This Moment

Today was beautiful.
Not that it was out of the ordinary. It was actually a supremely "normal" day.

I rode my moto from my home in the city to the village where I work.

At work I communicated with our team on patterns for our sewing project.

During my lunch break I helped one of my coworkers and dear friends with her English homework.

I had a drink from the coffee lady on the corner.

I came home and had a delicious dinner that my roommate cooked.

And in these little moments, I was overwhelmed at how beautiful it all is.

How beautiful is it that I can sit with my friend and help her with her homework? Me speaking my native tongue, her learning a new skill. It's incredible that these mispronounced words can bring us ever closer.

How beautiful is it that I can be a part of the ethical fashion revolution? In cleaning out cabinets and communicating about dress pattern changes... I can see lives changed when the West holds an awareness of their brothers and sisters across the world who are making their clothes.

How beautiful is it to be known? To go visit the coffee lady on the corner, to wave to the tuktuk driver who naps on the street. To be greeted by familiar faces each day.

How beautiful is it to enjoy a meal with a kindred spirit? To enjoy time with my roommate, reminiscing about the past and planning for our futures.

I've been struggling lately with staying present. In this season of preparing to leave Cambodia, I'll become obsessed with planning for the future or mourning what will be lost. Because there is no moment quite like this one. Life will never again be what it is now. It's both beautiful and sad. It's the vastness of this moment. 

How far I've come

A year ago I made a huge life change.

After an interaction with a new friend, I realized I was carrying around huge wounds. Not only was I living with these wounds, but living through them. I carried the belief that I needed to prove to the world that I deserved to exist. I would prove that I was the most selfless, the most loving, the least confrontational. I worked endlessly to serve, to be the lowest of the low. I made myself into a reflection of everyone I met, refusing to exist as a person on my own. I realized that I was fighting for identity in my work and service. I was endlessly fighting against all of the lies I had been told about who I was.

So I quit. I quit my job at the time in an organization that I was with for the wrong reasons. I quit all works of service. For a month I did nothing but sleep and pray and read and rest. You can read more about that here.

It has been over a year since that month off. I still have dark days. I still have panic attacks and depression. I still struggle. Sometimes I get overwhelmed. I ask myself why I am fighting so hard to heal when I keep ending up broken anyway. I get frustrated at the slow, grueling process of healing.

But then this month that dear friend of mine visited again. I spoke with her about the past year and all of the changes in my heart. I built a house with these friends and worked with children and relaxed. As I did this, I realized that I was doing the same actions with completely different motivations. The guilt I used to feel over relaxing had subsided. The urge to prove my value sat at the back of my mind rather than being first and foremost. I became willing to sit at the sidelines and watch as others had their own moments of growth. I was open to letting them do the growing without me. I didn't need to be their savior anymore.

Having this dear friend of mine come a year a part was one of the greatest gifts I could ever have received. A year ago she stood alongside me and told me I had the strength to fight these demons. Now, a year later, she brought me sustenance and showed me that point way off in the distance.

Look over there, don't you see how far you've come?