Ditching the rug

I recently watched the film “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl.” It’s the quirky, wistful story of a high school senior guy, Greg, and his classmate, Rachel, who has leukemia. He announces early on that the movie is not going to be a romance. Even so, as their “just-friends” relationship deepens, Greg panics. Having always preferred superficial friendliness and invisibility over intimacy, Greg finds that true friendship leaves him alarmingly exposed, both to Rachel and to others. Intimacy, it turns out, requires vulnerability.

In America, it’s easier for me to be invisible than it was in Cambodia. Partly because my ethnicity doesn’t stand out here. Partly because I don’t live in a fishbowl, where my housemates double as colleagues and the kids in my classes run into me at church, cafés, and even vacation spots. Partly because I have more material comforts (heating and A/C, access to stores, a car), and so I can hide or placate my stress more easily. Many friends have observed that problems which seemingly lay docile under America’s wall-to-wall carpet started poking their heads out when my friends moved to Cambodia, the land of tile floors and very small rugs. If I’d claimed, “I’m totally fine, nothing’s wrong,” they would have laughed and said, “OK, now what’s the real story?”

But even for Cambodians, life seems a bit more public. On my route to school, I could see into many homes and stores. I could make eye contact with kids biking to school, street vendors pushing carts of meatballs, and mechanics patching tires in basins of grimy water. If I didn’t want to know the extent of a moto crash victim’s injuries, it was up to me to look away. Day care isn’t really a thing, and many families run businesses out of their homes, so I’d see babies in hammocks and toddlers wandering around when I’d stop in somewhere to buy phone credit or print out worship lyrics. In the US, when have I entered a stranger’s home?

Cambodians are silent about some of their deepest struggles. For example, domestic abuse is rampant, and yet women rarely admit to being victims. But while their neighbors are unlikely to confront the perpetrators, they can often hear the yells and cries through the walls. They know. It’s harder to keep secrets in that environment.

As a Christmas gift, my parents took me to an off-Broadway adaptation of C.S. Lewis’s The Great Divorce, an allegory of people in hell who take a tour of heaven – and mostly hate it. The grass pierces through their feet because it’s fully real and they’re only ghosts in comparison. They’re forced to spend time with people they’ve spent a lifetime despising. And the weakness and selfishness are exposed in what they claim as their greatest strengths. They’d prefer to return to hell in order to keep their pride intact. In hell, nobody needs other people, and everyone can get a new house just by thinking about it, so the grey town expands ad infinitum as people quarrel and move away from those who offend or bother them. As one explains, he could tolerate it if it weren’t for the utter loneliness. The characters in heaven are baffled. How can the visitors look right at the joy, the beauty, the love of God, and still reject it in order to have things their own way? Lewis' answer: It's the choice they've made all their lives.

The grey town is much easier for me to imagine in a US context than in a Cambodian one. While being in close community wasn’t always easy, forced friends were one of my favorite things about my life in Cambodia. This week I’ve had the delight of meeting up with three of them: Megan Roberts was visiting family in Philly, and now I’m in Orlando with Amy Uecker and Annalisa Benner for Annalisa’s wedding. Our conversations have been deep and open, just like old times, and I really love it.

I was worried last year that returning to the US would leave me isolated. How many people in America are really honest about the hard things in their lives, the way my friends were in Cambodia? A surprising number, in my experience. In the past 6 months, besides deepening my relationship with my parents and renewing a few close friendships, I’ve also met a number of people who have been refreshingly honest about their brokenness, pain, and regrets. The kids I nanny seemed so innocent and happy when I first started working with them. Now I’ve witnessed their selfishness, deceit, and fear. I’ve heard and seen manifestations of grief over their adoptive mom’s death last year following a brief illness. I’ve seen these kids at their worst (I think!), and I’m glad for it. While invisibility is an option in America, it’s not the only one available. Many people around me here recognize the value of intimacy and have chosen to ditch the rug instead of sweeping junk under it.

Some of the most awkward and heartbreaking moments in “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” come when someone is vulnerable and the other person has nothing to give them. Intimacy is scary because humans are never totally trustworthy – we screw up, we run out of words, sometimes we just plain stop caring. And some people are really consistently UNtrustworthy. That’s why I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the most beautiful friendships I’ve had are those where Christ is transforming us both. Relationships with God are the only ones where our vulnerability is always met with pure love. Only with God is there a truth strong enough to shatter the lies that control us. And only with God is there a rational, confident hope that replaces despair. I found myself wishing I could enter the movie and tell the characters, “I know the One who can handle your darkest secrets!” Knowing Christ not only brings intimacy that abolishes our invisibility, but He frees us to share life-giving intimacy with others…in Cambodia, America, and beyond.

Awed by autumn

Fall was always my favorite season growing up. But the past six years in Cambodia, my only hints of autumn came during an education conference in Korea one November, and one October around my brother's wedding. Mostly, I just wistfully viewed photos of lavish leaves and cozy sweaters from afar. So autumn was a definite perk of my decision to pursue grad school in the US. I wanted to experience the complete season, from the first yellowing leaf to the last brave blade of grass fighting to poke through the snow.

Still, I wondered. After all this time away, have I built it up too much in my mind? Will I enjoy the sharp winds and bulky layers after six years convincing myself that Permasweat is the new normal? And what aspects of fall will catch me off-guard?

In brief: no, mostly yes, and several. Let me describe my forays into fall festivities.

Pumpkins
Obviously the US has a slight pumpkin obsession this time of year. I've somehow made it to mid-November without a single pumpkin spice latte (I'm a cheapskate and not a huge fan of coffee), but I've munched on various pumpkin-y dishes, including this awesome curry. I thought Americans' reliance on canned pureed pumpkin was just out of laziness, and I missed putting fresh pumpkin into soups and stir-fries like I used to in Cambodia. (Pumpkin there is cheap and oh-so-delicious!) So when a decorative pumpkin was dropped and cracked, I decided to chunk it up and add it to a chickpea masala. To my surprise, it was super-bland. Next time, I'll go for a pie pumpkin variety or stick to butternut squash.

I also carved a jack-o-lantern with the kids I babysit. Eight-year-old Michaela drew a cat design that I then carved. It brought back memories of dorm life, when in a fit of absent-mindedness, I whittled away at the top of the pumpkin I was carving, smoothing it to the point that the lid fell right through. I still get teased about that. This time there was no danger of that, and the carving itself went as well as could be expected given my artistic ability limited time, but apparently the pumpkin thought a fur coat would complete the look. Here it is 9 days later, on Halloween night. 

Outdoorsy Stuff

I know these aren't specific to autumn, but I've especially enjoyed camping, hiking, and jogging this fall. Namely, it's possible to do them without sweating. In Cambodia, by contrast, there were few moments throughout the year that I could walk half a mile without feeling a bit sticky.

I was hesitant about planning a camping trip in late September, but it was wonderful - just chilly enough for me to appreciate the campfire. Three friends and I recreated a camping trip that our families used to do together each fall when I was in high school. This was actually my first time camping without my family, and my first time back at Spruce Lake in about 13 years.

I'm still learning how to dress for fall jogging, but my lesson from yesterday: for 40's temperatures, I need gloves (oops!) and long sleeves but no sweatshirt. I jogged for miles with my friend Capri, well after sunrise, and sweated so little that I didn't even feel embarrassed joining her family for breakfast afterward. Inconceivable! 

Holidays

This year is my first time in forever to be with family for a birthday since most of us were born in the fall. We've carried on birthday traditions like turtle cake and Mississippi Mud cake. I'm used to being the one who misses all the family gatherings, and now I'm usually a hostess and always in the thick of the action. I'm savoring this role while it lasts!

Everyone came in for my mom's birthday/Labor Day and we did family photos in honor of my parents' 30th. 

I also got to be present for the local election, in which (shame on me) I abstained as usual. I want to be a good citizen, but I don't even remember what half those job titles mean, let alone who's running for them. I'd like to feel at least a bit informed before helping steer the future of my community. On the other hand, I've had p l e n t y of input on the presidential election, although it's still nearly a year away. :/ I suppose it still beats the Cambodian elections, which had me packing a go-bag due to escalating tensions.

Something that made me feel like an foreigner: somehow I knew that Canada's Armistice Day was November 11, but I had no idea when Veterans* Day was.** Why would I not be able to remember that?

*I thought there was an apostrophe here somewhere, but the Internet said no.

**Hint: It's the same as Armistice Day.

Daylight Saving

Of course it was fun to "fall back" and sleep in an hour. And I do appreciate that it's light out when I wake up. But it turns out that despite its heroic name, Daylight Saving has a darker side. (Save daylight? It just stole it from my afternoon!) As this trailer so eloquently puts it, "They said it would help the farmers. They didn't know it would destroy everything else." That's one area in which I definitely prefer Cambodia to Pennsylvania - being so close to the equator, it has at least 11 hours of daylight even in winter. 

Leaves

As the only kid living with my parents this year, I finally learned how to use a leaf blower. (Back in the day, I think I was always on rake duty.) Here's our yard one week later. Yeah, we live in the woods.

Fallen leaves are a lot of work, it's true, but still beautiful. See how they're glistening in the rain?

When I moved from Vermont to Pennsylvania at age 12, I turned up my nose at the new display of fall foliage. This year, I've been nothing short of dazzled. I'm afraid I'll cause a leaf-peeper crash, the way I get distracted on my drive to Lehigh. Don't worry, I was on foot in my neighborhood for all these photos.

I didn't remember how the light could illuminate leaves while leaving the trunk as black as midnight.

Or that one leaf could have so many colors in it.

I forgot that a whole tree could be crimson all at once. Or that some trees could keep all their leaves when others were already totally bare.

I'm also finding the beauty in bare branches - something I'll have months to keep practicing. But for now, I'm contemplating the wonder in a creation that boasts this blazing glory only in places where a cold, grey winter is imminent. Cambodia has splashy tropical flowers all year, but its deciduous trees never look remotely this amazing. Meanwhile, places like Pennsylvania and Vermont, whose landscapes are usually more subdued, pull out all the stops this time of year. Can people store up beauty in their hearts to sustain them through the winter, like a squirrel with his cheeks full of acorns? For as long as I get to enjoy fall, I want to memorize enough of it to last me for years. I'm "hurrahing in harvest" and loving every minute.

There's one word that sums up how I feel about being back this fall...

From high school to grad school

When I first started teaching at Logos, I had 7th graders in my homeroom, and I grew quite fond of them as my youngest class (I taught English 7-9, 11, and 12). The next year, they were still my youngest grade as I taught grade 8 and up, and again the next year as I taught grade 9 and up. They were my homeroom again in grades 10 and 11, and while students in that class came and went, I taught some of the Class of 2015 as many as seven times counting French classes - more than anyone else. So it seems only fitting that I "graduated" from Logos with them, and that I'm now starting college alongside many of them. But while they're starting their associate's or bachelor's, I've begun a master's at Lehigh University. I took a summer class there, and this fall I have 3 classes and a part-time assistantship.

I didn't know much about Lehigh when I first looked into it - only that it had a reputation for a good engineering program, a large Greek life population, and a high price tag. But it's not far from my brother, his wife, and their twins, so I checked it out just in case. I found that its master's programs in education were far cheaper than its other programs (and the other schools I applied to), it had a program in Comparative and International Education (CIE), and one of the CIE professors had a vaguely Cambodian-sounding name: Sothy Eng. When I clicked on his biography, I realized he'd done his bachelor's degree in my neighborhood in Phnom Penh. Coincidence? I thought not. When I contacted him last fall, he told me that he was bringing students there on a research trip in January, and we ended up meeting for coffee. The more I heard about his work and the Lehigh CIE program, the more I knew that Lehigh was for me.

Two of the perks of Lehigh's location: Evan and Carson!

As it turns out, Lehigh hired Sothy specifically to help oversee its research partnership with a nonprofit called Caring for Cambodia, started by a Lehigh alumnus' wife, which supports schools in Siem Reap, Cambodia. So not only has everyone in my program heard of Cambodia, but there are Cambodia bulletin boards in our hallway, my Latvian professor has published journal articles on Cambodia, and several of my classmates are visiting Cambodia in November. Even my assistantship under Sothy (who's now my adviser) is Cambodia-related: so far I'm supporting a team that raises awareness and funds for CFC, helping find resources for a new ESL class in Siem Reap, and writing a grant for a Cambodian Culture Day at Lehigh. It's all a bit surreal given that I'm 11 time zones away from this tiny country that many Americans my age seem to think is in Africa.

The first meeting of the Lehigh-CFC Executive Board

I'm about halfway through the fall semester. One class is on the theories of comparative and international education. CIE is a very loose field, borrowing elements from sociology, economics, anthropology, and more, so the theories used are equally diverse. Our professor told us that her main goal for us is to be able to succinctly define comparative + international education. So far, here's my definition: a field that examines various ways of solving the same educational problems in different countries, local communities, or international regions (ex. European Union), examining how global, national, and local forces interact. While I'm far from the only teacher in the program, many students and scholars don't have an education background and are interested in education policy, study abroad coordination, nonprofit work, etc. Examples of issues that might attract CIE scholars include...

• "How are various national governments responding to Finland's success on the PISA test?" 
• "To what extent are the World Bank's priorities reflected in the policies of countries whose education systems it helps fund?"
• "How does increasing primary school enrollment in poor regions affect the economic prospects of those students and their communities?" 

My building is on the "Mountaintop Campus," farther up this hill.
I feel pretty removed from life on main campus.

Another class examines issues and issues in education development. Development is actually a very controversial word - what does it mean? who needs it? who should be involved? what does the process look like? - and my professor and classmates are quick to point out hypocrisy and arrogance in the seemingly benevolent actions of Western nations and individuals. Many of them have experienced it firsthand, since my professor is Latvian and my classmates hail from China, Afghanistan, Algeria, Vietnam, and Norway. (There's only 1 other American in my class of 8.) It's been great for my critical thinking skills. I loved Walking with the Poor, the book I chose to review for an assignment last week. (Shout-out to my dear friend Meagan Stolk, who recommended it to me!) Written by Bryant Myers, who worked with World Vision for 30 years before becoming a professor at Fuller Seminary, it uses a biblical worldview to evaluate many of the development theories we've been learning in class, and offers lots of practical advice for Christian development workers. Given that Lehigh is secular, I appreciated my professor allowing me to choose a Christian book to complement our class readings. I found it immensely helpful and inspiring.

My last class is on research methods. It's not quite as intellectually stimulating, but I'm glad that I have an easier class, and I think it will be very relevant to my future work - especially as I begin my thesis. It's got me scheming and dreaming about how to research topics related to Asian Hope, the NGO that runs Logos, and the free Asian Hope "catch-up schools" that supplement students' public school education. It's also got me groaning about the challenges of researching across cultures, languages, and continents, but I'm not giving up the dream just yet. Sothy thinks that a summer research internship at Caring for Cambodia could also tie into my thesis. That would be the perfect convergence of worlds - if I could use my new Lehigh skills to evaluate outcomes for my friend Chenda's kids. So while I'm a long way from Cambo at the moment, I love still feeling involved.

Enjoying lunch last spring with Chenda and some of her students at our church

Chelsea the Neighbor Nanny

Since returning to the US in June, I've taken on a new job. You can tell it's different because of the following:

• While I used to find late slips and paperclips in my pockets, I now find them filled with plastic dinosaurs and acorns and sparkly jewels.
• While I used to ask myself each morning, "Can this outfit handle flood waters, hot season power outages, and/or blustery moto rides?" I now ask myself, "Can this outfit handle holding a small child with muddy flip-flops, crawling through a playground tunnel, and/or supervising a painting activity?"

Yes, indeed, I've switched from teaching high school in urban Cambodia to nannying in suburban Pennsylvania - in fact, right down the road from my parents' house. It's been so fun (albeit sometimes draining) getting to know these three kids the past few months. Let me introduce them to you.

Caely (age 8) 
(short for "Michaela")

Greatest joy: her dog, Kena. Caely thinks every song gets better if you replace a key word with “Kena,” and frequently tells me stories about how Kena was her first-ever friend as an infant.

Not a fan of… Aiden being in her room. Since his recent escapades include smearing calamine lotion on her bed and conditioner on her beloved plush horse, I can’t totally blame her.

Big enough to… persuade her siblings to do nearly anything. Thankfully she uses that latter power for good... usually.

Small enough to… get nervous about the addition problems in her summer math packet.

Wants to be... a chef. She can already make tasty spaghetti sauce from scratch without a recipe!

Quotable quote (about the little girl in Blueberries for Sal): “She ate blueberries the whole way up the hill? She must have been really poor!” (This from a girl who likes blueberries, by the way.)

Aiden (age 4)

Greatest joy: snuggling. And running around. Sometimes in quick succession.

Not a fan of… long "quiet times" (napping/reading) after lunch. He always makes me promise it will be short, even though he's usually sound asleep when I come to get him up afterward. 

Big enough to… swing on his own, as of mid-June, but he still likes when I push him. I’ve compromised with him: every other time he starts, I start him.

Small enough to… put everything in his mouth. His T-shirt collar. Toys. Playing cards. Things he finds on the ground outside. 

Wants to be... a worker who builds houses, and lawnmowers, and school buses. (These were all in view when I asked him. Last time I asked, he said "a police.")

Quotable quote: “I can pet your dog?!” This is his plaintive call to every dog owner he sees in the parks and neighborhood, no matter how often I have him rephrase it as "May I please pet your dog." All three kids drop everything and come running whenever a dog comes into view.

Caitlin (age 3) 

Greatest joy: being pushed on the swings. (It has to start like this: "Are you ready? Are you really really ready? Are you SUPER-DUPER-ready? OK, here we go!") Also, chapter books about fairies. She'd check out twenty a week from the library if I let her, just because the covers are pretty and she knows Caely likes them.

Not a fan of… being left behind. She may be the youngest, but she hates it when she’s the slowest! 

Big enough to… scale the playground climbing wall, and to zip around on her scooter like a champ. She's pretty agile - maybe it's related to the previous point. 

Small enough to… insist on having someone accompany her into the bathroom. Every. Time. 

Wants to be... a policeman. Or maybe a fireman. Or a worker like Aiden. 

Quotable quote: I took her to the doctor yesterday for a rash. She was pretty nervous, since her last doctor's visit involved a gash in her eyebrow that required five stitches. But Caitlin was very cooperative in yesterday's appointment, and the doctor quickly diagnosed the rash. As the doctor walked out of the room, Caitlin muttered in a disgusted voice, "That was boring." 

They jumped at the chance to introduce themselves to my friends and family...

We've had a lot of fun together in the back yard and driveway, at my church's Vacation Bible School, at playgrounds and parks, at the Y and the library, and at my house. We even went to the beach with my parents.

Since my grad courses started last week, I'm trying to tide them over until their school starts late next week, but very thankful that their family is flexible regarding my hours. I'm hoping to continue several times a week, after Caely and Aiden arrive home from school (3rd grade and preschool, respectively). These kids are so lovable, and they've quite effectively wormed their way into my heart! 

The endangered art of "marrying poor"

I'm a published author! I wrote this article recently for my first Lehigh grad class, which focused on diversity and inequity. I'm not an expert on this complex topic, but I enjoyed researching it. My professor, Dr. Sothy Eng, has a Huffington Post account and is publishing several of my classmates' papers there as well.

Marriage for Low-Income Americans is Still Worth Fighting For

"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage!"

Today's marriage landscape has shifted -- particularly among the working-class. There's still plenty of love and babies, but wedding rings have grown rarer. Yet many low-income Americans still desire marriage, according to Andrew Cherlin in his article, "The Deinstitutionalization of American Marriage," published in the Journal of Marriage and Family.

While marrying was long seen as the threshold to adulthood, today it is perceived more as its pinnacle, a status symbol following education and financial independence. And as wealthier Millennials delay marriage, their poorer counterparts struggle to achieve these "prerequisites."

Meanwhile, they are cohabiting and having children as early as their parents did. Among first-time moms, 94 percent of college graduates are married, vs. only 57 percent of those who never attended college, according to sociologist Kathryn Edin. In 2008, 48 percent of less-educated adults were married versus 64 percent of the college-educated: a 16 percent gap, according to Pew Research. Marriage has become a "middle-class luxury item."

It's not that low-income Americans have discarded marriage. They were as likely as high-income respondents to agree that, "A happy, healthy marriage is one of the most important things in life" and "People who have children together ought to be married." They were less likely to see divorce as "a reasonable solution to an unhappy marriage" or to affirm that "It is okay for couples who are not married to live together," according to Trail and Karney in their article, "What's (Not) Wrong With Low-Income Marriages" published in the Journal of Marriage and Family.

The disconnect between marriage-related values and actions stems largely from concrete obstacles. Sociologist Kathryn Edin argues that the working class value both parenting and marriage, but see the former as more attainable.

Due to everyday economic pressures, working-class Americans' fear of entrapment and failure keeps them from marrying. However, practical assistance could let more people enjoy the many advantages of a strong marriage.

They're afraid they can't afford marriage...

Low-income respondents place a higher value on a potential spouse's financial stability. They often associate married life with a certain standard of living, and everyone knows weddings aren't cheap. I know an engaged cohabiting couple with a newborn; they haven't set a wedding date because he's just starting out in a blue-collar industry. He wants to wait until he can give her "the married life she deserves," which might take a while.

Plus, unlike most couples, low-income couples often pay higher taxes when married than when cohabiting. Why? Married couples must file taxes jointly. But the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC), highly effective at encouraging single moms to work, phases out quickly with a second salary. An unwed mother with one child and an income of $15,000 receives over $3000 via the EITC, regardless of her cohabitating partner's salary. But by marrying someone who earns $25,000, she enters a higher bracket and loses nearly the whole credit. This "marriage penalty" deters many struggling couples.

... But marriage fosters long-term prosperity.

Unlike those with a college degree, less-educated women receive minimal salary boosts by delaying marriage. Especially if they have a child before wedlock, which increases the risk of an "absent or unreliable" father, the cost of parenting usually swallows up their wage increase. In fact, "single-parent households are five times more likely to be poor than two-parent households."

Meanwhile, marriage tends to increase men's annual earnings, regardless of their education level. Marriage reduces poverty. Reforming the EITC to eliminate marriage penalties and protect working-class families could yield long-term savings on Medicaid and welfare.

Couples in higher brackets usually receive a "marriage bonus" by filing taxes jointly. Why on earth would the government penalize low-income married couples?

They're afraid of feeling trapped...

Many cohabiting young adults doubt they'll marry their current partner. Some men see few incentives for marriage, since cohabitation offers many of the same immediate benefits and has largely lost its stigma. They fear increased nagging from their wives regarding financial provision and overall behavior.

Some low-income women express fear of more traditional gender roles emerging after marriage. Some also have concerns about domestic violence and substance abuse. "If I'm free to break up anytime," they reason, "he'll behave himself and let me make my own decisions."

Yet while couples can "slide" into cohabitation with little dedication, practical constraints often arise (like babies and shared possessions), leading some couples to stay together longer than they should.

... But marriage improves their odds of health and happiness.

Cohabitation is a poor substitute for marriage's long-term benefits. For example, that very nagging from wives contributes to married men's longer lifespans.

Marriage is more stable than cohabitation. Unmarried parents are much more likely than married parents to break up by the child's fifth birthday, enter a new live-in relationship, and have children with multiple partners. "Children suffer emotionally, academically, and financially when they are thrown onto this kind of relationship carousel," according to the report Knot Yet by the National Marriage Project. Kids thrive best with the consistent presence and involvement of both parents.

Adults, too, are often safer and happier when married. Cohabiting couples compose48 percent of domestic violence cases, while married couples represent only 19 percent. The commitment of marriage vows, combined with stronger bonds with family and friends, tends to hold spouses accountable to treat each other well. With or without children, married twenty-somethings report less drunkenness, less depression, and more overall satisfaction with their lives than their single and cohabiting peers.

They're afraid of failure...

Many low-income Americans fear divorce. Instead of strong marriage role models, they often have painful memories of their parents' failed relationships. Low-income married couples face higher risks of separation and divorce compared to their wealthier peers, and many doubt they can beat the odds. One mother told Edin, "I don't believe in divorce. That's why none of the women in my family are married."

Working-class women are "increasingly giving up on men and marriage," as men "who feel like failures in the job market" hesitate to shoulder family responsibilities, according to the Knot Yet report. Today, a black male high school dropout is more likely to be incarcerated than employed, according to a Brookings Institution's report.

Partially to blame are job training and employment initiatives, which often target single mothers and exclude men. Since the EITC's 1975 implementation, workforce participation has jumped for low-income or less-educated women but "stagnated" around 21 percent among their male counterparts, even declining in some subsets. Government policies "do little right now to encourage work or marriage" among these men, who may conclude shirking responsibility is in their family's best interest, based on a social policy report by Urban Institute.

... But marriage could nudge them toward a path to success.

When disadvantaged men believe they are superfluous, they despair and their community suffers. They need help to become valued employees, fathers, and husbands. Successful programs exist to teach entrepreneurship and money management, for example. An expanded EITC could also incentivize work among childless singles by offsetting reductions in welfare. Promoting employment would position more men to consider marriage.

Research suggests that marriage produces a "responsibility ethic" for men, yielding more income, more time at work, and more time with their family and its community. Though some of that is just correlation, marriage does seem to influence men positively.

With proper support, couples do better. Specifically, couples could benefit from joint mentoring by an older couple volunteering as role models, supporting them as they decide about marriage and helping them build a quality relationship. The government should sponsor successful mentorship programs run by nonprofits and churches.

More than a middle-class luxury

Many low-income families desperately need the mutual trust, financial benefits, and emotional health associated with marriage. Yet the next generation is growing up believing marriage is not for "people like us." Altered policies can promote employment among all demographics so marriage is a viable option for everyone. Without shaming single parents and cohabiting couples, we need to raise awareness of marriage's many advantages, particularly regarding children. Restoring a marriage-friendly environment is worth the fight.

Deluge

I promise I'll write soon about my new life in PA. But in the meantime, I'm sharing this delicious poem written by my friend and former Logos colleague Hillary Snyder. I like it not only because it evokes sweet and rueful memories of Cambodia, but because of its intricate sestina structure, using the same six words (road, slow, puddles, mud, holes, maze) in various orders to end the lines in each stanza. 

You can find it and other writings by her on her blog. I'm a bit envious of her talent, and so thankful Logos students get to continue studying  English with her!


Deluge

the cacophony of car horns blaring up and down the road
most mornings gives way to the slow
progress of motorists weaving across puddles
that hide pits of glass, bricks, and mud—
whatever objects shop owners find fit to mend holes
and restore some semblance of order to the maze

of haphazard traffic that moves as if there is no maze
in this melee.   cars and motorbikes converge on the road
with expertise.  there will always be holes—
for them.  my own progress here is as slow
as theirs, my novice skills inept. The thought of my mud-
caked frame if I were to fall in these puddles

stops me. and the puddles
are omens of the rains to come, a maze
of disorder that, combined with the mud,
brings me to question the Road
I’ve chosen— in a city that seems at once to reject slow,
and to embrace slow progress in fixing these holes.

I yearn to pause in front of holes
instead of rush through them, and to seek reflections in puddles
instead of facing the brown, congealed mess that’s slow
to dry in the humid air.  other motorists maze
their way toward their own Road
oblivious to the mire and mud.

I see others walking in the mud,
monks in tangerine humility whose Holes
are Wholes on their austere Road.
They diverge around the puddles
and in a show of reverence the maze-
weavers pause or come to a slow.

oh, heart of mine, so slow
to see anything but mud
in a city desperate for watering holes
that rain can’t provide!  Through the maze
of wandering souls these puddles
ripple with the reality of life on this road.

a hint of the slow, ritual streaks of the maize
and coral mornings reflects in the mud-filled puddles
and the holes in my soul seem as empty as those in the road—

Scottish for Beginners: Wedding Edition

In June, I had the immense privilege of attending the wedding of my Scottish friends Michaela and Neil. Michaela and I lived and taught together for five years in Phnom Penh, and I first met Neil when he visited her in Cambodia in fall 2013. In fall 2014, he moved there to join us on staff at Logos, but soon had to leave due to a stroke. So the last time I saw the two of them was last September at a hospital in Bangkok, where we shared a chuckle about gecko-flavored coffee, among other things. 

This time around in Scotland was a much more joyous occasion and an incredible testament to their perseverance and God's healing power. I spent a week there, inseparable from my fellow North Americans and former/current Logos teachers, Lorissa and Susan. 

Highlights included the lush green landscape, replete with early-summer blossoms, as well as two nights in the castle (!) where they were married, and a side trip at the end to the historic, charming city of Edinburgh. (Are you jealous yet?) I didn't get many souvenirs since I was in transit between Cambodia and the US with all my earthly possessions, but I did come away with some fun new lingo. Here are the words that stuck with me, illustrated with examples and photos from my trip. Confession: I'm guessing many of these words are also common across the UK and beyond, rather than being specifically Scottish, but they were new to me (besides #10) - even after five years as Michaela's housemate.

1. confetti (n.) - not just tiny bits of paper, but also dried flower petals, sometimes thrown at the bride and groom after the wedding ceremony.

Examples:
Michaela's mom Brenda persuaded her that offering tiny paper bags of confetti to guests would revive a sweet old tradition.

Brenda was delighted that Lorissa and I could help pluck flowers for the confetti, but in our minds it didn't exactly feel like work.

Amid the excitement on the morning of the wedding, the basket of confetti was left behind, but a few children still brought their own paper confetti to throw.

2. black pudding (n.) - a blood sausage made of congealed pig's blood and fat cooked with spices, onions, and lots of oats. It's often fried before serving.

Examples:
The "full Scottish breakfast" provided at our hotel included black pudding.

The waitress confirmed Lorissa's and my hunch of what black pudding was, but also encouraged us to try it, vowing it was delicious.

Lorissa and I ended up enjoying our black pudding and getting it on subsequent occasions, but Susan wasn't quite sold on it.

Our black pudding was topped with a tomato.
The casing is inedible.

3. hill walking (v.) - hiking in the hills or mountains.

Examples:

We visited Crathes Castle, near Michaela's house, where her mom often takes the dog hill walking through the grounds.

Scotland is a wonderful place for hill walking because there are no laws against trespassing; as long as you close gates behind you and pick up your litter, you're free to enter anyone's property.

We enjoyed some scenic hill walking near our hotel in Michaela's hometown.

Lorissa and me at Crathes Castle

Trespassing has rarely been so scenic.

4. Sat Nav (n.) - a Satellite Navigator, otherwise known as GPS.

Examples:

Lorissa, Susan, and I were too cheap to pay for a Sat Nav in our rental car, due to Scottish sticker shock, our unemployment, and a "can-do" attitude stemming from years in Cambodia.

A Sat Nav would have helped when we got lost on our way through the fog-shrouded hills of the Highlands en route to the wedding rehearsal. 

Despite lacking a Sat Nav, we successfully found not only the wedding venue (Drumtochty Castle!) but also several other beautiful locations on our way from there to Edinburgh after the wedding.

Susan got a big kick out of our cute car and driving on the "wrong" side of the road.
And hey, look, it's Brenda, Michaela, and Neil at Drumtochty Castle!

The Coastal Highway from Glasgow to Edinburgh

5. Order of Service (n.) - the program given to guests for the wedding. 

Examples:

Lorissa and Susan folded papers and tied ribbons for the Order of Service while I practiced guitar at the wedding rehearsal.

The Order of Service featured some entrancing songs from the region, like the Celtic fiddle and flute duet "Crow Road Croft" (used in the processional) and Rend Collective's "Immeasurably More" (for the recessional).

6. Signing the register (n.) - the part of the wedding ceremony when the bride and groom make their marriage legal and official.

Examples:

When Michaela initially asked me to play guitar during the signing of the register, I thought she meant I'd play as guests signed a guest book when first arriving.

Since we weren't sure how long it would take to sign the register, I prepared an arrangement of "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" and a classical song that I could divide into chunks to stop whenever they were finished.

It was a privilege to play as she and Neil signed the register, but I was relieved when it was over and I hadn't wrought havoc on their ceremony.

7. fascinator (n.) - a woman's decorative hairpiece, containing feathers, artificial flowers, lace, and/or ribbons, often worn at weddings.

Examples:

It used to be that every Scottish woman wore a hat to weddings, but now fascinators have become trendy.

Probably half the female guests wore fascinators - about the same as the proportion of male guests wearing kilts.

Michaela's aunt sported a bright pink fascinator to match her pink dress, and mused to me, "It just doesn't feel like a wedding without a hat or a fascinator."

Michaela's mom, Brenda, wore a fascinator...

(the men are Michaela's dad, Gerry, and Neil)

... as did three guests pictured here.

8. tablet (n.) - a sweet vanilla treat, similar to a square of fudge, often eaten with coffee or tea after a meal.

Examples:

The whole time we were in her hometown, Michaela's dad, Gerry, kept us on a sugar buzz with local treats like tablet.

At the reception, Lorissa and I couldn't resist having our tea and tablet the posh British way - pinkies out! 

9. Tunnock's teacakes (n.) - a chocolatey, marshmallowy treat proudly made by a local company outside Glasgow.

Examples:

Neil and Michaela left sweet gifts for each of us in our room at the castle: Tunnock's teacakes, a thoughtful note, and a can of Irn-Bru (a very sweet Scottish soft drink known as "Scotland's other national drink").

Tunnock's teacakes are one of many fine Tunnock's products, including caramel logs and caramel wafer biscuits. 

Michaela stumbled upon the brilliant idea of making a "Tunnock's tower" of treats for the ceilidh dance, which we had fun constructing.

Lorissa and Susan look inclined to sneak off with the tower, don't they?

10. ceilidh (n.) - a traditional Gaelic social gathering featuring dances akin to a US square dance. Pronounced KAY-lee.

Examples:

Ceilidhs are common in Scotland and Ireland for social events such as birthdays, town festivals, and weddings.

I had previous ceilidh experience since I helped Michaela host two of them at Logos for her birthday and another housemate's birthday... perhaps the only two ceilidhs ever held in Cambodia.

I love ceilidh music - especially with a live band, like at the wedding!

I was amazed by Neil's ceilidh dancing performance with Michaela to kick off the evening - last time I saw him in September, he was learning to wiggle his left big toe.

The ceilidh dances required a bit of concentration but were pretty accessible even to beginners.

A "Gay Gordons" dance

~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~

Last fall I wrote Neil and Michaela a limerick on a paper gecko and put it into a teapot to send to them in Bangkok. (Long story - read it here.)

A gecko once traveled to Thailand,

Finding Neil and Michaela inside-land.

Celtic music was played

In their room every day:

Preparation for ceilidhs in the Highlands.

When I wrote it, I was hoping - but not sure - that they could still get married this summer in spite of his stroke. I wasn't sure he'd ever be able to ceilidh again, though I knew Michaela had always dreamed of hosting a ceilidh at her wedding. Seeing it with my own eyes, and dancing alongside them,  and in the Highlands at that... it was truly a moving experience.