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?