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.
