Seven things I love about my life in Preah Vihear

I’m winding down my two months in Preah Vihear town, the capital of a rural province with the same name. I came for two purposes: language immersion and helping my teammates and their Cambodian partners. My teammates run a dorm for low-income high school girls from remote villages, and I've been staying with some of their ministry partners (a family of 4 and a single), national missionaries with YWAM who live adjacent to the dorm. It's by far my longest exposure to a Cambodian home or to rural Cambodia. I have so much affection for this community, and I've learned a ton here. Here are some highlights.

Vibrant Christians.

This is my first time being around Cambodians who live off of faith-based support rather than a steady salary. It's pretty cool to see them trusting God and turning down more lucrative, secure job opportunities so they have the freedom to serve God and others full-time. I took Silat to meet my former colleague and her mom, and within five minutes Silat was asking the mom if she knew about Jesus. I've gotten to hear her and my other housemates (Sokhoeurn and Saroth) share the Gospel, pray, discuss the Bible, and worship. They inspire me! 

Two girls about to be baptized

Many of the girls at the Plas Prai dorm help teach Sunday School to nearby village kids. Ten of them requested children's Bibles last month so they can teach kids in their home villages during their school holidays. It's a joy to see the passion of these young believers. I also had the privilege of seeing a baptism. That same week, I met the father of another dorm student, and the mom of an alumna, both of whom were deciding to trust Christ after a long period of investigation. It's exciting to see God changing people's lives! 

Sunday School

While visiting a church elder and his wife, Rotana and Kamsia, I got to hear Rotana share his testimony of coming to Christ. Rotana was a wild child from a marginalized ethnic minority who dropped out after first grade. Starting in adolescence, he spent all his time drinking, smoking, and chasing women, feeling he had no value or purpose in life besides his musical talent. He liked Kamsia for a long time but she paid him no heed - she knew his character, since they became step-siblings as teens. But she had few options as a poor girl in a small village, and at 23 she was practically an old maid, so she finally agreed to marry him. Shortly afterward, he fell out of a palm tree while drunk, and broke his back. A Peruvian missionary paid his medical expenses and began to teach them both about the Bible and how to read. Ten years later, Rotana is substance-free and a man of integrity, a gifted worship leader/storyteller/preacher with a deep knowledge of the Bible, and the joy of Kamsia's life. Their faith has persevered through various financial and personal difficulties, and they volunteer extensively in their church and community.

Rotana performing for us after lunch at his house

"Plas Prai," the name of the girls' dorm, means "transform." In both the dorm and Preah Vihear as a whole, there's a lot of transformation going on. The Christian community here isn't perfect, but growth is happening. My front-row seat to this growth is what I've loved the most here!

Being a “ming.”

That means “aunt” in Khmer and it’s a common title. It’s no secret that I love kids. So it’s been great being in the same building as two of them (Sokhoeurn and Saroth's kids Ponleu – 4, and Holy – 2) and next door to another two (Sitan and Sinan's kids Sasada – 3, and Visal – 1). They all know a little bit of English from their parents and YouTube (there aren't many kids' videos in Khmer), so sometimes I speak to them in English to help them learn more.

Holy and Sasada warmed up to me quickly; Ponleu and Visal took a bit longer. But a couple weeks in, Ponleu decided that despite my limited language, I was a rational adult who might be able to help him with things like getting a snack. Now we have a great time together. Lately, all 3 older kids love pretending with me that we're cats, giving each other fish and milk. 

Ponleu is a very somber child. 

I hadn’t spent much time with young Khmer kids previously, and living here has been a great cultural learning experience. Khmer parents tend to be more permissive and hands-on with very young kids (co-sleeping, hand-feeding, showering them frequently, etc.) and then get stricter and less affectionate as the kids approach school age. There's also a bigger role for other relatives besides parents, which in this case means the unofficial "mings" (Silat and the dorm girls and me), and other family friends. Although that's not my native culture, it's obvious that my housemates are fantastic parents dedicated to helping their kids learn and grow.

Everyone wants to cuddle Holy... good thing she's an extrovert! 

An expert on Cambodian education. 

My tutor is a teacher trainer with Preah Vihear province's Ministry of Education, and used to teach middle school French. His name is Halo (insert angel pun here) and he's a gold mine of information! I’ve asked him a ton of questions about Cambodia’s education system, and he’s volunteered details about curricula and policies that I wouldn't have known to ask about. I have a feeling my teammates and I will be back to interview him at some point.

Shared meals.

Mealtime is community time here. I've heard that one of the saddest things Cambodians can imagine is someone standing alone in the kitchen eating... we sit down together daily for lunch and dinner, often with visitors. We've talked about a million different topics - some silly, some serious, some way over my head. It's been a fantastic way to bond.

We've also taught each other about foods. With no fridge and no supermarket, almost everything they make is from scratch. I've tried probably new 20 fruits and vegetables, including fresh-picked lotus roots from a friend's rice paddies. Thankfully I'm not picky, so I think most of them taste good. Being here has cemented my knowledge of certain Khmer dishes that were vaguely familiar before, and also taught me how to set out and consume a meal Cambodia-style. They sit on the floor with a mortar and pestle almost daily to grind herbs and chili peppers. Only lazy people leave soup in the pot or stir-fry in the wok... it needs a serving bowl or tray. And if they serve two dishes, you don't put both at once into your rice bowl, even if they're on different sides of the bowl. 

Silat preparing moringa, a local superfood new to me 

One day, I told the dorm mom, Sinan, "You made lunch; let me wash the dishes." She replied, "Oh, it's OK - you can kill the chickens this afternoon." She was joking, but she and Sokhoeurn really did kill and pluck two of the many free-range chickens; the kids watched the latter with excitement and confusion. We feasted that night - Cambodians don't often eat that much meat in one go, but they sure do savor it when they can. 

Ponleu ran around with a chicken head, chewing on it
and pretending it was talking.

My housemates have tried and liked many Western foods before, but they asked me to show them how to make pizza and tacos, so I learned along with them how to make tomato sauce and tortillas from scratch. We found out that you can make stovetop pizza... they don't have an oven. (Or cheese. And they asked if they could sub ketchup for the tomato sauce. So pizza might be tough for them.) In return, they showed me how to mince meat by hand (no ground meat for sale here) as well as tasty dishes like ginger chicken stir-fry and coconut curry. 

Tacos!

Frequent dance parties. 

A late afternoon with cranky toddlers? Someone’s going-away party? Saturday evening youth group? Just finished a baptism? They're all great times for a dance party. It usually includes both chicken dances – the classic American one and the trendy new Khmer one called “Farm Chicken” (see video). Other favorites are the Zumba songs we use during dance aerobics with the dorm girls, Khmer traditional dances, J.Lo’s “On The Floor,” and the Baby Shark Song (Holy loves it). I'm not always crazy about dancing, but my favorites are those with scripted moves (ex. square dancing) and those where you can just be silly. These dance parties are a great mix of both. 

Being out of the city. 

The view from Preah Vihear temple, along the Thai border 

Preah Vihear town itself is about two blocks wide and a mile long. The only time I’ve seen traffic backed up is during a political march, right before last Sunday’s election. I’m a 10-minute jog from the river and a 30-minute drive from a scenic waterfall.

Rice fields on the edge of town

In Phnom Penh, people sometimes refer to spending time “in the province” as if it’s all the same, but nobody here does that, and now I can see why. There’s a big difference between a province capital – even a small one like PV – and the rest of the province: villages with just a dozen-odd farming families each and no market. I went with Silat and two of the dorm girls to visit their families in far-away villages. I also spent a few nights in another village near the Lao border, where many people don’t speak Khmer (only Lao) because the road there from Cambodia was practically impassable until a few years ago. It’s neat to glimpse village life. 

Our hosts in Kampong Sralau village, near Laos

Fun projects.

I wasn’t sure what I’d be working on here, but it was clear that there were plenty of opportunities to get involved. I’ve really enjoyed the variety: interpreting for visitors from Australia, the US, Canada, and Burma; teaching English to the staff and some neighborhood kids; translating letters and scrapbook notes into English for the dorm girls; and helping decorate said scrapbooks.

The girls made scrapbooks to thank the dorm founder and their dorm mom 

Two events absorbed most of my attention the last couple weeks. First, I spoke to the youth group about our identity in Christ. I had an audio file with Max Lucado’s book “You Are Special” narrated in Khmer, so I asked some volunteers to create a skit based on it. That was an exciting way to relinquish control! It ended up much longer than I expected, and in the practice that afternoon, they were goofing around and kind of obscured the point. (The sad character couldn’t stop giggling.) But in the evening with an audience, they were fantastic. Since I really wanted my talk to be clear, I wrote it out and had my tutor correct it beforehand, and he even made me correct my spelling... tedious but good practice. I had volunteers read out Bible verses to explain why in Christ, we are accepted, secure, and significant (inspired by the image below).

Then last Friday, I led a seminar for the dorm girls on nutrition. They used to get an allowance that they used for both food and other expenses… but some of them had started using just 12 cents per meal and were basically only eating rice with chili and salt. So it was good to review with them why they need the fruits, vegetables, and protein sources that grow so abundantly (and cheaply, especially vegetables) in Cambodia. Researching for the seminar helped me learn about locally available sources of various vitamins and minerals. One immediate application came when my friend Silat asked me about dietary recommendations for her relatives with high blood pressure. We looked online together and translated some tips into Khmer, which she printed and took home with her last weekend. 

The girls broke into small groups to plan healthy meals.

People who want me on their sports team.

Soccer with the Christians of Preah Vihear is a very inclusive, non-competitive experience. I reluctantly joined my first soccer game since fourth grade, but found myself in a safe place to make frequent mistakes. Players range from age 10 to 35, mostly teens with less than two years' experience. They switch up the teams every week, and all the late people randomly join a side until there are 40+ players crowding the field. Apparently someone keeps score, but it's not emphasized. They all play in flip-flops or barefoot. When I wore my running shoes, they chided me that I might hurt someone's feet, and they were right. 

There’s a lot of shrieking, laughter, and broken rules. One player likes to swat the ball. One goalie likes playing near the center line. One 3-year-old fan likes wandering onto the field with an extra ball, which sometimes gets mistaken for the game ball. Many players enjoy a good mid-game chat, and most lack any ball control or strategy. (I fit right in there!) But out of the two games I attended, out of the 40-odd players, only one player standing near her goal kicked the ball far in the exact opposite direction.

That person was me.

In my defense, I was just rejoining the game after having been plowed down from behind and needing a short break. As I approached the other players, suddenly the ball shot toward me, so I reverted to my default: try to kick it straight ahead. I was next to Sina, the team captain who had chosen me, and she gave me a look. “Chelsea! What team are you on?!” We doubled over laughing, joining the ranks of preoccupied players ignoring the ball.

A few days later, at dinner with Sina, we were talking about soccer with a few others. She said I was good at it, and my explosive laughter made me spit a grain of rice onto her cheek. (Gross, sorry.) “Well,” she modified, “you’re good at playing – you’re just not very good at playing for your own team.” She and others have continued to invite me, and while I’ve declined out of concern for everyone's feet, I still feel the love.

Khmer Folk Buddhists and supernatural power

My teammate Jeff Hogue tells the story of attending a Bible study with Khmer Christian men, a couple years after moving to Cambodia in 1999. They discussed Luke 8, the story of a man possessed by a group of evil spirits who tormented him but also made him stronger than any ordinary human. Jeff had skimmed his seminary notes and prepared some devotional thoughts, but he wasn't ready for their reaction to the story:

“'Oh, yes!’ one young attendant quickly answered in a nonchalant tone. ‘I’ve seen this, too. My village has a woman like this. She speaks with many strange angry voices and levitates in the air.’”

That's the opening to Jeff's 2017 dissertation, entitled Incorporating a religious logic into a discipleship program: A strategy for Cambodia house churches. I’ve been able to hear from him live, both in one-on-one chats, and when he presented and led discussions about it at our World Team field conference a couple weeks ago. I've also been reading through his dissertation the past few months. (It's the basis for this post, but if I've written something inaccurate, it's probably my fault, not his!)

That incident brought home to Jeff the huge gulf between the assumptions and experiences that Western cross-cultural workers and Cambodians bring into our shared Christian faith. This gulf impedes our ministry. 

Christianity's growth in Cambodia is among the fastest worldwide. However, Steve Hyde’s 2012 study uncovered what Jeff calls the “back door” of Christianity: Cambodia’s churches have a 69% “'attrition rate of one-time professing believers becoming completely inactive.'” Hyde concludes that to slow this leak, Christian leaders and missionaries need to better understand and implement Biblical discipleship (teaching others to follow Christ).

Another driving force for Jeff's study was this quote by McKinney (2000):

“’When missionaries come into an area, they need to understand the local religious system. Failure to do so results in traditional religion answering one set of questions and Christianity answering another set. The local Christians feel it necessary to retain both the primal religion and Christianity to address these different issues, and thus Christianity becomes an overlay on the traditional religion. If Christianity is to become truly relevant and transformative, it must address the same issues as the primal religion. This means the Christian missionary must understand the local primal religion and its means of dealing with specific issues, then together with local Christians search the Bible for a Christian perspective on these issues.’” (p. 788)

Jeff took on these challenges from Hyde and McKinney. His qualitative study analyzes interviews with Cambodian Christian leaders from Buddhist backgrounds. The interviewees describe two things:

1. how they sought supernatural power previously as Folk Buddhists
2. how they seek supernatural power now as Christians.

Based on these interviews, he distinguishes a core value and several supporting values that drive people's decisions related to their life circumstances and the supernatural. He coined the term religious logic to describe people's pursuit of these values through supernatural means.

In this post, I'll focus on the former group: Folk Buddhists. But first, a few definitions. Primal religions, sometimes called animism, use local knowledge of supernatural power to address people’s immediate felt needs: safety, health, prosperity, good relationships. Primal religion isn't a unified system of beliefs; it's flexible, with variations among individuals and groups. Examples that might sound familiar to an American include athletes’ good-luck rituals, horoscopes, knocking on wood, and voodoo. Primal religion's spiritual specialists, shamans, mainly perform rituals for adherents.

By contrast, formal religions like Hinduism, Christianity, Buddhism, and Islam usually address more abstract questions about salvation, eternity, and the meaning of life. They feature sacred scriptures and spiritual specialists who not only lead rituals but also focus on educating devotees and providing moral assistance. 

Folk religions mix both primal and formal religions, fitting “local knowledge of the supernatural” into the philosophical framework of a formal religion. The Western Christmas tradition originated this way. The Roman Catholic church allowed its followers to continue celebrating the winter solstice using lights and evergreen trees, but assigned it new religious meaning. (Interestingly, in Cambodia and other parts of the global South, Christmas has no connotations with lights, trees, or cold weather.)

Most Cambodians today practice a folk version of Theravada Buddhism, which is known for adapting easily to prior religious practices. Cambodia’s primal religion is likewise particularly flexible and has thrived under Hinduism, Buddhism, and Communism at different points in history. This means that most Cambodian monks perform local rituals as well as Buddhist ones, and pagodas contain altars and statues for local spirits that don't appear in Buddhist teachings. It also means that Cambodians often pursue supernatural power from outside sources. Cambodians call their traditional beliefs prahman-sesna because it has strong ties with Cambodia's ancient practices of Brahman Hinduism. They believe prahman-sesna is "powerful, but amoral in nature." Though the spirits help solve people's practical needs, they operate outside of Buddhist virtues and may even require adherents to violate Buddhist principles. 

Whole books have been written about all the supernatural forces that some Cambodians believe in and pay homage to. (I just read a great one called Spirit Worlds.) Buddhism teaches that Buddha has achieved nirvana and is therefore inaccessible today. So he can't hear prayers or help people day-to-day. Plus, he'd probably tell them that they need to patiently endure hardship to work out their bad karma from a past life. Rather, most Cambodians have multiple shrines or altars in and around their homes, each for a specific type of spirit offering protection but requiring devotion. When people face illness, financial need, a wayward family member, or calamity, they may seek supernatural help from one of many sources. Most spirits are capricious but sometimes provide the needed assistance. There's a continuum from completely benevolent spirits (Buddha's helpful servants, the Boramey) to disturbing forms of black magic abhorred by most Cambodians. All of this comes at a cost, and Cambodians can expend enormous energy and money trying to enlist the support of spirits or avoid their torment, often through human mediums or spiritual leaders who charge money. Spirits always take from the human at least as much as they give; their demands may include not only respect and faith, but also vows, incense, or tangible gifts. 

Cambodians believe that relationships with a spirit require constant maintenance. Don't mess with them; angry spirits can inflict illness, loss, and even death. You must continue obeying them to keep them on your side. For example, if you want to become a shaman, a demon will enter you and place demands on you. (Sometimes demon possession is also involuntary.) One of Jeff's respondents describes his experiences as a shaman:

To gain supernatural power we must provide offerings and prayers and persistently follow rules. After that the spirit will cover and control us. We understand this to mean the spirit protects and preserves us.

They [the spirit entities] command us to fast, fast from meat, walking under white shirts, different things. For me I had to fast from people touching my head on Sundays. If I didn’t protect myself and someone touched my head on a Sunday, I would get very sick.

When the French took on Cambodia as a protectorate in 1863, they asked the king for a map of the country. The only map in existence showed all the regional spirits (neak-ta) that the king needed to honor as he traveled. Neak-ta have power over a given area, which can be as large as a province or as small as a parking lot. Some require animal sacrifices, even though Buddhism forbids the taking of life. New ones appear often; in Koh Kong where Jeff used to live, a neak-ta was just emerging, the spirit of a respected Buddhist monk who died a few years back. Neak-ta spirits may inhabit a person, which often brings illness along with power. Cambodians with Chinese heritage often pursue Chinese neak-ta, which regularly demand self-mutilation and bloodletting. During the Chinese lantern festival, they gather for a parade where they distribute “paper talismans, stained by the blood of mediums under spirit possession.” Devotees believe the blood marks are the spirit’s writing, which brings good luck to those who receive it.

Yeay Mao is an especially famous neak-ta, said to govern a wide area near the coast; drivers often stop to ask her for safety as they travel through.

Jeff describes a human corpse as the most dangerous supernatural force in a Cambodian’s everyday life. Buddhism teaches karma and reincarnation, but to Cambodians, it’s more complicated than that. Those who have just died are confused, angry ghosts, liable to lash out and wreak havoc. They need monks and relatives to properly cremate their bodies, to conduct certain rituals, and to continue caring for them in the afterlife. These beliefs cause anguish for many whose relatives died in unknown locations during the Khmer Rouge, according to interviews with Khmer immigrants to the US (Langford, 2009). One respondent described it this way: “The spirit of someone who has died and has no relatives to do the ceremony, will wander around like a bird without any tree branches on which to perch” (Langford, 2009, p. 285). Thirty years later, they still wish they could free their loved ones from wandering in the forest as ghosts by relocating their bones to a temple.

If all goes well, some deceased people will become a guardian spirit for their descendants’ homes. Others will be reincarnated, possibly after spending time in hell to atone for past misdeeds. It’s not uncommon for a family to claim that a newborn child is the reincarnation of a recently deceased relative. Nirvana seems distant if not impossible to most Cambodians - only monks even have a chance at it, and there are no female monks – so it’s not a top priority. Instead, they hope their karma will earn them more tranquility in this lifetime or the next. 

Based on his interviews, Jeff concludes that Khmer Folk Buddhists' highest value is sok, or tranquility, in one's heart and one's way of life (especially concerning family). He identifies five sub-values that contribute to the feeling that sok is present in oneself and one's loved ones: relational connectedness (good relationships), enhanced prospects (prosperity and a bright future), protection from loss (ex. lost livestock), emotional endurance (courage and control over one's emotions), and physical health. 

Suffering in one of these areas, as an individual or within one's family, decreases the sense of sok and moves people toward the opposite end of the spectrum: tok (suffering). This motivates Cambodian Folk Buddhists to seek supernatural power. Jeff notes that in his interviews, respondents rarely discussed Buddhism. Instead, they identified Brahmanism (prahman-sesna), practiced by both Buddhist monks and various types of shamans, as their source of supernatural power. This makes sense since Buddhism is Cambodians' source of authority on morality, transcendent questions, and ultimate destiny, but doesn't offer much help with everyday felt needs. 

A lot of this is still abstract for me - things I've heard about but haven't personally experienced. But that's changing a bit. I recently met a new Christian who asked for prayer that a demon would stop possessing his legs every Thursday. How do I respond to that? I'm trying to learn all I can and take my cues from strong Cambodian Christians, as well as veteran missionaries like Jeff. I'm thankful for those who have gone before me in navigating these murky waters!

In Part 2, I'll describe Jeff's findings on the shift in Cambodians' religious logic as they became mature believers, and some implications for discipleship programs.

A Praying Life

I'm wrapping up my 3-week trip to the US for my brother's wedding. This trip has been mostly wonderful and a tiny bit terrible. It's been chock-full of quality time with people I love: immediate family, relatives, the kids I nannied, my church family, friends who feel like family. I've enjoyed cooler temperatures, tasty foods, and a break from language study.

With the kids I nannied - they're still close to my parents

The main problem with this trip is that I've let my relationship with God suffer. I knew this trip would be full of emotions: attending my third sibling wedding as the still-single oldest child, knowing my time with the kids I used to nanny is temporary, cramming in conversations that are too tough for Skype, wanting to be there for my family but not always knowing how. I found out while here that several friends are experiencing significant changes or challenges in their lives. Visiting the US always hurts because it reminds me how much I love and miss people here. And when I return to Cambodia, my old routine will be gone: I'll have two months of language immersion in a small town with people I don't know well, and then a lot of unknowns in my schedule once I get back to Phnom Penh. I don't want to be overdramatic - the reunions have been joyful and less bittersweet than I'd expected. Things have gone great for me lately in Cambodia, and I'd be crushed if I couldn't go back. Still, my feelings have been complex.

With a dear friend from college

I knew that I'd need to stay grounded in truth to navigate those emotions, and also that I'm not the best at making time for Bible reading and prayer when my schedule is in flux. Clearly I still need to grow in this area! When I embrace being busy and enjoying "people time" to the exclusion of time alone with God, the inner turmoil that hums in the background and then boils over once I'm finally alone is anything but surprising.

My dad, niece, and nephews

One thing that's helped re-ground me is the book A Praying Life: Connecting with God in a Distracting World, by Paul Miller. My Bible study read the whole thing this spring, but I wasn't usually able to attend because meetings conflicted with my Khmer language classes, so I didn't try to keep up. I've read several more chapters over the past few weeks.

I wasn't that excited last winter when the group picked this book. I don't need to read more about prayer... I just need to do it more! But I've found it informative, inspiring and refreshing. 

One image in the book brought back a lesson I've repeatedly encountered:

The image shows a timeline from conversion to spiritual maturity. As a young believer, I feel only a small need to pray, as I can see only a fraction of God's holiness and my own sin. As my spiritual life matures, I see more clearly how great my need is for God and how great his grace is in my life. Thus, I realize more and more my tremendous need for prayer. 

I remember arriving in Cambodia in 2009 and trying to plan a lesson with my co-teacher in a remedial writing class. 

"What should we do on day one?" I asked her. 

"I don't know, let's pray about it." 

"Pray?!" I was convinced she was overspiritualizing it. She wasn't. She needed to pray and she knew it.

Years later, someone at my church in Cambodia told us, "In my 10+ years here, the greatest lesson I've learned is how much I need God." He had advanced degrees, impressive accomplishments, strong faith, and great relationships as a husband and father. I thought he was being too humble. He wasn't. He needed God and he knew it.

So when I come back to God, having ignored Him all day (or longer) and gotten myself into a tizzy, it seems obvious why I'm feeling agitated. It's not because my circumstances are that bad; it's because I've been dumb enough to try toughing it out alone. I need prayer, I need God, and I know it. Even when I don't apply it. 

One helpful reminder from this book for those overcrammed days is breath prayers: "Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner," or even just, "Help, Lord!" or "Thank you." These have helped prevent a downward thought spiral on several recent occasions, just acknowledging His presence and His care for me.

This illustration has also sparked a lot of reflection. Miller looks at Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane and how it avoids two dangers that believers face when praying. The more common "cliff" we fall off is not asking God for what we want. Instead, we try to get it through our own efforts, resulting in isolation from God. Cynicism can also hinder us from asking, as Miller points out. Jesus' solution is to ask boldly. Even in facing the cross, which he knew was necessary to offer salvation to all people, he honestly confessed to the Father that he didn't want to endure it. "Please take this cup from me." 

The other "cliff" we can fall off is asking selfishly, resulting in putting ourselves above God and trying to boss him around. The antidote is to surrender completely. In the garden, Jesus went on to pray, "Yet not what I will, but what you will." If we try to surrender before we have asked boldly and honestly, we present a fake self to God and can't fully connect with Him. But if we ask boldly and then surrender completely, it brings us into deeper communion with God, into a dialogue where He can address not only our situation, but also the thoughts and emotions driving our requests.

I thought that I was pretty good about asking God for what I wanted, but I realized I tend to give up easily. My heart is more cynical than I'd have admitted before reading A Praying Life. This picture and Miller's broader challenge have moved me to sit with God and struggle with Him through what's on my mind, even if it's a topic we've discussed before. I'm often reluctant to take that time and face the junk, knowing He might reveal my selfishness in my request and reframe the issue. But whenever I do, it's a relief to sort through it with Him. Remembering who He is and what He has done is powerful. This book has helped me ask sooner when issues arise. It's also challenged me to pray for change - in myself, others, and society - in a few areas I hadn't really considered praying about before.

Here's a passage I needed this past week:

"What do I lose when I have a praying life? Control. Independence. What do I gain? Friendship with God. A quiet heart. The living work of God in the hearts of those I love. The ability to roll back the tide of evil. Essentially, I lose my kingdom and get his. I move from being an independent player to a dependent lover. I move from being an orphan to a child of God." (125-126)

I dearly love my illusions of control and independence. But if Jesus couldn't make it through the day without his Father, who am I to think that I could? More than that, why would I want to? Prayer opens my heart to see a deeper reality and enables me to tap into the same boundless power that resurrected Christ from the dead. It knocks off my homemade crown and reminds me who the true King is.

I'm still sometimes guilty of reading about prayer more than I actually pray. And I'm very frequently guilty of a small view of my need for God. But He is changing me, and I'm praying that His work in me will continue.

Common ground

As a teenager, when I first decided I wanted to move overseas, I thought choosing a host country would be a very rational decision, the result of researching multiple locations and evaluating where the needs and conditions were a good fit for me. For example, I thought I might want a host country with:
1. Mountains
2. Real winter
3. Some French speakers
4. Desperate need of a hero (me)

So basically Vermont, but with more starving children and terrorism.

As a child, I thought this scenery was normal

That's not really how it went. Once I heard about Cambodia a couple years later, I was too smitten to strongly consider anywhere else.
Even though I knew nothing about Buddhism.
Even though I'd never gotten excited about Asian food or palm trees.
Even though I hated the humidity when I left Vermont for Pennsylvania at age 12.

I've since learned to love Buddhists, Asian food, and palm trees, though humidity and my hair are still not great friends. But for years, I've still had a hard time articulating why I keep choosing Cambodia. Usually it sounds something like this: "My community is great, I've grown a lot in living here, and there are tons of opportunities to serve and do what I love." Sometimes I also mention the political stability or the fact that there's minimal animosity toward Americans. And mangoes (duh).

However, there are more factors that have made Cambodia an easier adjustment for me than some other locations. These factors probably wouldn't have made it into my mental criteria, had I stuck to my original plan to create some kind of global spreadsheet. But they matter. Through conversations the past few months with friends who have lived abroad elsewhere, I've become more aware of how grateful I am... not just for the people or the opportunities... but for Cambodia itself. Here are a few examples.

It starts with the fairly obvious...

1. Driving on the right... well, most of the time, anyway. In this way, Cambodia contrasts its neighbors Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand, as well as other former British colonies like Kenya and Australia.

2. Cheap, tasty produce. This is apparently not the case on islands like Samoa and Haiti, or wintry, mountainous countries like Tajikistan. (A point my teenage self definitely failed to consider.)

3. Good Internet. Someone told me when she came from Uganda to Cambodia in 2012-13, she was shocked how much more readily available it was, even in the provinces. Even when I arrived in 2009 it wasn't awful, and for years it's been great, at least here in Phnom Penh.

4. Availability of American products. Probably 20+ stores in this city of one million sell peanut butter, making it far easier to find than when I was in France or Germany. At least as many sell spaghetti, milk, and bread. Some goods come and go, like decent chocolate chips or Clif bars, and others have less selection than in the US or are pricier. (Think $4 refried beans, $5 cream cheese, and $14/kg for cheese.) But in general, it's quite an impressive selection compared to many or most countries.

5. Smiling is a good thing. Contrast that with France, where Americans are seen as superficial because they smile too much. I tend to smile when I'm nervous or want people to feel comfortable around me, which fits well with Cambodian practices but not so much with French ones. Deciphering the meaning of a Cambodian smile has taken longer, but at least I know that when in doubt, I should smile.

A few of my favorite smiles

It continues through things I grew to value:

6. A relaxed dress code. This culture is too conservative for part of my wardrobe, but not much of it. I can dress appropriately for here while feeling like "myself." Not quite like in Saudi Arabia, where even foreign women have to wear an abayah in public! I'm also glad there's not much pressure to wear name brands or dress up all the time... Phnom Penh is becoming more stylish, but it's a city full of hicks, so in that way I fit right in.

Usually I get to wear more jump-friendly apparel than this

7. Minimal sexual harassment. I've probably missed a few cheeky comments because of my limited language, but usually the most daring a guy ever gets is yelling "hello" and trying to catch my eye as we pass on the street... and even that's fairly rare. A far cry from the stories I've heard about Egypt and India! The creepiest conversation I've had with a guy here was when my moto repair guy once invited me (but specifically didn't invite his wife) to go party with him and other guys. It was annoying, but not unsettling.

8. On a related note, women's status. It's common for women to work outside the home and go places unaccompanied. Not that women's rights are perfect here, but as a foreign women here I enjoy the same freedom I would in the US.

Several of these friends volunteered to help make the meal we enjoyed together

9. Reasonable expectations for hosts. I still get nervous hosting Cambodians and I've had my share of faux pas. But talking recently with someone in Afghanistan made me realize how good I have it. There, it's rude to leave your guests unaccompanied for even a moment, but they can't sit in the kitchen or help in any way while you prepare or serve the food. So it's nearly impossible to host alone. You also need to keep their plates filled at all times, among many other expectations. The bar is lower here for sure!

10. Religious freedom. Not just for me as a Christian, but also for other minority religions. That hasn't always been the case - the Khmer Rouge actively targeted religious leaders of all stripes for execution. But for 25+ years, the government has protected religious liberties. The fact that my NGO can openly proclaim its Christian identity in a country where people commonly say "To be Cambodian is to be Buddhist" is pretty remarkable. I also appreciate that people are allowed to convert - I have many Christian friends here who were born to Buddhist families.

I recently got to attend this church service in a small town... such infectious enthusiasm!

It's easy to dwell on the differences between the US and Cambodia, which are many and can be challenging. Sometimes I feel like the cultural gap is as wide as the geographical distance, literally the other side of the world. But the common ground I've found has significantly reduced my stress and helped me thrive here. These benefits are not to be ignored.

A note to my teenage self: While Cambodia's imitation of winter is pretty weak, it does have some mountains and French, if you know where to look. And it's OK to forego the terrorism. ;)

No, I'm still not working - and here's why

Every week for the past six months or so, I've picked a morning to walk down the stairs, out the gate, and just a bit up the street to buy baw baw (rice porridge) from my neighbor. Unlike many customers who order it to-go, I sit unhurried in one of her red plastic chairs and eat my breakfast on her shiny metal folding table. And so there's time nearly every week for her to ask the question, "Are you going to work today?" 

Not just rice and water - this steaming hot baw baw comes with fish/chicken and bean sprouts, and I can add lime juice, pepper, hot chilies, and deep-fried pastries. Not bad for 62 cents!

The best is when her super-extroverted granddaughter is visiting

The answer is always no, I'm just studying Khmer for now, but I get why she keeps asking. It's confusing! Why am I, a grown single woman living away from my parents, not going out every day and earning my keep? She's been placated some to hear that I'm employed by an organization that's paying me to study right now, so that I'll be able to do my job down the road. I've told her, too, that I like coming and hanging out at her baw baw stand so that I can practice speaking and listening with native Khmer speakers. 

But if I were to tell her the truth - that sitting at this shiny metal table and chatting with her is literally part of my "job" right now - I think she'd need my help to pick her jaw off the floor. Wait till I tell her I'm graduating language school this week and I'll *still* be a full-time student. (Actually, she might never know - yesterday she told me she was moving away that day to take a new job due to a family health crisis! I'm going to miss her and her other baw baw customers.)

The truth is, I can't just learn language flipping through flash cards in my kitchen. Vocab and grammar are just a tiny part of learning a language. As we learned in my "Continuing Language" seminar this weekend, you also need...

• sociolinguistic competence (using language appropriately considering the context, listeners, etc.)
• strategic competence (finding ways to convey your meaning despite obstacles like limited vocab or a noisy room), and 
• discourse competence (knowing how a news article, conversation, short story, etc. connects phrases and sentences to create a larger meaning). 

I'll need to keep growing in these areas for years to come - learning a language is a lifelong process. And it takes intentionality. Language school graduates tend to be "intermediate" at first - nowhere near fully proficient and able to do their whole lives well in the new language - but actually regress over the years that follow, except in their vocab. That's why this seminar aimed to give my classmates and me the tools we need to keep honing our skills outside of a formal classroom setting. That's also why my organization is giving me a few more months to keep growing before I start work. Several of my teammates have told me, "When I finished language school, that's when I really started learning Khmer."

It's impossible to learn much language in isolation from culture. One way I've gotten to combine the two is by tagging along on home visits by community workers at three local nonprofit schools for children from low-income families. Since I hope my work will benefit students like these, I've loved glimpsing the students' context beyond the classroom. 

There's a lot to learn from each conversation between the community worker and a family, and the seminar gave me even more ideas on what to listen for. For example, what does small talk look like in this community? How do you transition from that to the purpose for the visit, and then signal it's time to wrap up? It's neat to see how each worker builds rapport with the family before bringing up the task at hand, which is often a student's chronic absence, but sometimes other topics like good news about their progress. We're able to sit with some parents and families probably 20 minutes, surprisingly long for this time-oriented American, before it's time to go. 

Photo credit: Mindy Kozloff

Across from one school, this lady was picking lotus flowers to sell at the local pagoda: 60 flowers for $5. Many families here make their living that way, and some can also get higher prices by taking them a few miles down the road to downtown Phnom Penh. She said there are lots of leeches - eek! Her long pants guard against them, but we met another lady that day with leech bites and scars all over her legs. 

The school, like this whole community, has no running water. It collects rainwater in these huge containers (left) and buys water by the truckload in dry season. Rainy season had just ended when I visited last November, but the water was already gone. Apparently everyone at the school says rainwater is more delicious than truck water.

This student in the second community was happy to show off his puppies. They were so cute! He had a smart idea for helping them thrive: keep them under a mosquito net so the bugs stay away. Since his house is on stilts, pretty soon he'll need a new plan for keeping them from falling down the ladder... one ventured awfully close to it before he grabbed it and carried it back to safety.

About half the students in this community are ethnic Vietnamese, meaning their families don't have Cambodian citizenship or the right to own land. Many of them still live on houseboats and earn their living by fishing, like when they first emigrated here nearly 40 years ago. I'm not sure where they park their motos, but it must be on land, because there's no way this bridge is for anything but pedestrians! I feel for the parents of small children, trying to get them back and forth daily. 

While the footbridge was pretty rustic, the houseboat we visited seemed sturdy and spotless. The owner was the only one of all the families we visited to offer me a drink. And I hadn't expected to find a well-tended hanging garden in the home of someone I considered poverty-stricken and oppressed as an ethnic minority. It reminded me of Chimamanda Adichie's TED talk on the dangers of a single story. I'd been reducing our hostess to the caricature of "victim of Southeast Asian politics" or "mother of an underachieving student," rather than seeing her as a whole person who's ahead of me in her gardening and cleaning (and I'm sure many other skills). I still have a lot of layers of pride and ignorance that God needs to strip away if I want to truly serve families like hers.

Walking back to the school, we spotted another skill I lack: gutting fish using a metal roller. I'm guessing they were going to dry and sell these fish. It seems to be an all-ages activity; I know this community has many kids dropping out to help on the fishing boats as well. But these young girls are in their school uniforms, so they're just helping in their off hours. They laughed at me for wanting a video, but I was mesmerized watching them.

The third school is just a couple miles from my house, and one of the families we visited is less than a mile from me. They even sell corn at the market a block from my house. But it felt like I was entering another world as I stepped into the cluster of shacks across from the vats of boiling water. Geese were waddling around squawking, and you'd never dream that we were two blocks from a major road whose traffic jam had made me late that morning. 

At that house, the mom had good news and bad news for the community worker. The bad news: her second daughter is still under the weather, hence the recent absences. (A much better reason than another mom's "Oh, I think he's out flying kites with his brother.") The good news: they were finally able to get a family record book. This government document allows their family, among other things, to register the kids in public school... something that should have happened years ago but somehow didn't. It sounds like the oldest child has special needs, so maybe public school wasn't a good option as it offers no special services.

At two of the schools, I got to stay and enjoy lunch with the teachers. While picking up some iced coffees from the market with two of them, I spotted this gem of a T-shirt. (8+ years in, I'm still not tired of Engrish and nonsense messages on Cambodian clothing.) 

I'm hoping these visits and other community interactions will help me build bridges, not burn them. But... for the innumerable times that I mess up... this shirt is a good reminder to laugh at myself, see the light in the fires of humiliation, and move on.