A few of my (mis)adventures

Below you will find an actual conversation between my mother and I before I left for Cambodia. 

Mom: I only have like 150 followers on my blog.

Me: I have seven, and one of them is me.

The point of that embarrassing story is that, first of all, my blog is in fact lame (told ya so) and everyone who has been wondering if I actually made it to Cambodia already know that I have, which renders this post useless. With that said, I am not sure what the point of this post will be, however, I will truck through. :)

I got to Cambodia a week ago. Goodness gracious, this has been what feels like the longest week of my life. Getting off the plane in Phnom Penh was one of the most familiar feelings I have ever had. However, as soon as my passport was handed back to me, after receiving my visa, I got a really awesome bloody nose, that was not so familiar. 

There have been a few moments where I have thought "what the hell have I done." Most of the time those thoughts come when I realize that all of my social skills have apparently abandoned me and the things that come out of my mouth are super lame, or don't make sense. So there's that. The people here that will choose to be my friend, will for sure be lasting if they can make it past my awkward phase.

It would be a totally fair assessment to say that I overpacked. One thing I overpacked on.... Bibles. "what? You can never have too many Bibles," you say. Well, I brought 7. My justification? they are all different versions. How many will I actually use? Like 3. Tops. I also definitely brought too many shoes.      So yeah.  

Honest moment: I have no idea where this post is going. Like, at all. 

In the midst of the loneliness and the awkwardness and all the other things that are are not necessarily the most fun emotions to deal with, God is good. Meeting me right where I am at and giving me bits of encouragement along the way. I don't know what I would do without Jesus. Hopeless for sure, paralyzed at best. 

If you don't know Jesus yet, I highly encourage you to do a little investigating. He is worth it. More than you could ever know. I know it can be a little hard to believe that He raised from the dead, or even is a real person. Come out here for a week and see all that has been restored and made new. I don't think that you would be able to believe these transformations could happen any other way. 

sending love to you,

-j

Farewell, sweet Arizona!

Well, friends, family, and stalkers, these are my last few days in Phoenix. Monday I leave for the great state of California to spend about 4 days with my family. This will definitely be my last blog before taking off. Next you’ll hear from me will be when I am on Cambodian soil!

Other than being completely annoyed at the government shutdown for not letting me see the Grand Canyon before I left (yes, I have lived in AZ for a decade and still have never been there), I have come to grips with leaving. Mostly. I am also still grieving the reality that I will probably never summit Camelback Mountain (2 for 2 in not making it to the top!). It isn’t even a real mountain. It’s like a large hill, and I still can’t finish.

The part of my soul that died a little with the loss of the above goals was resurrected by my sweet friends and how they love.  I thought about writing all about everything that has transpired in the 2.5 months since realizing I was actually, for real, without a doubt, moving to Cambodia (because some stories are incredible), but I decided against it.

I will leave you with some words of wisdom (obviously not mine) that have been echoing in my head since the pastor at church spoke them last week.

We belong to each other.

Galatians 6:2

Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

The worst mover, ever.

This whole international moving thing is really kicking my butt. I just don’t have time for it. Seriously. I can’t remember the last time that I brushed my hair. The other day, I had to take apart a dreadlock that was forming underneath all the layers of my very naughty mane.

The more I get rid of and the more I pack, my room seems to get messier, I cannot even understand how this is logically possible, but alas, it is.

I have lost the will to follow dress code at work, and I cry at anyone’s thoughtfulness. Last night after small group, one of my dearest friends, Sarah, called just to tell me that she loved me and wanted to know how she could help. This turned into a MAJOR sob fest (on both parts, but mostly mine). I am pretty sure that opened the flood gates of emotion, so I kindly ask that no one be nice to be in the weeks preceding my departure. If you are nice, most likely you will get tears, many hugs, and your shirt might be used as a snot rag. You’ve been warned.

Because of my deep rooted talent (?) of procrastination (and my current “hot mess” status), I have decided to avoid that which I should be doing and write a how-to for people who are saying ‘bye-for-now’ to loved ones moving far away.  You’re welcome in advance.

*There will be times when we can’t remember anything. Please pretend you don’t notice. Just a few weeks ago, I planned to have coffee with 2 different people. At the same time. And the same location. AND, they didn’t know each other (so I couldn’t pass it off like it was a group thing). Oopsie.

*Emotional breakdowns are inevitable, and most likely, not short. I have no advice for this one. Just expect it. Maybe carry a small package of tissues for all the tears and such because we will definitely not remember to carry one with us. Be prepared to give lots of hugs and have no decent pictures together before we leave due to excessive blotchy faces because of the ugly cry.

*Our living spaces will be horrifying. It will be an obstacle course of clothes, books, random sharp objects, and pretty much every household item. Use this as training for something really cool like Tough Mudder or the Warrior Dash. It will be pretty much the same, especially when stepping barefoot on a plugged-in curling iron. If you can handle that, you can definitely handle the 10,000 volt electrocution at the end of Tough Mudder. (You can thank us later).

*We will look consistently frazzled.  While we sincerely appreciate the offers of help and questions asking what still needs to be done, the truth is, WE HAVE NO IDEA. There is so much to do that we cannot actually remember. It may be more helpful to sit us down and have us make a list, otherwise, the attitude (at least mine) is ‘screw-it.’

*You may have to reach out to us to schedule time together. Either due to extreme busyness or an acute case of exhaustion, we may be hesitant to initiate hang out time. Also, our minds are in two places, which is a strange mental exercise. We will be using parts of our brain that have been sleeping since high school (maybe earlier).

*Speaking of our brains, they are pretty much on the verge of shutting down. The task of constructing complete sentences becomes exhausting and you will be lucky if we can still recite the alphabet or correctly identify our primary colors.

***on a more serious note***

*Our brains don’t reflect our hearts. We love you, but we may not be showing how deeply we care in the midst of this transition. It isn’t because we don’t want to, but because we are severely distracted. Sometimes, though, it does seem too hard to say goodbye, and we do avoid it. There will be questions swirling around our minds asking us if it really is worth it to leave. The thought of leaving each of you breaks our hearts and emotionally we don’t know how to deal. Please forgive us for shutting you out at times, or distancing ourselves, the unreturned phone calls, or any other behavior that is hurtful. It isn’t our intention. We just don’t know how to navigate these new waters. Thank you for your patience and bearing with us. Even though we can’t (or don’t) express it, it means more to us than you know.  Please keep us in your prayers and keep us accountable to time with each other and with Jesus. It is a struggle to even do one of anything well at this point. We need you, and are just doing a very poor job of showing it.

 

I think the moral of this post is we need community and Jesus and are having a horrible time balancing what needs to be done and continually pursuing relationships. Please forgive us! Thank you, friends and family, for being so awesome and so supportive, and faithful. I mean, we are already a train wreck, imagine where we would be without you! Or maybe don’t walk down that road; it seems to be a little frightening.

(fyi: ‘we’ refers to the community of ‘movers.’ I am not referring to myself in multiples; although, I may not be far off from that…)

Anything that you would add? Or anything that isn’t accurate?

An (unexpected) Ode to Phoenix- with photos!

The other day, well, like 2 months ago, I was in my room with one of my younglife girls/good friend. I was just starting to clean out my room and throw away a bunch of crap that I didn’t need. Like at all. So here I am tossing things at her saying stuff like “hey, want this scarf? It is warm and pretty and free and homemade.” I think that scarf was the only thing she wanted, but whatever. Anyway, she is sitting on the floor, eating french fries with a massive amount of ketchup when she looks around and says “Hey, what’s it like not to really own anything?”

Um. 

She then gives me a sarcastic laugh.

So, fast forward to last week.  I was exhausted. To the point where I wasn’t answering anyone’s phone calls. I wasn’t physically tired, but emotionally, I was spent. Unless I took time to recharge, this crabby little mover wouldn’t be moving anywhere. Except maybe to the couch. 

So, in the midst of my *minor* recluse- like behavior, I decided to take a drive around the perimeter of the city. I started thinking about the things that are costly for me to leave. While I don’t tend to get emotionally invested in tangible objects (mostly because I misplace EVERYTHING), I get very attached to people and memories.  Like the time my Bible study group (fyi, we are called the BB- Bible Bitches- it is a term of endearment, nothing bad, so hopefully no one is offended) decided to do study at our favourite local restaurant over 2 pitchers of sangria and pizza. That night was the night that prevented me from moving to LA (I was planning on moving to LA just 4 months later).

Or the times going to the casino to play midnight bingo only to never win and be assaulted by the second hand smoke in the enclosed room. We would dare each other to do stupid stuff in the confines of the midnight bingo room. “Hey Mike, start dancing in the aisles!” “Hey Janay, go bum a cigarette off someone!” (As a girl that is particularly concerned about lung-health, it was odd asking someone for a cigarette with no intention of smoking it, especially when it was the last one they had. Apparently this is a big deal. Oopsie!).

YoungLife camps. YoungLife clubs. I am going to miss making memories doing the weirdest things on Monday nights. (One time, on a date with this guy, I was asked how YoungLife went the night before, and I replied with “Well, I stuck a dead frozen fish down my shirt.” He never called again).

The times I realized that my friends are the best in the world. Literally holding me when my world was crashing. Not leaving me alone when the storm hit. Laughter. Lake days. Ohso. Backyard ‘America’ parties.  The worst YL camp experience ever (I really love telling this story, so feel free to ask). Big bed. LGO dates after small group. Putting together crappy Ikea furniture.  Sneaking into hotel pools, LIKE A BOSS. Weddings. Shooting guns. 4 Peaks. Thai food and documentaries. Staycations. Binge watching TV shows with roommates. Adventures. Many many adventures.

I guess, what I am trying to say is, even though I whole-heartedly believe you, Phoenix, are my own personal purgatory, you aren’t that bad. In fact, you have produced some of the best people I have ever known. For sure given me the best friends I have ever had. So, Phoenix, even though your plant life is alarmingly aggressive, and your insects make me gag, and all the bodies of water are man-made, you have been good to me.

Thank you for the good times. And the bad. Thank you for your outrageous sunsets every night. Thank you for being close enough to the beach and mountains. Thank you for letting good people into your borders that have loved me so well over the years.  Thank you for releasing me with fond memories that completely eclipse the bad ones.

Thank you, Jesus, for not letting me leave until I saw Phoenix as home.

Phoenix, we still have 3 more weeks. You better not screw it up.

 

Cue photos:

 

 

 

 

*more photos to come since I finally figured out how to add them!*

 

Wait...why are you going?

Well, 7 weeks folks.

*side note, this blog needs more pictures*
 

To be honest I am super concerned about two things before I leave. The first, again, is going to the dentist. Turns out, I can’t go see my friend, so I HAVE TO GO TO A STRANGER. Ugh.

Second is the state of my room. It really is pretty obscene. But at the same time, I just don’t care. Maybe I’ve given up. In fact, the way my room is right now is probably the poster picture for giving up in general. I found packing tape (with the razor edge to tear off) IN BED with me last night, in addition to a ghungroo, and many other gems I have been searching for.

Now onto more- er- meaningful (?) things…

At 3 or 4 years old, my answer to the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” would always be ‘a missionary!’

Haha. What a weird ambition for a little kid. Nevertheless, it has always been on my heart, and I’m pretty sure I was the last one to know it was actually going to become a reality someday.

I hadn’t seen what poverty looked like until I was 18. YoungLife at ASU had organized a trip to Tijuana to build a house for a family in need over a weekend. I was changed on that trip.

There were a few more mission trips that I went on including one to Argentina, where I was so desperate to “be changed” that it didn’t actually end up happening, probably because I was more concerned about me than the people I was going there to serve.

Uganda was next. It wasn't really a mission trip, since it was just me.  I went to visit a friend who worked with street kids out there, and got to sleep in the slums for 2 weeks, which, to me, was really neat. I loved those kids, loved Uganda, and even loved sleeping in the slums. I learned so much about how to do missions well.  You hear everyone talk about Africa and “getting the bug.” As much as I loved Uganda, the time spent there, and all the beautiful people I met, I didn’t acquire said bug.

Then came Cambodia. There aren’t adequate words to describe the feeling of stepping off the plane for the first time. It didn’t feel foreign, even though it absolutely was. Everything was familiar, like I had come home. Interacting with the Khmer people (Khmer is how Cambodian people identify themselves) was a constant joy, and still brings a smile to my face.

 We went to the various organizations who sacrifice over and over again for those who have been rescued. I was knocked off my feet by the people I met. Charmed by stories I had heard, and the careful way they care for these girls hearts. After several days, we got to meet some of the girls. What an honor. Restoration and redemption beyond belief.

Yes, sex trafficking is one of the most evil, and darkest things (I can’t think of a better word than things) in the world. An ‘industry’ that brings in an estimated 36.1 billion a year. Violence, abuse, and degradation beyond belief.

Oddly enough, that isn’t what wedged its way in my heart and got under my skin.  So what did? Resilience, light, grace, LIFE. More darkness than I can ever imagine, but the light is so bright, it’s arresting.

So, I have been twice to Cambodia-land and both times I was offered jobs. Both times I declined, much to my friend, Heather’s dismay. And my sister’s. And my other friend’s. Apparently, everyone was in on the secret that I was too stubborn to listen to due to my own selfishness.

There were things I wasn’t willing to give up. For 3 years I resisted. Finally, after my stubbornness blew up in my face, by the Grace of God, my heart softened and I am off, doing what I was created to do.

I.Cannot. Wait.

I have little to give, but what I do have, I pray it is used.

 

Any of you have experiences where you felt at home even though it was a brand new thing/idea/place?

Ummm... hi.

Umm… hi.

As Jamie Wright (theveryworstmissionary.com) said “Feel free to ignore this.”

This is going to be a pretty uncomfortable post for me. Probably because I have already written one like this and feel like I need to do it again.

First of all, everything up to this point (other than the waiting period) has been totally in my comfort zone.  Filling out applications… easy. Interviews…not too bad. Getting people to write really nice things about me to send into the organizations….ok, that was kinda uncomfortable. But this is difficult for me. I don’t like asking for help, we should probably just add that to the list of things I do terribly.

It is an inevitably awkward conversation. “Hi, I know we only met once, but would you consider donating to me?” Honestly, I kinda feel like I have no business asking people.

I have received some donations (y’all know who you are and there is something that will be in the mail for you shortly) and every time one comes in, I cry. It OVERWHLEMS me. Partly because I feel like the most unqualified person in the world to be doing this, but mostly because the Church has become tangible to me. I don’t feel like I am going over there alone. I feel very much supported and cared for and loved, like you guys are my teammates. Cheesy, I know, but it’s how I feel.

You guys are showing me more about what the Church is and who Jesus is. And it BLOWS me away. Seriously.

 

With that said, I still need help. There are still more funds to raise and I can’t do it without you. If you would please pray about supporting me, I would so appreciate. ANYTHING helps. I know that small gifts are often big sacrifices, and I appreciate every single donation.

If you want, please email me and we can set up a time to talk if you would like to know more about what I am doing out there.

There is also a link above that says “Donate here” that you can click on.

You guys are so great. Thank you, heaps!

-janay

Janay.jarvis@gmail.com

Birthday Grinch

Hi, I’m Janay, and I am the Birthday Grinch.

This is the first year that I have actually tried to not have a birthday. Not because of getting older or anything. I really don’t feel like I am 28 (probably because I spend most of my free time with high schoolers) so the age thing doesn’t really bother me.

I’m not sure what it is, but everything birthday related is making me a cranky grump. My roommate asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday this year and all I want to do is see a movie. Granted, the theater I want to go to has recliners (and a wine dispenser!) but seriously, I have come down with a serious case of being a lame birthday grouch.

I have actually made an effort to help people forget my birthday this year.  For example, at work, people make a big deal out of birthdays, so, I took my ‘trusted’ friend aside last week and told her that I really didn’t want anything to be done as it just makes me feel uncomfortable. It had the opposite effect. When I walked into the office this morning my little cubical was decorated in banners and twinkle lights and confetti and streamers. I took a picture and sent it to another friend (who is obnoxiously trying to let everyone know) with the caption of “asdf;lkmjfdvnj;akdjshkf.” Her response was laughter. Thanks, Ash.

Why in the world am I having such an issue this year with receiving from others? I get so annoyed when others don’t let me bless them. Apparently, it’s just a double standard, which, clearly, I have become the queen of.

Anyway, what is our (my) issue with accepting love and gifts and blessings?

Do we (I) feel unworthy? Are we (I) afraid of intimacy (emotional, spiritual, mental) with others? Maybe we (I) just plain don’t like people. Is there a feeling of ‘owing’ someone afterwards? I don’t know.

 Or maybe I didn’t want people to know that it was my birthday because, I mean, what if no one even said ‘happy birthday!?’ Since, clearly, I am at the center of the world, devastation would set in for sure, and you would find me face down on the floor of my incredibly disastrous room (which is a whole other issue in and of itself) listening to something super emo that would remind me of the ‘better times.’ Let’s be honest, it would actually  be NSYNC or something equally lame.

Anyway, I digress. Here’s the deal. It comes down to the dumb insecurities that I have of wanting people to like me. As if that will satisfy me. I mean really, I want people to like me, but there will always be one person (at least) who can’t stand that I ask a million questions, or that I have a tendency to use profanity, or that I only brush my hair, at most, once a week.

  I am reminded of Galatians 1:10 “For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ. “

It is refreshing to read, but sometimes, honestly, I hate reading verses that convict me. At first. Then He softens my viciously stubborn heart, and eventually, I come around. It really is a win-win situation. Having to only have the approval of one (Jesus) and not 6.9 BILLION is kind of a relief.  Especially because I only need to seek the approval of my biggest fan.

So, I am going to (try) enjoy the flowers that were purchased for me, the cookies that were baked, the Diet Cokes that were bought, and every Happy Birthday along the way.  The Birthday Grinch is retiring (sort of, because I most definitely won’t post this until after my birthday).

Financial Breakdown- Updated!

In advance, THANK YOU!

Here it is, the dreaded financial breakdown:

Essentially, I need $1000/month to live off of. That is a lot of money to raise. However, every bit counts.

Keep in mind that ALL donations are tax deductible.

I know that some people can give more, and some people less. Please be encouraged that in any way you support me, it is not only appreciated, but a game changer.

 Prayer is a game changer. I can’t emphasize that enough.

One time donations are a game changer. $10 a month is a game changer.

I appreciate each of you, deeply. 

As a bonus, for those who donate, please know you will get an in person (or virtual, if you live far away) high five, and maybe even a wink.  (You actually will receive a super cool orginal print designed by my sweet friend, Alicia)

And so it begins...

Hey Everyone,

I am moving to Cambodia! I can’t believe it. Before I go, I need your help (in more areas than one). First some background on the country and why I am moving there.

Cambodia is located in Southeast Asia, sandwiched between Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam. In the 1970’s Cambodia experienced a massive genocide of at least 1 million people. Pol Pot was the ring leader and had a plan to create a peasant society, and in that vision included wiping out all those who were educated. This was ironic, since Pol Pot himself was highly educated. Because of this, Cambodia went into a tailspin. As a result, the sex trafficking industry exploded. Girls were being taken, sold, and tricked into forced prostitution. Today, it is still a huge issue that plagues Cambodia and the rest of Southeast Asia. Thankfully, there are many organizations that are dedicated to seeing trafficking end and are making great strides to turn that into a reality.

My first time in Cambodia was in 2010, and I witnessed firsthand the hard work of those who have committed their life to rescuing, rehabilitating, and reintroducing these precious girls back into healthy living. I went back a year later (apparently I just couldn’t stay away) and saw a few new organizations who were working tirelessly and sacrificially. I was hooked, yet again.

So, after 3 years of my own stubbornness and two previous job offers in Cambodia that I turned down, it seems that the third time's the charm! The Lord is calling me to full time ministry in the capital city, Phnom Penh. I will be working with an organization called Daughters of Cambodia (check them out, they are too awesome:www.daughtersofcambodia.org), who work with girls who are coming out of trafficking in the 15-20’s age group.

Like I said before, I need your help. First and foremost, I absolutely covet your prayers. I cannot do this alone and need the body to be lifting me and the ministry up in prayers on a daily basis. Without that, I will surely fail. Secondly, I need help financially. If y’all can prayerfully consider supporting me financially, that would be so great. I am needing one time and monthly donors. You can find donation info and a video about the organization below.

You guys are the best, thanks for just taking the time to read this.

-janay

janay.jarvis@gmail.com

Isaiah 58:6-10

“Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? 8 Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. 9 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, 10 if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.

If you would like to donate, you have two options. You can donate by mail (feel free to email me for all the paperwork) or you can donate online, and the instructions are below.

click on this link: http://internationaloutreachministries.org/support.html
and then you can click on one time or monthly donations. Please make sure to put my name in the box that says "For the ministry of," otherwise the money will not be allocated to me.
All donations are tax deductible.
Thank y'all for everything.

Guys, I am Great at Worrying!

Ok, you know those people who are  talented at everything they do? They play an instrument, and are really good at budgeting, and are funny, and are super smart? Well, I have been blessed to have many friends like that. I can probably name at least 10 without really even thinking. The problem is, I am not that person. At all. However, I am really  good at one thing. That thing is worrying. Seriously, people should hire me to do it. I am quite brilliant at the art of worrying, and really, over anything . Especially, when it is out of my control. As you can imagine, moving to a separate hemisphere has me thinking about some things, and you, lucky readers and supporters are getting to hear about it first.

So… I am moving to Cambodia and should be there in about 3 months (as long as the final interview goes well...please...PRAY!!). There are primarily two things on my mind. The first is that I need to go to the dentist, of who I am afraid, and, on top of that, I cannot tell you the last time that I went. If I have less than 3 cavities, you will see me skipping down the street fist pumping and yelling ‘huzzah.’

The other thing on my mind is I have to raise my salary. Well, crap. I have absolutely no idea how to do this. My sweet friend Ashley is throwing me a dinner, and I will send out support letters as well, but when I think about the amount of money I need to raise, or have pledged in the next 3 months, it makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and eat McDonalds.  How in the WORLD will this happen?

I was worrying about this at work, because, clearly, when would be a better time? I went and expressed my concern to my friend,  who listened patiently and said “Well, if God wants you there now, he will provide.” My first thought was ‘well yeah, I know, but that doesn’t help me with knowing what to do now.’

My second thought was remembering what had been provided to me in the past. Let me take you back about 3.5-4 years and tell you a little story of how I ended up where I am today. This is definitely more so for me as I think about Deuteronomy 4:9, “Only take care and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children.” So here we go (cue dreamy flashback music like in TV shows).

In May (or was it June?) of 2009, I was planning on going to Uganda with my friend, Jessie, for a month. We didn’t have plans, just plane tickets. 3 weeks before going I was sitting in a travel clinic waiting to get my Yellow Fever shot (the only required shot for entrance into Uganda). The physician that was going to be administering the shot was going through my immunization history, and asks me, “When was your last MMR shot?” Being the stupidly proud human that I am, I sat up a little straighter and said boldly, “Well, I got it 2 days ago, because I wanted to be prepared for this trip!”

She gives me a blank stare and says “Oooh….. I’ll be right back.”

“Ok, weird, but whatever,” I thought, as I am sitting there proud that I am going to such an exotic location.

She comes back in and won’t look me in the eye. She proceeds to explain to me that the MMR and Yellow Fever vaccines are both live viruses. With live virus shots, they either need to be given on the same day, or a month apart. I’m sure the poor physician didn’t see this coming, but I burst into tears. Right there in her office, in the middle of a travel clinic where people are preparing to leave for adventures all over the world. Dripping tears, and I’m sure snot, unable to compose myself, she looks at me (finally) and says (very sincerely, by the way), “I am so sorry.”

So that halted my travel plans. I didn’t go to Uganda. My friend, Jessie, was having the time of her life and I was watching from afar. My friend, ended up staying, and so in October 2009, I made the trek out to the slums of Uganda.

I spent two weeks sleeping in the slum of Kivulu and hanging out with street boys as they were the focus of the ministry that Jessie was part of. One day, we were walking through a more dangerous slum, Kisenyi (I think that is how its spelled) and I ask Jessie “Why are there only street boys? Why is Deborah the only girl in your programs?” Her response was “Well, that is more of a justice issue. Most of the girls are taken and forced into prostitution.” My senses became heightened as I sloppily stammered through the muddy slum looking at every makeshift shelter wondering if a young girl was in there being robbed of her innocence.

A few days later, I was on a plane back to America and angry at the world. I emailed International Justice Mission (www.ijm.org) asking  if they would let me see one of their operations or aftercare facilities. The answer was a resounding ‘no.’ However; they did give me links to various organizations. I visited one of the websites they gave me; it was for World Hope International (www.worldhope.org). Immediately, I saw a trip to Cambodia to learn about the sex trafficking industry there. I was so excited, I could barely stand it. However, that high lasted about 15 minutes before realizing that it was a 10 day trip. I wanted to be there much longer (picture me stomping my foot with a huge pout on my face, I am sure that is what it must of looked like).  I dropped that opportunity in a second and went back to living life and not thinking about Cambodia ever again. Until a week later.

At the time, I was working for a treatment center for girls with eating disorders. Occasionally, we would take them on outings for both recreation and exposure. I was taking the adolescents to Barnes and Nobel for a couple hours. What this really consisted of was the girls all going different directions, me running circles in the store counting them (praying none of them disappeared) ,and making sure they weren’t  looking at diet books or fitness magazines. In one of my circles, I ran into a table. You know how Barnes and Noble like to put tables full of books in the walkways? Well, I smacked straight into one.  I looked down at the table and saw a book with a woman laughing with two young girls. Nothing necessarily remarkable about the book, but I picked it up and read the back. Guess what it was about? A woman named Somaly Mam (remember this name), who was sold into prostitution at a young age, had escaped, and then rescued a ridiculous number of girls herself. Guess where she is from? Yeah... Cambodia.

It took me two days to read the book, and I slept with the light on for a week. Monstrously devastating.  A few days after that I applied for the trip to Cambodia with World Hope International. (Side note, because this is just too cool, but I was telling all of the patients at my work where I was going and one girl said to me “Oh, I have been to Cambodia doing that sort of work before. I was working for an organization called Daughters of Cambodia. Guess where I am going to work? Daughters). Something else I am really good at is procrastination. And boy did I procrastinate on those support letters. To be quite fair, 2 months before I was supposed to leave, I STARTED writing my letters. I needed $2800 at had known about this trip for 6 months and was just starting. Right before I put the pen to paper, I received an email from World Hope informing me that I was fully funded.

Ummm, I’m sorry. What? That has to be an error.

Actually, I wasn’t just fully funded, I had exceeded the amount that I needed to raise by over $1000. And I didn’t do anything. The people who donated the most, I had never met. Absolutely absurd. In the most wonderful way.

8 months after applying, pregnant with anticipation and excitement, I landed in Phnom Penh.

Oh, and on the way back from Phnom Penh to the states, guess who was on our flight and talked with us for a little bit? Somaly Mam.

I guess my friend from work is right (and, clearly, it is Biblical) but God provides. He has a tendency to flex his muscles, which I love and hate. He doesn’t only provide, but he does it in the most spectacular ways. Here I am doubting ,and the words “oh you of little faith…” are gently echoing in my head and drawing me back to rely on the one who will fill my every need. Teaching me once again dependence on the Provider is how I need to live. Ugh. When will I ever learn?

Philippians 4:19- And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.

 

 

p.s. shameless plug, but if you are wanting to donate to me being overseas, info will be posted soon.