I wrote this on New Year’s Eve

It’s a little late, but this was our New Year’s Eve:

It’s New Year’s Eve in Phnom Penh. In Cambodia, there are at least three New Year celebrations – (World) New Year (Jan. 1), Chinese New Year (Feb. 14) and Khmer New Year (Apr. 14).

I remember in 2006 in Battambang, we had people over to our house to play games and ring in the new year. I’m not sure we actually made it to midnight, we should have had some high school students over.

Anyhow, then, we were the only ones in town celebrating the new year. Our neighbors were all sleeping long before the clock struck 12.

Not so this year in Phnom Penh. I just took a photo of the traffic outside our apartment – people heading to Wat Phnom, Phnom Penh’s version of Times Square.  It’s near our apartment and our neighbors have been talking about the celebration there all week.

It’s interesting to see, at least in this city, Cambodians racing to connect with the wider world.

The spotlights beckon the crowds to Wat Phnom

And the crowds showed up.

…big time

Then, our neighbors took us to join the crowds.

And we saw Cambodian rock stars.

And we were glad we could walk home.

We make keys

Every time we leave the U.S. for an extended period of time, life forces Jess and I to face our ‘American-ness,’ some would call it cultural baggage.

Jess recently got copies made of keys to the gate of our building, keys to the door of our apartment, keys to our balcony and keys to our post office box.

It’s interesting how such a simple task can say something about our values. For many of our neighbors here in Phnom Penh (and even more so out in the provinces), it would probably seem completely normal to have just one set of keys for a family residence.

But we who value our independence need more. We can’t wait around for the holder of the keys to get home.

Photos of the past six months

I posted eight photos on our flickr sight from the past few months. They were just sort of sitting around in my projects folder and I looked at them all together and was amazed at the variety of adventures we’ve had. Anyhow you can click on one of the photos to the right to check out the flickr site.

Moving In

The guy in a tan suit with the AK-47 hanging on his shoulder handed me a slip of paper. It said, “POLICE” and had a phone number scribbled on it.

Upon further investigation I found out that because there’s a market and also a night market in this neighborhood, local police patrol here pretty regularly. Since we’re going to be living here, they want our passport numbers and phone numbers when we get them.

I had just signed the rental agreement with our new landlord, paid our deposit and bought some bananas from one of our new neighbors. It was the end of a search for housing that (like many things in Cambodia) lasted a bit longer than we had planned.

Our search was long, but not because of a lack of housing in Phnom Penh. On almost every street of the city one can find the white and blue signs advertising an apartment for rent and the phone number of the landlord. And if, for some reason you can’t seem to spot the little signs, just ask someone on the street, they’ll have you talking to a family member or friend in less than five minutes with at least one or two options on the table.

We took a long time choosing partly because we were traveling around the country for a wedding and meetings for the first two weeks, but mostly because we wanted to choose well.

We were looking for a neighborhood where it’s easy to meet people, easy to practice Khmer language, easy to learn the rhythms of life here.

One of the challenges of living in Cambodia’s capital instead of the provincial capital of Battambang where we lived for our internship year, is that there are more foreigners (like us) here and more Cambodians can speak some English and like to try to practice with us. That makes it harder to spend the intensive hours of speaking only Khmer.

So, we scouted out neighborhoods with apartments for rent.

Our new apartment is right beside Psar Chas (the Old Market) on the northeastern side of Phnom Penh, near the riverfront. Besides the market, there are several parks nearby and an alley neighborhood, which will provide ample opportunity to meet people and practice our language exercises.

We’re anxious to get started. Since we have some basic skill in the language here from our internship year, our first lessons will likely be the phrases we need to furnish our apartment and do everyday shopping in the market.

Stay tuned for photos of our new home and stories as we begin our studies.

Here we go

Our bags are packed, our goodbyes are said. We’ve even made one leg of our journey already. We’re in San Francisco and, in a few minutes, we’re leaving for Cambodia. We’ll write soon.

Recent thoughts on life as an alien

“Then the Lord said to Abram, ‘Leave your country, your relatives and your father’s family and go to the land that I will show you.” -Gen. 12:1

The older couple sitting at a table in the middle of the restaurant stopped their conversation and, in unison, turned their eyes toward me. Their stares told me that I had stepped off a flying saucer before coming in the door.

I smiled and waved, said good evening as I walked by on my way to a table in the back corner. They didn’t acknowledge my greeting, but their eyes continued to follow me to my seat. I sat down, pulled my computer from my bag and set it on the table in front of me.

Jessica and I were here for the cheap food and wireless internet access. As I plugged in my computer and turned it on, I noticed a kid. He looked about eight years old. He was also staring at me getting closer with each zig zag. Soon, he was just on the other side of my screen, so I invited him to take a look at the screen and wave hello to the friends I was talking to on Skype.

Over the past few years, I’ve become used to this type of scrutiny. When Jessica and I spent a year in Cambodia, we had this identical experience almost every day. It’s part of being a foreigner. This particular time, though, it was in a Wendy’s in Covington, Virginia.

Lately, I’ve been trying to prepare myself to re-enter life as a foreigner.

I’ve been reading Genesis, the part about Abraham and his family and how they lived as foreigners in a new land for much of their lives. In fact, when I read their stories, one of the distinguishing characteristics of the family was that they were often moving, always learning to live in places that were not their home and adapt to new conditions, cultures and customs.

Readers get glimpses of the family’s character through the ways they respond (honorably and dishonorably) to their relationships with God and the cultures they move in and out of. Abraham’s father, Terah, moved the family from Ur to Haran, then Abraham moved them to Shechem, then Egypt, then Bethel, etc. And that was just Abraham. His son Isaac and grandsons and nephew all moved their families in and out of new towns, kingdoms and cultures.

This summer at MTI, we talked a lot about the ways we measure success.
I remember one of our trainers asking us to think about what things we would need to see happen to consider our time in the countries we are moving to successful. Then he asked us if we thought that was how God measure our success.

He floated the theory that perhaps the reason God was taking us to new places was more about us than the people we would be serving. He asked us this: “If God showed you ahead of time your entire ministry in the country you are going to and you saw everything that you tried to do failed. There was no measurable fruit. No one responded to the gospel. The people there were still sick, starving and unredeemed. And God said, ‘I’m still asking you to go there.’ Can you honestly say you’d still go?”

His point was, that the best thing that would come from our ministry, the thing that would bring the most honor to our maker was not our work; it was how we honored him and how we lived as families in a new land.

A glimpse of our recent journey

Highlights of our Eastern Tour

A visit to Ina Dunn, who has been one of my prayer warriors since I moved to Covington at age 5. She inspires me. In her late eighties, she took us out to eat and tried a new food. She seems to live out: There is no time like the present to learn/try something new. I want to practice that now at 29, so that in my eighties I will live unencumbered by self-regulations. At the end of our visit, she said, “Thank you for being in my life.” I thought I mis-heard her. Isn’t it I who should say that to her? I responded in kind. There were no other words.

Maybe that is a glimpse of how God designed the Church to work. Both give and both receive. And, the receiving is not simply human kindness, but a God-infused gift.

Cousin’s Night.

One night in PA, we got together with Wickenheiser cousins and second cousins. Despite the thunderstorm that ruined our swimming plans, we had a great time being together. The parents were away, so Tim and Jon took charge of dinner. I hid out in the living room and listened as they coraled the children and announced “You must have salad first, before lasagna.” Plate by plate, they served each course to them.

Not too long ago Jon was spending summers with Tim helping to even out the boy/girl ratio (and being taught to eat vegetables.) Circumstances, (like our chosing to live in Asia) keep them far from each other. And, some of the best benefits of doing things like this Eastern Tour are moments like Cousins night.

You call this a Utopia?

Note: this was written a few weeks ago while we were still in CT

(title borrowed from Super Smash Brothers as that is what joel and tim are playing while i write)

Visiting newly-married friends.

We loved reconnecting with the Atkinsons, and having a bit of down time too. Today they have been married 3 months. And, that means we were in Manchester, CT 3 months ago celebrating their union. Since then, we have traveled to Denver and back again, with a few detours South and North.

Yes, the car seems to be shrinking on this the beginning of week seven of our Eastern Tour. We will be glad to get home and move back into our apartment. There are benefits to living out of one’s car such as:

- my wardrobe is always accessible.
- we always have our games on hand.
- with our tent and cooler, we can set up home anywhere.
- The States are our playground.
- People feel sorry for us and take us in.
- I don’t have to cook often.

Being with newlyweds has heightened my awareness of marriage. It is a profound commitment to covenant to stay with one person for the rest of your life. With not quite 6 years of marriage between us, Tim and I have been through countless changes…with work, careers, roles, locations, and interests. Changes will only continue.

What amazes me about the covenant is not that exterior change continues, but that we ourselves change. These changes don’t always lead us closer together. Like all change, it can be disorienting. The choice to stay connected reappears. The choice to partner with the stranger in your home infuses daily life again.

But, this time there are no twitterpated feelings that cover over the little doubts. This time the covenant acts as a shield, protecting and reminding you the wedding was a day you promised God that you would stay loyal for life. Yes, even to this seemingly new person.

I like watching the honeymoon stage. I like remembering that marriage has cycles that are lighthearted and full of enjoyment of each other. I like my marriage too. I like looking at my husband and knowing that he has stuck with me through my worst. I like knowing that he continues to look for the good in me despite the venom he sometimes endures. I like looking at my diamonds and remembering our honeymoon stage and Tim’s promise to stay. I like resting in the knowledge that God will work in his life and I can trust that He will help us relearn each other as we are continually changed.

“Oh, and watch out for moose.”

The advice was casual, matter-of-fact. But, for me, not a native of moose country, it signified that the journey I was on was about to change again. Jessica and I have spent much of the past seven weeks driving, planning, making calls, eating, living in and out of our car.

“People up our way are all the time hitting moose out on the road,” the pastor from Island Pond told me.

I had this split-second image of our Toyota exploding as we slammed into a monstrous bull moose. Our bags, tent, presentation materials, food and Settlers of Catan and other necessities of life (in short, our home) scattered all over the roadway.

We were supposed to be driving to Ohio. We know Ohio pretty well. We have to cross it every time we head east. We know where the cheapest gas can be found at the intersection of US-30 and I-75. We know where every Panera Bread is along both US-30 and I-70. We know where our friends and family live.

But now, we were headed to Vermont instead. Vermont, where we add moose – 2,000 lbs, six feet tall at the shoulder, antlers wider than our car- to the list of dangers we face on the road (deer, fog, fatigue, rented moving trucks and rvs, drivers from New York etc). Vermont, where Jessica had never even been and where I had only vague memories from a short family trip when I was 8. Vermont, where they make more maple syrup than any other state.

This has been the nature of our journeys lately – turning off roads we expect to take in order to pursue opportunity and relationship in new places with new people who have new accents and encourage us in new ways.

The adventure has been good. It’s taken us from the mountains of Virginia to Pennsylvania Dutch country to the north shore of Massachusetts, historic Connecticut and the Green Mountains of Vermont.

We’ve slept in the homes of our families, good friends, hospitable strangers and, of course, our tent – one of the best gifts our brother Jordan has ever given us.

We spent last night at an inn where hikers and backpackers walk in off the Appalachian Trail and share stories in the pub. Now we’re getting back on the road, headed toward family members we’ve never met and then familiar territory and our long-forgotten apartment and not-forgotten friends in Winona Lake.

The Book Barn

While with the Atkinsons, we visited the Book Barn, which is quite more than a barn.  Used Books are located in different buildings on the farm-like complex.  The prices were incredible, and the selection was…well, breathtaking.  With complimentary coffee and snacks, I could have spent the day there perusing and curling up in one of the sitting areas.

And, we weren’t alone.  Parking was quite the feat on a Saturday, and once inside, we met many of the Barn cats that monitor our shopping with aloof interest.  We also found goats ready to except dried corn we could purchase for a quarter.

www.bookbarnniantic.com