Homeward Bound

A year ago, the planning began to set out on this adventure of a lifetime. I could have never predicted what my time in Cambodia was going to be like. Teaching 17+ ESL students and almost 30 high school math students have consumed my life for the last six months. It’s easy to look back on these last months and think the only thing I’ve learned is that I have no interest in being a teacher. The longer I think, and the deeper I look into my experience, I see that the lessons I have learned stretch much farther than my future career.

             I know I have yet to see some of the effects of my work here, and I know other results I will never see, but I’m keeping my eye on what I can see.

The first day of school, Amber and I greeted our girls with a warm “hello girls,” and Liza was quick to say, “I’m not girls, I’m girl.” Now Liza, only 10 years old, speaks more English than any of the other ESL students. I have taught nineteen 9^th graders Pre-Algebra and nine 10^th graders Algebra 1, a task that I never thought was possible. Above all, I have taught Buddhist students about Jesus and his unconditional love. Hearing my students talk about Jesus, heaven, prayer, etc. makes me as proud of a teacher as any.

            These last 6 months have been filled with highs and lows, and has challenged every ounce of my being. I have learned to eat tofu, bananas, and oatmeal nearly everyday; three foods that would have never been found in my diet at home. Amber and my small apartment has doubled as a dryer to hang all of our clothes, and a clay pot for filtering water has become our best friend. I have experienced hours of classes, constantly telling my kids to be quiet and sit down, and hours of classes where I could not be more proud to be their teacher. Through the triumphs and struggles, my relationship with God has been growing every step of the way. My trust in God led me to decide to become a SM over a year ago, led me to Cambodia 6 months ago, and now is leading me back to America.

            Cambodia has become my second home, a place that has etched a permanent place in my heart. The homeless kids on the street with their loud “heeeelllooooo” everyday, numerous drawings from the dorm girls, and the sound of laughter from my students will never be forgotten. I will never forget the time that I spent here, as a part of me will always remain here. God has shown himself here, and my prayer is that he will continue to do so even after I am gone.

            Six months ago, I remember telling people how scared I was to leave America. I never would’ve thought I would be scared to leave this second home of mine, but the familiar feeling I experienced back in August is back.  

We would never have made it this far without the support and prayers from everyone worldwide. Cambodia has been a daily reminder of how blessed I am. It’s now time, however, to end one chapter of my life, and begin writing a new one. My prayer is God will continue to guide me, just as he led me to Cambodia. I have learned lessons and grown in ways that I could have only done here, and for that, I am forever grateful. It’s now time to trust God’s calling that He has new lessons and plans for me elsewhere.

 As I did in my decision to come serve in Cambodia, I’m stepping out in faith. This time, however, I’m homeward bound.

Packing my Bags.

I piled my clothes in a corner of my room all summer long, throwing a modest t-shirt or teacher-esque skirt over every few days. I continued to let the pile grow until it began to topple over, but I still did not want to admit to myself that I would be leaving the comforts of my own home and my own COUNTRY for such a lengthy period of time. My pile grew and grew and grew until the evening before I boarded the plane to Cambodia when I absolutely had to shove my whole pile into my suitcases. I was able to stay in denial until the last possible moment I could.

My situation, now almost six months later, is quite opposite and yet still as I walk around my apartment in Phnom Penh, I think I feel similarly. I could have never imagined one hundredth of an idea of what Alex and I actually have experienced throughout our time here. I have been blessed in more ways than I can count, and at the same time the time these months have been near to the most difficult months of my life.  Through months of prayer, many tears, a lot of laughter, moto accidents, floods, a robbery, English tests, Tuk-Tuk rides, lots of tofu, and a knife wound, God has finally allowed me to come to terms with the fact that it is time to wrap things up in Cambodia.

I remember my thoughts walking into Cambodia Adventist School for the first time. First of all, I questioned what was wrong with my body and why I was constantly wiping sweat from my forehead at 6:45 in the morning. Secondly, I questioned why I ever thought coming to Cambodia was a good idea.

 I sat in the very back corner of the classroom as we had staff worship. As one of the teachers led out in song service, I used the singing as a time to muffle my sobs. I couldn’t hold anything back…I just sat there and cried like a little baby. I imagined the Khmers watching me and wondering what the heck was wrong with the new white girl. I could have been crying over the heat alone, but truthfully I was distraught solely from my own doubts. I have never doubted myself more in my life. I let my mind try to sort out the mess of thoughts that swirled around inside of my head but it was near impossible. I started throwing out words to God about how wrong I was to have ever thought of myself as capable of teaching real. live. children..in a foreign place with foreign people and foreign accents and foreign smells and foreign sounds and foreign feels.

“God, I quit” I said.
…….“Amber, I’m not allowing you to do that” is what I got back.

“God, no really…I’m inadequate for Your calling..”

……”Amber, I designed you for this. Everything I have let you experience in the past has built you up for this.”

“UGHLLKDLKJALJDFSJDFKJA GOD SERIOUSLY!” is what I wanted to say to that, but instead I went into bathroom and got some tissue.

The months from that moment until now have been so surreal to me. I can say with complete sincerity that God is responsible for carrying me this far. Some days go by and I feel like it is a miracle in itself that I am still standing after a day in my classroom, and other moments have been so close to perfection that I can see with clarity the ways that God is working here.

Two weeks ago, my students had no clue of heaven, but yesterday one of my little boys looked at me and said, “Tee-cha, even if you can not come back to Cambodia, I know that I will see you in heaven”. I made him shake my hand and promise that he meant it. God is working His way into these kids, and it’s a beautiful thing to watch. Knowing that Alex and I have been a part of  the process is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. However, at the same time I have to remember that there is only so much God designed for me to do here.

Here’s the big news: mainly for health and safety reasons, it is now my time to think about starting my pile and packing my bags over. Again, I get to feel like I did this past summer before leaving America: anxious, stressed, and in denial. Now, Cambodia has become my home. Cambodia holds so many memories of obstacles overcome, so many precious faces that will forever be burnt into a special place in my heart, so many moments of clarity with God. I would be lying if I said that I was not afraid to leave this place behind. As I look down at my now healing wound, I promise myself that I won’t. I just simply will not leave this place behind.

Cambodia will forever be a part of me. Cambodia has quite literally left its mark on me, right on my left thigh. I promise myself that when I look at my scar, instead of thinking of the pain that once was there, I will think of all of the beauty this place offered me. I will think of my sweet students, the ones who wanted me to stay forever. I will think of how selfless and giving some of these people have proved themselves to be. I will think of the way it felt to see my Buddhist student walk into church for the first time in her life, because she wanted to be like her teachers. I will remember how God helped me accomplish something that from day one, I never thought was possible. Then, after thinking about all of those things and more, I will pray.

 I will pray for Cambodia for the rest of my life, because this place has changed me. I will never be able to fully express how much this experience has meant to me, and I will never be able to fully express how much love I still want to give. Still, God’s sent His signs. I have to trust He has a different plan now.

With that said, America, I’m coming home. 

God Moments

Though most days seem like a constant uphill battle, there are moments that make the climb so much easier.

Last week, one of my students told me that he wanted to come to church. He is one of my students that moved out of ESL, into his homeroom, and his homeroom teacher thought it would help his English, as everything is translated between English and Khmer. His younger sister is one of my favorite girls in ESL and I told her that she should come along too. The conversation I was having with Liza sparked another one of my little girls attention and soon I had convinced them both to promise me they would come to church on Saturday.

All year long I have been trying to convince my ESL students to come to church. Out of the now 17 students, one is Adventist, one is Christian, and 15 are Buddhist. The one Adventist girl is the only one who comes to church every week; she lives in the dorm and attendance is required. Friday rolled around and I reminded the two girls, Liza and Boramey, that they had promised to come to church the next morning, even though I guessed neither one would show.

The next day as I was sitting in church, I looked out the door to see Liza and her brother Panha walking by the side doors of the church. Seeing her walk past, shyly smiling at me warmed my heart. For the first time in 6 months, one of our Buddhist students had come to church, something that I’ve been hoping for every Sabbath since I got here. Liza came and sat with Amber and I during church, and though she complained about the sermon being too long and that it was too hot, I could not have been happier.

Back at school, Liza told the whole class that she had gone to “cha’s church” over the weekend. Amber got up front and asked if anyone would pray. Today, instead of the normal “he will,” “she will,” and “I can’t teeecha,” six hands flew up, and they were being serious. In astonishment, I listened as my youngest boy proceeded to pray the most precious prayer, not in even Khmer, but in his very broken English. I could not wipe the smile off my face as one student after another prayed, all students that are Buddhist, and I far as I know, have never prayed out loud before.

I left them to have morality class with Amber and I went to teach Pre-Algebra. When I returned, Amber told the class to tell me what they had learned in morality. Fully expecting they didn’t understand enough of the lesson to remember anything, I was shocked as I watched a dozen hands shoot up. “Jesus went to his Father’s house and taught teacher instead of teacher teach him,” one boy said. “When you say sorry Jesus when bad, he erase what you did bad, and no more remember,” another said. For one of the first times I can think of, they remembered, and understood, what they had learned less than an hour before, and could tell me all about it, in ENGLISH! This might seem like the smallest of steps, but in my ESL class, this is huge.

There are days where I feel like I have made absolutely no progress with these kids, than there are moments like these, moments where I could not be more proud, that help me see the progress that they have been making these past months.

Students who, in August, didn’t know what a prayer request was and had just heard the name of Jesus for the very first time, are now telling me all about Bible stories they learned in class, praying out loud and are coming to church on Sabbath. 

What more can I ask for? God is working here, even if I can’t always see it.

-Alex

Let Me See Jesus.

God is multilingual.

This morning during bible class we had one of the largest discussions we have ever had as a classroom. When I say large, I mean large in relation to how far I can usually get through to my barely English-speaking students. Each morning we have worship and prayer, this morning was not out of the ordinary, except for the fact that one of my kids raised his hand beaming with curiosity. I was rather shocked at this sight alone. I typically feel like they could not care less and that they comprehend a whole 3% of what I actually say to them.

I called on my student. “Tee-Cha, what if I pray in Khmer? God no understand?” he asked. I looked around my classroom and all of the other students seemed just as interested in their classmate’s inquiry.  Still shocked I responded to him, “God knows ALL languages,” I said. “He always understands.” The kids eyes grew larger than I’ve ever seen them. They were just as shocked as I had been a couple minutes previous. “WHAT?! What about in Thailand, Tee-Cha, or Chineeeee, or Frennn, or Japaneee?!” they all shouted out. “Yes, He understands Thai, Chinese, French, and Japanese.” They were amazed. It was adorable.

Another student wanted to jump in on the conversation. “Well, what if I pray when my friend prays? Then God has to choose one of us to listen to?” he asked. I sometimes forget how little these kids know about God’s traits that seem so obvious to me. I have to remember that they were introduced to God only a couple of weeks before I even landed in Cambodia. “God is SO powerful, I know that understanding everything about Him is complicated, but He can listen to everyone at the same time!” I always swing my arms around and try to use charades and facial expressions to help my students understand ME a little better…but explaining God to them? It’s like explaining what the sun feels like to someone who has lost his or her sense of touch. You feel the sun. Trying to translate a feeling from English to Khmer is difficult even with every charade and action I can muster up. It really is borderline frustrating. I want them to understand. I am sure they can relate to my frustration, they want to understand too.

All of the sudden the questions began POURING in. “What if God is sleeping when I pray? He needs sleep too. Are all people in America Christians? Will Jesus give me a house if I ask for one? Will Jesus help me find my spelling book? What does Jesus think about the fact that I went to the pagoda on Sunday with my mother? Tee-Cha, have you seen Jesus before? Does He talk to you?"

Then my personal favorite came. One of my typically rambunctious, troublemaking, little boys raised his hand.  "Tee-Cha, can you let me see Jesus?” Usually this little boy makes me want to rip my hair out, but today he melted my heart.

WHERE HAVE THESE QUESTIONS BEEN FOR THE PAST FIVE AND A HALF MONTHS?!

I answered all of my students’ questions to the best of my own ability for almost the entire class period. They listened for a long time, but as to be expected they began to get off topic at the end. Before I dismissed them I wanted to be sure that I had done all that I could to help them understand. I quieted them down enough to ask if they had any more questions about Jesus. My best English speaker turned to me and chimed in, “Of course Cha, I have lots, but I don’t know how to say them in English.” Ugh.

Even though I so desperately want to be the one to answer their questions, I have to remember there’s only so much that I, myself, can give to them. Although the language barrier got in the way again this morning, for once I was able to feel satisfied with how much got through to them. For the first time in a long time I felt like my kids wanted to learn, and THAT? That was more than enough for today.

 I do have ever so much hope for these children.

-Amber

Some Blood. Mostly Sweat and Tears.

Sometimes all you need is someone to truthfully look you right in the eyes, straight down to your soul, and say that they believe in you.

We are currently learning the books of the Bible in class. Each week I have assigned the students ten new books to memorize along with their weekly memory verse. In order to mildly shake up our somewhat monotonous routine, this week I wrote the new ten books onto the whiteboard in cursive. Every so often I have brought out handwriting worksheets to let the kids practice and they usually want to kill me for doing so; they think writing anything in English is already hard enough. However, I typically choose to counteract their complaints by explaining to them that learning new things may be challenging, but inevitably good for them.

One of my 4^th grade boys was almost in tears today as he looked up at my cursive handwriting on the whiteboard. “Cha, it is easy for you and very difficult for me!” he yelled out in desperation, hoping that I would change my mind over this assignment. The poor boy looked so hopelessly hopeless. I could not help but chuckle inside over his seemingly unnecessary tears, not to be condescending, but only because I know that he has some of the most beautiful handwriting in the class.

I knew he would continue to complain if I just ignored his appeals. So, I then got down to his level, kneeling down in front of his desk. I looked right into his teary, brown eyes and said, “You can do this, I know you can.” He quickly pleaded, “No Cha, I cannot at all!” I made a face of disbelief at him, and I think he understood that I was not going to change the assignment for him. I asked again, still kneeling down in front of him, to please try. I stayed there for a few minutes at his desk until he finally put his pencil to the paper and slowly wrote out….E….s….t…h….e….r. In between each letter he would look up at me; I am still really not sure as to why he did this other than to feel my support. He finished the last loop on the “r” and I gave him the biggest smile I could and said one word: perfect. He all of a sudden lit up with confidence; his previous tears now made his eyes sparkle.  “See, I knew you could do it,” I said.

I walked away from Serey Reach’s desk and watched him from mine as he quickly finished his assignment close to perfection. This was such a simple moment, and yet it burned so deep into my heart. I could not help but see myself in my student. So many times throughout the past five months I have found myself in tears, screaming and pleading for an easier assignment. I picture God up there, chuckling inside over MY seemingly unnecessary tears, not to be condescending, but because He knows I can do it. Just like my student, I am constantly in search and search and search for affirmation from every direction…and maybe that is selfish of me…but maybe it is also just human.

It is hard being here, I struggle…but today someone truthfully looked right into MY teary, brown eyes, straight into my soul, and said that they believed in me…and I felt like that was enough to let me know that God is not leaving me out to dry here in stifling Cambodia. He’s working away; He’s working through Alex’s and my own literal blood, sweat, and tears and in the end I’m thankful for my assignment because after all, learning and experiencing new things may be challenging but it is inevitably good for me.

For those of you who actually read this, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for your prayers and support because those things are what keep us going.

Much love from Cambodia.

-Amber

Survival 2.0

A couples months ago, when I was asked if I wanted to go on senior survival with this year's senior class, I just wanted to say no. “I’m surviving already,” I thought to myself, at the time, “I don’t need to add bucket showers, dirt and the outdoors to it.” Though despite my hesitation, I said yes. This week, instead of putting on my teacher clothes, I packed up the backpack and headed out into the woods with 15 CAS seniors, Amber, and two other teachers. I don’t teach the 12^th graders any classes, so the stress of learning their names alone was increasing my heart rate.

            We loaded on up and headed out to Jombok Hoas (pronounced in English Jimbok Hall) at an early 7 am on a Monday morning that was, for the rest of the school, a holiday. The week previous I had been fighting a monster of a cold, that had only got worse over the weekend, and the last place I wanted to be was sitting in a bus full of loud high school seniors yelling, laughing, screaming, and singing for four+ hours.

            Upon our arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to see that this senior “survival” was much less survival like than my own senior survival. We had a cabin to sleep in and staff cooking the food for us.

            The next morning started off the games and activities. We did a variety of activities including walking down a hill all while balancing on a wire, zip lining, and did other team building games. The last activity of that day was the giant swing. Having been on the giant swing at MiVoden multiple times, I decided I was done putting my trust in equipment that looked at little too sketchy and I was going to sit this one out.

That day the kids had been learning about different principles that they needed to use while doing their activities, as well principles they could apply to every day life. These principles included “Look and listen carefully,” “I can do it,” and four others. As the last student got on the giant swing, Amber and I started getting harnesses thrown towards us and a lot of “Teacher, you’re next!” We told them that we had done this in America and one of the kids looked at us and said, “Teacher. Don’t sit, get involved.” That was another principle. With those four words, we let our students hall us to the very top of the swing (twice as I as MiVoden’s giant swing), and watch us fly through the air.

The third day brought it’s own set of adventures and challenges. I had heard that the third day involved “big things,” but had no idea what “big things” actually meant. After two short games, we were lead through the woods to a tree that towered high above the rest. From there we were supposed to climb up a sketchy ladder and then repel down the side of the tree. Having to climb up or down a ladder is one of my greatest fears. Silly, I know. I was one of the last to go, and I slowly made my way up the ladder with Amber right on my heels. I was a little more than a little scared. Eventually it was my turn, and I started to lower myself down. The gloves I was wearing were too big, and I couldn’t get my hand in a good position to hold the rope tight enough to stop myself. Though I wasn’t moving fast, I wasn’t stopping, and instead of pushing off the tree, I was going straight down. The fact that I couldn’t grip the rope well enough to stop freaked me out. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my entire life. The Leap of Faith was next (this also twice as high as the one at MiVoden). After just being thoroughly scared to death, I decided I was done with high trees that involved ladders and high platforms. Yet, once again, my students convinced me to go.

That night, the last night, we had some good ole’ classic fun scaring the boys in the forest and attempting an all nighter that lasted only to the first few hours of the morning. Of all the weeks I have had in Cambodia, I have to say this week was one of my favorites. Fifteen high school seniors can really teach you a thing or two. Without them pushing me, I would never have repelled down that tree or jumped for the handle that high in the leap of faith. Not knowing the students made the experience, for me, even greater. I had no idea what to expect from them. I thought learning their names in four days wasn’t even going to happen, but I learned so much more. The kids constantly had me laughing and kept me laughing the entire time we were there. They were supportive of each other and of us teachers. Watching them push themselves made me want to push myself as well.

Being on senior survival, I couldn’t help but think of my own class and my senior survival. It feels like so long ago, yet seeing my students do some of the exact same activities we did makes me feel like it was yesterday. It’s shocking how much life can change in 2 ½ years.

I never thought that getting out into the woods with a group of students I didn’t know would help remind me why I’m in Cambodia. It did, however, do just that. The moments I didn’t want to do something I had to keep reminding myself that I was, I am, here for the students. Though I am here for the students, I can’t even begin to explain the impact they are having on me, which could quite possibly be even greater than the impact I am having on them.

-Alex