through my lens

this is what I see [as of late]. 

transitions

Friends,

I'm going to be transitioning to a WordPress blog in the near future. You can find me at http://sarahlynnae.wordpress.com/

I'll still post here for the remainder of my time here, but I will continuing my WordPress blog post-Cambodia.

Blessings,

Sarah

on being still

If there is one thing I don't want to do in Cambodia, it is stand still. When you stand still, you are subject to a myriad of smells; smells that cling to air molecules like a hungry infant to his mother: incense from the store next door, exhaust from the truck that just drove by, meat from the market in the alley, grilled corn from the cart down the street. When you stand still, the lack of a breeze becomes decidedly more pronounced until the very act of breathing--inhale, exhale--becomes a laborious, exhaustive chore. The simple becomes the complex, the easy becomes the difficult, the tolerable becomes the intolerable...all when you are still.

Unfortunately, lately, this is what is required of me.

It's not so much the standing that has me frustrated; it's the being still that has me worked into a tizzy.  I finally find a routine....wham, I'm puking out the side of a moving tuk-tuk. I think I have my future figured out...plop, I'm back to square one. I keep trying to speed up the future, counting down the days till I can see those that I miss so much...but it feels like God is pumping the brakes, slowing me down. It feels like the training wheels have been put back on my big girl bike just when I'm feeling ready to cruise, unnecessary, bothersome.

What these past few weeks demonstrate, at least to yours truly, is that I am very clearly not in control. It's actually laughable how out-of-control I am. And I'll be honest: this upsets me. 

What the past twenty two years have taught me is that Someone is in control. Things left unsupervised will almost always turn to crap, unless Someone is there to intervene.

[Not convinced? Try babysitting. Even the most angelic of faces will astound you with their devious schemes.]

Even when things looked dark and hopeless, I've always managed...and I'm still managing. Heck, some might even say I'm thriving; and somedays I'd actually agree with them.

The moral of my ramblings is being still usually doesn't happen [to me at least] by choice. But since my other options are dwindling, I'll do my very best to be, for awhile, still.

questions and a song

I think the natural response to witnessing suffering and brokenness is to ask why?

[why them? why not me? why at all? why, God?]

And I think for a lot of people, it feels like these why’s fall upon deaf ears.

I’ve had cause to think about this a lot in the past six months, in traveling to East Africa and Southeast Asia. I’ve seen (and smelled) a poverty so completely foreign to my upper middle class suburban upbringing that it shook me at my core.

So I’ve asked the questions and searched for answers.

And I’m still asking and still searching. I don’t expect to stop anytime soon.

But in the meantime, this song has been stuck in my head for quite a few days and it’s brought me some comfort. Perhaps it will help ease the questions in your mind, too.

This is my Father's world, 
and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres. 
This is my Father's world: 
I rest me in the thought 
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hands the wonders wrought. 

This is my Father's world, 

the birds their carols raise, 

the morning light, the lily white, 

declare their maker's praise. 

This is my Father's world: 

he shines in all that's fair; 

in the rustling grass I hear him pass; 

he speaks to me everywhere. 

This is my Father's world. 

O let me ne'er forget

that though the wrong seems oft so strong, 

God is the ruler yet. 

This is my Father's world: 

why should my heart be sad? 

The Lord is King; let the heavens ring! 

God reigns; let the earth be glad! 

snapshots

home sweet home

I’m not going to lie: when I imagined living in Cambodia, I thought I’d be living in a hut.

After a week and a half here, I have yet to see any huts. But there are quite a few shacks, rickety old structures that are propped up on wooden stilts, looking like they are one strong gush of wind away from toppling over.

As we drove down the dirt road on the way to my host home last week, I held my breath. The interesting thing about Cambodia is that the poor and wealthy are intermingled, so the drive went a little something like: bump, pothole, shack, mansion, shack, puddle, concrete, wood, beeeeep, tuk-tuk, beeeep, bike, shack, mansion.

Though I was mentally preparing for a shack, I was crossing all of my fingers and toes, hoping beyond hope for a solid structure. Imagine my relief, then, when this is what we pulled up to:

A far cry from a mud hut or a rickety shack. I let out a sigh of relief.

See the pink and white curtains in the top right window?  That’s my room!  It’s private, cozy, perfect.
From time to time I share my room with a few geckos and a colony of ants and when we lose power at night and I sleep the window open, hoping for a breeze, I wake up with a few dozen new mosquito bites. (Don’t worry, I have a mosquito net and I’m taking malaria medicine).

I honestly can’t even tell you how many people live here with me; the number seems to change on a daily basis. Extended family members come and go, staying for a few weeks before returning home or visiting another relative. I’ve given up on trying to keep count; my new goal is to learn everyone’s name. With all the moving around that goes on, this might take me all summer.

One of the more interesting pieces of furniture in the house is our “kitchen table.” At dinner time, we gather around to “nam-by” (eat rice), sitting cross legged on top of the table. It can also double as a bed, desk, etc. The puppies like to sleep on the cool concrete underneath, and the chickens are always scurrying around it. It truly is the gathering place in our home.

Which brings me, lastly, to the outhouse. It stands next to the chicken coop, which makes me feel like I have an audience while taking my bucket showers—an unsettling feeling, to say the least. The first night, I was overwhelmed by the prospect of two months without a real shower. But after a few days, I’ve become accustomed to the wooden and tin, closet-like structure and I don’t mind it as much anymore.

With all these changes and adjustments, the real lesson I’ve learned is that when things feel overwhelming, or big, or impossible, or when you just plain don’t want to take bucket showers for two months with geckos, frogs, spiders, and chickens watching….just go to sleep. Nothing does the body or mind more good, in my opinion, then a solid night of rest. Following this philosophy, whenever I feel homesick or whenever I ache for the comforts that I’ve left behind, I lay down my head, close my eyes, and sleep. And when I wake the next morning, things don’t seem so bad.

faces and places

Srey Leak works for CGI and is my host sister. She makes fast friends and speaks wonderful English.

A very serious third grader. He giggled uproariously when I showed him his picture. 

Some things are universal. Coca-cola is one of them. 

A woman and her produce at a market. 

This boy is in the bottom three of his class. As a third grader, he can barely read or write. We went on a home visit today to try to figure out some of the contributing factors to his poor school performance. 

A mom and her two daughters show respect at the temple by first taking off their shoes. 

Another beautiful third grade student. 

Brick walls and bike tires. 

travels and tuk-tuks

Well, friends.

I made it. 

Those three words seemed impossible a few weeks ago, sitting cross-legged on the floor of my duplex, two months worth of clothes and medicine and toiletries sprawled out around me. 

Those words seemed impossible as I asked myself over and over again in a terrified whisper "Sarah Lynnae, what have you gotten yourself in to this time?" 

Those words seemed impossible as I clung tightly to loved ones, clenching my eyes shut to avoid tears, and choking out goodbyes. 

Despite all of that and more, I made it. 

And for the next two months, I will continue to make it, each and every day because of you: you who have pledged support, who have prayed for me, who have believed in me. It is with a very humbled and grateful heart that I say to you "THANK YOU!"

Even though I've only been here a few days, I have already felt a quiet confirmation that this is where I am supposed to be. I was quite confident four months ago that this is where God wanted me this summer, but as the day to leave drew closer, my confidence wavered. 

Yet as I stepped out of the airport after 26 hours of traveling, smelly, tired and hot as I was, and into the muggy Cambodian night, I smiled to myself, overcome with the adventure and excitement of it all. And when I met the "Daughters" I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had been designed for this.  

I am very appreciative for the skill set that I have developed which has proved useful in traveling. For instance, I am relaxed enough to be OK without knowing the plan for the day, but I am uptight enough to always have a good sense of where I am, who I am surrounded by, what is appropriate social behavior, and how to blend in well. It's a delicate balance, but I'm getting my fair share of practice with this each and every day. 

From here on out, it is my goal to post twice a week. But now, it's lunch time at The Green Mango. You'll have to take my word for it: the food here is amazing! 

Until next time, 

Sarah

Oh, P.S. tuk-tuks are the preferred mode of transportation around here and I love them. That's all.