When Street Kids Mop Windows

September 29^th, 2014 was the grand opening of the little store I had been working on for AIM (www.agapewebsite.org). Practically nothing went right during the day. I remember arriving at the store earlier than normal to finish inventory and start staging the appearance of all of our items. Within 10 minutes I was in tears. It had rained heavily the night before, which caused the store to flood. Water had gotten between our wood floors and the tile underneath, causing the floors to bow upwards.  If you stepped in the right spots, you would sink a bit. 

Then one of the staff said she was going to be late due to not feeling well.

The street kids filtered in and out throughout the day. They were invited to the party, boy were they keenly aware of when it was, and certainly could not contain their excitement. Quite honestly, they were driving me crazy. A couple of the girls saw a dead man in the river (we are across the street from the river) and were then panicking in the store about ghosts for a good while.  

Seriously guys, they were driving me crazy (not the part about them being scared of ghosts, miraculously I had patience for them at that time). They were trying to help me clean, but they were MOPPING the WINDOWS. They were causing more of a mess than anything. I cannot tell you how many times I kicked them out of the store that day because I just couldn’t deal. They kept coming back, and my attitude kept getting worse.

I was overwhelmed. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to change before the party, so my outfit consisted of dirty, dusty, sweaty clothes and I was sporting a lop-sided bun and by then all my make-up had melted off. All this build-up for months, and I looked like a disaster. 

Then something caused my heart to pause. One of the street kids shouted for my attention. “Janay, look!” I looked at her, spinning in her torn, dirty, falling-apart black dress. Feet stained with black dirt from walking the riverside without shoes every day.  I felt annoyed, thinking to myself ‘leave me alone, kid, I am on a deadline.’ Then she said this:

“Janay, I wore my best dress for the party tonight!”

Crap. It’s official; I am the worst person in the world.

That moment got me thinking though. These children have all day been eagerly awaiting the start of the party. They were so excited they couldn’t stay away, and wanted to help as much as they could. Giving their all. They even wore their best clothes. The significance of that night was not lost on them. How beautiful it was to them to be invited! Even though they didn’t have much to offer, and what they did offer was far from perfect, they offered all they had.

Oh to be that excited about being invited to be part of something.  I am part of something way bigger than a grand opening party for a retail store, and most of the time my excitement pales in comparison.  And honestly, I don’t always offer all that I have, in fact, most times I don’t.  

More people than I thought came to the party that night. I was still overwhelmed and exhausted. The kids stayed the entire night and much to my dismay were handing out wine to the adults. Perhaps a bit taboo, but they were giving all they had until it was time to go home. 

(Except at the end where they were angry with me for not ordering enough balloons for them to let go into the sky. There were 8 kids. I had 100 balloons. Really, kids?)

Mark 12:41-44

May We Always Be Fighting

As I sit here in a café in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, I am thinking about the documentary I just watched.  The documentary was of the rape and murder of Jyoti Singh in India almost two and a half years ago.  This story made worldwide news and sparked the outcry of the Indian people.  Even though the oppression of women worldwide is in the forefront of my mind often, living where I live and being involved in the anti-trafficking movement, this documentary left me speechless and haunted.

In the documentary, one of the perpetrators is interviewed. He shows absolutely no remorse, and even has the audacity to make the statement that women who have been raped are at fault, more than the men who took their thoughts and put them into action. In addition to that, he says women who are being raped should not fight back, but just allow the rape to happen. Apparently, the logic is that if you just “let it happen,” the assailants may let you live, rather than being forced to kill you.  The defense attorneys said that it is culturally unacceptable for a “respectable woman” to be out at night without her family.  It was 9:30pm.

As a woman, at least for me, I was taught at a young age to be cautious. I think about when I got my first car and my dad had told me to make sure at night I park under or near a lamppost in the parking lot. Somewhere well lit was (is) always safer. Or the fact that in those late nights when I would walk to my car in those parking lots, on occasion I would walk with my key in between my middle and ring finger (like my friend Chris taught me) so that if needed, I could use it as a weapon. In Cambodia ‘good girls’ don’t stay out past 9 according to culture. If there are nights where I am out past that time, I am looking in the side mirrors on my little moto to ensure that no one is following me. Either for theft or for something more sinister.

There are mounds of statistics about the oppression of women. Some are murky and hard to measure, so I will not be quoting any of them here (if you are concerned about this, feel free to dialogue with me!).  I can, however, speak to what I have experienced. While I have never been the victim of overt gender inequality/violence, I know many who have. Please believe me when I say I have known hundreds of girls who have suffered at the hands of sexual trauma. Even one woman or girl facing these issues is too many. Each girl must walk a road that she did not choose. And each instance of oppression is more than was ever intended when God spun the world into motion.

I offer no solutions, but maybe that isn’t the point. To quote Sara Groves’ song ‘The Long Defeat’  “I can’t just fight when I think I’ll win, that’s the end of all belief, and nothing has provoked it more than possible defeat.”

So, stick with me, maybe a (large) portion of fighting against the oppression of women is where we end up.  Yes, the goal is without a doubt to see the abolition of inequality and violence against women, however, part of me wonders if part of it is about the fight as well. Banning together as a unified people, men and women, working towards a common goal together. I know that this will be a battle that is around long after I am gone.  But we fight anyway. Maybe not to see an end in our lifetime, but to get one step closer for the generations ahead.

Women are powerful, and a force to be reckoned with. 

With that said, would you please raise your glass for a toast:

To all of the women and girls who may stumble across this post, you are seen.  You are brave warriors worthy of dignity and respect. To the men who fight for the equality and respect of women, we see you and thank you. To all of those who are survivors of violence, we will walk beside you and fight for you. Thank you for marching on.

Cheers to you. May we always be fighting.  

A Fireplace Heart

Here's the deal. In the recent past, I had a very good and sacrificial friend rummage through my hair for signs of lice. This happened after a cute little girl out in Svay Pak kinda sorta rubbed her head all over mine during a piggy back ride (might I add, I gave her a piggy back ride in wedges on an unpaved road, like a BOSS). Turns out she had lice. But the good Lord blessed me by gifting me with a lice free head. He knows to what degree I would complain about having to comb my mane with one of those teeny tiny torturous devices that get rid of those even worse eggs. I'm sure it was more for the benefit of everyone else. Either way, thank you Jesus!

Literally, right before I started writing this, a tiny black bug crawled from my bed onto my computer, which freaked me out. Needless to say, the bed was stripped and sheets thrown violently into the washer. I Raided the crap out of my room (you know the bug killer spray) and am now sleeping in my roommate's bed since she in in the province and I am pretty sure my entire room is toxic at this point with the amount of chemicals floating around. Crossing my fingers and saying prayers that it was not a bed bug. 

Speaking of Raid, it turns out that it is my new best friend. There is this small walkway on the side of my building that I have to walk through to get to my apartment. I think that it is the cool place to hang out for all the cockroaches, because they are always there. Dear Arizonans, if you know me but at all, you know my disdain for anything that could be considered an insect, especially cockroaches. Well, they are worse here. And by worse I mean, THEY FLY. Also, I am pretty sure that they enjoy the fear they instill in me when I attempt to walk by them unnoticed. Large flying stalker things. 

Exposure therapy has been something that is an everyday occurrence, at least in the creepy crawler department. I feel inclined to say that this form of therapy isn't working for me. I'm probably more scared than ever of bugs. So there's that. 

Anyway, today I had a day of just wanting to go home, partially due to the bugs. It's so cool how Jesus totally knows what we need and uses others to help meet those needs.  Example: my friend Matt from back home texted me and asked how how I was and my exact response was the following: "It is so hot and air conditioning is expensive and I am overwhelmed and I miss my friends and I miss living with Leesh and Reen and sometimes I have to take two showers a day because I sweat so much."

Melodramatic much?

 I half expected Matt to encourage me to hop on a plane back home (I wasn't planning on it and still am not) because sometimes he teases me about it. Instead, his response was quoting scripture and then sweetly telling me how I cannot leave what God has called me to (he then asked me to read his 10 page paper for school, but that's neither here nor there). Just like that God reminded me He has brought me here. And that is enough for me. 

Quite honestly though, I usually do not understand why I am here. Let's face it, there are about a million more qualified, educated, well adjusted, and spiritual people out there than me. Ones who are more equipped to do the job I am about to embark on. People who are smarter at the Bible and don't get as crabby as I can. It makes absolutely no sense. 

There are many things to be afraid of right now or reasons to be discouraged. For me? I am afraid of this new project I am leading. What if it fails? What if I fail? Not only project stuff, but bigger picture stuff too, actually, even more so. The heaviness of this country can be a load to carry at times. Children are being raped as I type this and as you read it. How can anyone really reconcile that?

BUT (what a glorious word). Jesus says this: "Take heart, I have overcome the world." John 16:33

And just like that... apricity (the warmth of the sun in winter). 

That truth ejects any discouragement or fears because, really, He's got to do the heavy lifting, not me. What a relief. He's totally got it. And for me? I get to receive the good news and be a partner in delivering it. 

"Off again into the big wide world, with a fireplace heart and bouquets of good news to share" -B.L.

*I hope this post made sense. My gut tells me, no.*

Crying at the Dentist (again).

Well hello there long lost friends! As it turns out, I am (not surprisingly) terrible at blogging. Phnom Penh has been home for nearly 3 months and y’all have gotten one lousy post. Apologies (I have a feeling apologizing will become very familiar).

Did you guys all have a great Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s? I’m currently (and have been) living vicariously through everyone’s Facebook and Instagram feeds. Mostly for food posts.

 Since you, faithful readers, know my complete disdain for all things dental, you will probably enjoy this story.

So, I was having some sensitivity issues when I drank cold things, so I went to the dentist (shout out to Dr. Chenda!) to make sure I didn’t have a hole in my tooth and you know, to make sure it wasn’t falling out or anything. Turns out, it was much, much worse. Apparently my avoidance in extracting my wisdom teeth over the years, proved to be a terrible choice and the devilish teeth were destroying my jaw. “They must come out!” Dr. Chenda told me.

A few weeks went by before the surgery, so, naturally, I talked about it to everyone seeking any advice possible and probably annoying everyone in my immediate circle over here (probably in the states as well). One friend told me to be prepared because I will be awake and hear the drill echo from the tooth they will be drilling out, all the way up into my ear canal. Wonderful. Not only did I have to go to the dentist (my last cleaning in the states I brought a friend, and I cried) but I had to get my wisdom teeth out. In Cambodia.  With only local anesthetic.  (sidebar: if you know my father, you should ask him about our dental adventures when I was in 8^th grade. He will to this day refer to it as “going to hell and back.” So there’s that).

As I arrived and sat in the chair, which would be my home for the next 3 hours, I started freaking out. The sweet assistants and surgeon assured me it wouldn’t be bad. Pretty sure my thought process was something like “Whatever, what do you know?” As soon as they started wiggling my top tooth I burst into tears. “Sister, does it hurt, is that why you are crying?” “No, I’m just scared,” I said back. Really, I was thinking that this was actually my nightmare coming true, and I was having to pay to be awake for it.

The first tooth came out in 5 minutes, the next one took 2.5 hours. The gross roots of the tooth were so curved that I had two surgeons working on it. It was not a gentle experience.  Apparently, they worked through their lunch to rip the nasty tooth that was clawing onto me for dear life out of my jaw. Time ran out to yank out the other two, so I will be back there in another 2 weeks. They did tell me right before I left, however, that the other side is actually worse. So... something to look forward to!

In addition to my teeth, I can feel other things being ripped out of me that do me absolutely no good. Things that corrupt. Seriously guys, like lots of stuff. Why do we hang onto things that are bad for us? What exactly is the allure?

There have been times in my life where I was grasping onto terrible, terrible things (ideas, behaviours), knowing full well that they were in fact terrible for me. 

I suppose that everyone is different, but I tend to be extra fearful of the unknown and would rather hold onto what I do know, even if it is bad for me. There is some twisted comfort locked in there.

But what if there was assurance in knowing that the end result in prying nasty stuff out of our hearts was actually the road to our actual selves? How we were intended to be in the first place?

Ephesians 5:13-14 But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you."

My comfort would prefer me to be numb and avoid the impending birth of who I was born to become.- Brooke Fraser

Our journey will never be perfect. We will stop and see something that looks pretty, but realize it is actually poisonous. But, take heart. It is those mistakes, wrong turns, and faulty thinking that actually draw us deeper. 

So yes, I should have taken my stupid teeth out years ago. And yes, the avoidance was met with some unpleasant circumstances. Yes there were things in my life that I shouldn't have done, and those were also met with unpleasant circumstances. The cool thing, though, is in some brilliant, backwards-thinking, creative, twist in logic way, there is freedom in failure.  It makes absolutely no sense until you experience it.

2 Corinthians 12:9 “My Grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

If I know the way home and am walking along it drunkenly, is it any less the right way because I am staggering from side to side? – Leo Tolstoy

 (I am a disaster without Jesus)

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?