How many kids do you have?

I had two but I gave one away.
...

I had two but one died.
...

I spent this weekend in the village where our organization's second center is. We did some kids programs, visited some families, and built a well. There was one family living in a shack who we visited. A sweet toddler boy ran around, pretending to be shy while also begging to play. I asked the mother how many kids she had. "I had two, but I gave one away", she responded nonchalantly. Kind of like she was telling us the milk spoiled so she had to toss it. The conversation continued as if nothing important had been said, giving away a child is not so uncommon here. Even though we all know many children given away become slaves, working in brothels or as beggars.

I kept looking in her eyes, standing next to her and trying to sense some emotion. Did she miss her child? Did she feel remorse for letting that baby go? Was this nonchalant attitude a defense for an ashamed heart, or did she really not care?

As I knelt down to play with the toddler, her remaining child, she told him "why don't you go with the pretty foreigner, maybe she will take you home." People have offered their children to me countless times, of course I never accept. But this time I wondered how she would have reacted if I did. Would she have been surprised? Would she have even cried while she said goodbye to her child for the last time? Or had she become too numb to care?

The next day we came to a second village to build a well. I sat with a beautiful girl, she was younger than me and 7 months pregnant. I asked how many kids she had. She replied that the one she was carrying was her second. I asked where the first was. With averted eyes she responded that the first had died a week after being born. Her eyes were full of sadness and shame, she rubbed her full belly seeking a little bit of hope. In a culture where negative emotions are kept behind locked doors, she was brave enough to hold the sadness of her lost baby girl.

I couldn't help but compare these two women.
One a teenage girl grieving the child taken from her, and hoping beyond hope that she could care for this new child.
The other, an older mother asking that her child be taken from her, and willing to send the second child down the same path as the first.

There's something about the contrast of the two stories. Both women no longer have their first child and instead hold their second.
One holds the second child with optimism and admiration, the other as a reminder of what she has already given up on.
One with a soft heart- holding hope and suffering in her arms. The other with a hard heart- trying to keep the suffering at arms length.

It makes me wonder how much we lose because we have already given up. 

Imposter Syndrome

This week I received my login information for the Living School. This marks the beginning of a journey that I have been extremely excited for. It gives me hope for the future. As I read through the orientation a sense of peace rushed over me. I was reading materials written in a way that felt freeing and open. I saw the key figures of the school- theologians and teachers and scientists that I loved. How exciting to be with a group of people where I could finally discuss these things. What an amazing opportunity to be immersed in a world of deep healing and authentic discovery.

Then I read the directory, a list of the other students in my cohort. One of the names on the list looked familiar. I Googled it and realized this person was involved in projects that were well known and had been deeply impactful to me. They were a part of a movement I loved, making a difference in the world. I realized that this school is going to be full of unique and talented individuals. They are activists, writers, podcasters... They are people making a difference in the world. Suddenly an overwhelming sense of dread washed over me.

As soon as I arrive they are going to realize I don't belong here. There is one thing that has made me special, and that's the life I'm leaving. I'm an imposter. A shallow, confused girl entering into a school of enlightened and successful people. 

I have to be honest, I spent the better part of the day stewing in this shame spiral. Telling myself I wasn't going to measure up, I didn't have enough life experience, and I wasn't as deep as I would like to believe.

So I stepped away from the computer. I did my yoga practice and spent some time in prayer. I was able to sit in the freeing loss of self that occasionally graces me during prayer. I realized that this incessant need to be enough is the exact reason I'm leaving Cambodia and going to this alternative school.

I spent so long building the life I always dreamed of. I became the successful student, I became the caretaker, I became the missionary- I became the person I always wanted to be. Only to realize that I was fighting for an image of myself. I was filling myself up with good deeds that never quite satisfied. I thought that if I worked hard enough, maybe I could finally earn the love I missed out on. The reality is I spent so long looking to myself to make me lovable, I never realized that Love was within me all along.

If I truly believe that the very Spirit of God is within me, if I see the face of Jesus in each person I meet, then there are no imposters. Because you and me have a value and love that is unshakeable. It isn't tied to the fickle feelings or passing success, it is the very core of who we were made to be, it is the Imago Dei. 

So here I am, beginning from a place of utter humility, unknowing, and hope- the way all great adventures begin. 

I come

I come to the child Christ seeking hope. 

I come to the teaching Christ seeking justice. 

I come to the suffering Christ seeking comfort. 

I come to the resurrected Christ seeking transformation. 

Content

"Is something wrong?"

My friend asked me this over and over in the beginning of our travels together. I was always taken aback because it was at times where all was well, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Yet she would still say she wanted to be sure, because she said my energy had changed. I continually insisted that I was feeling great.

As this continued I eventually asked her what about me changed that made her worry something was wrong. She explained that I would suddenly not talk at all, and just sit quietly. She was worried I was stuck in my head or upset about something. I thought about all of the times she had asked this and realized these were moments where I was fully and completely content.

I explained to her that in these moments where I was content and filled with the current situation, I would just sit in the peace of it and soak it all in. I love these moments, they are light and airy, yet also grounding.

I wondered why a friend of almost a decade didn't know that this is what happened when I was content. Then I realized that she had never seen me like this. Because truth be told, I only experienced contentment recently. I've always been someone who experiences emotions with intensity and odd mixtures. Happiness always carried a dark undertone because I told myself I wasn't deserving of it. Sadness carried a strange lightness because it felt familiar to me. There was always such a whiplash of emotions that I was never able to sit in the stillness of being... content.

In these recent years of healing I have found a new range of emotions that were never available to me before. I was jumping from suffering to mania so quickly that I missed all of the beauty of the emotions in between. Suddenly the world is much more vast and diverse than I ever realized.
I'm feeling amazed.
I'm feeling overjoyed.
I'm feeling content. 

What You Notice

In the past month I have had several visitors. Last week I was visited by a friend I met in India, who is living there but is from the US. She is a journalist who majored in history and is very interested in politics. She would noticed things like infrastructure in different cities. She would ask about the government and why they chose to focus their efforts in some areas rather than others. She wondered what it was that made Cambodian Buddhism so much different than other traditions of Buddhism, and how it had been influenced by Hinduism. She asked well-educated, dynamic questions that I had never been asked before. I loved it! We had long discussions about how our cultures impact us, the history of different countries, and how it all comes together.

It was such a joy, being with her opened my eyes of new way to seeing Cambodia. I realized that her background, interests, and personality all changed how she viewed this amazing country.

A few days after I said goodbye to this friend from India/US, one of my dear childhood friends LexiJo arrived. These two friends are polar opposites, in so many great ways.

Lexi is a creative at heart, drawn to all that glitters. She notices movements, colors, and music. She would point out the blue tinted windows, the colored rooftops, and the lit buildings. Anytime a child or animal would pass by, she couldn't pull herself away. When we drove through the city in a tuktuk, she would be constantly immersed in the world we pass by. Her bright heart blends with this bright country so very well.

I was talking with my roommate about this, about how each of them see the city in ways that mimic their own personal interests. I reminisced on previous visitors and teams and thought about what their eyes were drawn to in Cambodia. My roommate asked what the thing I noticed when I came to Cambodia... I paused for a while, thinking back to that day 6 years ago. I remembered instantly feeling connected to the country, but I couldn't put my finger on why that was.

"It's the people"
She interrupted my thoughts, or maybe came right into them. She told me that  whenever we talk about Cambodia, whenever I come home from a day of work excited or defeated, it is always tied to the people in this culture. And she's right, even as this country is rapidly developing and changing, I am continually drawn in by the spirit of the Cambodian people. Their resilience and kindness brings me new joy each and every day.

So there's three of us- the historian/journalist, the creative, and the bleeding heart. Respectively drawn to the cultural context, the beauty of the city, and the hearts of the people.

And the reality is that for each person who is fortunate enough to visit this fantastic country, there is another lens with which they see it. Cambodia is all things to all people because each one of us is seeing the part of it that brings out our own joys and fears. Somehow it is funny, sad, and beautiful all at the same time. 

Powers and Principalities

I've been thinking a lot lately about justice. What's wrong and what's right? Whose side are we on? And who are we fighting against?

I used to clearly know right and wrong. I could tell you who the good guys and bad guys were.
The pimp? Bad guy
The slave? Good guy
The abuser? Bad guy
The abused? Good guy
The dictator? Bad guy
The refugee? Good guy
On and on it goes, on one side is the victim and on the other is the perpetrator.

Until I realized the one who abused me was also abused.
That pimp who trafficked that child was also trafficked when they were young. 
The bad guys were good guys at some point, now they are desperate for some sort of security, a shred of power that will help them feel safe.

So here we are, in this endless cycle of good people doing bad things and bad people doing good things and who really is the good guy in all of it?

I recently went to these two temples. They are on opposing hillsides, one called Phnom Broh (Man), and the other Phnom Srey (Woman).

We were first led to the temple of the man and so we looked around. It was breathtaking. Filled with ornate paintings and stupahs. Every way you turned there was some new, intricate detail that had been missed before. There were statues and tombs and temples, it was gorgeous. A few monks and laypeople walked around, enjoying the beauty and doing whatever rituals were required.

Then we went to the temple of the woman. There were still a few paintings and buildings, but in contrast to the man's temple it was pathetic. It obviously hadn't been kept up over the years as the other had. The temple of the woman required no fee to enter (as the man's did). And instead of people enjoying it and doing rituals, there were beggers on the steps.

Honestly, it infuriated me. For days I couldn't let go of my frustration at an overt example of women being treated as less than men. But who is there for me to be mad at? The builders? No, they were doing what they had to in order to feed their families. The people visiting the temple? No, they are only going to see that which was placed in front of them. The culture? Maybe, but the culture has made great strides- As my friend said, “at least they have a temple for the woman”.

While I look around and am surrounded with the issues of Cambodia- slavery, homelessness, disease...  I am also hearing about the issues in America- institutional racism, police brutality, and gun violence. It's all too much. There is such great injustice around, once again I look for the villain to be mad at. Is it the police? No, there are good officers who are protecting American citizens. Is it Trump? Not fully, if anything he deserves pity more than anger. Is it white people? Not fully, most white people are working with the culture that was handed to them and are unaware of the systems that keep racism alive.

Once again, the problem is so much bigger than any individual.

There is a verse in the bible that says “we do not fight against flesh and blood, but against powers and principalities”. For the first time in my life, I deeply believe that to be true. Misogyny, racism, superiority- these things are more than any one person. They are about the way power has been distributed, it's the principles we choose to live by rather than fight against.

So how do we fight it? Lately I've been wondering if the key is to stop fighting.

I get so preoccupied with fighting my enemy, that I don't realize they have also been beaten down by injustice. No one chooses to abuse or harm another unless they themselves have been hurt. This abuser, this pimp, this dictator- he/she has been hurt in the same way that they are hurting me and my loved ones. Maybe if I could learn to love them, together we could heal the scars. Maybe we could both learn to stop acting out of our woundedness and to instead seek wholeness.
Maybe Jesus was onto something when he said to love our enemies.

I don't fully know what it looks like yet- for my enemy to be a system rather than the individuals. But something tells me there is more to this than I ever knew.

Short Hellos and Last Goodbyes

Tonight I am going to a friend's house for a "goodbye dinner". This friend is leaving on furlough soon, and by the time she comes back, I will already be in America. So we are going to have dinner together. We are going to talk about the joys of the past and the uncertainty of the future, we will laugh and we will cry. Because all we have left are these fleeting moments.

Last night I met some new friends. When we talked about getting together later, I sadly mentioned that I'll be leaving soon, there isn't much time. So I asked them about their lives and who they were. Each person I meet teaches me something. I may only meet them this one time, so I try to learn all I can about who they are and where they come from. Because all we have left are these fleeting moments.

This transition time of preparing to go back to America has been uncomfortable for me. I feel like I'm starting to not quite fit here, but I also don't fit there. I'm trying to soak up each interaction and feel it fully, before it slips out of my fingers.

And as painful as it is, there's something magical about it. Each moment could be the last of its kind, giving it more value than these words will ever capture. I think I now know what they mean when they say "live as if each day were your last". It's not about having your affairs in order, it's not about making some grand gesture, it's about this moment. If this were your last moment, you'd savor it fully. You'd hold on a little longer in that goodbye hug, and you'd ask a lot more questions when you say hello. Because these goodbyes and hellos, these fleeting moments, are all we have.