to burst from the ground. I was struck by it all. They choose the spot where they will drill, and simply begin to go at it, pushing a huge metal pole into the ground until the water begins to flow (that's the simplified explanation). The family the well was being drilled for had been struggling without clean water to drink. They would go door to door trying to ask their neighbors if they had water to spare. The dirty water they did have would rust and discolor all of their plates and utensils. All the while, there was clean water running underneath their land.

I thought about how that water was always there, they just didn't have the means to access it. They weren't given something new, but rather given the ability and tools to reach that which was already theirs to begin with.

A lot of spiritual teachers and mystics I have been reading lately (such as Richard Rohr) speak about faith and spirituality as being something that happens to you rather than something you achieve. God and the Divine are always working, the change comes for us when we begin to realize and access that. I never understood that idea until recently.

I am experiencing so much growth and inner healing right now, and I'm realizing that it's not due to any changes in my situation or environment. Quite the opposite, these things I have begun to see were always there and I am only now learning to see them within myself and others. It's an amazing experience, I'm excited to see the waters continue to flow.

The Unanswered Questions

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer"
-Rainer Maria Rile

This year has certainly been one of new growth and realizations, but this month has been especially intense, as I've explored my connection to God and to the world around me. Two radically life changing things happened inside of me.

First, some interactions with a few dear friends on a mission trip team led me to discover my hidden motivations, the reasons I do what I do. Through this process, I came to the realization that I've been working furiously to prove myself. When I was young, someone I loved dearly said some very hurtful, abusive things. Their words accused me of being useless, selfish, and beyond redemption. My friend helped me see how I've been fighting against these words for the past ten years, trying to prove to the world that I'm useful, generous, and worthy. I think these are wonderful things; being useful, generous, and worthy are certainly something to aspire to. But I was doing them out of shame and fear, rather than from my wholeness. I was insecure, and frantically trying to fill that insecurity by proving something. Since seeing this motivation, I am working on going down the path of inner-healing. I am excited to see the person I continue to become as I work through this.

Second, I parted ways with the organization I've been with since January. At the time I joined them, the hope was for me to engage in social community-based programs to enable and empower children and families. These included a sewing program, soap distribution, and a school/kids center in a troubled village. Recently, the organization decided to narrow the scope of their ministry to focus primarily on well drilling and construction (homes and toilets). Both of these are wonderful things, but they're not where my heart is, and they're not my mission in the world. Those are not my passion, nor my strength. I think I have found that one of my main gifts to the world is that I connect with individuals, building relationships and helping people to see their own value. Rather than hide that gift, squelch my passion, and go off mission to get a job done, I decided it was best to leave the construction and well drilling in their capable hands and move on. The functions they perform are vital to the communities they work in, and they have an able staff who will ensure they succeed.

While I parted from this organization on good terms and still have the upmost respect for them, this was quite difficult for me. I have struggled with co-dependency, which means that it has been extremely difficult for me to say no and/or set boundaries. When I quit, it was the first time in my life that I left something or someone entirely of my own volition. It was breaking a pattern that I have had for years. I fully believe it was the right decision and have peace in it, but it wasn't easy.

Now, all that to say, it has been an exciting time! These hard things have brought me a very new awareness of myself. I am proud of myself for coming to terms with these things, and moving forward, but I have realized that I need to take some time to continue growing as an individual.

I went on a silent retreat this weekend, and it was truly a life changing experience. Through it, I was able to move a lot of things from head knowledge into my heart space, so they became deeply real to me – rather than simple facts. It was a beautiful time, and has given me a fresh perspective on so many things, most that I do not even know how to put into words. It has also shown me that I need to take the time to be – without using the busyness of life and work to make me feel valued.

Rather than moving to a new organization immediately, I am going to take some time to simply be. I will be leading visiting teams for the next month, but after that I will be taking a month without working for any specific organization. I have realized that I tend to place my identity in whatever project or work I am involved in. Since I was 12 years old I have had people that "needed" me. I haven't firmly established who I am, when I am not needed or helping someone, and I think it's time I did so.

I strongly believe in dying to yourself for something bigger (some call it God). But I also think that you must find yourself before you can fully lose yourself. I'm sorry if this doesn't make complete sense, as I'm simply allowing my heart to put the words on this page, without trying to filter them too much. I am coming into a time of unanswered questions. When people ask me what I do or how much longer I'll be in Cambodia, I don't know what I will tell them. But I choose to face the unknown in hopes of finding a fuller, more loving life.

I am so thankful for those of you who have already been so supportive in this journey. I am excited for all of the beautiful things this will lead to, and I'm even more excited for the process of getting there.

I Am Valuable

I recently received a very generous donation from a very amazing couple. At seeing the notification of this, I gasped and then began to cry. My crying went from being full of gratefulness, to a full on panic attack. I cried myself to sleep, asking God why I would feel so much guilt for someone supporting me.

I spent all day today thinking and praying and contemplating this. You know what I realized?

I am afraid to accept love. I only accept love from people when I feel as though I have something to offer them, a way to prove my value. 

I have done this in every relationship I have ever had, even with my family and dearest friends. I always have had some way to make their lives better, to help them in some way. But I have nothing to offer this couple, they live in another country and there is nothing I can do to repay them. They gave with nothing to be gained.

That is a beautiful thing, a love that gives expecting nothing in return. Some would say that is the love of God.

All my life I have been trying to prove myself to... to my parents, to my god, to everyone around me. I have always been told that God loves us regardless of what we have to offer, because we are in God and God is in us. I am just now beginning to see this. As with so many other things lately, the ideas I always said I believed are finally starting to take form and be the reality in my heart.

I am learning that we are meant to love and value our neighbors as ourselves. Not instead of ourselves or above ourselves, but as ourselves. We are all spiritual beings, we all have God within us. Call me new age-y, but I believe that firmly. It's time I start living it out for myself as I do for others.  Honestly, I cannot say that I love and value myself now. But hopefully one day soon, I will be able to say it and mean it.

One Year Anniversary!

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of my moving to Cambodia. To celebrate, I took the day off any and all work. I decided I would like to get a massage, go on a riverboat tour, and finish the night off on a sky bar overlooking the city. My roommate came with me for a lovely massage and as we were in our Tuk Tuk driving to the riverside for the boat tour, the rain began to come down. Now I'm talking Cambodia-style rain, full on flooding and winds and chaos. This meant no river tour as planned. My roommate and I ducked from the Tuk Tuk into a restaurant to avoid being completely drenched. 

And as we sat in this restaurant and talked about the experiences of the past year, there was not even a hint of sadness or anger for the changed plans. Because that is the beauty I have come to find in Cambodia, it is that nothing is ever set in stone. In this country, you could plan your little heart out, and still there is no way of knowing what the actual outcome will be. Any plan you have is turned completely upside down, and instead you are left with something even better. 

I had so many fears and expectations when I came here. And honestly, most of them haven't come to fruition. I say that in complete joy, because I have gotten so much more than I ever could have expected. More friendship, more growth, more love than I anticipated. 

This has been a year of discovery, about myself and others. When I left everything I had ever known, I was only left with myself. For the first time, I was able to take a good, hard look at myself and recognize my desires and capabilities. I was able to see people without my usual biases and expectations, to see friendship and relationship in new ways. I could go on for ages, each month here has brought on new lessons to be learned and love to be experienced. 

But it all boils down to this; In Cambodia I have learned to love. As cheesy as it sounds, this is the place where I have found myself. And I am so terribly excited for all that is still to come in this amazing country. 

Do not be afraid.

More than 350 times. The Bible says "Do not be afraid" or "Fear not"- literally hundreds of times. It's as if there is this common refrain from start to finish of releasing ourselves from fear, a constant push toward freedom.

Yet we live in fear so often. I know I certainly do. I am afraid that I am not enough. I am afraid of how others see me, I am afraid they will think I am selfish. I am afraid that I can only be loved when I have something to offer. I am afraid I will never be known.

I have come to believe that fear is the root of all evil. We hoard money and things because we are afraid of going without. We fall into pride and shame because we are afraid we aren't worthy of love. We hurt others because we are afraid they will hurt us. The people who do the most disgusting things in this world are simply scared children, afraid they will lose if they stop fighting.

That is the beautiful thing about this Christ story. The idea is that Love came to get down and dirty with us, to get into all our messed up parts. And that Love was so perfect that it drove out the fear. We cannot simultaneously be driven by love and fear, there can only be one. When we choose to let love be the thing that runs our lives, fear can no longer hold the reins.

I have a big decision to make soon about my time in Cambodia and what the rest of that will look  like. Truth be told, I am afraid. I am afraid that I will make a choice that leaves other people hurt and angry. But if I can draw closer to the love, I think I can make a decision that brings the most healing, both to myself and others.

Pray for me friends, a time of change is coming!

It's in the past.

I am currently co-leading a team with Steps of Justice. At the beginning of these trips we take everyone to S-21, a school turned into a torture chamber during the mass genocide 40 years ago. I didn't go in, as I have done it before and knew it would destroy me for at least a few days.

As I was sitting in the coffee shop across the street I watched the Khmer people as they lived and worked around this huge historical building. A man near me asked what we were doing there and I said our team was in the museum, when I asked him if he had ever been to the museum he sort of nodded. Something struck me though, he absolutely refused to look at the building. As I looked around, I realized that was everyone. These people worked on the same street as this massive building and yet they refused to actually see it. They averted their eyes, they focussed on something else, they always stopped short of really taking it in.

It made me think about how we as people deal with traumatic experiences. Whether it be a genocide or divorce, abuse or loneliness, we all have our pain. We are all a lot more similar than we realize.

I have my own museum of pain, the memories of trauma and abandonment. I tell myself that because I have wrapped it up nicely and let people in that I have overcome it, that it is in the past and doesn't affect me anymore. But the reality is that I refuse to look at it. Like the Cambodians at S21, my life is run by this thing that I am unwilling to see. Because if I really see it, I know I will live it all again.

I'm sick of living this way, I hate pretending that the past doesn't matter when it is informing all my decisions. I want to learn to see my past for the beautiful parts and the painful parts. Then I want to live my life based on the Ultimate Truth behind it all. I don't know how I'll get there, but I know that is a life worth living.

Growing Pains

When I was about 9 years old I had a huge growth spurt. Each night I would wake up in tears because of intense cramps in my legs. I was growing so quickly that my body could not keep up with it and would ache terribly. Each night I would come to my parents crying because it hurt so badly, and almost every night for months they would draw a warm bath for me to soak my sore muscles in. Over time those growing pains came less often, and before I knew it I was hardly looking like a child anymore!

I am going to be honest with you guys, I am in a period with intense growing pains right now. On more nights than I like to admit, I cry myself to sleep because my spirit and my mind ache from the changes. It's not that I hate my life, quite the opposite actually. I love what I'm doing, who I'm working with, and the culture in which I'm living. Every day my heart is filled by the wonderful life I'm having the opportunity to take part in, and almost every night my heart aches from the walls being spread so thin. I am growing. I am learning. I am becoming.

I am learning that my value does not solely lie in what I can achieve or who I can help.
I am learning to not cling so tightly to a specific circumstance or season.
I am learning I cannot change others, I can only honor where they are.
I am learning that success is not only in my hands, but a team effort.
I am learning to honor the journey over the destination.
I am learning that it is okay to ask for help.
I am learning how to say no sometimes.
I am learning that I need people.
I am learning how to rest.

Each time I look ahead at one of these learning experiences I am knocked down by my inability to overcome. Each time I look back at one of these experiences I am amazed at how much more I have become. Like with my yoga practice, I am frequently sore and achy, but always astonished by how much stronger I am than I was the day before.

I thank this country for all I am experiencing here. I love this place because I am happy and sad and whole and broken and growing.

Working to be loved.

I have always been a bit of an over achiever. As a child in Sunday school I wanted to be the one remembering the most verses, saying the most prayers. In high school I couldn't have above-average grades, I needed to have straight As. When I began working full time I couldn't work 40 hours a week, I had to work 60, 70, or even 80 hours.

When I was young there were some crazy events that happened in my family. It was a very difficult time, and my father gave up everything he had to keep me and my siblings safe. He lost his home, his friends, and nearly his business. Without realizing it, I lived my life to prove that his sacrifice was worth it. I never touched drugs or alcohol and instead grabbed all of the "success" I could. I swore that I would show him the sacrifices were worth it, that he didn't waste his efforts on me.

My dad never asked for all of this though. I distinctly remember him telling me when I was a young teenage girl, "I am proud of you for your good grades, but those are not important to me. I would rather you come home failing every class but loving the people around you." Still, I continued to work to prove my value to him.

I recently realized that this need of mine didn't only apply to my dad, but that I also put this on my god. My god was a lot like my dad, he was protective and cared deeply for me, the only difference being that god was more judgmental and less talkative. I proved myself to god through endless fasting and prayer and religious studies.

Look god, I have pored over your sacred text dozens of times, do you love me yet? 
Look god, I am giving up my college education to take care of people, do you love me yet? 
Look god, I can move myself across the world for you. Do you love me yet? 

And so it goes.

But in the last year or two, I have found a very different God. A Force that draws me toward happiness not only for others, but opens me up to the scandal of being happy myself. A kind
Stranger that says, "I want you to love and to be and to be love!". 

It was recently revealed to me that my time in Cambodia is only meant to be a season for now, only a short chapter in my story. I'm not leaving any time soon, but I also have found that I won't be here for the next 10 years either. This has been a tough pill to swallow, because I love this country and people more than I could ever say. In the background there is this voice that asks, will I still be lovable if I'm not out here risking it all? Will I still be enough?

You know what though? Love is not a transaction, it is not affection traded for hard work. Love is wanting someone when they have nothing to offer you. I think that's why there is so much focus on the power of the Christian God- not so this power can be lorded over people but to show that this God loves with nothing to be gained. In this light, verses I used to see as petty take on an entirely new meaning. It is not a god that needs me to feel good about himself, but a Divine Pull that loves so deeply with nothing to be gained but love itself.

I'm not totally fixed. I'm still a perfectionist at times and need to work on my desire to please. I am growing though, I am learning to be without expectation and to realize that can be enough. I am learning to love and be loved in a way that is not to be traded and analyzed, but in a way that is all-consuming and unshakable. I am done working to be loved.

New Life

Happy (late) Easter everybody!

In this past week I have been doing a lot of thinking about living and dying. The Jesus story is so very full of death. The death of Jesus, the death of Lazarus, the death of an entire system. But in each of those events, there is new life that can only be found on the other side. Our culture is so afraid of death, both emotionally and physically. Yes, we are afraid of passing from this world. But we are also afraid in every other sense- the death of a relationship or the death of parts of ourselves. We are afraid of the small deaths that come from each ending of a chapter.

But the reality is that without death there can be no new life. Each year we must come to winter, it is only after the cold of the end that we can make way for the beauty and new life found in spring.

I have died here in Cambodia. I have lost everything I use to define myself, I have lost friends and comfort, I have lost myself. At times I have cried out to God, asking why I would be sent  here if it meant losing all that I was?

Because the best is yet to come, and I will confess I am only beginning to see the Light at the end of the tunnel.

I have been a "Christian" my whole life. At 6 years old I could have told you what it meant to be "born again". But I have only known what is it to be born again in this year. Because to be born again, you must first die. The old self must be removed, like a snake shedding its skin, to reveal the new life underneath. It is a painful, beautiful process; a process I hope to continue going through for the rest of my days.

So Happy Easter to all of you, I wish you all a year of new life.

How do you sleep at night?

As many of you may know, there is a grandma in one of the villages where I work who was in a terrible moto accident. She was bringing vegetables to the market to sell and another moto driver ran into her. He left her bleeding out on the sidewalk. Luckily, a group of people at the market pooled their funds to get her to the hospital and she had an emergency surgery to put a metal rod into her leg/hip to stabilize it. This grandma is now getting the help she needs (more info at the end of this post if you want to get involved!). But I wondered to myself, this man who left her to die, how does he sleep at night? How does he carry on believing that he took the life of an innocent woman?

Then a few days ago there was a terrible accident here in the city. A man was driving drunk, speeding down the wrong side of the road. He hit a moto and killed the rider on impact. Then, the driver panicked and while trying to flee the scene hit more than 10 other motorcycles. He killed multiple people, and seriously injured many more. A mob ended up tearing him from his crashed car and beat him within an inch of his life, he is now in a coma at a hospital in the city. If he comes out of this coma, how will he live with the guilt of all of the lives he took? How will the people who beat him live with themselves if he dies?

The list goes on.. what about all of the people who have raped and killed someone close to them, how do they sleep at night? How do people carry on knowing that they bullied someone enough to push them to commit suicide? What about my dear friend who is a pimp, who forces women into lives of drugs and prostitution? Where is the hope for people who have done terrible things?

The reality is, we all have done bad things in our lives. The people who commit these horrible crimes, the people we see as being disgusting, they themselves are hurting. My friend who is a lady pimp has been abused her entire life, as have most sexual predators. These people are stuck in a cycle, guilt leads them to do terrible things, which they in turn feel guilty for.

I asked myself where the hope is for these people. How do we get out of a cycle of guilt and abuse?

I think this is where forgiveness comes in.

I know, cheesy. Please stick with me a little longer.

In the last few years, I have absolutely hated people throwing around the word "forgiven". They would act like it is some beautiful miracle that an  eye in the sky doesn't want to burn me forever for stealing $10 as a kid. It sounded petty, shallow, and condemning. This was sick to me, so I tried to remove myself from messages of "forgiveness" and instead move toward messages of inclusion and wholeness.

But, as I often do, I threw the baby out with the bath water. It's because of stories like the ones above the forgiveness is important. I don't believe in a literal hell as a place of eternal torment, so in my world view people don't need forgiveness to get into heaven. Instead, it's the idea that the Divine Creator doesn't hate you for what you've done, so you don't have to hate yourself. It's the reality that you can let go of your own personal hell that you hold onto, and instead find wholeness once again.

Forgiveness isn't someone waving a magic wand and suddenly you're clean. Forgiveness is the opportunity for a fresh start. It's the idea that your past doesn't define you, who you are now and how you move toward your future does. This is the beauty of it all. An abuser can become a healer, a killer can bring about new life, and a liar can bring truth to the world. That is forgiveness, that is how we sleep at night.

Coming to Cambodia has pushed me to redefine a lot of things in my life. It has changed my understanding of love, family, helping, and now.. forgiveness. I guess that's what this is, just me processing through a new understanding of things I thought I understood already. For me, forgiveness used to represent guilt, now it is a beautiful freedom. If you ask me, that's progress.

I AM MAKING ALL THINGS NEW

P.S. If you want to help the grandma I spoke about at the beginning of this post, check out my Facebook for photos and an option to donate if you would like. We will be taking her to the hospital later this week to get the rod out of her leg and help her be mobile again. 

Thanks for your help and prayers, guys! 

My Suicide Story

TRIGGER WARNING

I am sharing this story today in honor of a girl I love very much. She has had a particularly rough patch the past couple years and confided in me a few months ago that today was her planned suicide date. I am telling my story for her and all the other people who are going through this same journey, because I do believe there is hope.

I have lived with chronic depression since I was 11 years old. When I was young I would spend hours fantasizing about killing myself, thinking of all the ways I could finish this life. I held all of this in myself, afraid to let anyone know. My family was going through a turbulent time as it was, and I didn't want to add to their stress. On a nearly weekly basis I would plan an attempt, but would always give up at the point of writing out the suicide note. There were more close calls than I can even count.

This brought me into a downward spiral; I hated myself for wanting to die, I wanted to die because I hated myself. Slowly the people closest to me began to see what I desperately wanted to hide. I wouldn't sleep for days at a time, then would go comatose and sleep for ages. It was hell in the truest sense of the word.

The crazy part in all this is that most people I knew had absolutely no idea what was happening. On the outside, I was a bubbly, smart girl. I got straight As in school, was in multiple clubs, and had lots of friends. One of my best friends actually realized that the more bubbly and happy I seemed, the worse I was doing internally. She realized this before even I did, she kept me sane.

This continued for years, sometimes better and sometimes worse. Until one day when I was about 17 one of my close friends found me nearly unconscious on the floor of my shower. I had lost so much blood that I kept falling between asleep and awake. She patched me up and told both my father and her parents... then came the intervention.

I was forced to go to recovery groups (similar to Alcoholics Anonymous, but for all addictions, not just Alcoholism). It was here that I realized being depressed or masochistic didn't make me a bad person. Some of the people in this group were wonderful people, they had dreams and hopes and people they loved. If I didn't hate them for their struggles, how could I hate myself for my own? This is when the journey of understanding my illness truly began.

I have learned a lot about myself since then. I realize now that my depression is more about the chemical balances in my body than anything else. If I sleep at decent hours, eat well, exercise and meditate, then I will remain stable. If I don't get good sleep for 2 nights, or if I don't exercise for more than 3 days, I will almost immediately get suicidal thoughts again. It is a constant effort to check in with myself to make sure I am still stable, so that the suicidal tendencies don't catch me off guard. At the end of a perfect day a voice will always come up telling me to end it all, telling me it can't get better than this. But now I realize that voice is not my own, so instead of being angry I can find an outlet to release the pressure before it builds.

Now, why am I telling you all of this? Why would I share such a deeply personal journey on the internet? For two reasons:

1. I want to change how people see depression. Too often we hear "depression" and think of a teenager wearing all black and running around crying. The reality is that depression is a part of life for people from all walks of life and all ages. Someone can have a fulfilling, beautiful life and still have depression. Like rheumatoid arthritis or chronic back pain, it is a difficult struggle, but it does not mean someone cannot achieve their dreams and lead a wonderful life. I am living the life of my dreams and loving it, I will not give my depression the power to hold me back.

We need to open the dialogue about this illness to realize that depressed people aren't broken people, they are just people. If the stigma of depression could be removed, maybe more of us would be open to getting help. If someone would have told me as a young girl that being depressed was okay and didn't make me evil, maybe I would have spent less time with a knife in my shaking hands.

2. I want to speak out to the girl I spoke of earlier, and all the others like her-
You are not broken. You are not defective. Your pain matters. You can fight this, you can grow old and fall in love and have a family. You deserve to live a full life, and you hold the power to find that life inside of yourself. Don't let this illness win, fight back. I promise you that if you choose to carry on, you will find happiness again. I love you.

*NOTE: I do want to make a note that not all depression is chronic like mine. There are many people that experience temporary depression due to a certain circumstance, like death in the family of a difficult season of life. One type of depression is not better or worse than another, and any type of depression can be helped by living with intention and finding help. If you are dealing with depression of any type, please get help. You are worth it. 

Different words for the same thing.

I recently went out with some good friends and some new friends to drink and chat. Two of those people were fellows who have very extreme political and economical ideas, they are hardcore Libertarians and highly invested in cyrptocurrency (such as Bitcoin). The other friend was a great leader in a Christian Evangelical organization here. Then there was me. We had wonderful conversation, discussing the root of morality and government and the purpose of social structures and religion.

When religion came up, one fellow brought up how he was a staunch atheist. He believes it is ridiculous to assume there are supernatural forces in the world, as nature is all we have and can test. Whereas my Christian friend, she spoke of her belief in another world surrounding us that is all spiritual and we can only catch the smallest glimpses of if we choose to. Later Mr. Atheist was speaking about how humans have a special value because we are the only creatures who have a conscience and a higher-thinking mind. We have something in us that allows us to wonder about the spiritual and to make decisions and see a better future in which we live at peace with one another.

As our conversation continued with more drinks and fun, I realized we are all talking about the same thing. Whether you call it God, logic, or karma- there is something within us as humans that ties us all together. It is a force that allows us to see ourselves within others, to see potential for connections and hope. Some would say it is God within each and every one of us, our humanity and the Spirit that connects us all.

There's a joke my dad loves to tell:

Child: Mother, who made me? 

Mother: God made you.

Child: Who made the animals and plants? 

Mother: God made the animals and plants. 

Child: Who made the earth, sun, and moon? 

Mother: God made the earth, sun, and moon.  

Child: If God made all of these things, then who made God? 

Mother: We did. 

If God made us in their own image, then we also make God in our image. For some of us, God is nature and all that is around us, for others God is science, for others still God is a spiritual warrior fighting dark unseen forces.  When we say "God" we all speak of different things, but what if we really are all speaking about the same Force, the same Reality?

Say there is a great, fantastic machine in front of us. My brother Matthew will say, "What can I do with it to make my life better?", my sister Marissa will say, "Look how exciting this is! I shall tell the whole world of how wonderful it is!", my brother Marcos will say, "How do I take it apart and how does it work?". For some the machine will be useful, for some it will be a way to connect to others, and for some it will be a thing to take apart and learn from. But it is only the one machine.

I guess what I'm saying is, I think we are all looking at the same Ultimate Reality. We may have different names for it or different ways of connecting to it or finding it in our lives. But I truly do believe it is all One, we are all one humanity. It is for this reason we love, it is in this that we live and move and find our being.

Touch

I went to an AIDS/HIV commune today. One of the first things I noticed was that the people were quite standoffish. They weren't rude or anything, but they seemed a bit tense and separate. They didn't want to sit next to me and if I stood near them they would back up a few paces. I told myself that they have had a rough life and to not take it personally.

Then I heard more about their experiences. They had been through so much pain and separation due to their illness and the misconceptions around AIDS. Their own families, the people who were supposed to love them forever, kicked them out because they thought they were dirty and broken. These people were thrown out because of something that is not at all their fault.

When we prayed for them, I put my arm around one of the woman. After that point, she came up to me and did not leave my side. She spent the rest of the time there with her arm around my hip or holding my hand. She was desperate to be touched. I realized that they had kept their distance out of respect, out of fear of being seen as dirty. Yet at the same time, they so needed to feel loved. They needed to feel like they were still human, like they could touch and be near other people and still be okay. It was beautiful and tragic.

It reminded me of Mother Teresa and her time with the lepers. She often was told by those around her to be more careful when touching the sick people, to protect herself and not get too close. She would always respond in defense of human dignity, speaking of the Christ that it is within each of us. To not touch someone was to deny their divine nature, their humanity, and the love that moved them. It's beautiful, really... All that is held in a touch.

I think we need to touch each other more. I'm not saying in a way that is creepy, or unwanted. But with our friends and our family, when it is appropriate and welcome. Put your hand on someone's shoulder when you compliment them, hug your friend a little longer when you greet them, don't be afraid to walk too close to people. I don't know what it is, but there is something so pure, so spiritual in these small touches throughout the day. It's an honoring of someone's dignity, a recognition of their humanity, and a way to connect without words. There are so many people here that I can't have a real conversation with because of language barriers, but I will just sit holding their hand or with arms around each other for long periods of time. And it is that contact that brings our interconnectedness to the surface.

Hurting people hurt people.

My father always told me this when I was young. Whenever someone did something that hurt me or our family, he reminded me that hurting people hurt people. When we are afraid and angry, we lash out. We go against the natural tendency to love, instead we build walls and break down relationships.

Today I went out to this village. I am planning to start some programs for the community and we were scoping out the current situation before beginning. While we were there, this woman came to us. She started off just talking, then crying. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but came up to her and put my hand on her shoulder while she cried. She quickly moved on to yelling, and arguing with the other villagers. Eventually the small crowd around us dispersed to get away from the drama. Meanwhile this woman went between crying and yelling for maybe 15 minutes.

I asked my boss/friend to translate what was happening. She told me this woman was upset because she did not have a toilet.

A toilet.

Slowly, the full story began to come out.

This woman didn't used to live in this village, her parents did. I don't know exactly what from, but her parents got very sick. They left the village at some point to find relief from their illness. While they were moved out, the organization I work for had come and built toilets for the villagers. Sometime after that, her parents passed away, and this woman moved to their old home in this village. Knowing the culture here, she probably moved out there because it was the only thing her family owned.

So here's this woman. She lost both of her parents and was forced to move to an unbelievably poor village. She doesn't know all of the people in this village because it's not her home. She's drunk in the middle of the morning and fighting with the other villagers, leading to her being even more alone.
She is angry and she is fighting and she has to go to the bathroom in a hole she dug up.

There are times when someone's pain is so raw and exposed that you can't help but feel it too. I could feel the ache she must feel in her heart. The pain that causes her to push people away comes from the loneliness in her own life, the loss she has had in the past few years has put her into a terrible cycle.

In the end, there are three thoughts I can't to get out of my head.

1. This woman needs a freaking toilet. Actually, everyone needs a toilet. It is amazing how much your chances of illness decrease when you have a sanitary place to go to the bathroom. A toilet is a sign of economic development, and it truly is one of the hugest factors in having a healthy life. You guys would be surprised at how blessed you are to have a toilet, to have myriad diseases that you don't even have to worry about because you live in sanitary conditions. 
2. The people in this village are terribly angry and hurt. They have good reason to be, they were sent out of their homes and treated like cattle. They were left in the middle of nowhere with none of their belongings. They truly lost everything in life. Everything. I think they have forgotten how to live without anger. I desperately want to help them see their value again, I want them to feel safe and let go of the fighting in their hearts and homes. 
3. Hurting people hurt people.
   It all comes back to this, doesn't it? People became corrupt because one man unable to love started a genocide that killed millions. Corrupt government sent people out of their homes and robbed them of their humanity. People robbed of their humanity and value fight for survival, they fight until they don't know why they are fighting. Children grow up in homes with constant fights, and they forget how to love.
   And the cycle begins again.
   We cannot let this cycle continue, not in this village and not in our own lives. When people hurt us, we must learn to overcome and resist the urge to hurt others. Maybe if we responded out of our love instead of our pain, we could change the world. 

I'm sorry this is a little scattered guys, I just needed to let it out. Please, let's move past the pain. 

I love my dad.

My dad recently wrote a book. It was an auto-biography of sorts, chronicling his life experience thus far. It reminded me how important my father is to me and the role he has played in raising me. It made me quite emotional, and reminded me that I am able to be on this amazing journey because of his hard work and the example he has set for me. In the worst of times, he taught me true forgiveness and love. In the best of times, he taught me about elbow grease and reaching for the important things in life. I am overwhelmed with gratefulness for having him in my life, and felt the need to write this...

When I was 5 years old I told my father I "felt like nothing but my name". I told him I felt like nothing else existed but my name and I didn't know what to do. He let me sit beside his desk for hours, until the feeling passed and I was ready to do something else with my day. I still get this feeling from time to time, he still sits with me until it passes.

When I was 7 years old I told my father I was going to have a business where I helped people.
I had a dream that led me to believe my calling was to travel the world and help the impoverished. I didn't know the words missionary or volunteer, I only knew that my father's "business" was the thing he spent all of his time and effort on (after family). Rather than correcting me or or telling me the correct words and methods, my dad told me a business for helping people was a great idea.

When I was 9 years old I told my father I was going to start an organization for kids who were homeless, I would call it Home 4 Kids. My dad helped me draw up plans and came to me later that week letting me know he had registered the domain home-4-kids.com for me. I still own that domain.

When I was 15 years old I told my father I wanted to join my city government through something called Youth Commission. When I was awarded a position in the commission, my dad spent hundreds of dollars to fly home early from a work convention in order to be there for my entrance ceremony.

When I was 16 years old I told my father I wanted to take college courses while I was in high school. He helped me register and left a note on my bathroom mirror my first day of class wishing me luck.


When I was 19 years old I told my father I didn't have the will to live anymore, and that I was concerned he would find me dead at my own hands one day. Within that week depression health supplements and myriad books arrived in the mail to help me through these issues. There were many nights where my father let me just sit next to him in his office until the morning so that I would not have the strength to go through with suicide that night.

When I was 20 years old I told my father I needed to move across the world to help the people of Cambodia. He changed his whole life around to ensure that my responsibilities helping run a household and business were taken care of, he gave me the freedom to move away and get a new beginning.

There was so much pain and joy in the years between each of these instances. There were opportunities that my father let go of to support us kids. He gave up everything to ensure our safety, to the point that we were partially homeless for a while and he still made sure we were provided for. He has shown support for me in each season of my life in ways that I needed at those times.

I have never doubted that my father loves me. When I wasn't strong enough to reach for my dreams, he was strong enough to lift me towards them. If I ever achieve something great in my life, it will be because of my dad's example. My biggest goal is that one day, when he is old and gray, he will look back on his life and see the legacy he has left in his child.

Transition

I have a love/hate relationship with transitions, moving on to new seasons. On the one hand, I'm energized by the idea of beginning something new. I feel so driven when I have a new task, a new thing to hope for.

I love seeing teams when they come to Cambodia from other parts of the world. I realize that each and every one of them is at a time of transition in their lives, they are being exposed to something new and becoming more day by day. There is a beauty in that. There is an amazing transformation that happens throughout our lives as we go through the different stages. I think the hope is that when all is said and done we would be more ourselves than when we started.

Yet at the same time, I hate letting go. I recently said goodbye to my friends and family once again. I had to let go of the ease of living in the States and the warmth of being in a home that is full and loud. And if I'm being honest, that was really hard.

I love the new, but I hate letting go of the old. Unfortunately, I can only hold that tension for so long. I need to learn that letting the past be the past is part of experiencing the new. If I constantly live in what was or what could have been, I will miss out on the world changes happening around me in the here and now.

I'm going into a new season right now. I am now the Project Manager for an amazing organization called The Rock Foundation. This will be a very new experience for me, with a lot of room for failure or success, depending on how well I do. I can already feel myself being stretched for this, but I choose to believe it's for good.

So here's to the new seasons, and finally letting go of the old.