Finding Desire
I find a lot of people can be scared of the call of God, but they don’t realize that God will only call you by giving you a huge desire. But we have to find this desire. We need to find time away from the internet and other distractions to find this desire—to find the space to let our desires and dreams and hopes come up.
- Jean Vanier, Unpublished conversation with students,June 2007
I ♥ Cambodia...
Cambodia is a tropical paradise, a kingdom of wonder.
All of these wonderful aspects of my life are due to the fact I'm in Cambodia and I am grateful for all of the above.
Yet, with all this wonder, bliss and beauty, I have been wrestling with my priorities since school started this year. My mind says "Life doesn't get better than this!" and then my heart asks,"How can you deepen in the way of Love?"
I've realized the biggest reason I'm wrangling with my desires is because I want to parent. I long to multiply the love others have shown me into the heart of the next generation. I want to love and serve a young one's dreams, in the way my parents did for me. I want to come alongside someone's aspirations in the way "Matthew and Marilla" did. Yet the longer I'm here the more I wonder if this place enhances or diminishes this possibility of parenting. I'm pretty sure loving a person trumps loving a place. Therefore, I'll keep my spirit in a listening place and pray about what needs to be next around this.
November is Adoption Awareness Month... and, yes, I'm feeling aware.
Thank you "Tiny Happy" and Bonnie B. for the fabulous fabric with which I created this bag.
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| From "Tiny Happy" Shoulder bag Picts |
Below is a slide show of putting it together... some but not all of the steps. This made me happy! 
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From 2010 Sept - Thearey Quilting and Snacks  |
Thearey just came by my office (here in Phnom Penh, Cambodia) and for about an hour shared some of her many stories of the Khmer Rouge Work Camp near Battambang in 1975, where her duty as a seven or eight year old* child was to be a living "scare-crow". (* Because her family had to destroy all their paperwork for fear of the Khmer Rouge death squads, Thearey is unsure of her actual birth date and age. She believes herself to have been born between 1965-1968.) She sometimes says she doesn't remember much and yet...
Her face glowed as she remembered and re-told of the moment when, while in the fields, she unwrapped a grain of rice from it's protective hull. Suddenly, realizing this was rice, she understood it's value and why people were risking their lives to steal it and why she was working, from before sun up to sun down, to protect it from birds. Growing up in a city, she'd never seen rice as it grew and marveled at this wonderful thing, this Grain of Life. Somehow throughout stark childhood experiences,she clung to Life and Life seemed to cling to her in very adverse conditions.
She spoke of how there was much lying and stealing at the camp. In that that contrived collective, the "agrarian utopian dream" of Pol Pot, the hunger and the near starvation reduced humans to less than the beasts. During this waking nightmare, she remembered a woman who had scraped together enough rice to make a small but forbidden pot of very watery rice porridge. As it came to a boil a soldier smelled it, he closed in and Thearey remembered watching the woman pour all the boiling gruel into her lap. She wondered at the damage it must have done, and shook her head as she retold this event.
She described the housing situation, saying there was a "couples' dwelling", a "youth's dwelling" and a "childrens' dwelling". She of course was with the children, orphaned by "idealism". Her family may have been nearby but she was unable to cross the fields because of Khmer Rouge soldiers watching every move of the workers. These shelters were long thatched-roofed huts open to the elements. She said you were considered very fortunate to have a burlap sack for a covering as everything else was taken away. People slept very close to each other in two long rows perpendicular the "walls" of the hut. A night guard watched to be sure no one left or arrived during the night.
She spoke of a time when somehow she got word her father wanted her to travel with strangers to gather an edible leaf to address the ever present hunger. As it turns out this man and woman had a large ration of salt, she cupped her hands to show the amount. They were looking to make a profit on it, a practice also forbidden in this horrific time. Young Khmer Rouge soldiers caught them in a transaction and in the melee, Thearey, was taken and locked in a small room with the salt "merchants". Because of a shrapnel injury or maybe a bullet which hadn't been removed, this merchant woman began to seizure. Theary was told to care for her, but as a child of perhaps 9 years old she was helpless and afraid. The woman seizured and flailed all night. She said one of the guards was kind to her and said something would be worked out in the morning. Her fear was compounded when, horrifying noises came from outside. In a grain barn, not too far away, people were being beaten and possibly killed for their "offenses" against the new nation of Kampuchea. All through the night she sat with fearful images right before her and created by the sounds of human destruction.
Especially captivating stories were of her two sarongs (a nearly two metre lengths of cotton) she had during her time at the commune. Thearey used two sarongs during those four years; a blue one with flowers and a white one she tried to dye black by putting it in mud and boiling it with leaves. Black clothing was the fashion choice of the Khmer Rouge and everyone was required to look the part, children were able to get away with more colorful items. It was the "once-white" sarong that Thearey's sister borrowed when she was forced to marry. This sister was in one of the mass-marriages that took place under the Khmer Rouge. Groups of fifty couples, or more, would be gathered together, many in "politically arranged" relationships, and then told they were "married" and were then sent off as couples. Thearey laughed as she mentioned how she still asks her sister where that "borrowed" sarong went, then they laugh together. She told also about how she had a head covering "Khrama", a smaller rectangle of plaid cloth, she would "wear" when she was washing her other piece of clothing, her only sarong. She said as a child she didn't seem to need much clothing to cover her or stay warm.
She spoke of the one time she thought she came closest to dying. Her vomiting and diarrhea was the same as the newly dead girl next to her in the palm-frond shelter. She was too weak to sit up, yet a person helped her to the make-shift infirmary where she was immediately sick everywhere. Some sort of "technician" injected her with an unknown clear fluid stored in a "Coke" bottle. She said it did make her feel better somehow. Because she missed a few days work, when she returned a few hours later to the work camp from the infirmary, she missed the irregularly distributed and so precious half cup ration of sugar. Somehow her older brother in another location was able to share his portion of with her.
Then there was the day when things changed... She said others told her the guards were gone and they wondered why she hadn't heard the bombs earlier. The year was 1979, the Vietnamese Communist soldiers came to push back the the destruction of Pol Pot and his associated and the forces from Vietnam were nearby.
With her new found freedom she cooked up some of the precious rice she had been so watchful of, both from duty and from hunger. After finishing a portion of the thickest rice gruel she had eaten in a very long time, she remembered her parents. She realized they might still be hungry and wanted to share this bounty with them. What was she to do? Where would she take this gruel? She used her hands to show how she filled a container for them of maybe 3 or 4 cups with the left-overs. She followed a group of children who seemed to know where they were going but, one by one, they turned off the main path and she was alone, very alone.
In the distance an empty ox cart and driver approached. Miraculously the driver was her older brother who was still working at a camp where the guards hadn't left. He only had time to give her hurried verbal directions to their mother and father's "collective farm", she safely found her way with her small portion of rice gruel, made gray by the dirty water she had used to prepare it. Weeping throughout their reunion, Thearey and her loving and grateful parents and older sister shared and ate together for the first time in a long time, a feast of Thanksgiving.
These stories are stories of a lost childhood... stories of an over-comer who is woman of God, a follower of Christ, a loving wife, a caring mother, a exceedingly grateful grandmother and a fabulous cook, seamstress and quilter.
Like Corrie ten Boom returning to Germany to share the Gospel of Jesus with her former Nazi captors, Thearey for returned to Cambodia to proclaim the freedom found in the message of Love and Forgiveness. She ministers joyfully to many here alongside her husband Bob.
Bob is the 6th Grade teacher at Logos International School his student have a great time acting out biblical epics! see this link.
There are many stories yet to record... Bob and Thearey's romance is a gem! As is Thearey's arrival in America via the refugee camps of Thailand...
I'll be back sooner with follow up tales of wonder and adventure!
A while ago a friend asked about the shape of my days... and though they are often very simple I will tell you about my busiest this year... Mondays:
5:30 Awake (sort of) make bed, change into walking gear, pack up a change of cloths
5:50 Vissot granola and fruit with soy milk and a cup of coffee
6:10 out the door
6:15 meet co-worker Lorissa at the corner
6:40 get to school, four laps in the pool
6:45 Change
7:00 Up to office, do hair/makeup, make coffee for co-workers, check email and facebook
7:30 Staff meeting/devotions
8:10 Grade 2 ESL class 20-30 min long
8:40 Make another pot of coffee and drink some with a co-worker or two!
9:10 Grade 3 ESL class 20-30 min long
9:55 "Writing for Literacy" high school class every other day for 1.5 hours coaching kids on academic English
11:25 Grade 2 Computer class
12:05 Hot Lunch served cafeteria style (today it was spaghetti... good sauce!)
12:50 Grade 5 ESL class 45 min long
1:40 Grade 1 ESL class 20-30 min long
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| From 2010 Kindy ESL/Computers |
2:20 Cover Library Time with the boys of the Gr 4 class
3:00 Break
3:30 Afterschool Program - one hour "patchwork quilting" class (we're making pencil bags)
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| From 2010 August's End, Quilting, Terrace |
4:30 Pack up
5:00 Go home (Today the Bridell's dropped me off at the corner, I got some groceries)
6:00 Eat a meal
6:30 Computer time/quilt/read/plan/email/watch DVDs/tidy up... I'm mostly unpacked from my arrival the end of August 
10:00 Think about sleeping
With classes being so much heavier on Mondays than last year, I was delighted when I realized I would have a very easy Friday... two classes at most! This is lovely as then I can stretch my weekends!
I quilt for a lot of reasons... but probably one of the most important reasons is to give comfort and to find comfort.
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| From Baby O Quilt |
In the loveliness of the fabrics, the orderliness of the cutting, stitching and finishing, a measure of control can be savoured. If one follows the "rules" of quilting... a "thing of beauty" can be produced. This, for me, is a "joy forever".
This summer while on a seven hour road trip with my Auntie Lois, she asked, "Are you a controller?", or something along those lines. I responded saying, "Absolutely!" I followed up saying,"I've found though, the only person needing to be controlled is the girl in the mirror, a tiresome and wearying task."
The balance of my "need to control" I channel into quilting. In the world of quilting the thirst for orderliness is acceptable, the longing for beauty is satisfied and the desire to be generous is fulfilled.
Today I'm beginning to put together another quilt for a much loved-one's "hope-chest"... a gift sarong from Jessica (thanks Jess!) will set the theme and a gift of quilting fabric from Pam/Grace will compliment this (thanks Pam and Grace!). I'll keep you posted. John Keat's poem will be the theme.
The following slideshow shows the making and enjoying of the one quilt I completed this past year... while it's not been a year for making many quilts, teaching "patchwork" skills to kids is equally rewarding!
Lots of Questions - Jean Vanier
We had lots of questions when we began communities in India. Interreligious dialogue or living together is never easy. We sought our own way. We had a little chapel and we put a tiny cross at the center. Then Mohanraj came to us, bringing with him a big picture of Ganesh. Ganesh is a Hindu god in the form of an elephant. We Christians are more used to doves than elephants. But elephants are strong and remove obstacles and blockages.
Jean Vanier in "Living Gently in a Violent World," p. 31 - Jean Vanier
This was a post from over a year ago, before coming to Cambodia... but seems more important now than than then.
As I type, the tropical thunder is rolling in... I am so happy to be safely back in my climate-controlled room. I have often found the heat here more than I can manage, yet so far I'm managing. This "obstacle" keeps me mindful and dependent on Grace. Views like this help too...
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| From 2010 Sept Teacher's Retreat |
At times I find the beauty of Cambodia and her people moves me to deep gratitude and new expressions of creativity; quilting, learning and listening.
I took this photo and more on the way back from the annual "Teachers' Retreat" to Koh Kong near the Thai border, where a friend updated her visa.
I am grateful for the way the Spirit had used Cambodia to help me overcome many obstacles and blockages within and without. Before Buddhism, Cambodia followed Hindu deities.
I am deeply blessed and challenged by this place.
How does the place you live bless and challenge you?
As someone who enjoys quilting and needle work, one of the the "small actions" I do in Cambodia has been teaching a folded patchwork method called "Secret Garden". The method reminds me of Japanese paper folding, origami. I prefer the "Cathedral Window" but it doesn't provide the immediate gratification the kids need and I prefer. My friend Thearey's bag is an example. See slide show below:
I've had the opportunity to teach patchwork at several great places: The textile art class and the after-school program at "Logos International School" where I teach ESL, "A New Day Cambodia" a school for children whose families work in recycling (there I was dubbed "The Teacher of Darn"), "Bantey Prieb" a Jesuit Vocational Training Center and finally "Place of Rescue" an evangelical Christian community serving vulnerable families and children. My hope is that I'll be able to share this skill with Diana Saw's team at "Bloom Bags" an amazing social enterprise that is meeting many of the UN's MDGs. I'll blog about it when I know more!
What's great about this method of patchwork is that no sewing machine is needed. I do all the cutting. While this is time consuming it needs a rotary blade. I'm still trying to figure out how to cut a straight line with the small shears so an interested learner can go on to create more patchwork pieces. Should I include an ruler and pencil in each kit? or a cardboard template?
Real holiness doesn't feel like holiness; it just feels like you're dying. It feels like you're losing it. And yet, you're losing it from the center, from a place where all things are One, where you can joyously, graciously let go of it. You know God's doing it when you can smile, when you can trust the letting go.
I'm not suggesting stoic, teeth-gritting tolerance; I mean grin and bear it. Unless the grin is there, unless the joy is there, it isn't Gods work.
Many of us were taught the "No" without the "Yes", the joy. We were trained just to put up with it, to take it on the chin. That destroyed a lot of people in the Church. Saying "No" to the self does not necessarily please God. When God, by love and freedom, can create a joyous "Yes" inside of you so much so that you can absorb the "No"s then it's Gods work.
from Letting Go: A Spirituality of Subtraction by Richard Rohr
We need signs of salvation. We who are well off have been given signs of the cross among us like the poor and the handicapped. We have to enter their world on their terms to live them. And the beautiful thing we discover is that we become free. We come at last to know who we are by looking in their eyes.
There was a television show called Son Rise about a couple who had an autistic child. They wanted their son to change and enter into their space. And they did everything they could to get that child to enter into their world and to be like them, the normal people. And then one day they realized they would have to enter his world.
It was nonsensical and grueling to do so. The mother entered into the child's world on his terms, day after day sitting on the floor, playing seemingly silly, goal-less games with this child, waving her hands and entering his world.
After years, many days and thousands of hours of this, her son spoke to her! There's the incarnation. That's the pattern of redemption. That's the price that God paid. God entered our world on our terms to feel the grief of being human so we could speak back to a God who would understand.
Jesus is the suffering of God. Jesus is the pain of God, the pity of God. He is the revelation of the heart of God. Somehow our own feelings, somehow our own pain and our own pleasure is a participation in who God is. God is in agony and delightful expectation until the end of time.
from Days of Renewal - Richard Rohr
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