Sharing community at the 3C conference

It's been a while since I last found time to blog, so I thought I'd share this e-mail that I sent to my fellow World Teamers the other day. I expanded a draft by our global director, previewing one of the keynote addresses, so it's a mix of our ideas. 

I'm on the communications team for our first-ever global conference next summer. We're calling it 3C, which stands for Community, Collaboration, and Celebration. This e-mail focuses on Community. While its immediate inspiration is the conference, I was encouraged by reflecting in general on Christian community, and I hope it encourages you too! 

Have you ever...

... taken your church sledding on an Italian volcano?

... embalmed a body in the Philippines?

... spoken to hundreds of students at the Urbana missions conference?

... let your Cameroonian neighbors eat your dead dog?

... shared the Gospel with a witch doctor in Suriname?

Let's face it, our daily lives look pretty different. Do we really have anything in common?

We do!

Whatever our setting, skills, or personality, we have an incredible bond with each and every person attending the 3C conference.

Our unity won't come from gathering in the same resort, singing the same songs, or even wearing the same snazzy T-shirts. 

Rather, we are comrades in the epic battle of redemptive history, pointing to Christ as the Scriptures do (Luke 24:27). We are "striving together as one for the faith of the Gospel." We have common ground in being united with Christ, being comforted by his love, and sharing in his spirit (Philippians 1:27, 2:1).

The central focus of the 3C conference will be to celebrate Jesus together in community. We will discover His will, His plan for us as a community to reach the unreached in partnership with others.

Our human relationships are marred by entropy and fracturing: from the Fall, to Babel, to COVID lockdowns and worker attrition. Yet all things were created by and through and for Christ, and "in him all things hold together." He is the great Reconciler, "making peace by the blood of his cross" (Colossians 1:16-20). And he calls us - his body - to invite others into that same unity with God.

During the 3C conference, we as a World Team community will return to our core guiding principle: the Gospel. The Gospel is good news for those we serve, as well as good news for us, laboring for the harvest each day. 

And that will be the second talk of our 3C Conference:

Touched by the Gospel: We are united to Christ!

Together we will explore how the Gospel impacts and influences all that we do:

• in relating to one another as a community, united to Christ;
• in collaborating with others and God's Spirit;
• and in daily celebrating God's sufficiency in our fragility and foolishness.

The presenters for the second message will remind us in fresh ways of this foundation. We will see our total dependence on God's grace to do the ministry to which he has called us.

Bearing his presence wherever we go, we are members of a community spreading to the ends of the earth. In Christ, we have enough in common to fill eternity. How powerful it will be to taste that community as we exhort each other to drink deeply of his abounding love!

"God's love is as boundless as God himself." 

Dane Ortlund, Gentle and Lowly

See you next summer!

Venom: an original song

When I played this song for a songwriters' feedback group including the one and only Sara Groves, a ground rule was "No disclaimers until the end." I'm abiding by that here; you'll find the video, lyrics, and finally a set of explanations.

Venom 

When I moved to the jungle,

I prayed, “Lord, please, no snakes”

Only to discover

Something fiercer lay in wait

I glimpsed it in the mirror

It lurked beneath my phone

It even slithered onto me

When I was all alone

A thousand times bitten, I’m finally shy

Its venom is deadly

Self-pity, it promises relief

Self-pity, if I let it sink its teeth

Self-pity, an insidious attack

Self-pity whispers everything I lack

Without a pause to question

I obeyed it to a tee 

And plunged into its narrative 

Of anguish starring me

Resenting those who care for me

Why can’t they do enough?

And when will they appreciate 

That I’ve endured so much?

A thousand times bitten, I’m finally shy

Its venom is deadly

Self-pity, its poison oozes deep

Self-pity, it lulls my love to sleep

Self-pity warns me to take more than I give

Self-pity, what a wretched way to live

Desperate for antidotes 

I’m struck by rays of sun

Their radiance illuminates

And warms my angry wounds

I gaze at the glory

Which silhouettes a tree

A snake’s suspended from its branch

Hope rises up in me 

A thousand times bitten, I’m finally shy

Its venom is deadly

Self-pity, you don’t get to sink your teeth 

Self-pity, I won’t let you taint my grief

Self-pity, healing blood has been transfused

Self-pity, you’re no match for gratitude

Goodbye, you pitiful fool 

The music

As you might guess, I wrote this song the past few months, following my move to Preah Vihear province. The lyrics mostly came first, partly in Phnom Penh (away from my guitar) during my driver's license saga. Wanting a Khmer flavor, I was inspired by music blasting from my neighbors' yard when I returned to PV, which influenced my hook, chord progressions, and melody in the chorus.

This is my first song in which I combine finger picking and strumming with a plastic pick, and those transitions have taken extra practice. Maybe fitting for a song inspired by transitions.

The lyrics

I was brainstorming song topics, and "please no snakes" was first, while "self-pity" was at the end. Suddenly my brain merged the two.

My lyrics explanations below are detailed. Feel free to skip around to lyrics you're curious about.

Section 1: Naming the problem

"When I moved to the jungle" 

I live in the province capital with 20,000 people, on a paved street across from a hospital, not in the treetops with a pack of tigers. But as my teammate Joel says, "This place was all jungle until recently, and the jungle wants it back." Depending whom I'm talking with, I often say I've moved "to the province" or "to the country," but they don't quite capture life in one of the most jungle-y provinces. The video's first two images display the jungle flavor of the empty lot behind the wall around my house.

"I prayed, Lord, please, no snakes 

Only to discover something fiercer lay in wait" 

Joel has killed five cobras at his house in twenty years here. A guy in our Bible school sees snakes at his house at least monthly. My housemate Carolyn once reached for the light switch in a dark bathroom in our house and touched a snake. *shudder* Before arriving, I knew snakes were common, and I'm thankful to have seen just one dead and one alive anywhere this year. 

But it never occurred to me to be concerned about other venomous creatures like scorpions and centipedes, both of which have appeared in our yard and house. Nothing has harmed me, but the irony makes me laugh, and I look out for a wider range of monsters now.

A scorpion exiting the dining room earlier this year

I came to see these creatures as a metaphor for my struggle with self-pity. Though it's not new to me, it wasn't on my radar as a potential hazard of life here. Single missionaries rarely move to the province, and for years I said I wouldn't be one of them. I wrestled hard with my decision to move to Preah Vihear, and I second-guessed it many times in the months between committing (last July) and arriving (this January). 

I kept asking, "Can I thrive?" Can I thrive when I'm one of two foreign women in a three-hour radius? Can I thrive as a childless single in a culture that defines womanhood narrowly? Can I thrive when I'm surrounded by great material and spiritual needs and my capacity to help is so limited? Can I thrive when my former community in Phnom Penh is now five hours away and experiencing rapid turnover? But I never asked myself, can I thrive when self-pity is breeding in the shadowy corners of my life?

"I glimpsed it in the mirror

It lurked beneath my phone

It even slithered onto me when I was all alone" 

I dove right into life in PV. I love my team, my students, my work here. And I was so eager to get to a point of feeling helpful and connected and established that I overcommitted (also not new for me). Whenever I withdrew from the frenzy, my difficult emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Navel-gazing and social media didn't help.

"A thousand times bitten, I'm finally shy

Its venom is deadly"

I was excited to have Sara Groves, one of my favorite ever singer-songwriters, facilitate the songwriting feedback group that helped me with this song. I used to have three different pre-choruses and no repetition except the word "self-pity." To streamline the song and build cohesion, she highlighted "A thousand times bitten, I'm finally shy" and "Its venom is deadly" as key lines from the three pre-choruses that could be repeated. Now I prefer the song this way.

Self-pity may start off subtly, and I've often confused it with healthier practices like "acknowledging my emotions" or "thinking through challenges." Until recently, I wouldn't have said I had a major problem with self-pity, but looking back I can see how I've fed it for years. 

I'm finally wising up and viewing self-pity as a menace I can reject, not a sympathetic friend or a helpful reflection tool. When I asked, "Can I thrive?", self-pity answered, "No!" I'm realizing it's partially right: self-pity and I can't both thrive. This town ain't big enough for the two of us.

Self-pity, it promises relief

Self-pity, if I let it sink its teeth

Self-pity, an insidious attack

Self-pity whispers everything I lack

I think the attraction of self-pity is its sense of indignance: "I deserve better." Sometimes anger is easier than sadness. Self-pity distorts reality to bring an momentary self-esteem boost, followed by increased distress and confusion. It accelerates my emotions into a swirling vortex that tries to consume my whole view of life. 

Section 2: Understanding the problem

Without a pause to question

I obeyed it to a tee 

And plunged into its narrative 

Of anguish starring me

Resenting those who care for me

Why can’t they do enough?

And when will they appreciate 

That I’ve endured so much?

To illuminate my new diagnosis, I turned to the Internet. Wikipedia says this emotion involves "self-centered sorrow and pity toward the self" related to one's own suffering, and can be "'directed towards others with the goal of attracting attention, empathy, or help.'" 

Nobody recommends self-pity. From Forbes to Psychology Today to Alcoholics Anonymous, sources warn that self-pity can be a "deadly character defect" and "downward spiral," "repel[ling] those who'd like to support you" and "sabotaging... success." 

In his excellent pair of sermons, James Jennings argues that even worse than harming ourselves and our relationships, self-pity attacks God's glory. He quotes John Piper, whose book Future Grace identifies self-pity as pride:

"Boasting is the response of pride to success. Self-pity is the response of pride to suffering. [...] Boasting sounds self-sufficient; self-pity sounds self-sacrificing. But the need arises from a wounded ego, and the desire is not really for others to see them as helpless but as heroes. [...] It is the response of unapplauded pride." 

Self-pity is not mentioned explicitly in the Bible, but we can infer it in various characters like Sarah, Leah, Moses, and John Mark. Jonah wishes he were dead when God forgives his enemies and lets his shade plant wither. Martha complains to Jesus, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself?" The prodigal son's furious older brother sulks outside the welcome-home party. 

Each of these three stories ends with the self-pitying character receiving a valid rebuke from God and an invitation into joy. They leave me to wonder, "How would I respond in their shoes?" These stories are themselves a rebuke to me, an invitation to cringe at the crude charcoal sketch self-pity has drawn of my life, and to see in vibrant color again. 

 

Section 3: Addressing the problem

This was by far the hardest section to write. What is the antivenom for self-pity? 

My quest took me on a weeks-long foray into the depths of my personal experience, biblical references to snakes, obscure corners of the rhyming dictionary, 1950s missions history, and the unfamiliar world of snake milking. I even consulted a medical professional. After all that, I had to condense it down to 79 words, 15 of which were repeated from previous sections. Sometimes I doubted I'd ever finish this song, but the process brought some exciting revelations.

Desperate for antidotes 

I’m struck by rays of sun

Their radiance illuminates

And warms my angry wounds 

One night during a self-pity attack, I went out to lock up the gate and moonlight flooded my vision and my heart. I found myself dancing on the driveway to... what else... "Dancing in the Moonlight," feeling seen and loved and cheered on by God. So for a while, this section said "I'm startled by the stars." But starlight is not as bright as moonlight, and even moonlight can't even illuminate wounds well, let alone warm them. 

I realize that warming my wounds probably wouldn't feel comforting, especially in the Cambodian heat. But if self-pity numbs pain and distorts the truth, I might need warmth and illumination in my wake-up call.  I also liked the sun imagery as a symbol of God. 

I gaze at the glory

Which silhouettes a tree

A snake’s suspended from its branch

Hope rises up in me 

Part of the key to escaping self-pity is to look up and see something bigger than my current situation... something glorious. Sunlight and the sky are literal examples that have helped me. 

My favorite part of this whole process was rediscovering Numbers 21, or the "Snake on a Pole" story. God punishes the Israelites in the wilderness by allowing venomous snakes to bite them. To be healed, they must look up at a bronze snake on a pole, which has no healing power in itself but demonstrates their faith in God. 

I didn't remember what they were being punished for, but it's... drumroll please... self-pity! They've been grumbling against God and Moses: 

But the people grew impatient on the way; they spoke against God and against Moses, and said, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread! There is no water! And we detest this miserable food!” (Numbers 21:4-5)

That's right, folks, even the Bible connects self-pity with venom. The serpent on the pole foreshadows Christ hanging from the cross (also described as a tree), receiving our punishment and bearing our suffering. So "A snake's suspended from its branch" is meant to point to Christ's victory over Satan (who appeared in the garden of Eden as a snake) and over the sin of self-pity (here linked to snakes). 

Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. (John 3:14-15)

Self-pity, you don’t get to sink your teeth  

Self-pity, I won’t let you taint my grief

Multiple sources mentioned that recognizing self-pity can interrupt its vicious cycle. I can reject it without rejecting grief and other difficult emotions. The Psalms, drenched with emotions, cry out to God and focus on Him rather than on self. 

Self-pity is never inevitable. James Jennings' sermons highlight the example of Barbara Youderian. The night she learned in 1956 that her husband had been martyred as a missionary in the jungle of Ecuador, she wrote that she was

"[...] trying to explain the peace I have. I want to be free of self-pity. It is a tool of Satan to rot away a life. I am sure that this is the perfect will of God." 

(quoted in Elisabeth Elliot's Through Gates of Splendor) 

Of course, the ultimate example is Jesus. The only human in history to be entitled to self-pity, he never gave into it. Jesus wept tears of blood in the garden of Gethsemane, knowing he was innocent and about to endure unparalleled suffering. But he submitted to his Father's will, going to the cross "for the joy set before him." 

Self-pity, healing blood has been transfused

Do you know what antivenom is? I didn't until the marvelous Liz Helm sent me some articles. First you milk creatures like snakes and spiders to extract their venom. Then you inject the venom into a domestic animal, usually a horse or sheep, whose blood produces protective antibodies that can be harvested for human use. 

Does that sound familiar? A lamb who suffered the results of our sin, overcame it, and gave his blood to rescue us? Jesus' blood flows in my veins to guard me against future attacks of self-pity. I love finding these metaphors for salvation built into the operations of biology.

"'He himself bore our sins' in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; 'by his wounds you are healed." (1 Peter 2:24)

Self-pity, you’re no match for gratitude

Nearly every source I found, secular or Christian, agreed that thankfulness is a key solution to self-pity. The two are mutually incompatible. While self-pity says, "I deserve better than I've received," gratitude says, "I've received better than I deserve." My gratitude journal has been a tremendous help to me the past decade plus, and I write in it often. 

Everyone has something to be grateful for, but nobody has more than Christians. As Tim Keller writes: 

The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.

Believing the gospel makes my challenges pale, my pride melt, and my gratitude overflow. Self-pity can be truly deadly... and I've received undeserved new life and a way of escape.

Goodbye, you pitiful fool 

This was Sara's last contribution, changing "piteous" to "pitiful." It even feels better in my mouth. 

This line brings me the catharsis that self-pity never delivered. And this line, along with the rest of the song, have already helped me ward off or interrupt its venomous visits. 

A thousand bites in, I know which of us is destined to thrive.

How to get a Cambodian driver's license in 66 easy steps

I always swore I never wanted to drive a car in Cambodia. I lasted 11 years... but then I moved to the province. 

My teammates told me that while I didn't have to drive, it would really be helpful: one, to transport myself to distant villages, and two, to transport others without vehicles like our students. They offered the use of their pickup truck on occasion. My little 50CC Honda Today is a great town bike for a single rider, but it isn't built for fast speeds, multiple passengers, long distances, or rutted muddy roads. 

Soon after that, colleagues in Phnom Penh asked if I'd be willing to borrow their car in June and July during their trip to the US, so it wouldn't sit idle that whole time. So I found myself undertaking a process that I'd never particularly looked forward to, and it turned out much more difficult than I'd expected. 

If you're an expat wanting a Cambodian license (not an international license converted from your passport country), don't despair! For me, it was worth it despite all the grief. It is possible to pass the test, and I'd love to share with you what I learned from my experience in hopes of improving yours. You can find my study notes, tips, and illustrations in this 15-page Google doc. (Or you can pay a driving school to pay off the instructors and make sure you'll pass the first time.) But if you're here more for the story than its moral, read on.

How to get a Cambodian driver's license in 66 easy steps

1. Ride a public taxi for 5 hours to Phnom Penh.

2. Take your US driver's license, passport, several ID photos, and $45 in cash to the driver's license center at the mall.

3. Find out you need a residency letter from the regional government. This normally requires a lease with your name on it, which you've never had. You also need to convert your international driver's licence at least one month before it expires in September, but not within 30 days of your visa's expiry date in late July, so basically you have three months to get it done.

4. Ask your former landlady if she'll write a lease for you. In your 4 years living there, you were never listed on a lease; there was just an unofficial agreement. Argue politely that you're still keeping stuff at your old place and visiting monthly, and you were sharing the rent with a friend until recently. She kindly agrees to put you on a 2-year lease.

5. Meet landlady and recruit 2 witnesses to watch you sign the 2-page document she printed out in Khmer. Wonder if this could pose future issues if your friend moves out in less than two years. Hope for the best since there's usually a high demand for this kind of apartment.

6. Call a guy who helps foreigners get residency letters. He says it will take at least 3 business days, which would be fine except that it's Saturday and you need to drive 5 hours back home tomorrow. Can they rush for you? Probably not.

7. Learn from this guy that the landlady's lease will not be official enough to merit a residency letter at the government office. He says you need to pay him for a six-page lease and start over with the landlady... but you don't have time to meet her again before you leave.

8. Return to Preah Vihear wondering if you'll ever get a license. 

9. Ask housemates if their landlord would consider adding you to their lease, which hasn't been updated in ten years, even though leases generally only list one name for the entire rental property. They suggest trying to get a residency letter without a lease, since the Preah Vihear office is sometimes more relaxed than in Phnom Penh.

10. Wait a couple weeks for the office to reopen after Cambodian New Year. 

11. Go to the office and wait a few hours. Notice the enclosed dirt area out front, which your housemate refers to as the "cow impoundment lot" for residents' stray livestock. 

12. Be pleasantly surprised when they give you a residency letter on your word that you are staying with your housemates, whom the employees have known for over a decade. 

13. Ask an employee to reprint the letter four times to correct your name, birth date, passport expiration date, and visa number.

14. Leave the office hours later amazed to have a residency letter in hand, without having shown proof of residency or paid any money.

15. Drive five hours back to Phnom Penh for other commitments. Bring the residency letter and other documents to the driver's license center on a Monday, a few days into your 9-day trip. 

16. Reply "no" when they ask if you've ever had an international driver's license. Receive the startling news that you technically had one for a year long ago when licenses were required even for motor scooters under 125 CC. Since it expired in 2012, a late fee of $0.12 per day has been accumulating, totaling nearly $500. 

17. Argue that you never drove a car during that decade, weren't required to have a license for your motor scooter, and lived outside Cambodia for two years of that period. Admit defeat when the sympathetic employee does not budge.

18. Try to understand the employee's advice in Khmer to avoid the fee by taking the national driver's test, which includes theory and practical sections. Take down the center's phone number and address at the Heavy Truck Training Center, 45 minutes outside town.

19. Find out that your residency letter is still incorrect. The last sentence (which you didn't proofread because it didn't have any blanks to fill in) says the purpose of the letter is to apply for a job, not a driver's license. Realize that few people in Preah Vihear have ever taken the test for a driver's license. Snap a photo of an sample residency letter for the PV office to use as a reference.

20. Call the Heavy Truck Training Center, which tells you that you need to come in person to make an appointment for 3-5 days later.

21. Ask friends in Preah Vihear to go back to the office for you Tuesday, get the residency letter corrected, and send it down on a taxi. Since you brought all your ID photos with you, you need your friends to print more ID photos before they go to the office, since the office has already used the five photos you gave them last time. This would be impossible except that you just got ID photos taken last week and the photo place sent you the file for them for the first time in your life. Count it as a minor miracle when the PV office corrects the letter without you physically being there. 

22. Meet the taxi driver at an unexpected place Wednesday to get the letter. Go straight to the heavy truck training center. Take an eye exam and book the appointment for the following Monday morning (3 days after you'd planned to leave the city). 

23. Wrestle with the unexpected question of whether to take the exam in a standard or automatic transmission car. You learned how to drive a manual back in 2008, and while you got lots of practice that year, you haven't driven one in over a decade. But if you test in an automatic car, your license won't apply to manuals. You've never noticed what's common in Cambodia, so you ask a colleague's advice and go with an automatic.

24. Pay $10 extra when a driver claims your fare without actually picking you up, preventing you from booking another ride home for the next 30 minutes. Argue with the tuk-tuk company for a refund, which they eventually provide, and a credit toward your next trip, which they deny.

25. Learn that the test is very difficult and that you need to study for both the theoretical portion and the driving portion. Your Thursday and Friday are booked solid, so this leaves the weekend, when you thought you could finally rest and have extended time with God.

26. Spend about six hours studying theory in English on the app. Quiz yourself repeatedly. You can miss five questions and still pass. You fail about half the practice quizzes, partly because the English doesn't always make sense. Discover last-minute that you've overlooked one section of content. Wake up early to study more.

27. Try the quiz in Khmer to see if it's easier. It's not... unless you want to spend hours learning extra transportation vocab. But one question makes more sense now that you've seen it in Khmer.

28. Show up at 8 AM Monday morning. Pass the theory section at 9 on your first try (yesss!) and learn that you need to take the driver's test right afterward, not in the afternoon like you supposed. Realize you won't have time to rent a car from the center and practice like your colleague recommended. Study the driving course diagram. 

29. Try your best on the driver's test at 10:30. Notice there are almost no Cambodians taking it. Fail when you forget what turn to make (answer: a very sharp one) at an intersection with three options and have to back up to make the turn. 

30. Do the walk of shame, leaving the car mid-course and returning to the building. Exchange sympathetic looks with everyone else who failed. Ask when you can rent a car to practice. Answer: Not today. Only 7-8 AM.

31. Plead with the staff to print your license early if you pass tomorrow. Usually they print it after their lunch break, around 2 or 3, but that would mean you'd have to stay an extra day. Tell them you live 5 hours away and you've already extended your trip four days trying to get this license.

32. Call the taxi driver returning to Preah Vihear. You've really hoped to be on tomorrow's taxi, which leaves at 1 PM, but might go right past the training center 30 minutes later depending which route it takes. The driver agrees to save you a spot but wait until noon tomorrow to hear you confirm if you can ride with him. 

33. Put on your last set of clean clothes and eat the rest of the groceries you bought Saturday, the day after you were supposed to leave town. Go to visit former neighbors, which you naively think will be a brief, relaxing visit. It's anything but. Realize how exhausted you are.

34. Return the next morning at 7 AM with all your stuff from the past twelve days. Practice for an hour ($20), with some help from a compassionate examiner who gives you all the tricks (in rapid Khmer) for fitting a standard 4-door sedan into ridiculously tiny spots for the T-parking (reverse perpendicular parking) and parallel parking portions. These include things like, "When you see pole #2 aligned with the Toyota sticker in your back right mirror, come to a full stop and turn the wheels completely to the left." Wonder if it's advisable in any other context to turn the wheels when the car is fully stopped.

35. Endure his scolding whenever you get anything slightly less than perfect. Try to ask clarifying questions. Be patient when his answers are unhelpful.

36. Get kicked out of the car after exactly an hour, when you are starting to get the hang of his instructions but not yet confident you understand them all, let alone will be able to apply them in a testing situation. 

37. Wait 2.5 hours in the heat again to retake the driver's test. Recognize several faces from the day before, since most test-takers failed their first and/or second attempt. Rack your brain to write down all the tips he gave you. Realize you have a few blanks in your memory

38. Panic at 10:30 when your name isn't on the list they announce. Run into the building where they tell you you should have signed up and paid $15 by 9 AM for the retake. You plead for mercy, pointing out you've been there waiting since 7 AM. They let you register now, but they don't take cash and the payment app isn't working on your phone inside the building.

39. The staff point you to a green building across the street which they say is a Wing, a business where you can send money or pay bills. 

40. The people at the green building tell you it's never been a Wing. They tell you to walk ten minutes down the street. You'd book a tuk-tuk ride, but a) your phone data still isn't working, and b) you know from experience that there's almost no tuk-tuk service this far out of town.

41. Rush back to the testing center, sweaty and sunburnt. They ask in amazement where you've been all this time. "Going to the Wing like you told me." All other test-takers have finished.  

42. Pray as you start the test, "Lord, my time is in Your hands." Acknowledge that you have control over very little in life, and that failing the test again is actually not the end of the world.

43. Fail the test again when you start the T-parking too far to the right. Knowing you're probably going to fail, you try to inch forward and turn enough to get into position, but end up knocking over a cone. 

44. Endure repeated scolding from the examiner, telling you, "You knocked over a cone!" as if you didn't know that was grounds for failing. Finally interrupt him and tell him, "I know, that's why I'm not arguing." Repeat the walk of shame off the driving course.

45. Endure another lecture from the examiner who helped you that morning, saying you didn't follow his instructions. Actually you tried to... he said not to start too far to the left, but in your conscientiousness about that you started off a bit too far to the right.

46. Be mocked by the parking attendants for failing twice in a row. (Not like it's that uncommon!) They tell you to sign up for driver's school this weekend. Tell them, "I can't stay until the weekend. I have to get back to my job 5 hours away." You know your options are to pass within four tries (by Thursday) or else return to PV without a license or a way to transport students to Saturday's baptism.

47. Stand under the noon sun. Have trouble getting a tuk-tuk once again. Finally get a ride with the guard's friend. Find out ants have infested your packed lunch while your bags were sitting in the guard shack all morning. Load all your stuff back into a tuk-tuk. Consider crying. Try to figure out why you are so very bothered about not being back to PV yet.

48. Return to the office where you're staying. Take a long nap. Ask friends to use their washing machine. Buy a few more groceries. Get a much-needed pep talk from a colleague. Spend time with the colleagues who are flying out that night and leaving you their car. 

49.  Return to the testing center at 7 AM. Rent a car for another hour. Feel much more confident.

50. Update your notes. Share them with a woman you recognize who sometimes leads worship at your former church. Chat with her for the first time ever. Try to help her pass on her first try, since she doesn't have much margin to spend here.

52. Celebrate when she passes the theory test. Try to encourage the British guy who just failed the theory test for the third time. Tell him, "I know the answers are ridiculous, but if you practice more with the app, you'll start to memorize them."

53. Take the test for the third time. Everything goes flawlessly until the last section, parallel parking.

54. Back up and angle into the spot at a diagonal. Think you hear the sound of tires hitting the curb. This is not an automatic fail, but you're only allowed to pull forward and correct once, so you have basically no chance of success if that's what you just heard. 

55. Get flustered and forget what step you're on in the stupid nitpicky method you have to use here, which is not like the common-sense intuitive method your dad taught you. Sit frozen for a moment.

56. Listen to the examiner yell through your window in Khmer, "Great, now turn your wheels hard to the left!" Bless him silently and realize your wheels were never near the curb. 

57. Get out and look at your parking job. You needed both your right wheels to be within 25 cm (9.8 inches) of the curb, but you've gotten them more like 5 inches away without a single correction.

58. Stop at the final stop sign and do a victory dance when they tell you you've passed!

59. Call the afternoon taxi driver. He's not driving today so there's no point in rushing home. Decide against trying to drive your colleagues' car from Phnom Penh all the way to Preah Vihear by yourself. Waiting one more day won't kill you.

60. Wait inside the building while the staff prepares your license. Chat with the driving instructor who helped an American guy pass on his first try. Wonder how much kickback she paid for him to pass right away and how much time she's saved him. (He showed up at 10:15, just in time for the driving test, and now she's getting his license for him.)

 61. Get your license from the staff within five minutes. They tell the driving instructor, "This girl lives way up in Preah Vihear. She's lived here for 11 years already!" They don't tell her how you failed twice. 

62. Walk out with a grin. You have a license for the next ten years.

Bonus: I can drive tractors up to 3.5 metric tons.

63. Return to Preah Vihear on Thursday, 15 days after you arrived in the city, six days later than you expected to leave.

64. Load up your teammates' pickup truck with 17 students that Saturday. Drive them 30 minutes away to a waterfall. 

65. Park by the waterfall in a field with no curb, much less a 10-inch distance requirement. Hike in and watch eight students be baptized. The joy is infectious. 

66. Write down everything you learned along the way, in hopes of saving others a few dozen steps.

Mangoes like manna

For the first time in my life, the past two months, I've had unlimited all-I-can-eat access to free mangoes. How many mangoes is that? A lot. I haven't counted, but I'm sure my average consumption is upward of one mango per day. It's been a definite highlight of my transition to Preah Vihear. I'm not alone in my enjoyment: we've given away boxes and bags full, let visitors pick all they want, offered mango smoothies to every dinner guest, and left maybe 1000 to rot on the ground. And the season's not over yet!

Not pictured: about 5 more mango trees

My hosts, Jim and Carolyn, laugh at me. They say my obsessive enthusiastic mango collection efforts mark me as a newbie. And they're partly right. I've wasted a lot of time gathering and cutting into goners. But I'm learning along the way: how to use the best collection techniques, which unpromising specimens are worth a second look, and how many mangoes I'm able to eat before tiring of them. (Not enough yet!) 

In Phnom Penh, I ate plenty of mangoes too, but most of them I had to pay for, and I was only vaguely aware of the growing process. The only house I rented with mango trees was all sour mangoes which were less appealing to me, and the landlords never invited my housemates and me to help ourselves. I haven't had free access to fruit since my childhood in Vermont, when my family went to pick raspberries and blackberries down the road every summer. So I've enjoyed investigating one of my favorite-ever foods.

In our yard, we have two main types: one called "turmeric" because of the flesh's dark yellow color, and one called "Chinese," which are are less common and more prized. I'm not sure of the English names because many varieties in this article look like what we have. They're both tasty, but the Chinese ones are more fragrant, less fibrous, and commonly considered more delicious, which I can understand. 

My friend Sina's dad has turmeric mango trees on his farm, and I asked how he cares for them. He said they don't need any care, they just grow, but he's been cutting them down because there's no market for them. I get his point. With no freezer space and quickly ripening mangoes, I'm having trouble keeping up with the bounty. The few sellers in town that bother with them are advertising 1000 riel ($0.25) per kilo. When multiple friends declined to take any mangoes home because they have too many, it reminded me of my favorite Vermonter joke:

Q: Why do Vermonters lock their cars?

A: To keep their neighbors from putting zucchini inside.

I've observed four basic techniques for harvesting mangoes:

1. The Easter Egg Hunt. By far the easiest method, and how perfect is it that mango season and Easter occur so close together? But it's frowned upon by many Cambodians because the fallen ones are often overripe and/or full of worms. Not always, though! I found many that were only half-filled with worms (hey, if one side is still good, why not?) and some that were unscathed.

I hesitated to pick up this yellow mango, but it was in perfect condition

This technique works especially well after a storm. It's literally a windfall, where pristine mangoes are torn from their branches and whipped to the ground with terrific force. If they're still firm enough, they won't even be bruised. But these days, when I hear mangoes falling, there are so many already on the ground that it's hard to spot the latest arrivals.

Cows are also partial to this technique. We don't mind, but the local cowherd does. (He never used to, so we're theorizing it might be because of the big new wall that the Gabriels' landlord built around the perimeter last year.) They seem to be OK with even the rotting ones - good for them!

2. The Lacrosse Game. AKA the "right" way. The apparatus varies, but basically you need a very long pole attached to some sort of basket. It's possible to buy a mango picker, but the Gabriels and many others prefer the DIY route, attaching a bamboo pole to a soda bottle with a hole cut out of the side. Ours was missing a slit at the top to help catch and cut the stem, so Carolyn helped me improve it, which really helped. Previously the mangoes all seemed to fall out of the bottle when I pulled it down.

This month marked my first successful experience picking mangoes this way. Previously I'd watched others when visiting people with mango trees, but my occasional brief attempts had ended in frustration and my turn being given to another guest. At the Gabriels', with no one else in line, I've had a chance for more practice. I still get irritated trying to pick the less-ripe ones which are firmly attached to the tree, even though the ideal time to pick a mango is when only the top is turning yellow. But the fully yellow ones are so ripe they practically fall off when you breathe in their general direction. 

This mango ended up on top of my Easter custard, shown below

The Plas Prai dorm students are master mango pickers. They harvested probably 200 good ones from our yard in about 15 minutes in late March. I need to get them to come back soon for a repeat performance, since they have 40+ mouths and almost no mango trees on their property. Our landlords and other visitors, including the roofing crew shown below, also picked some mangoes to take home from the two "Chinese" mango trees out front. 

3. The Piñata. Sometimes it's easier to bludgeon the mangoes to the ground than it is to secure them in the soda bottle and gently lower them. The green ones are resilient enough that this can actually be an effective strategy. This technique also commonly occurs by accident while trying to situate the mango picker. Mangoes on long stems swing around at least as much as piñatas, and it's much more difficult to aim with a 12-foot bamboo pole than with a 2-foot baseball bat. It's a fun surprise to see which mangoes actually come down!

4. The Fly-By. This technique is not available to humans but is widely practiced among moths and other winged creatures, who lay their eggs in the mangoes. Presto! What seemed to be a delectable mango with one tiny spot on the peel can turn out to be as crisscrossed as an ant farm inside. I think they're the biggest winners in our mango jackpot, accounting for about 1/3 of our mangoes. But that's OK... there's plenty to go around.

Plas Prai dorm students and I made mango bread with mangoes picked by their classmates

My plan to bring mango bread to Plas Prai's Khmer New Year party spurred on my scavenging through early April

Easter dessert: mango coconut custard adorned with a fresh-picked mango (see picking video above in #2) 

Preah Vihear has a limited selection of groceries, but it's amazing to me to find mangoes in such abundance. Picking them, especially off the ground, reminds me of the Israelites in the wilderness. They went out each morning to gather manna that they hadn't worked for, didn't understand, and mostly took for granted. To an unappreciative bunch of whiners, day by day, God gave a life-sustaining gift. 

I don't know if I'll be quite this diligent every year to gather, slice, freeze, and cook with mangoes. But I'm committed to spend time each year enjoying them and helping others enjoy them. They are still my favorite part of hot season and a source of joy to this highly experienced whiner. Mangoes, like manna, are a relentless gift. 

Humans of Preah Vihear 2

Today I want to introduce you to Ry. I first met her when she was in grade 10, her first year as a student at the Plas Prai dorm. Like other students, she was from a low-income rural family that lived too far from a high school to send her there without help. I remember Ry was always up for a volleyball or soccer game, and she consistently attended the optional Bible study. 

After graduating in 2020, she attended Discipleship Training School with YWAM. Last fall, at age 21, she joined YWAM as a faith-based volunteer at our dorm. She was offered a full scholarship to university, which we're hoping she'll accept after her 2-year dorm service. She's also a student in our part-time Bible school, and like the others, she recorded testimony videos with our guest lecturer Bora back in January. Ry is laid-back, quick to laugh, and passionate about Jesus. No wonder some of the male students have crushes on her. 

I'm getting to know not only Ry but also her family. Ry's younger sister Khoun, age 20, is a new grade 10 student this year at Plas Prai. (Many rural students start school late because they have to walk or bike to school, and repeating grades is also pretty common.) Last week, I got to join Ry and two others to visit Ry's parents back in the village. More on that below.

 

Video 1: "My life has hope"

“Hi, my name is Ry. I’m from Jey Sain district, Preah Vihear province, and currently living in Preah Vihear town. I volunteer at the Plas Prai dorm for high school students, which is where I first became a Christian. I want to tell you about how I first believed in Jesus. I used to be really shy and critical of myself, always comparing myself to others. I was insecure, timid, and afraid. I was so focused on comparison that I didn’t want to be around other people. 

But when I came to live at Plas Prai, I learned a lot about the God who created the world. He’s the only one who can rescue us. He came to earth, died for our sin, rose again, and returned to heaven. When I believed in Jesus, my life changed dramatically. I understood my identity: who I am, where I came from, and where I’m going – to heaven to be with God. 

Once I believed, I wasn’t afraid anymore. I trusted God’s plans for my future and stopped comparing myself to others. I understood Jesus’ love for me and I wanted to show it to other people around me. Jesus humbled himself by giving up heaven to become a humble person and He loves people no matter their situation or status. He forgives our sins. The Bible says healthy people don’t need a doctor – only sick people do. Similarly, Jesus came to save people who know they are sinners. 

In my life, since believing in Jesus, I’ve seen that He’s with me every day and He won’t let me lack anything or be afraid, no matter what situation I face. He’s our best friend who will never abandon us. In Matthew 28:20, Jesus tells us to teach others to obey His commands and know that He’s with us until the end of time. Learning all of this helped me to trust Him even more and see how amazing He is.” 

Video 2: "My experience being mocked for my faith"

"I want to talk a bit about my experience when I first believed in Jesus. I experienced some persecution as the first believer in my family, but more than my family, it was my neighbors and especially my friends who really spoke out against me. They made fun of me and called me 'Jesus.' But I told them, 'No, I’m not God.' My older brother-in-law had learned about Christianity before, but it was so different from what I had learned about God: that He’s the God of salvation who created the heavens and the earth.

My friends also used to criticize me: 'You’re graduating high school [which is rare in Jey Sain] but you don’t have a job. Why do you want to be a volunteer serving God with no salary?' But I told them, 'I’ve received Christ and now want to serve Him. I don’t need to focus on earthly wealth that can be stolen or devoured by bugs and rats. I’m focusing on treasure in heaven that can’t be lost or burnt or destroyed.' To me, the most important thing is to see people around me receive salvation. 

God encouraged me that even though I’m a poor volunteer right now, I can have joy in seeing people accept Christ. We can’t take money with us when we die, but God is preparing amazing heavenly treasure for believers. So I want to encourage my fellow Christians not to worry about wealth on earth and what to eat every day. Let’s trust God and follow Him daily.”

Ry's family

The trip to Ry's village last week was 27 miles but took us about 90 minutes, mostly on the last few miles after we got off a good road. It was so bumpy that poor Sophoeurt, Ry's best friend and fellow dorm grad-turned-volunteer, got carsick multiple times even after moving back to the truck bed. 

On the way, Carolyn and I asked Ry about her parents. She said her mom is quiet but her dad is social. They married for love, somewhat unusual for their generation, and still love each other, which is even more unusual. They don't fight much, partly because Ry's dad rarely gets drunk. Ry is the 6th of 8 children and the first in her family to finish high school. 

L to R: Sophoeurt, Ry's parents, Ry

When Ry was a child, her dad had a plowing accident and lost a toe, but because the local clinic didn't treat it well, his foot became infected. Ultimately the regional hospital had to amputate his whole foot and he now has a plastic prosthetic from a NGO (non-profit group). Since then, he mostly stays home from farming their rice and cassava fields. But he loves running errands by motorcycle to the market in the nearest town, maybe a 20-minute trip, for the few staple ingredients that they don't grow themselves, like oil, sugar, and salt.

We went mostly to ask permission from the village chief to conduct a clinic at their house in July with a short-term medical team from the US. Their home is plain and the yard is all dirt, but things seemed well-cared-for. Ry's younger brother and older sister were there most of the time, as well as the sister's husband and son, but they said hi briefly and then went off to do other tasks. 

It was my first time meeting a village chief, and I wasn't sure what to expect. I asked if I needed to dress up, knowing that for meetings with Phnom Penh officials, there can be quite a formal dress code. But Jim and Carolyn told me to wear my regular rubber flip-flops instead of nicer shoes so I wouldn't make him look bad. They were right - he didn't make a special effort to look nice. I guess going to someone's house is different from meeting at a government building.

The first five minutes with the village chief were terrifying. He told us to keep the clinic very low-key by accepting ten patients once a week, so the school wouldn't have too many absent students. Clearly he'd heard a very partial account of our plan. We hesitantly explained that the visitors were coming to this village for just a day and that they hoped to welcome 100 patients. Thankfully, he was open to that and our other ideas, and sat with us for hours under the house, chatting about his trips to distant provinces and eating Ry's mom's delicious sticky rice with jackfruit and coconut... all three were home-grown. 

Rice (regular and sticky varieties) grown by Ry's family

Ry's mom sent the leftover sticky rice with Ry for Khoun and the other dorm students

The chief's house, right across the road, will be our second clinic site so we don't have to cram 100 patients under one house all day - especially if it's stormy or sunny. He and Ry's dad debated for a while about which road would be more reliable in rainy season. The conclusion? Both could be problematic for the pickup truck. Unless a bridge is built over a creek on one road, we'll probably need to rent a tractor to make it through the mud on the other road.

A bridge is apparently coming soon. In the meantime, the creek is passable during dry season, but might not be by July.

Ry and Sophoeurt cooked lunch for us with Ry's mom ("Auntie") while we met with her dad and the chief. Afterward, Carolyn and I begged for permission to help wash dishes so we could spend time with Auntie, who surprised us by being very sweet and happy to chat with us, though a bit shyer than Ry's dad. We watched her make another kind of sticky rice to send back for Khoun (her younger daughter) and the other dorm students, along with a jackfruit and another kind of fruit that Ry and Sophoeurt scavenged in the forest behind their house.

Sophoeurt shows off her forest findings - a bit like grapes

Ry's mom steaming the sticky rice over an open wood fire

Effortlessly flipping the sticky rice to steam the other side

Ry's mom said she feels stupid because she doesn't know how to read, even though illiteracy is common among women of her generation. I told her it's pretty amazing that she raised eight children to adulthood. It couldn't have been easy to care for them all. I also surprised her by telling her that in America we don't know how to make sticky rice or wrap things in banana leaves - in fact, I'd never seen a banana leaf before moving to Cambodia. Doesn't she make it look easy in the video below? (The banana leaves keep the hot sticky rice from melting the plastic bag, which Ry had brought from the market in town - the only plastic bag they could find in the house. I'm sure the leaves were from a nearby tree. Cambodians often wrap smaller snacks in just banana leaves, but such a big amount would be hard to secure.)

We joked that Auntie is the opposite of Ry, who was at the top of her class but isn't known for her cooking. She and Carolyn bonded over their adult children and the fact that neither of them knows how to drive a motorcycle... Carolyn drives a truck, but Ry's mom can't leave the village unless someone takes her. We asked her what she thinks about Ry being a Christian. "No problem," she answered. What would she like Ry to do in the future? "It's up to her." Most of Ry's siblings are farmers in the same village. Her older sister, who thinks she's 22 (Ry's age) or maybe 23, has a 7-year-old son. Her younger brother dropped out to help on the farm - subsistence farmers often can't afford to let their sons finish school. Ry's life is such a contrast!

While Carolyn and I were up in the kitchen with Ry's mom, Ry gave her dad a small device with a recording of the New Testament, which she'd received the previous week from a local NGO. When we came back downstairs, her dad was listening to it. Her parents are not yet believers, but she's courageously shared the Gospel with them, and they're interested in learning more. Ry says Khoun has also changed - she used to make fun of Ry for her faith, but since coming to Plas Prai, she's become more spiritually open. She prays to Jesus when she has a headache or at bedtime when she's afraid of spirits. She even cut off the amulets around her waist, which were meant to offer spiritual protection. I'm praying for their family and glad I'll have more contact with them. They seem warm and resilient, they were very patient with my Khmer, and they made me feel welcome. 

Khoun is learning guitar at the dorm