September

Have you ever thought about where you were a year ago and what you were thinking then? Perhaps not. However, I think about this kind of thing all the time. Maybe it’s because I have been first on the brink of, and then in the middle of, and now dealing with the consequences of transition. I like to journal my thoughts and prayers, and occasionally, I review them, and remember what I was contemplating, fearing, or celebrating at the time. It is a marker of how far I’ve come, and moreover, the distance I have yet to travel. It is a record of my conversations with God, and proof (sometimes) that things happen because I have prayed.

Last week, I spent two and half days in the provinces, interviewing staff who participated in our summer ESL program. I spent four hours on Sunday driving down a two lane country road, dodging cattle, dogs, and water buffaloes (not to mention logging trucks, bicycles, and even two men who nearly darted in front of our truck) to get to our farthest provincial office, in Stoung. Stoung is in Kampong Thom province, which is essentially a flood plain in the center of Cambodia. Our office there is the most “rustic” of the three where we host the ESL program. The electricity turns off at night, the Asian squat toilets take some getting used to, and the house next store breeds crocodiles. This is as close as I get to real Cambodian living. That said, I love it.

I spent two weeks in Stoung last summer. I taught English to the staff there, and in doing so, built friendships with these people—as much as possible in a short time with limited shared language. Last September, I had a chance to send some cards and photos back to them, through World Relief staff visiting the US. I remember sitting at my kitchen table with tears in my eyes, writing out cards in simple English for these people with whom I spent only a fraction of my life. Later, in an email to a friend, I wrote, “I have been putting together a small package to send to my new friends in Cambodia and am overwhelmed with a desire to BE there, to see them again.” I remember thinking that cards and photos weren’t enough for me. I wanted to build relationships in person, to have that precious time that comes from sharing meals, sharing work, sharing conversation with others.

I woke up in Stoung last Monday morning, to a real, live rooster crowing at 5 a.m. I encountered the photos I sent last year on display in the office. I shared worship time and laughter with people I left last summer. In the hours I spent at Stoung, I had the indescribable feeling of coming home. Stoung is the first place I put down roots in Cambodia. Scenes from last summer played themselves out again in my mind as I looked around the building. Familiar faces smiled back at me. We shared communion that morning, and it was more than symbolic for me. These people, in a “rustic” office, in the middle of nowhere, in the country of Cambodia, are people I care about. When I lived among them, they cared for me and loved me. They are people I prayed for, and for whom I shed tears. They are, in truth, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Even if we don’t speak the same language.

It has been over a year since I spent time in Stoung. People have changed, some of the staff are gone. I am certainly different. Yet in a few hours on Monday morning, I was able to experience something more than a time of worship, prayer, and fellowship. That morning, I saw the faithfulness of God with my own eyes, and the truth of these words: “Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4). I had to wait nearly a year to see my prayers answered, the desires of my heart fulfilled. Last September, I sat in my kitchen and prayed for these friends. This September, I prayed and worshipped with them. My life has changed so much since last year, but God has not and will not. “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him’” (Lamentations 3:22-24).