Sharing with Patricia King

Just after my return from Cambodia, we went to Devon, for a conference where Patricia King was a speaker. I went over to say 'Hello' and give her an update about the children in the safe house. It was a real privilege then to be invited to share news from Cambodia with the conference delegates. It was delightful to tell them about the children and how well they were doing.

So often, when thinking about these trips, I find myself reflecting on the mystery that I go to give, but end up a recipient. The joy, the love, the fellowship and connection with people on the other side of the world, the tremendous honour of 'stopping for the one' as Heidi taught, the sense of partnering with my Father in things that are close to His heart... all combine to make me feel so gifted, so blessed, so privileged.

Conclusions

Reflecting on this trip, I have wondered whether it is worth it - the high financial, physical, and emotional cost. Sometimes I think that I should just send money and stay home.

But then I think about the things that happened in such a short time, and of Patricia King's 'The Light BELONGS in the Darkness', and I realise that it is very good that I go in person, both for myself and for others.

What were the highlights for this particular trip?

* Spending time with Andrea Aasen who heads up XP's Operation Justice, Cambodia, and meeting Shelly Boer, Amy Learn, and Jen Jewett of IRIS Cambodia; there is something incredibly precious about being in the presence of such laid-down lives.
* Being part of an incredible team that was composed of citizens of many nations: Mark & Sharon from Australia, Suzanna from Hong Kong, Rome, Cynthia and George from Canada, Rachael, Jenn, Christen, and Lorraine from the USA....
* Re-connecting with my amazing and much-loved Khmer friends - Sambo, Rose, Sophi and Kim
* Narith Chhoeum coming all the way from Palin to see me, and us all going out for supper together
* Delicious food, especially the salad I had at 'Daughters of Cambodia''s restaurant, and my meal at the Khmer restaurant
* Coconut!

* Visiting Phnom Penh for the first time - a city that had captured my heart and my imagination since watching 'The Killing Felds' so many years before.
* Visiting the Killing Fields and S-21 prison; a difficult but important experience
* Hearing Sambo's testimony
* Visiting New Life church
* Visiting 'Daughters of Cambodia's restaurant and shop and seeing something of this wonderful ministry at work.
* Meeting Pastor Chuck not just once, but twice, when circumstances dictated that I would not see him at all (I had asked God about it though!)
* Hearing and receiving from long-term missionaries like Eric and Ginny Hansen, Steve and Molly, and Alice Collier
* Our daily 'God Times'

* Singing the Creation song with yet another group of Khmer children
* Praying for the teenage boy in the hospital with the incredibly sad eyes - praying for joy. I had faith for this, because I saw God do it with a boy in Brazil.
* Visiting with the elderly couple in the village where we washed feet
* Seeing Johnnie and Esther in the Safe House and being with Lorraine when she bought and delivered their bikes

So many precious things, treasures, collected in one short week. It is this that keeps on bringing me back to Cambodia.

Safe House and other Special Treats

I woke up with a sense of excitement at the thought of going to New Life Fellowship this morning. I had met Pastor Chuck McCaul the year before, in Poipet, and had enjoyed hearing about his ministry in Cambodia. I loved the vision of his church which was (quoting from the website): " To plant a New Testament church in Phnom Penh which will have a positive influence on every sector of Cambodian society: religion, education, politics, social relationships, business, sports, and communications - and will be a model and resource centre for planting churches in every province of Cambodia with the same philosophy and foundation and to send Cambodians as missionaries to other countries." And I had kept in touch with him via Facebook, hearing updates about the church plant in Poipet. I had also chosen to sponsor the school-fees of the little boy who had had such fun playing computer games on my laptop the year before, and Pastor Chuck was overseeing this sponsorship.

I was looking forward to seeing some of the fruit of  Pastor Chuck's labours, and I was not disappointed. New Life Church hums with life. As we arrived, people were leaving from the first service, and others were arriving for the second service. To my surprise I found Pastor Chuck, just coming out the gate as we were going in. There was time for a quick hug and a photograph, and then we were swept up into the building in a sea of happy faces and soon found ourselves seated near the front. The service was in Khmer, but there was a visiting speaker and she spoke in English with a translator, so we were easily able to follow. She spoke on 'Sowing and Reaping'. (Click on the link for a summary of her excellent talk). The worship was really special; songs we knew well, but sung in Khmer.

After church we went for lunch, and then we helped Andrea pack up the resources that had been used for the XP outreaches. And then Lorraine and I left with Sophy and Andrea to buy bicycles for the XP children who live in the Safe House. As the truck was fully loaded, we had to go to the house first in order to offload everything, so that we would have room for the bicycles. This all took a while, and it was close on 4pm by the time we set off in search of the bicycle shop Sophy had been told was near a market place. Well, we found the market place, no problem. The bicycle shop was another story! It was a case of asking for directions, being directed down increasingly narrow alleyways and pathways, and eventually finding ourselves stuck in front of a pile of greens in the midst of what looked like a vegetable market. But no bicycle shop anywhere! Eventually, still following instructions from various passersby, we found ourselves back on the main road. And there, on the other side, was the bicycle shop. It hadn't been necessary to drive through the market after all! One thing I must say, is that we got to see something of the incredible fortitude, patience and driving skill of Andrea. I suspect that some of my old habit patterns might have come to the fore in those circumstances, with at least a little snarling and swearing. She, on the other hand, kept her cool, even when someone's motorbike handle scraped a nasty scratch along the side of our vehicle as they squeezed past us.

We managed to do a U-turn (no small feat of courage in Cambodia!) and parked outside the bicycle shop on the main road. Oh no! It was closed. By now it was well after 5pm, and it was getting dark. There were some food sellers in the street, and one of them went to call the shop owner. I was surprised to find him willing to open his shop for us. So within a short while, some very grateful ladies were ready to choose bicycles. Lorraine and some of her friends in the USA had raised the money, and there was enough to buy 5 bicycles - one for each of the XP children and one for the carer and one for the carer's son. What fun it was, choosing them all.

It took quite a long time, choosing bicycles, waiting while the pedals and baskets were attached, and finally loading them into the truck. Esther's little bicycle didn't fit in alongside the bigger bicycles and ended up being tied on the back. We were concerned that this arrangement would not last all the way back to the Safe House, and Kristen volunteered to sit in the back with the bicycles, to keep a supervisory eye on them. It was just as well that we did this, because we hit a particularly deep pothole, and Esther's bike broke free of it's ties and fell into the road. Lorraine and I jumped out and ran as fast as we could, to where it was lying. I could see approaching motorcycles and all I could think of was the disappointment our little sweetheart would experience if her bike was damaged. Fortunately we managed to pick up the bike and take it to safety before someone rode over it. Back at the vehicle we found poor Sophy in a state of shock; for some reason she thought it was Kristen who had fallen off the back, rather than a bicycle!

We arrived at the Safe House to find the children besides themselves with excitement. Esther was on her bike before we had a chance to remove the packaging, and with an imperious command of: "Move away! Move away!" she prepared to set off into the dark. She was most disappointed to realise that there is an art to cycling, and that she has not yet mastered it! Johnnie was hiding in the bushes, completely overwhelmed with happiness; you could see his bright smile flashing even thought he was not willing to come out just then. But after a while he did, and he was very proud to point out his bike - the red one. The dog was running around, sensing the excitement, and there was a lot of hugging and laughter. It was a very happy time, enhanced by the croaking of frogs in the background. It was hard to tear ourselves away, but by now it was getting really late, and Kristen was due to take the overnight bus to Poipet at nine. So reluctantly, and with a few last hugs, we left.


 Driving back in the dark, we were amused to find ourselves behind a van with a motorbike protruding from its rear. It seems that we were not the only ones driving bikes around Phnom Penh that night!

Back at the hotel there was just enough time for a quick supper, and then it was time for sad farewells. It had been a good trip and a worthwhile outreach. We parted with a clear sense that this was not an end, merely a pause, and that we would certainly be seeing each other again.

Washing Feet

Today we went to one of the village communities in the city, where we washed feet. Following the example Jesus modelled for us just before His death, we find that it has a powerful way of expressing our hearts and opening the way to further conversation with people. In Khmer culture, the feet are the lowest and the least honourable part of the body. When we come and wash their feet, they understand that we are honouring them on the deepest possible level. In a country where life is bought and sold; where Cambodians are often seen as inferior by the nations around them, and where the old and the weak and the poor have even less value; where hearts are still broken after years of trauma and rejection and shame and suffering, this means so much.

We started off washing the feet of the children, and of course it was ticklish, which made them laugh and laugh. We had 7 wash basins, so the team took it in turns to wash feet. Some of the people started crying when we washed their feet. I had three little boys come to have their feet washed, one after the other. The first two giggled all the time, but the third was very serious. He seemed a thoughtful child, without any of the frivolousness of his peers. However, he didn't seem sad. I could imagine him as a MP one day.... What if I was washing the feet of a future leader of Cambodia!

After my turn to wash feet, I wandered over to where Rome was chatting with a family. This family had been very welcoming when they saw us arriving, calling out greetings and smiling and waving. Rome asked if there was anything he could pray for, and the husband said that he had less energy as he was getting old. So Rome prayed and asked that he could have more energy and strength than before. The couple had a beauty and a dignity and a gift of hospitality and they made us very welcome, inviting us to sit with them and talk. They were very interested to hear where we had come from and our ages. They introduced us to their son and his wife and daughter - their grandchild. They were a very connected family. I found myself thinking that this must be like old Cambodia, Cambodia before a whole generation was so mercilessly wiped out with the resulting defragmentation of culture and society and family.

The son was a strong and beautiful young man, and as I looked at him I had a definite impression that he had a lot of leadership on him, and that he had power to influence his community, but that he had to choose whether to use this power for good or for bad. I shared this with Kim, and she said that his dad had told her that he was taking drugs. I felt that there was such a big calling for him, and so much that God would do through him, but that there was a choosing that had to take place. The impression remained, so I asked Sambo to translate for me and I shared this with him. I told him it was to encourage him, and because I really wanted to see him enter into all that is meant for him. He listened attentively, and thanked me. I felt so much for him. So much potential. Please God, let him not waste it.

The mother of this young man was very lovely. She had grace and dignity and I found myself thinking of the woman described in Proverbs 31. She shared that she had five children; I said so did I.  She then showed me a photo of herself and her husband when they were younger. The same grace and dignity was present.

Meanwhile, another elderly lady arrived, much older than them. She said she also wanted prayer for her age. The husband of the family told us that she was ninety years old! She was amazingly healthy and agile for her age. And she was so full of joy; she smiled all the time. But she didn't have a single tooth in her mouth!

We prayed for her, asking God to bless her and strengthen her. She then told us that she was a Christian, and that she went to church every Sunday. She also told us that she used to be a Khmer dancer, and as she started to show us hand movements we caught a glimpse of how lovely she must have been. She was quite astonishing; she was so old, but so full of life!

We chatted a little longer, and then it was time to go. As we prepared to leave the husband of the family said please to visit again and that we were welcome in his home anytime.  We left feeling so favoured. We came to honour them, but they honoured us. It is amazing how often this happens here in Cambodia.

We then went straight for lunch - at a Western restaurant. Cynthia was completely overwhelmed at the size of her sandwich!

Back at the hotel we had some time with Eric Hanson, husband of Ginny, who runs Sak Saum. They have been in Cambodia since 2004, and he shared a little about their lives and their work and about the heart with which they approach it. He spoke about servanthood, and about how Jesus washed His disciples' feet, demonstrating the attitude with which we must live. It was very relevant considering that this was exactly what we had been doing earlier that day. He told us about the 'Khremar' (I'm not sure of the spelling), a scarf most Cambodians have, and which is used for many purposes. At the end he gave us each one as a gift; to remind us always that our calling is to serve. It was a very precious thing, and it felt like an impartation from his own serving heart came along with the scarf.

In the evening we all went out for supper. Somewhat to our surprise, it was raining hard. Which made it rather hard to do what we had planned for the evening, namely take a walk along the river and see if there were any people in need that we could pray for. We returned to our hotel and after a lot of joking around and dilly-dallying, decided to have a night off so that we could do a bit of processing, thinking, writing and praying. We are a great team, and we have such a lot of fun together, but nothing changes the fact that there is overwhelming hardship and desperate need all around us, and we see some pretty heart-breaking things. It is so important to take our own hurts and reactions to all this to Jesus day by day, and to allow ourselves time and room to process our own emotions and thoughts...

I had hoped to catch up with my friend Rigen. Rigen was one of the translators in Poipet on my first trip to Cambodia, and we have kept in touch via Facebook. It is nearly two years since I have seen him, and we had arranged to meet in the hotel lobby at 5. But then he contacted me to say that his father was in hospital, unconscious and maybe dying.

Later that night Sambo contacted me with the sad news that Rigen's dad had in fact died.

Women's Ministry Focus

This morning Ginny Hanson came to speak to us about her life and work here in Phnom Penh. She and her husband Eric, run In His Steps International, an organisation that oversees various community projects and interventions in Cambodia. Ginny came to share with us about one of these, Sak Saum. Quoting from the website, Sak Saum is dedicated to the rescue, restoration, transformation and rehabilitation of vulnerable and exploited people by creating a "nurturing, empowering program which facilitates vocational training in sewing, excellent products, and community development."

Ginny's compassion, dedication and power came through clearly as she shared from her heart about her work, and later, when we went to visit the showroom of Sak Saum, we got to see the quality of the results for ourselves. Sak Saum products are beautifully made, and along with the pleasure of owning a lovely item, you get to participate in the joy of restoring dignity to a person. So it was with a particular sense of purpose that I bought myself a handbag. Inside is written 'For Freedom'. Yes, Absolutely. More please Lord!

We went to one of Daughters of Cambodia's 'Sugar 'n Spice' cafe's for lunch. This was a very special treat for me, as I have had a particular love for the work of Daughters ever since I first heard of it. This organisation offers women working in the sex industry a viable alternative, empowering them to set themselves free. Choice is power. Never turning anyone away, Daughters of Cambodia offers training in seven different retail and service businesses.

'Sugar 'n Spice' is one of these businesses. And the salad I had for lunch was one of the nicest - and the most unusual - I have ever eaten: green mango, carrot and cucumber salad with a coconut dressing. I liked the environment and the decor. And I loved being there.

Upstairs in the same building is the Phnom Penh House of Prayer.

In the afternoon we went to one of the slums. This visit left me hoping that I will never again allow words of complaint about my home out of my mouth. Truth is that I probably will, back there in my comfortable first world. But maybe I will do so a little less often, a little less quickly...

I have complained about the inconvenience of having only one bathroom; these people have no bathroom.

I have complained that our house is very noisy, with so many people in it; these people live, a whole family, in one ramshackle room.
I have complained that there are too many chores to do - but I have running water, cold and hot; electricity; a washing machine, windows in my walls.
I have complained that it is hard work, caring for a family. These women show me what hard work really looks like. And yet they have dignity, and deserve respect for the grace with which they cope in very difficult circumstances.


The village we went to is in an area that may flood during the rainy season. So many of the houses are built on stilts, and there is a narrow wooden passageway along the edge so that you can get from one house (room) to another. You walk along this passageway, hoping that it will not collapse, and look down... below is a pile of refuse. Great breeding ground for vermin and disease, especially with water added.

At the end of this walk way is a small room that is rented by XP. It is used for teaching, children's activities and minstry to women. Today, Tracey, Suzanna and I met with some ladies and painted their nails for them. With a lot of help from Rose, our translator, we were able to have some sort of communication with a mother, her daughter and her young grandchild. Three generations, and they looked so alike. Tracey and I had both left our glasses behind, as we had not realised that we would be painting nails! It was rather funny. Rose explained the problem to the grandmother, but she wanted her nails painted anyway. I did my best, with quite a bit of instruction from her. I don't think she was very satisfied with the result, because later she cleaned the nail polish off - but she wore it for a while first, I think so as not to offend me!


The daughter had a very swollen eye. We asked if we could pray for it, and she agreed. We prayed and she said it felt better. We prayed again, and this time she was able to open her eye and she said it felt much better.

It was such a shocking thing, to see how these people, many many people, were living. I feel completely wordless when I try to describe it. Terms like squalor, filth, poor, broken, smelly, dirty just fail to capture what it is really like. I left there with a heavy heart, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. The problems are so huge! I found myself wondering what makes any of us think we can make any sort of difference at all? I left in a rather sombre frame of mind...

We went to a Mexican restaurant for supper, where I had the most delicious Nachos I have ever had. Served with spicy bits of chicken, I savoured every delectable mouthful!

And I had a lovely encounter with this beautiful girl. In the afternoon I had had a bit of free time, and I decided to make a necklace for someone. Thinking about the testimony of Sak Saum's National Director, Theavy Kang, in which she shared how God changed her sorrow into joy, I used a dark bead to symbolise the sad and difficult experiences of life. A grey bead to show the joy coming. And a red bead to show the blood of Jesus, because His salvation turns even the bad things to good for those who love Him. As Bill Johnson says: 'The trial becomes the testimony.' I knew this to be true from my own life experience, and I had a sense that I should share this thought with someone - I asked God to show me who. When our meal arrived at the restaurant, I was getting my camera out of the bag to take a photo, and the necklace fell on the floor. Our waitress picked it up, and as she did so, she joked and said: 'Is this for me?' Immediately I said: 'Yes, it is for you!'. She was so shocked and said she was only joking, but I explained that I had made it and was waiting for God to show me who it was for, and then I explained the meaning of the beads. And interestingly, the colours of the beads matched the colours of the dress she was wearing perfectly. She was delighted, and wore them straight away...

We finished off our day at a Karioke bar. There are many Karioke bars in the cities of Cambodia. Here you can sing with a pretty girl, in English or in Khmer for as long as you like. And other, less innocent things - for a price. The girls in these bars are always young, impossibly young to be involved in so sordid a line of work. I think of my own daughters, and I want to cry. Every time. Their stories are heart-breakingly similar - poverty in the family; hungry siblings; a father or mother with health issues. None are proud of what they do. In many cases, parents, far away, don't know exactly what work their daughters are doing (but they want the money the daughters send home, and keep the pressure on to provide it). Few would choose to stay if there were other options. Trapped in the need to make money, somehow, in an environment where jobs are scarce and salaries impossibly low, they feel bereft of choice. Change this, and maybe there will be less encounters with girls robbed of the joy and hope and dreams of adolescence and emerging adulthood.

For the first time in a Karioke bar, we laughed and had fun. Previously, my experience of Karioke bars has been of sitting with girls who cry as they tell their story.

When you arrive at a Karioke bar, you are escorted to a nicely decorated room with comfortable seating. Drinks and food are offered (we have learned not to accept, as it is outrageously expensive!) And you are given a song-list, from which you can choose Khmer or English songs. The sound equipment at this bar was really good. While we were waiting for the girls to come, Sophi and Sambo sang a song in Khmer. It was beautiful. Khmer songs are very plaintive, and often have sad themes to do with love and loss.

Suzanna and I attempted to sing 'Moon River'. Our problem was that we had trouble keeping up with the words, which had us exploding in laughter. Not a very harmonious sound at all. When the two girls arrived, they were extremely shy, so we carried on singing, and after a while they joined in. Then Sambo chose a lively song and we all got up and danced around wildly, the girls included. It was good fun and all of us laughed a lot. After this it was easier to talk with the girls. One girl was actually from Poip
et. She had come to Phnom Penh to study, and she had had a part-time job. But when she lost the job, she could find no other work other than the Karioke bar if she wanted to continue studying. We asked her if her parents knew what work she was doing, and she shook her head vehemently. She said they would be so ashamed if they knew.

So there you have it. A young girl with ambition and dreams, like any young girl back home in England. She wants a better life and knows that getting a good education will help. But education is expensive. So she needs a job. So here she is, in the flowering of her life, selling her body to make the money she needs in the hope of a chance for something better. She runs quite a gauntlet of risks - STD's, AIDS, violence, trauma, and financial exploitation - in her hope of a better life. Will she make it? Or will she end up like so many others, lying in the broken wreckage of her dreams?

Before we left we prayed for protection for both girls - and also for the young women, prostitutes in training, who served our drinks. I left feeling more than a little helpless. And more than a bit angry too. It was a tough day emotionally, and I was glad to have seen the work of Sak Saum and Daughters of Cambodia - it gave me hope.

Back in my room, I ran myself a hot bath and soaking in bubbles I reflected on the story of the loaves and the fish, when Jesus fed so many with so little. I really needed reminding of that. I needed reminding of the faith of a small boy, who gave his lunch to Jesus, KNOWING that it could not possibly be enough. God was very gracious in His ministry to me as I gave Him all my helpless and angry feelings, and my oh so little offerings.

I thought of Heidi Baker, and her question: 'What will you do with your little lunch?' Alongside her question comes her challenge to 'Stop for the one'. And I see that there really really is no other option. I can turn a blind eye, but now it is too late for blind eyes. I am responsible for what I know. There is no crossing to the other side of the road. The only option is to get involved. Empty handed as I am, trusting that God can use my love, my heart, my compassion. Multiplying and enlarging it so that after all, it does make a difference.

Like Sak Saum...


Sak Saum - Story Company Partner [Cambodia] from Story Company on Vimeo.

Children's Ministry Focus

Today we have had a great day.

God Time in the morning was amazing. I loved one of the songs we sang...I didn't know it, but these words stood out to me:

Be my first thought, when I wake up...

Be my daydream, when I'm leaving...

be my last thought, when I fall asleep...

I want to be Your sacred space

I want to be a place where You can rest; where You don't have to strive with man...

One of the things I am really enjoying about this trip is meeting some of the absolutely amazing people who are in full-time work here in Phnom Penh, and hearing what they are doing. People with passion and vision and a dream to see Cambodia healed, strong and restored.

Lunch 

Andrea shared a bit about the history of XP's Operation Justice, its present work, and the vision for the future. Once again, I found myself so grateful to be part of what is happening. It is a privilege to come alongside these precious friends from XP. I love the work and I love the vision.

Lovely Rose

Before lunch we had some time to prepare for our
children's outreach this afternoon. I was in a team with Rome, Cynthia and George. These three are quite astonishing. George is 83, Rome is 74 and Cynthia is 60. They choose to spend their retirement years travelling the world, doing as much good as they can. It feels like treasure for our team, having people with so much life experience around. And what an inspiration they are to us all. After a bit of discussion, we decided to do the 'Creation' song from Babies Bible Class, and we all got busy drawing pictures for it. (I found myself missing my friend Narith, far away in Battambang. He was my translator the other times we have done this song.) George offered to share a story about God with the children, and Rome offered to teach them how to make paper planes. And there would be games and sweets at the end. Great! Lesson planning over, we went for lunch at a Western restaurant very near the Independence statue, which commemorates the independence of Cambodia from French rule. French influence is still noticeable in Phnom Penh, more than 50 years after independence. There are many lovely colonial style buildings, and French is spoken by many Cambodians.

The Creation Song

George & Cynthia telling a story

And then it was off to a slum area near the railway. Andrea and Sophi meet with this particular group of children on a weekly basis. We had an afternoon of fun and laughter, which began with a sing-song. I taught them the actions for the 'Creation' song I used to sing with my children when they were little. I sang in English and Sambo translated. After this George told the children a story and prayed with the children. Rome helped them make paper planes and great fun was had seeing which planes could fly the highest and the furthest. Finally we handed out water balloons and had some games with them. We finished off with a water fight. Sambo, one of our translators, was the wildest child of all, and the children had such fun chasing him and bombarding him. I stayed well out of the way but at one point Sambo threw a water balloon and it missed the person it was aimed at and hit me square on the top of my head, where it burst and drenched me. We all laughed so much. Finally we handed out some sweets, and then it was 'Goodbye'.

Sambo, after the water fight

Back at our hotel we had a short while to freshen up and then we went out to a beautiful Khmer restaurant for supper. I had a spicy chicken stir fry and a fresh mango smoothie. It was so delicious; I savoured every mouthful. It's a tough job this....

To end our day we split into two teams; one team to visit a brothel, and the other to spend time with street-children. It was hard to choose, because I wanted to do both. In the end I set off with Sophi's team in search of street children. We went to a street where homeless families sleep for the night. Again, this is a group of children that Andrea and Sophi visit once a week. These desperately poor families spend their days collecting refuse for recycling and then sleep on the pavement at night... periodically the police come along and arrest them all, because they are not supposed to do this. But they have nowhere else to go. As for the children, they do not get to have much of a childhood. They beg - all day and often into the evening. There is not much time for play, and none for formal education. It touched my heart so much to see how much they delight in the simplest of activities. We started with ball games, and there was a lot of laughter because I am pretty hopeless at catching balls! The children found this rather funny, and they threw the ball to me every so gently. it didn't help much!

Later we handed out pictures and crayons and everyone settled down on the dirty pavement to colour in their pictures... in the dim half-light from the street. Even the very little children joined in this activity. George told them a story about darkness and light; appropriate considering the circumstances. He then shared about how Jesus is the Light of the world, and that we can have light in our hearts, even if it is dark outside. The children liked this idea and were eager to have him pray for them. It was so precious to see how the children snuggled up to each of us to listen to the story. I had a little girl on my lap and a young boy resting his head on my knee. They are so responsive to touch, and they love to be hugged. After the story we played some skipping games with some of the children; others just wanted to be hugged. One little girl shared her sweets with me, insisting that I have them even when I said 'No'. She just laughed and insisted that I have them, pushing them one by one into my mouth. Precious heart gifts from a child who has so very little.

It was extremely hard to disentangle ourselves from the children when it was time to go; they held on and didn't want to let us go at all... following us back to our van for just one more hug. I got back to my room at midnight, far too late to write my blog. I had a quick shower and tumbled into bed, where I fell asleep almost immediately.

The Killing Fields

I don't know how to write about today really - whatever words I use would be inadequate to describe the horror, the tragedy, the ongoing and pervasive trauma of genocide, torture and mass murder.

The only good thing in the whole sad story is that Khmer Rouge fell. The reign of terror did not endure. But in those four short years a third of the Cambodian population died - between 2 and 3 MILLION people. The statistics are overwhelming and unbelievable.

I am writing with Martin Smith's 'Great is Your Faithfulness' playing in the background. It is the only way I can... seeing the faithfulness of God even in this. As I wrote to a close friend: "It happened. It lasted for four years. It ended. The Khmer Rouge are no more... The people of Cambodia are still here. I see them and rejoice." But the wounds take a very long time to heal... and the scars are distressing and obvious.

Our first visit of the day was to the Choeung Ek, the Killing Field just outside Phnom Penh. It is the best known of these killing fields, but in fact it is just one of many sites where Cambodians were ruthlessly and mercilessly killed by their own people.

We wandered around, listening to an audio guide, looking at graves and bones and skulls. It felt numb. Unbelievable. Like a bad and tragic dream. The killing tree, where soldiers bashed in the brains of children before hurling them into mass graves. The glass boxes of bones and fragments of clothing, collected together whenever rain surfaces yet another reminder. The simple sign requesting that we keep silence in memory of the dead. The beautiful Buddhist memorial building, standing tall into the sky, with row upon row upon row of skulls, carefully grouped in age and gender. The ambiance of sorrow that pervades the place, even now.

Sambo, one of our translators, and a good friend, told of his experiences. He was about 6 years old when the Khmer Rouge took power. He remembers being forced to leave his home in Phnom Penh along with his mother and his father. His father had to carry him after a while, because he became tired. But one was not allowed to stop marching; anyone who did was immediately executed.

Sambo wept as he told us his memories; memories of his parents crying; of waiting to die and yet being saved, miraculously, not once but three times (an unheard of thing - because when the Khmer Rouge decided to kill you, they killed you.) He described the horror of marching endlessly, being allowed finally to lie down and sleep in the dark of night, and waking up in the morning to find that he had been sleeping amongst the bodies of slain soldiers. He told of months of extreme hunger, of being able to count the grains of rice in his meal (no more than 20), and of going without even that meagre allowance when he became ill - if you did not work, you did not eat. He told of being separated from his parents, and of being despised by the other children because he was from the city. He told of being challenged to eat chillies with the promise (often not kept) of an extra serving of food if he did. He told of the tears. The endless, mindless work. The loneliness. The rejection. And he said the saddest thing of all: 'I didn't know what is childhood...'

My heart just broke, listening. What these people have endured....

It was really hard, going to the Toul Sleng Detention Centre (Security Prison 21), where suspected traitors, thousands of them, were tortured for information. It was hard, seeing the prison cells, the torture implements, the interrogation rooms. So hard to look at the tragic photographs of countless victims, men, women and children - taken upon arrival at this most notorious of places. To read of the few Westerners who were caught up in this turmoil and tortured to death. To look on yet more glass cases full of skulls.

And it was so hard to go on a tour with a fresh faced young man, and to listen as he described things that sounded like something from a nightmare or a horror movie. It struck me how dreadful it is that he should have to tell stories like this. That this should be part of his consciousness, his history. When in fact, his life should be composed of nothing more ugly than a sharp-shooter computer game - like my son's innocent life.

He showed us the wire fencing, put around the balconies, to stop desperate prisoners leaping to their deaths rather than face another session in the interrogation room. And he told us about teenage soldiers, who in fear for their own lives, would punish, viciously, any prisoner whose chains clinked because they moved in their cells.

It was tempting to leave; to hide from this terrible narrative. But there was another part of me that knew that I owed it to these people, dead and alive, to hear and know, to identify with their pain, to feel something of what they feel, every day. I knew that I could not presume to bring a message of hope and renewal if I had not tasted of their tragedy. And so I stayed. Absorbing every bitter morsel, until the end. And then we went home, to our comfortable hotel, where I downloaded the photographs I had taken. And this is what I saw... and it was so significant to me. I saw the Cross of Christ, reflected on the glass. Covering; sheltering the pain and the suffering. I was reminded of the One, described in Isaiah 53, Who too was rejected and alone, Who was tortured, suffered and died at the hands of fellow men, Who knew what it was to be broken, unwanted, betrayed; the only One able, once and for all, to absorb this kind of pain. And I knew, yet again, that it is impossible for our God to ignore the cry of the oppressed. And in this knowing, I was comforted.

In the evening, we went out. Our intention had been to split into three groups and to spend time praying for the people of Cambodia at different places in the city. We left in three tuk-tuks ( motorbike with a kind of trailer with seats), a popular means of transport in the city. One group was supposed to go to the temple area, another to the brothel area, and the third (my group) to the riverfront. But we had forgotten an important point. It was the Water Festival or Bon Om Tuk as the Khmer call it. And upwards of a million people gather at the river bank to celebrate. Bon Om Tuk is one of Cambodia's most important festivals. Dating from the 12th Century, and King Jayavarman VII, the festivities are intended to please the river divinities, ensuring good harvests and fishing. So Phnom Penh was absolutely bursting with people, and most of these people were on the main road that runs along the river - and so were we. It was soon obvious that we were not going to be going anywhere; there was major congestion. So we paid our tuk tuk drivers and got off and walked back along the river towards our hotel. It was amazing! An astonishing sight. And so good after the trauma of the day. Here were the people of Cambodia. Here they were! All around us.

And there was a father, tenderly cradling his sleeping child on his shoulder. Watching him, it seemed to me as if God Himself was holding Cambodia. And He was fathering her, as if she were a child. His child. The sight was so very precious; I was moved, finally, to tears. And I felt God say: 'Sing over these people!' And so I asked Him: "What should I sing?" And this is what He said:

The earth shall be filled

with the knowledge of the glory

of the Lord

just as the waters 

cover the sea.

And so that is what I sang, all the way back to the hotel. And it was such a privilege to bless these people, these special people, on this special feast day. This day turned for me from a day of death to a day of celebration. 

Arrivals Part 2

I didn't actually get to tell you anything about my day in the previous blog post... I have a bit of time now, so I will continue...

On Sunday morning I awoke to the lovely view of the sun rising over the Mekong river, and the beautiful roof of the hotel opposite sillouetted against the sky. The sight had me rushing for my camera. Soon after I received a message from Sophy to say that they were going down for breakfast, so I dressed quickly and went to join them. It was absolutely wonderful to see Andrea Aasen, XP's 'Operation Justice' leader in Cambodia, and to catch up on happenings since we had last seen each other a year ago.

My body did not agree that it was time to eat at all (it was just after midnight in the UK), so I had water, then cranberry juice ('grandberry juice' on the sign), then jasmine tea. I was certainly well hydrated if nothing else!

Breakfast done, we met up with some of the other team members and set of for church. Phnom Penh was busy; traffic everywhere, and I thought Andrea was amazing as she skillfully manoevred our truck around bikes, cars and pedestrians.

The church we went to is run by a British couple, and it was good to meet them and chat a little. And of course I enjoyed the service, which was in both English and Khmer. Afterwards we had an opportunity to pray for people, and to bless them.

In the afternoon we met up with the rest of our team, and we all went for lunch at the FCC (Foreign Correspondents Club). This was very enjoyable, because of the obvious connection, for me, with what I already knew of Phnom Penh through the movie 'The Killing Fields', which is about the friendship between American journalist Sydney Schanberg and Cambodian Dith Pran before, during and after the Khmer Rouge. There were well known historic photographs on the walls, and along with a great view of the river and a colonial atmosphere, it was easy to imagine the war correspondents. Not that they ever did come here in reality - this restaurant has only been around for 18 years.

I had fresh coconut juice, and Pad Thai (minus the prawns!) Then it was back to the hotel for some rest time. I fell asleep straight away and woke up with a bit of a shock to find that I had just 10 minutes to change and get downstairs for our 'official' first session at 18h00.

It was so lovely to meet up with a few of my lovely Cambodia friends - Rose, Kimmie, and Sambo. I have had the privilege of working with these three at various times last year, and it made me very happy to see them again.

We began with prayer and worship. The strong emphasis that came through our 'God Time' was that of the Father's Love. How He loves each human being, and that our purpose in coming here is to share and testify of this love. Love, mercy, goodness, kindness... these are the things that characterise His heart for Cambodia. So many here are fatherless - in reality or in experience. In a country struggling to overcome the far-ranging effects of war and genocide, a people whose hearts were broken by the things they experienced struggle to express love. I had a very strong sense of the grief of our Father's heart when He looks at the pain of Cambodia - and of His longing to touch and heal and restore.

Andrea gave us a short summary of what to expect for the week, a bit about XP policy, and a bit of health and safety advice. As in Poipet, it is not advisable to use tap water, not even for brushing teeth. Bottled water for everything!

After this, it was off to bed. I found though that it was hard to get to sleep, so I put one of Heidi Baker's talks on and listened until, eventually, I fell asleep. I am gradually adjusting to Cambodian time.

Arrivals

I left home on Friday, 15 November, at 16h00, and arrived in Phnom Penh on Saturday, at 23h00 (17h00) in UK time. A long way to travel! I flew with China Southern airlines, and really enjoyed the big beautiful Boeing 787 in which we flew for 11 hours to get to Guangzhou. Apparently this plane is only 6 months old, and it showed.


Chinese food is another matter. My spoiled Western palate had difficulty with the seaweed salad and the strange tasting and unidentifiable contents of my plate. I ended up guiltily pushing the food around for a while and leaving it. Not a very good volunteer behaviour, I know!

Guangzhou proved to be an enormous city, and we arrived there as the sun was setting. It was a beautiful sight as the plane came in to land. In the airport I quickly found the departure gate for the flight to Phnom Penh, and then settled down for a 3 hour wait. The flight to Phnom Penh was almost entirely filled with military personnel in uniform - there were just a few Westerners, and a smattering of Cambodian civilians. It was nice to hear the now familiar sound of Khmer.

Thai is nasal and the vowels are stretched out, making the language sound slightly whiney to the Western ear. Chinese, at least the Chinese I heard in Guangzhou airport, is more guttural, but soft with it. It sounds like the back of the mouth and throat have to work hard to produce these sounds, and I think I would become quickly tongue-tied if I were even to try! Khmer is a bit like both, to my admittedly untrained ear, but there are a lot of stops and shortened sounds, giving the language a particular feel.

Our flight to Phnom Penh was made eventful by a rather dramatic lightening storm as we came towards the city. Looking out of the window, everything was very dark, but periodically the landscape below would be lit up as if with a flash-light. It was an amazing experience. There was one occasion during which the lightening struck sharply and you could see the flash and the line of electricity from just in front of us all the way down to the ground. Amazing! At this point it did occur to me to be scared - what if the lightening struck the plane? But Martin Smith's beautiful song 'Safe in Your Arms' had been playing in my mind almost continuously ever since I left home, and with that truth in my heart there wasn't room for fear.

'The Lord is my shepherd; He leads me on

Beside the still waters, He restores my soul 
Though I walk through the valleys, I will not fear


I know You are with me, I feel You here.
I am safe in Your arms; in Your arms

The Lord is my shepherd through darkest night 
Though evil surrounds me, You defend my life

Goodness and mercy for all my days

In the house of my God my heart will stay

I am safe in Your arms, in Your arms

And my heart overflows - forever I love You


I love You...'

Walking out into Phnom Penh from the airport building, the first thing that arrested my attention was the smell - the smell that seems particular to Cambodia. A combination of bike fumes, ripe fruit, people, fish and other nameless things. Not unpleasant but distinctive, it is a while before the nose adjusts and one is no longer conscious of it.

It was raining softly, but the heat was still enough to make me glad that I had had the foresight to remove some of the many layers of clothing with which I had left England. There were crowds of people everywhere, in spite of the lateness of my arrival. It is the Water Festival, and the city is imbued with an atmosphere of excitement. The annual Water Festival celebrates the change of direction of the flow of the Tonle Sap. Astonishingly, this really does happen! Read more about it here.

Looking around, I wondered where I would possibly find my driver, but he had recognised me straight away. As I seemed to be the only Western woman arriving alone this is less surprising than it might seem. ' He introduced himself as 'Andy' (not his Khmer name) and gave me a running commentary on the sights as he drove me to my hotel. I was quiet, images from 'The Killing Fields' running through my mind. Twenty six years or so after I had seen and been so impacted by the movie, here I was. In Phnom Penh. The city decimated by the Khmer Rouge. So many of this nation's hurts go back to those few short years, 1975-79. Maniacal years...

"From 1975 to 1979-through execution, starvation, disease, and forced labor-the Khmer Rouge systematically killed an estimated two million Cambodians, almost a fourth of the country's population." ~ Loung Ung: First They Killed My Father

Recovery from such a wounding is inevitably slow. Although certainly not the only factor contributing to Cambodia's present problems, the genocide of the Khmer Rouge era has contributed hugely to negative social, emotional and spiritual aspects in the country. In the end, it was this that led to my presence here, my desire to offer something, however small, to help in the process of restoring and healing broken hearts.

Coming around a corner, I asked Andy if he knew of Dr Beat Richner. Ironically, at that very moment, we were passing his famous Kantha Bopha children's hospital, so he pointed it out to me. The timing was a surprise, as there was no way I could have known this. Andy said that everyone loves Dr Richner, because without him, all the children of Cambodia would have died. How is that for a tribute?

Eventually we arrived at the Landscape Hotel, just a short distance from the mighty Mekong river. It was just after midnight. As I was checking in, my lovely friend Sophy Kann came downstairs. How wonderful it was to see her!

My room was another lovely surprise. After Poipet, I was expecting something very basic. Instead, I have a beautiful, comfortable room, with a lovely view of the city. It was a great relief to unpack, have a shower and then hop into bed, where I fell asleep almost immediately.

New Opportunities

Well, it is almost a year since I went to Cambodia, and much as I wished it could be different, I couldn't see how to get back there this year. With 2 daughters getting married, a son going away to university, and my younger daughters and I very busy studying and training towards our Equestrian qualifications - amongst other things - it just didn't seem possible.

So I was as surprised as anyone to hear, during worship at the Revival Alliance conference in Birmingham, that still small Voice saying: 'You could go to Cambodia...'

Really God? Wow!

I ran the idea past my husband Craig, who was very supportive - as usual. So I contacted XP, who run the Extreme Justice outreaches, only to find that registration for this November trip was already closed. Not surprising, considering that the outreach started on Sunday! But I remained sure that I should go, so I wrote to Andrea, in Phnom Penh. Within a day I heard back; yes, I could come and join the team! Which means that I need to travel by Friday at the latest in order to be there for next week.

It takes a rather long time to travel to Phnom Penh from the UK. There are no direct flights. My best option is to go via Paris and China. A trip of 18 hours. Oh well....

So today has been a flurry of activity - arranging documents, visas, flights and buses, groceries, care for kids and horses, planning for the visit of a special visitor from South Africa who arrives just a few hours after I leave, notifying friends, cancelling and changing my appointments for next week, spending time with my girls, helping Julie with her Photography assignment, planning to collect Jenni's wedding dress with her before I go, making sure all the essentials are in order before I leave. Etc.... It's all very exciting! And a bit crazy!

I am learning to be very flexible in these 'Extreme Operations' adventures! In some ways, I have been waiting to do this for years... ever since I cried my way through the film 'The Killing Fields' way back in the 1980's. What a powerful film.

Phnom Penh has been in my heart ever since. God uses everything.....