Hidden in my heart

For over two and a half years, these words have been the soundtrack to my life. I've recited them on motor scooters and bicycles, in planes and in cars. They've saturated my mind as I've proctored exams and stood in line and pushed my nephews in their strollers. They've been my faithful companions as I've moved from Phnom Penh to Doylestown, as I've traveled to Kuala Lumpur and Orlando and Siem Reap and Ottawa. Isaiah 53-66 have seen me through a lot.

My history with Bible memory goes way back. In elementary school, my pastor urged the other kids and me to memorize Psalms 23 and 91, as well as various weekly memory verses. Those words still echo in my mind today:

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

For he will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith...

In middle and high school, I did lots of Bible reading and study, but little memorization. I got too annoyed trying to memorize all the references (book, chapter, verse) for separate one-off verses learned out of context. However, as a college freshman, having loved a Navigators study on Ephesians, I decided with a close friend to memorize all six chapters over the summer. I'd never done more than a chapter at a time. By the start of sophomore year in fall 2005, I had crammed the whole book into my brain, though it soon began to slip out again. In the process, Ephesians became dearer than ever to my heart.

Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit...

For he himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility...

Sadly, despite that positive experience and the benefits I've reaped to this day, I made almost no effort to memorize Scripture for the next 7+ years. Then I read an Ann Voskamp blog post challenging readers to tackle Jesus' Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) over the course of a year. She included a free PDF of weekly cards with 1-2 new verses plus a review of the previous verses in the chapter. That way, it wasn't too much of a cognitive burden each week, and it consistently reinforced the previous verses. I found it a far more doable approach than I'd used with Ephesians. If I started learning the week's verses on Sunday, I could spend a minute or two reviewing on Monday and Tuesday and then remember it the rest of the week. That way, I could mostly practice it on my 15-minute commute to work instead of lengthening my morning routine.

At its worst, my commute looked a little like this...

Thankfully, other parts looked like this.

Everyone loves to hate Phnom Penh traffic. Between the potholes, the hot exhaust fumes spewing from trucks toward your face, the Important Rich People cutting you off, and the unpredictable veering of motos and bicycles, 15 minutes can be more than enough to make you lose your cool. So it was quite helpful for me to have something to focus on, a mental "screen-saver" to return to between close calls. It also helped me avoid worrying about everything I needed to accomplish at school that day. Before 7:30 every morning, I had truth running through my brain, centering my heart.

Blessed are the poor, 
   for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, 
   and all these things will be given to you as well.

Now, let's be honest. It's not like I always went into it with the best attitude. Sometimes it was a chore to check off, sometimes it became a reason for pride, and sometimes I ran through the entire thing automatically without even thinking about it. Still, the verses often resounded in my mind throughout the day, shaping my thoughts. They'd challenge me to yearn for a pure heart, to reject anxiety, to pray as Jesus prayed. In spite of my sub-par motives, I could tell I was growing through the memorization process.

At the end of the year, I knew I wanted to keep this habit going. But Ann's next challenge was the book of Romans in a year, quite a daunting task. Anyway, having memorized an epistle and a chunk of a gospel, I was ready for some Old Testament.

In January 2014, I began learning the passage about the Suffering Servant, starting in Isaiah 52:13 and continuing through Isaiah 53. It's always been a favorite, along with subsequent passages in Isaiah 55 and 58. I didn't know how far I'd take it, or whether I'd skip some unsavory chunks, but I knew I wanted to meditate on this vivid poetry with its piercing insights into humankind, its shocking promises about the coming Savior, and its heated arguments between God and his children.

Last month, I finished reviewing all the way from there through Isaiah 66 - the end of the book. (The last verse is a downer - about worms and fire devouring those who rebel against God. Not how I'd choose to end such a moving book.) It's not word-perfect, but it's close enough.

I never expected to make it this far, or to keep up with reviews well enough to recite it all at once. But I did, and I've grown to appreciate even the parts that didn't initially appeal to me. They've confronted me. They've comforted me. They've compelled me. Sitting with these chapters, day in and day out, has revealed some of the meaning and beauty that I missed the first few dozen times through. As my dear friend Emily Cieslinski says, "When I want to understand a Bible passage, I start by memorizing it."

Most of all, I think they've reminded me that God cares. He cares about our pain. He cares about our choices to be faithful or unfaithful to Him. He cares about His reputation among those who have never heard His name. He cares about justice. He cares enough to do something extraordinary. God is not a vending machine or an abstract force; He is a personal, relational Being whose passion is but dimly reflected in our paltry feelings.

...the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
      and by his wounds we are healed.

Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child...

Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen: 
   to loose the chains of injustice 
   and untie the cords of the yoke... ?

From the west they will fear the name of the Lord, 
   and from the rising of the sun they will revere his glory.

What's up next? I'm not yet sure. So far, I've just gone back to revisit Ephesians and Matthew 5-7. But with a new school year starting, it seems as good a time as any to start a new passage. In some ways, I'm not sure it matters which one I pick next, whether I learn it perfectly, or how long I remember it. Paraphrasing Beth Moore (I think), I've never heard of anyone saying, "I wish I hadn't memorized that passage." Even when words fade and translations get mixed up... even when deadlines are missed and memory plans are derailed... even when our minds feel like sieves... the Bible still does its work of washing and cleansing us, as it says in Ephesians 5. After all, it's God's Word, and when it enters someone's heart, it always accomplishes its purposes.

Scripture memory isn't a common topic of conversation. I'd love to hear your stories. What passages or sets of verses have you loved learning? What obstacles have you faced, and what strategies have you found helpful? I'm open to recommendations on what I should tackle next!

Happiness is...

Borrowing your neighbor's motorboat (and your other neighbor's canoe) for a week...

Rounding up your family...

Heading to a lake...

We Cooper kids continued our waterskiing lessons from last summer -
this time we could really have fun with it

My dad, by contrast, has been skiing with aplomb since high school

Cooking together...

 (using a drill to whip the egg whites, as you do when you're an engineer)

Having your ultra-talented aunt and uncle stop through in their travels from a distant land... 

Most photo credits to Uncle Joe, pictured far right with his wife Linda

Coercing your dad and uncle into helping you arrange a guitar piece for a dear friend who gave you 9 days' notice that you'd be playing in her wedding...

I could have said no, but she's worth it!

Welcoming another dear friend, from Cambodia by way of Wisconsin...

I love it when worlds collide

And most of all, watching three nephews compete for most endearing. These guys totally stole the show all week!

L to R: identical twins Carson and Evan (19 months), their "Opa" (many months), and Cole (17 months)

"Yup, there are 3 of us and life is pretty great!"

 

  

Cole was fascinated by the old-fashioned water pump by the driveway

I declare, Little Blue Truck is the wisest vehicle I know.

They've always been cute individually, but as they get older and start interacting more with each other, it's become exponentially more fun to watch them together. 

Here they are mesmerized by the construction vehicles at the house next door.

Can't you feel the brotherly love?

Evan sure can.

In exchange for Cole teaching them new sounds, Carson and Evan instructed him in their favorite workout, couch-jumping. Cole's version is a bit more cautious, but he made some good progress. 

Cole much prefers a lively conversation with them to eating his lunch. Can you blame him?

While I've always loved spending time with my family, these tiny people have really kicked it up a notch. I've come to the conclusion that aunting can be just as fun as grandparenting, minus the prerequisite of slogging through long decades of child-rearing. 

Happiness can be fleeting and frail. It pales beside the deep God-inspired joy that endures in suffering and mundane moments. But it's still a precious gift worth savoring.

Growing downward

When I mentioned to my internship coordinator this spring that I dream of training Cambodian teachers someday, her eyes lit up. “Maybe we could get you doing some of that this summer!” She consulted with someone on the ground here, and they decided I’d work with four English teachers (all native Cambodians) in a middle school and a high school within Caring for Cambodia.

I was really grateful and excited. What a perfect opportunity to get my feet wet and learn more about Cambodian teachers and schools. And surely my six years at Logos had to be an asset, given all I learned there about teaching foreign languages, low-tech lessons, communicating with Cambodians, etc. But I was also a little apprehensive. Eight weeks in Siem Reap. How much could I do in eight weeks?

As much as possible, I concluded. So I jumped into observing them, teaching alongside them, chatting with them, and assembling handouts and presentations for them. I tried to balance proactivity and flexibility, and hoped for the best.

I’ve had exhilarating moments of success reminding me why I love being in the classroom. I’m a natural! I’ve got this down! This is what I was made to do! I’m totally going into this after I graduate! A flash of intuition pans out. Students are angelic. The lesson clicks with everyone. A teacher says, “Wow, can you tell me more about that?” I’ve thrived on chances to replace an irrelevant, teacher-centered lesson from the textbook with something more engaging and student-centered.

And I’ve had moments that brought my ego crashing down. The couple times I’ve been observed, I couldn’t believe how nervous I felt. The handout I’d worked so hard on suddenly seemed impossibly complicated for my audience, a waste of their time. The rapport I was starting to achieve with teachers seemed to vanish, replaced by miscommunications and hemming and hawing. Other times, I haven’t needed an outsider observing me. All it’s taken is a group of students who pay no heed to my attempts to quiet them, or a teacher who greets my sample lesson with apathy and criticism, or my own reflections on a meeting, for me to feel about as competent as your average 4-year-old, and as culturally sensitive as the White Savior Barbie.

I’m realizing that the latter moments, while uncomfortable, have been far more necessary for me than the former. First of all, they’re a good reality check. Being a new teacher was hard and my lessons often tanked. Why would I expect anything different from mentoring teachers? Secondly, my self-consciousness is a good reminder of what I’m putting teachers through as I observe and mentor them. (Even more so as they try to teach a foreign language in front of a native speaker!)

Finally, they remind me of what I learned all year in grad school: Contextualization is vital. I don’t like it when the teachers sometimes blame students for not grasping English lessons that don’t address their needs and interests. But I’ve made the same error (actually worse) when I’ve made minimal tweaks to US-based teaching tips that are a poor fit for these teachers, and then inwardly faulted them for not recognizing the superiority of American education to their methods. That’s not showing them a better alternative to shaming; that’s just shifting the blame up a level. There’s a huge gulf between their educational experiences and mine, and it’s not fair of me to ask them to do the work to bridge it. If I want to partner with them, I need to wrangle with the question of how they can teach well in their context.

A few weeks ago, I saw a great article entitled, “Upward or downward first?” It has two lists: the results of pursuing fruit versus pursuing roots. 

A tree growing out of Ta Prohm temple 

One list reads….

When our greatest desire is to grow upward:

                We think a lot about our reputation, so often swing between pride and insecurity.

                We’re likely known for talking a lot.

                We’re elated when we’re praised and frustrated when ignored.

                We often say, "I need to do more faster."

And so the list continues.  Honestly, a lot of it has described me this summer more often than I'd like to admit.

The parallel and inverse list describes when we long to grow downward:

                We may track outcomes, but we define success most of all by the quality of things that are hard to see at first: hearts, faith, well-being, character.

                We feel the light yoke of self-forgetfulness.

                We’re known especially for listening well.

                We’re grateful when praised and content when ignored.

I want the second list to define me. And not just so I’ll eventually become the most awesome teacher trainer ever, though that motivation has occurred to me a few times. (Argh, pride is so sneaky!) I feel like Eustace when he becomes a dragon in C.S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader, feeling self-satisfied because I’ve scratched off my dragon skin, only to realize what I discarded was a paper-thin shell, and the human is stuck hopelessly deep inside all the dragony self that remains. 

But Eustace finally meets Aslan. “You will have to let me undress you,” Aslan tells Eustace, and Eustace decides his desperation to become human again outweighs his fear of Aslan’s claws.

"'The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know - if you've ever picked the scab off a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.’"

I’m near the end of my summer in Cambodia, and little wiser than before about how to partner well with teachers here. But maybe that’s OK. While I’d love to see some upward growth – some teachers applying what I’ve taught, some students getting more out of English class, some materials being put to use – that’s no longer my top priority. This girl needs to grow downward into self-forgetfulness, and sometimes that means holding still long enough for God to strip off layers of pride. If nobody else learns a thing from my teacher training endeavors this summer, that lesson will already be well worth it.

Caring for kids by way of their families

Cambodia's not big on institutionalized day care. While many moms have to work outside the home to support their families, childcare is nearly always family-based, whether that means an aunt, a grandma, or even the mom herself while she sells things. 

Photo credit: Bob Bridell
"Take-your-daughter-to-work day has gone international"

Probably also taken by Bob Bridell (years ago)
Don't be alarmed, this butcher's son is still alive!

That can be difficult. Many moms in Phnom Penh have to leave their babies with relatives in their home province until their kids are old enough for school. My close friend Sorphorn is one: she visits her baby girl every weekend at her in-laws' house, and can't wait to bring her home for good in a couple years, when she's ready for preschool. Some caregivers are too old and frail to do a good job; others are distracted or apathetic. 

Sorphorn and her daughter, Pich

On the other hand, I like the Cambodian value of extended families working together to care for their kids. Who loves a child better than his own family? While I haven't been a primary caregiver for my 3 nephews this year, I've certainly savored every minute I got to babysit them. And I was very blessed to have my mom stay home to take care of my 3 siblings and me until we were all in school. While not everyone knows how to raise children well, where possible, I'm a fan of empowering and equipping families versus institutionalizing child care.

Evan, Carson, and Cole make it easy for me to love aunting

So when I found out that Caring for Cambodia (the organization where I'm interning this summer) is emphasizing and expanding its preschool program, I had mixed feelings. But the more I've found out about their program, the more I like it. First of all, it's home-based, so it's still families raising their own kids. In fact, "preschool" is kind of a misnomer - much of the education is aimed at the grown-ups. (It reminds me a bit of Mothers of Preschoolers, a group that my sister and sister-in-law attend.) From what I've heard, each preschool group meets just twice a month. While the kids play with various educational toys, guest speakers conduct trainings for the moms and other caregivers. The trainings cover topics like health, hygiene, nutrition, and child development; participants can earn a certificate by attending 8 sessions and finishing 4 topics. CFC's home-based preschools have maybe 8 locations in the villages around Siem Reap city, each with its own assistant. 

Video footage of moms discussing what they learned in the trainings

I've been learning more about the preschools through one of my internship projects: translating videos of testimonials from some of the preschool moms, so CFC can share their stories with its donors. (I'm collaborating with CFC staff, but it's still great practice for my Khmer listening skills.) The stories are so encouraging! 

For example, one mom said that before, when her child was sick, she always took him to a sketchy uncertified private doctor, who gave him medicine that masked his symptoms for a couple days but didn't really make him better. There are tons of doctors like this in Cambodia (probably outnumbering the legit ones), and they love prescribing random medicine and IV's of saline solution when they're not really needed. Many Cambodians pay a lot of money thinking drugs or IV's are needed, when the sick person could get the same benefits from drinking more water and eating something salty. But when you're not educated and the sketchy doctors are persuasive, it's hard to discern the best course of treatment. After the training, this mom knew she could take her child to a nearby public clinic for a fraction of the price. While the clinic might not relieve symptoms as quickly, it would help her child truly recover. 

Mealea, left, is a preschool coordinator whom I've gotten to know a bit

Another mom said that she had always been impatient and grumpy with her kids when they interrupted her housework. She learned to speak more kindly and include them in hanging out laundry and other tasks instead of just hitting them or shooing them away. Her positive communication style transferred into her relationship with her husband as well, promoting more harmonious relationships in their whole family and breaking cycles of harsh interactions. Most of these moms were born in the years after the Khmer Rouge - a time when few families had the bandwidth or emotional energy to encourage their kids.

One of the moms telling Mealea what she learned

Many moms mentioned hygiene; the idea of washing hands before and after eating seemed to be a new concept for many of them. Apparently it's really caught on with both them and their children, along with properly cleaning vegetables to avoid food-borne illness and using plastic covers to keep flies off their food. These changes will benefit their families for years to come, and will help change norms in their villages.

Since houses are open-air, covers like this are useful to guard food from flies.

Since moms are eligible to attend from their children's infancy through their school enrollment, and most moms have multiple kids, some have been coming for years and are eager to learn new topics. In fact, though many of these moms never completed primary school, several now know more about these topics than the preschool assistants, who have been stumped by their recent questions. (The assistants have a high turnover rate and little formal training in child development.) That's another task that I'll be working on, along with my fellow intern Kelly: gathering FAQ's and making a fact sheet about child development to share with the preschool assistants. I'm looking forward to supporting this program more in the coming weeks. I'm also eager to see the final promotional video featuring these testimonials.

Why, hello again, Cambodia!

May usually finds me packing bags for a journey to the other side of the world, but this time I was going the other way: from the US to Cambodia. Lehigh University is sponsoring my 2-month internship in the town of Siem Reap (home to the impressive Angkor Wat temple complex) at a nonprofit called Caring for Cambodia (CFC). CFC supports various public schools in the Siem Reap area, offering additional resources, teacher training, and classes like English, computer, and career prep. Students at most government schools attend half a day Monday to Saturday, but CFC students attend a full day Monday to Saturday. 

My internship involves supporting English as a Second Language (ESL) classes at 2 middle schools and a high school, supporting English classes for CFC staff, and a smattering of other tasks like translating some testimonials into English for promotional videos. I’ll also be conducting interviews, surveys, and focus groups for my thesis on Cambodia’s Student Council program. I’m excited to learn more about Cambodian public schools (vs. my prior experience at Logos) and to improve my Khmer language, which is already back to where I was last year.

The high school where I'll be working overlooks one of the middle schools 

The timing worked out perfectly for me to have a week in Phnom Penh beforehand. My dear friends Suzanne and Michaela (with her husband Neil) hosted me for 3 nights each. Cambodia has been miserably hot and in the throes of a terrible drought, but the week I arrived was the first week it started raining a bit. While rain levels are still far too low, posing threats to crops and sending Cambodians into debt from buying drinking water, at least the cloud cover and rain have made temperatures much more pleasant. 

High school boys couldn't resist the chance to play soccer in the first big rainstorm 

The timing was also great in the sense that it was the last week of school at Logos. That meant that with exams and final projects winding down, students were fairly relaxed with time to chat, but almost nobody had left yet for summer break - though I subbed for a couple teachers who had to leave early. Another highlight: I got to attend graduation for my former homeroom students. It was wonderful to see everyone again without the usual pressures of report cards or grading final exams, and I was encouraged by a number of stories of God's faithfulness in people's lives this year. I also loved the "Ms. Cooper! What are YOU doing here?!" reactions from several students who didn't know I was coming. 

Chapel made me tear up! I loved hearing seniors share reflections and testimonies.
"Knowing that for every step, You were with us..."

Highlights of graduation included salutatorian Ponhneath’s speech, which she delivered in both English and Khmer, and a video message from Ryan Ketchum, the music teacher who had these students in homeroom grades 8-11. (The Ketchums had to leave suddenly last fall for health reasons.) With Logos' small, intimate classes, graduation is always such a meaningful event. The songs we sang, the photo slides that appeared as each senior mounted the stage, and the speeches all reflected this class's personality. After graduation, I had lunch with two Logos teachers, and two alumni we'd taught happened to be at the table next to ours. Unbeknownst to us, they paid for our lunch! Yet another example of why Logos students are amazing.

Jenny is one of the many grads I taught in both 9th and 11th grade English

Michaela and I enjoyed her personal day to the max

I had a lot of nostalgia, and it confirmed again that I’d like to move back after finishing my master’s degree. Cambodia to me feels paradoxically invigorating and homey in ways difficult to explain. But I was also reminded of the challenges my friends face in Cambodia - from unending goodbyes due to the revolving door of expats, to the bugs that burrow into cereal and other food, to ever-worsening traffic jams on overcrowded streets, to various forms of financial, physical, and emotional strain. My year in the US hasn’t always been easy, but it’s allowed me to be comfortable in many ways that others aren’t, especially because I’m living with my parents. I don’t want to take those comforts for granted, but rather to hold them with an open hand, enjoying them while they last and willingly leaving them behind when the time comes... just as I need to do for now with the joys of Phnom Penh.

Sorphorn (next to me) has been coming to this soup place since she was 7

Even while in Phnom Penh, I was scrambling to prepare two presentations for an English as a Second Language (ESL) conference last week that launched the internship. Two of the other 3 interns also presented. My topics were “Transitioning from primary to secondary school ESL” and “Balancing Khmer and English in the ESL classroom.” None of us felt thoroughly qualified (for example, I’ve never taught English to beginners) or familiar with our audience, which included CFC teachers and other teachers and administrators from the Siem Reap area. But we rolled with it anyway. I loved how engaged and interactive a number of my participants were, even though many didn’t teach English. A particularly hot issue was differentiation, since many students fall through the cracks and end up years behind grade level, whether in English or other courses.

Demonstrating the rhyme "Ten Little Monkeys" with 6th graders

It really helped that my translator, Sitha, was an accomplished ESL teacher himself, who was often able to augment and contextualize my presentations with his own ideas and strategies. Next time, I hope more Cambodian teachers present, because they know this stuff better than we interns do. At one point, Sitha interjected some points about English phonics, and it turned into 30 minutes of the participants eagerly lobbing questions and ideas at him while I just sat there smiling. These participants face some intense challenges - one woman reported having 70 students in her largest class! - but they’re still fighting to do their best by their students, and it’s inspiring to see. I also loved the enthusiasm from the 5^th and 6^th grade students who helped me demonstrate various lesson techniques. I’m looking forward to building relationships with CFC teachers and students over the next 7 weeks.

With my 5th grade assistants and a conference participant

A week of Khmer feasts

I've eaten more Cambodian food this week than I averaged in Cambodia. Granted, I ate a lot of "Asian fusion" and some Western food there, but still, it's been pretty wild. I spent the week organizing for the Cambodian Culture Dinner, an event that I headed up yesterday on campus, so perhaps gorging myself was just another way to prepare for it. But the good news is, I wasn't just huddled in a corner scarfing down stir-fry... I got to hang out with people who love Cambodia, which was good for my heart.

On Sunday, I traveled to the Cambodian embassy in Washington, DC for a belated Khmer New Year party. Several of us from Lehigh were invited by Narin Jameson, who was about to visit Lehigh as the guest speaker and chef extraordinaire for last night's Cambodian dinner, but I ended up being the lone Lehigh rep in DC. Narin was my only connection and I'd never met her in person... good thing Cambodians have a reputation for being friendly. Highlights included the dance performances, the guava with chili salt, the fried bananas, the sour soup... OK, maybe all the food... and the women sitting in front of me, who adopted me for the afternoon and were eager to help me practice Khmer.

Dance performances included traditional Cham dancing, which I'd never seen.

After the performances, it was time for traditional New Year's games, and I bravely went up with my newfound companions, who promised to explain the rules and help me out. (Ha!) All the women faced the men, and the two lines took turns throwing kind of a fox-tail made of a krama scarf with a ball tied inside it. As one of the only non-Cambodians, I became (deservedly) the butt of several jokes as I kept messing up in front of all the participants. I guess I just don't have much experience at knocking two jackfruit seeds together against the knees of a line of guys, so I took longer, kept dropping the seeds, and didn't exactly inflict any pain. (I think it was punishment for them losing a round, because later the tables were turned.) And I missed the part where the giant game of catch turned into a flirtatious game of keep-away... thankfully a woman near me grabbed the ball from me at that point, knowing I was lost. The uncertainty about all the rules was a bit terrifying.

I had to chuckle, though, when the announcer made some remark in Khmer about me being an foreigner. I knew all the laughter was good-natured, and the whole thing was so reminiscent of how people joke around in Cambodia. I felt as if I were on Cambodian soil in the embassy, and in a legal sense perhaps I was. I know well the feeling of being the hapless foreigner, and I'm fine with playing that role at times. It's nice to have a built-in excuse, kind of a "get out of jail free" card. Narin also made me feel better when she told me that since she's from Phnom Penh, she didn't know these games either, which are mostly played in the provinces.

On Tuesday, I used up my last two packets of Cambodian curry paste/powder to make a chicken curry for some visitors: Pastor Bob Schuman, who's been teaching a weekly Bible class on Jesus and salvation that I'm in this semester, and my classmates, Tom and Alicia Vosters. (Yup, this class has only three of us, down from about 15 on average.) Also joining us were Bob's wife and the Vosters' two sons, ages 7 and 9. We enjoyed the curry with some decidedly non-Cambodian sides like oatmeal bread, spinach salad with pecans and goat cheese, and peanut butter brownies. Call it fusion? More like plain old laziness, since they were all repurposed from other occasions.

After dinner, the Vosters and I presented our final group project, on Cambodian beliefs - hence why the curry seemed fitting. Interestingly, while I'd never met the Vosters before our fall-semester Bible class, they're hoping to move to Cambodia in 2017 to serve with World Team, which makes me really happy. That also worked out well because for our final project, comparing Christian views of salvation with another religion's views, we agreed to study Cambodian religious views together. Chendamony Sokun, a former Logos student whose parents are devout Buddhists, told me that Theravada Buddhism is the icing on the cake to most Cambodians - animism is at the heart of their beliefs. She, Laksmie Bunnarith, Megan Roberts, Amy Uecker, and Vuthy Keo were all a huge help on this project! We also drew heavily on this article by the late Jeff Evanson, a former colleague and long-time missionary to Cambodia, whom I deeply respected. The project made for a good conversation with my parents and the Schumans, who have all visited Cambodia before.

Bob (in black) set the bar high for our presentation, so we tried our darndest!

On Wednesday I had leftover curry for lunch, and it was still delicious, but not really noteworthy.

On Thursday, I stopped by the graduate house kitchen for a bit to help three other students peel and slice mangoes on Thursday morning as they made massive quantities of spicy green mango salad and amok curry with tofu. I transporting the curry to the kitchen and helped our guest speaker, Narin Jameson, unload the gigantic pots of banana tapioca pudding and kapit phao/natang (a dipping sauce made with pork and shrimp) that Narin had made back in DC. She told me she spent days preparing everything!

That evening, Sothy Eng, my professor, adviser, and boss (I'm one of his graduate assistants) invited the volunteers for the dinner to his house to welcome Narin to Bethlehem. Sothy made baw baw for us, a rice porridge with chicken, mushrooms, and shrimp, garnished with lime and cilantro. It's such a comforting food, and this rendition seemed especially delicious! Narin used to work for the Cambodian embassy in the US (back in the '70s, pre-Khmer Rouge) and later for the World Bank. Her husband Don, an American, has worked at US embassies in a number of countries, including Cambodia, where they met (also pre-Khmer Rouge). They were both fascinating conversationalists, and Narin is such a sweetheart.

On Friday, dinner was quite the undertaking, despite all the prep that had been done by Thursday. Narin was scheduled to teach two smaller cooking classes, with a large-group dinner in between, where she'd do a cooking demonstration and talk about Cambodian culture. I'd written a grant to get us the funding from three different groups on campus, and we'd been hard at work all month to work out the logistics since there were no ovens or burners for us to use in that building, only two electric hot plates. We heated up our curry in Crock Pots and used rice cookers for the rice. The problem was, the hot plates needed special pans that we didn't have, and so our plan for heating Narin's massive pots of food and having her demonstrate how to cook spring rolls and dipping sauce had to be reworked on the go. Somehow the banana and tapioca pudding got a bit burnt on the bottom before we realized the hot plate issues, but the smoky flavor actually made it even better.

Rice cookers and Crock Pots in the building's former greenhouse, now a cafe area, to free up space in the kitchen for the cooking class

Event organizers and participants at the first of two cooking classes

It got really crowded in the tiny kitchen, as unscheduled drop-ins nearly doubled the number of participants, while most of us organizers ran in and out trying to make appliances work. Not until the middle of the main demonstration did we receive a pan for the hot plate, and the microphone also had a few glitches. Despite all the technical difficulties, Narin bravely forged on, and everyone who attended had plenty of opportunities to eat and learn. After running around from 9 AM to 7 PM (including the whole main event), it was wonderful to finally stop for a minute and eat all the delicious food. Even if the event wasn't quite as smooth as I'd hoped, it was pretty cool to see my grant proposal turn into reality with the help of some awesome classmates.

So thankful for all their help!

Today, Saturday, leftovers from yesterday made a great lunch. So there we have it: I ate Khmer food six days this week, including four different dinners. And while I didn't see any Cambodians today, I talked with Sothy on the phone about my final project for his statistics class (tracking Cambodian high school alumni), which is due on Monday and nowhere near ready. After this festive week, it's good to have some "down time" to finish all my spring coursework. Still, I'm so glad Cambodian culture is still a part of my life while I'm in the US.