tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84307825990496450922024-03-13T08:24:48.561-07:00Extreme OperationsCathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-37315275369168292202015-12-01T02:32:00.001-08:002015-12-01T05:34:54.642-08:00Homecoming...How does one define it? That familiar strange sensation of old and comfortable things accompanied by a vague but definite sense of being out of touch. At home and not at home. Homecomings are complicated. Emotions and expectations are disproportionately high. My closest and most meaningful reasons for being alive are arrayed before me with eager smiles and outstretched arms. I hold and hug and kiss and I cannot get enough of their smell. Funny how homecoming is so sensory.<br />
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Home! A month is a long time to be away.<br />
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Arrivals. The joy of my arms wrapped around my horse's chunky neck and the muddy sweet feel of him - he slightly aloof because of my long absence and my over enthusiastic emotion; the wriggling, licking, leaping joy of our dogs - who have no problem whatsoever with over enthusiastic emotional displays. The dogs! In my absence Angus has left puppyhood behind and two dogs gleefully let me know that it is good that I am home.<br />
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In the shadows, their presence very much felt but for now, studiously ignored, are my responsibilities. They wait patiently but confidently. My soul sneaks a glance and shrinks back. There are so many. They don't mind waiting. Like many coloured layers of thread they know that they belong in my hands and that I will pick them up in a while. But not now. Now it the time of transition. Of re-entry... And I have time. My husband has arranged to take Kate to College for the next two days so that I can have some time at home. Home alone. Home. My soul needs this. It needs the time to process, to gather the pieces together. It has been such a good trip. But literally half a world away; I have been in another world. The concept of parallel universes is tangible, experiential. Far away, people of other languages, life experiences, cultures and nations are going about their living, and for a while we have shared that living. They welcomed me and drew me in. I have been there. I am there. But I am also here.<br />
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Yesterday morning it is such a relief to go inside the cool quiet of my air-conditioned bedroom. The sun outside is impossibly hot, even at 7 in the morning. Later, at the airport in Bangkok I position my over-hot body right in front of the air conditioner and I am reluctant to move, even when it is my turn at the Passport Control counter. Many hours later I come off the airplane into another airport. It is winter in Europe and I am bracing myself for the cold. But I am securely enclosed in a centrally heated building. It feels weird. My body is already disorientated about the mystery of having travelled 12 hours but it only being 6 hours later. And by the fact that far away in Cambodia it is the middle of the night, when I should be sleeping, not the cusp edge between late afternoon and early evening. There are things the mind knows that the body cannot understand. But now it must also deal with heating where there was cooling. And I need to wait for 2 hours in this place. I wander past coffee shops cheery with Christmas advertising and colour, and where the drinks on display are warming drinks - mulled wine and hot chocolate and coffees with cream. My body is sadly yearning for ice. Iced coffee, iced tea, iced anything. Finally, at Starbucks, I find what is advertised as a ''Lime Cooler' and I order one with extra ice. It is delicious and refreshing. I down it in 10 minutes and go back and order another one, to the obvious but kindly amusement of the barrista behind the counter.<br />
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Home! But home feels strange because there is another place - places - my heart calls home too. There are people who have bound me to themselves with cords of love, and I to them. In the midst of my happiness at being home is an overwhelming longing. This is the tension I now embrace, the tension that is the gift of travel.<br />
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In the midst of the UK night I awaken. Of course! It is morning in Cambodia. And I am far too hot. I get up and switch off the central heating. My poor family also has to deal with my disorientation. Then I drink some water - filling my glass from the tap. This too feels strange. I have spent a whole month reminding myself NEVER to drink water from a tap. It feels like a forbidden activity, and I have to reassure myself that it is safe to do so. I go back to bed and fall asleep again to the sound of my husband's quiet breathing. It is going to be ok. It <i>is </i>ok. I am home.<br />
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Homecomings are everywhere. They are often in unexpected places too. They are the stitches of the threads that hold the pieces of my soul, my very heart, secure, each in its place. It is because of these homecomings that I am able to knead and integrate these diverse experiences on opposite ends of the earth into the one composite whole that is me and the way I experience my living. I am. I am England and South Africa and Brazil and Thailand and Myanmar and Cambodia.<br />
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Mary Oliver asks: ''What is it that you intend to do with your one wild and precious life?'' Here is my answer. In the peace of the shell that is my home I reflect that this is it. Whole. I know. I am at home in this world, in this beautiful, heartbreaking, overwhelming, impossible place. I live. And I love.<br />
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This is mine. This is me. This is homecoming.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-88724190735494837182015-11-07T23:00:00.000-08:002018-02-12T11:15:06.401-08:00Prayer Walking in PattayaThe problem with Pattaya is that it is also a place of ugliness.<br />
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Today I went on a prayer walk around Pattaya. I went along the beachfront and down Walking Street and back again. And as I walked I thought and prayed about what I saw...<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4SnFfIcgiY/Vj9y-jBcD1I/AAAAAAAAC7M/hO62FpbrwQk/s1600/IMG_4031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4SnFfIcgiY/Vj9y-jBcD1I/AAAAAAAAC7M/hO62FpbrwQk/s320/IMG_4031.jpg" width="320" /></a>There are men everywhere. And the thing that stands out to me about these men is that so many of them look dead. I'm reminded of that question in Proverbs, <i>''Shall a man heap coals into his lap and not be burned?''</i> In my research about Pattaya I find many websites that tell me how great it is; how wonderful it is to be able to have a different girl every night and more than once a night if you want. Apparently it's like a man's dream come true; ''Disneyland for adults'' one writer called it. So how come the men look dead? That's an interesting question. So many of them look unhealthy, sick and pale.<br />
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There is an inherent sadness that I feel when I walk around Pattaya. It's why I find it a hard place to be. I look at the women waiting on the beachfront for clients, and their make up is immaculate and their hair is lovely and they are wearing their high heels and they look so good. But there is a hardness and a sorrow on them. And I catch their eye of one or two and when I do, I smile at them and they smile back, surprised, like why would I smile at them? Don't I see what they are?<br />
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There are dogs that wander around with misaligned jaws and sores on their bodies. They have a pretty tough life, but they are survivors, like everyone else in Pattaya. They are tough. The trauma is just more noticeable in the dogs.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9LxKkL5ehfs/Vj9y-GNYttI/AAAAAAAAC7I/iyMJFFQeQu0/s1600/IMG_4143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9LxKkL5ehfs/Vj9y-GNYttI/AAAAAAAAC7I/iyMJFFQeQu0/s320/IMG_4143.jpg" width="320" /></a>And the signs. Oh God, the signs... ''Live Dolls'' proclaims one. Live dolls? How that hurts my heart.What does it feel like to be seen as nothing more than a living doll? I wander along the famous Walking Street, and I'm praying in the Spirit and I'm singing songs, the songs, the songs of God in dark places, and my heart is sorrowing, sorrowing, sorrowing. I want to see these places destroyed. But I am so conscious of the Lord with me, and that I am not alone, and after a while He says: ''Take a break...''<br />
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So I wander into a bar and I buy a coke, and I walk through the bar to the other side and I go and sit out on the beachfront where the bar overlooks the sea and it's so beautiful. The sun is starting to set and the reflections of the boats on the water are lovely, and there are these huge, huge clouds. It's beautiful, but my heart is aching.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wJsU3QSKylA/Vj9y2VzOxFI/AAAAAAAAC7A/UBRdMjk2tdo/s1600/IMG_4079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wJsU3QSKylA/Vj9y2VzOxFI/AAAAAAAAC7A/UBRdMjk2tdo/s320/IMG_4079.jpg" width="228" /></a>And then I look up, and there in front of me there is a statue and it's a girl, and it's beautiful. She's holding a torch, and she's strong, and mighty, and triumphant. And I'm reminded about two prophetic words I have been given about Asia - one is about awakening the right arm and the other is about being the carrier of the blue flame. And I've been asking God about these things, What is the significance of the right arm? And the blue flame?<br />
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And as I've read His Word, I have seen that the right arm is justice. Just before I left the UK our worship leader reminded me that ''Justice and righteousness are Your throne O God...''<br />
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I also remember a recent conversation with my Catholic friend Christine about why St Mary the Mother of Jesus is usually clothed in blue, and her answer that blue stands for purity and for royalty. And I see the statue of the woman with her right arm holding her torch so high and she's so beautiful, especially against the backdrop of the setting sun and the sky and the reflections on the water and she stands for justice and for purity and for the royalty of womanhood. And my heart cries out: ''O God, can you bring justice to this place? Can you bring back purity to these women and restore to them their value? Can you destroy the darkness and the shame of Walking Street please?''<br />
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And I find my heart encouraged and the sorrow that has been so heavy lifts, and a quietness and a peace comes. He sees and He knows. He knows. And as I turn around and begin to walk back, I declare it, over and over and over again:<br />
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<i>''Our Father, </i></div>
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<i>Who art in heaven, </i></div>
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<i>hallowed be Your Name.</i></div>
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<i>Your Kingdom come; </i></div>
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<i>Your will be done, </i></div>
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<i>on Walking Street as it is in heaven, </i></div>
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<i>in Pattaya as it is in heaven, </i></div>
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<i>on earth as it is in heaven.''</i></div>
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Our Father, our Father, our Father....<br />
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Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-12248922083705974832015-11-06T23:00:00.000-08:002015-11-08T08:25:33.987-08:00Pattaya the Beautiful<i>''Pattaya is an overwhelming mix of beautiful and ugly things''.</i><br />
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That's what I wrote on my Facebook page. On this, my third trip to the city, I saw beautiful things.<br />
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The ministry of <a href="http://www.tamarcenter.org/en" target="_blank">Tamar Centre</a> has always been beautiful. For 20 years now, Nella Davidse and her team have held out a hand of compassion and hope for the city's beleaguered bar girls. I have been on some of these outreach sessions with XP Missions and Tamar and I have more than once heard Nella tell the story of how and why she came to live and work in Pattaya. The no-nonsense integrity of the woman, and the warmth in her piercing eyes, even when she is tired... this is beautiful.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BSMUZHZ0FU8/Vj92X_sHbwI/AAAAAAAAC7c/bYfvL--ed3A/s1600/12185514_1157451294283117_6860896696534378141_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BSMUZHZ0FU8/Vj92X_sHbwI/AAAAAAAAC7c/bYfvL--ed3A/s320/12185514_1157451294283117_6860896696534378141_o.jpg" width="320" /></a>This time I sat in an audience at a graduation, listening, with a warm heart, to the testimonies of two new graduates of the three month Tamar training programme. This was the 17th Tamar graduation, and we were celebrating the achievements of eight young people. All eight had come out of dangerous exploitative situations; all eight had new qualifications, smiling faces and hope in their eyes; all eight were proud of what they had achieved... this was beautiful.<br />
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The graduates had been given gifts and flowers along with their certificates, and I watched one of the girls try to give her flowers to Nella, who lovingly but firmly refused them: ''<i>This is your day</i>...'' The interaction was warm and honouring and swift, and I was moved by it... this was beautiful. <br />
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After the ceremony, we had supper together and there was time to meet people and chat. I met a group of fresh faced young women, some from the USA and one from Holland, all of whom were giving up three to nine months of their lives to learn and to serve the women of Thailand. I looked deep into their innocence and their purity and I was amazed at their willingness to get involved with intervention in this, the most un-innocent of female activities. I was reminded of the slogan of the women's conference I had attended with Malina: ''<i>Together, we are stronger''...</i> this too was beautiful.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-13813466616644229752015-10-06T05:58:00.002-07:002015-10-07T02:51:41.138-07:00ReturningsLess than a month from today I will be in Asia again...<br />
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It still amuses me when I think of it. I was so resistant to the idea of visiting Asia at all, and even more resistant to the idea of actually getting involved with anything there. And yet, now, year after year, like the quiet but persistent drumbeat of my heart I am drawn back. Back to Cambodia. To the squalor and the filth and the poverty and the shame and the pain of a nation in recovery from trauma and abuse. Why? It is so strange, so irrational. I like my First-World lifestyle.<br />
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But I am also drawn back to the beauty, the smiles, the fun-loving spirit; the innate courtesy of the people; the wonderful Khmer friends I now have; the precious children rescued by XP Missions; the feeling that drop upon drop upon drop of compassion and involvement can and does make a difference; and my abiding love for the incredible people who have chosen to spend - expend - their lives in drip, drip, dripping that difference into the continent. I think of Andrea, Mark, Sharon, Alice, Shelley, Jen, Ginny, Pastor Chuck, and so many more, and I know I am so privileged to get to touch their lives, even just a little bit.<br />
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And ultimately, it is about obedience. Jesus said that He did what He saw the Father do. He indicated, quite clearly, that if we wanted to know what God was like, we should look at Him. At the way He lived, taught, dealt with people. And then He said that the works He did, we should do also. We too should be demonstrating in our living what God is like. And one thing has always been clear - God cares about the poor and the suffering and the downtrodden and He fully expects us to care too.<br />
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As time has passed, I have found my horizons expanding in Asia. It is still not a rational thing. God asked us first of all to open our hearts to Thailand, and right now I have no idea what to do about that. Was Thailand a marker on my road or a destination? So far, Thailand has ended up being a means to an end - it is the neighbouring country of Cambodia that has engaged my heart. Although of course, Pattaya, that coastal Thai city, that place where it all came into focus, that murky seedbed of nefarious activity, is never far from my thoughts..... And I know lightbearers there too, Malina, always Malina. And David, Ying, Pu, Nella, Somsak..... It's relationship that calls me most. I am very relational, and for me, it is always about people. Knowing people, and loving people.<br />
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And now there is Myanmar. Drawn inexorably by the determined vision of my young friend there, I will return for another week, again to teach in a Bible College and to visit with David and his friends, and to bring encouragement to Burmese Christians from a member of the Western church. We look different and speak different languages and have different cultures and life experiences, but our love for God draws us into a fellowship that is beyond those things.<br />
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So, reflections over, I am excited. I will spend a week in Thailand, a week in Myanmar, and two weeks in Cambodia. In the flurry of preparation and activity that precedes a trip there is a growing anticipation. I look forward to being in Asia. Again.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-65935050045606407732014-12-01T00:20:00.000-08:002015-10-07T02:55:44.127-07:00Pattaya<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bsQ1k6DdEOQ/VIAds2blG_I/AAAAAAAAC1w/ld_qzEpqOXc/s1600/pattaya-girls2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bsQ1k6DdEOQ/VIAds2blG_I/AAAAAAAAC1w/ld_qzEpqOXc/s1600/pattaya-girls2.jpg" width="320" /></a>I find Pattaya a hard place to be. There is such a
concentration of the worst of human issues – the sheer sadness, the loneliness,
the lost-ness, the entrapment, the darkness of mankind – thinly covered by a
veneer of fun and smiles and shrill laughter. After my first trip to Pattaya, I was to say to a
friend: ‘If ever I doubted the existence of that malevolent evil we call satan,
I no longer do.’ There is a lot of good in the world, and
the goodness points towards its Source. The same is true of evil. Pattaya is heavy with it.</div>
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I spend time with precious people, people like Stephen and Ying Fulton, people like Nella Davidse, who have the
courage and the fortitude to stand, as beacons of light in this vast darkness. I see them, and I am astonished by their beauty. Light always shines more
brightly when it is really dark.<br />
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I ask them how it is that they find grace to
live in Pattaya. Again and again, the story is the same…. For love. For love of God and for love of His children, They saw
what I see, years ago, and it catapulted them into action. Not away, but towards. I look at these
people and I am awed by the simplicity of their message, a message they live as well as speak: Love overcomes. Light shines. Goodness changes people. They
hold out the Word of Life, day after day after day.<br />
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Is it worth it? Some say
no. They look at the statistics and say the problem is growing.</div>
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But look into the eyes, as I do, of just one changed person,
one person who has exchanged a life in sorrow and darkness for a life in Light and say
it’s not worth it. Can you? I certainly can’t. The core of Heidi Baker's life message is very evident here. Love is when we stop for the one. </div>
Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-32557203192701330972014-11-25T09:36:00.000-08:002015-10-07T07:29:41.493-07:00HeartbreakThe young bar-girl Lynn was talking to decided not to come to XP's training centre. Lynn was in tears, telling us. Too afraid to trust the hand held out, she had decided to stay with the high-risk but more familiar environment in which she found herself.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JkH3i_p2kbI/VdEDbGne57I/AAAAAAAAC4k/Q03lR-j8vhs/s1600/on-being-lost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JkH3i_p2kbI/VdEDbGne57I/AAAAAAAAC4k/Q03lR-j8vhs/s320/on-being-lost.jpg" width="320" /></a>That she did so is not as surprising as it seems at first glance. It is the proverbial frying pan and the fire situation. Yes, she knew she was in danger. But what she didn't know was whether or not she would be in greater danger if she went with this friendly white Western woman. Young women are trafficked to Thailand, Malaysia and further afield from Cambodia, lured by promises of work and development opportunities. How was she to know that this promised 'Everlasting Love' training program was not a trap?<br />
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The statistics are sobering. Rescue agencies tell us that for every girl saved from sexual exploitation, 99 are not. Needless to say, this situation has to change. Outreach is an important part of the task of building relationship and trust so that girls have confidence and know where to go for help.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-62184785142425730622014-11-23T17:13:00.000-08:002018-02-12T11:24:48.193-08:00Women at Risk....Tonight we waited, chatting and eating delicious ice cream at the Blue Pumpkin, while Lynn and Jenn went to find a young girl, just a teenager, who was working in one of the bars - Jenn had made contact with her the day before, and we hoped that she would be able to come onto XP's 'Everlasting Love' Program. They had a very good chat with her, and it is all looking very positive. They will meet with her again tomorrow, and if she decides to do so, she could start as soon as next week. The biggest challenge is trust - when a young person has been betrayed by all she holds dear, why should she trust Western strangers, even if they are accompanied by Khmer translators. How is she to know we aren't traffickers with even worse plans for her future? Relationship building is careful work....<br />
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Back in our tuk-tuk, Lynn was in tears, describing how tightly this youngster had held onto her when Lynn hugged her... she was so very young, and so frightened, so uncertain who or what she could believe. Lynn was concerned about the Western men in the bar, who were watching with interested eyes. There is a real sense of urgency about the need to get this young woman out of the situation as soon as possible.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ulnV2bnstj8/VdEE3yKN1xI/AAAAAAAAC4w/-csT8hRVe6Q/s1600/Picture30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ulnV2bnstj8/VdEE3yKN1xI/AAAAAAAAC4w/-csT8hRVe6Q/s320/Picture30.jpg" width="320" /></a>I was reminded of Siem. My heart still hurts, almost three years later, when I think of her. Such a sweet little girl. Far too sweet and innocent to be working in a karaoke bar in Poipet! How desperately she wanted to be rescued. It has been hard to forgive myself for leaving her, but at that time I was naive and didn't not realize how serious her situation was. And even if I had known what I know now, it was too soon - we were not yet in a position to help. It was the early days of Operation Justice and hardly anything was in place. Now there are options... and XP can offer the girls a lifeline, opportunities, training - choices.<br />
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So where is Siem now? What happened to her? I have no way of knowing. I hope against hope that somehow, she did get out of her situation. The sad reality is that it is extremely unlikely that she could have done so - not without help. And so I look for her in every Khmer face I see. If I could find her, would it be too late? Would she be hardened, innocence betrayed, trust lost forever? I hope not. I hope she would still be open to hope. I hope she would not feel like I abandoned her.... which of course, is precisely what I <i>did</i> do. Not by desire or by choice, but that doesn't change how it must feel for her.<br />
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I said I would look for her... and I do. I will continue to do so. And I pray. I dream of finding Siem. I dream of walking up to a young girl one day and of her turning to look at me, and of me realising it is her. I'm glad I didn't promise I would find her, because so far, I have not been able to do so. There are so many young girls in prostitution in Asia; it is like hunting for the proverbial needle. I did tell her that I would look for her. And I said that I loved her, and that I would always love her. I remember the feeling of her, snuggled, bird-like against my side. I remember how desperately she clung to me when it was time to go. I remember the pain of walking away. Even though it was only one small encounter, I cannot forget her. She is in the heart of all I do here in Asia.<br />
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This is why I love being part of what XP Missions is doing. This is why I love touring the brand new women's ministry centre, aptly named 'Everlasting Love'. In fact, I have done so three times now. I love seeing the vision materialize. I love encountering our very first recruit, eagerly learning to sew. Seeing the joy in her face and the hope in her eyes. Knowing that this girl will no longer have to prostitute herself in order to survive. And she is the first of many who will come.... I see a time when the women's centre will be too small, and we will need another one. I see hundreds of beautiful women, discovering themselves and their gifts in freedom and dignity. I see restoration and hope and a future.... one by one by one. Engagement, encounter, affirmation, determination, hope. This is what love looks like. It always has.<br />
<br />
<br />Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-27091508529349987882014-11-17T03:56:00.000-08:002015-08-17T09:42:47.492-07:00Everlasting LoveOne of the foundational dreams of the XP Missions project 'Operation Justice' was that there be opportunities created for young women to exchange prostitution for other means of producing an income. After the disruption of the Khmer Rouge and many years of civil war, Cambodia is still a country very much in recovery. Poverty can be extreme and when people are hungry, they find themselves making decisions out of very limited options. So it is not at all unusual to visit a brothel and find a young girl there, middle to late teens, who will tell you that she is doing this work because her father or mother is ill and they had to buy medicine, or because she is the eldest of her siblings and they are hungry. It is really heartbreaking, to look into these young eyes and think of my own daughters. If it is an older woman, the story is usually to do with a husband leaving or dying, and children needing food and shelter. What astonishes me the most is the extent to which a person is willing to sacrifice for the sake of her family.<br />
<br />
When we spend time with the girls in the bars, we ask them about their lives, their hopes and dreams and their wishes for the future. We ask them if they like their work - no one has ever said 'Yes' - and what kind of work they would do instead if they had the choice. It's not all heavy and serious; like any conversations with young girls there is a lot of giggling and laughter. Especially when we attempt to sing along with Karaoke, or when we have nail-painting sessions. Simply, the hour that we have paid for the use of the Karaoke room is an hour in which these particular young women will not have to sell themselves. But in the midst of it all there are tears and stories of pain shared and, of course, hugs and prayer. We are women. And we share the burdens of womanhood.<br />
<br />
On this particular trip we don't go to the Karioke bars. Instead we go to Wat Phnom, a Buddhist pagoda in the city, We know that there are prostitutes working in this area. We walk down the street and sure enough, every park bench has a woman sitting on it. We stop and talk to them, and one asks for prayer to help her find a new job - she has had an interview but doesn't yet know the outcome. On the next corner we find a young woman, who tells us that she has only been working here for a week. Her husband has left her for another woman and she has a young son. She is defensive as she tells us she has no choice. We invite her to come to our training centre and she says she will think about it.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uKo-e0tzh7Q/VdIOPsac81I/AAAAAAAAC5Y/FSHG5ooOyHQ/s1600/IMG_4760-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uKo-e0tzh7Q/VdIOPsac81I/AAAAAAAAC5Y/FSHG5ooOyHQ/s320/IMG_4760-1.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The amazing and irrepressible Lynn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the midst of this conversation a few other girls come over to hear what we have to say. One of them, hardened and jaded even though I am sure she is still young, tells us that she is very worried about this young woman because she hears her coughing and thinks she is not well. ''Also'', she says, ''she should sit with us and not by herself - she could get hurt if she is working alone.'' She encourages us to help her. I am touched by the obvious concern from a woman who has obviously not been a recipient of terribly much concern herself. We arrange for her to meet with Lynn, who oversees the training centre, the next day. (Sadly, when Lynn goes in search of her the next day, she is nowhere to be found...)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hkH5q3RGdD4/VdIEjMkgM7I/AAAAAAAAC5A/YfCVuIysidM/s1600/IMG_3643-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hkH5q3RGdD4/VdIEjMkgM7I/AAAAAAAAC5A/YfCVuIysidM/s320/IMG_3643-1.jpg" width="228" /></a>Last week XP opened their first training centre - aptly named 'Everlasting Love' - for women who want to leave prostitution. I felt very emotional as I toured this facility with Andrea. How we have dreamed and longed for this. And here it is - a small beginning, another option, an open door. Today there are young women registering for the 6 month training program, in which they will learn sewing. There are plans for other skills training opportunities, but this is how we begin. Their young children, if they have any, will come along to the centre for Preschool.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EEmxDXWlbiM/VdIE_QmIyyI/AAAAAAAAC5I/Kue4zFIDcVE/s1600/IMG_1737-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EEmxDXWlbiM/VdIE_QmIyyI/AAAAAAAAC5I/Kue4zFIDcVE/s320/IMG_1737-1.jpg" width="320" /></a>And while I am here I have the privilege of sharing with the first group of women on the Everlasting Love program. I tell them of the importance of forgiveness, even when it is impossibly difficult. I share from my own life experiences, and I speak of the grace and forgiveness of God, and one woman is in tears. It is so hard. So hard when you have been exploited and abused, to let go of the bitterness, the anger and the desire for revenge. But one woman, a woman whose husband sent her into prostitution because they had financial difficulties, totally gets it. Her face is wreathed in smiles as she takes over from me and begins to talk with passion about the same thing. Letting go and moving on. Recently she encountered the love of God for the first time. Now we get to see the life-giving love of Jesus at work. He always brings hope and restoration.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.xpmissions.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Black-Collection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.xpmissions.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Black-Collection.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><i>Note: Just 1 year later, these are the kinds of things that are being produced by these women... </i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://store.xpministries.com/collections/types?q=Everlasting%20Love" target="_blank">Everlasting Love - Shop</a><br />
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<br />Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-23814947349889293062014-11-10T22:14:00.000-08:002015-08-16T14:30:52.164-07:00Myanmar - Day 1<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
After travelling for 28 hours via London, Paris and Bangkok, I finally arrived in Yangon.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6saf2fL_00I/VIATi-2IeZI/AAAAAAAAC1U/i7RPK-GybP8/s1600/1502738_854544344567297_8445890892745905083_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6saf2fL_00I/VIATi-2IeZI/AAAAAAAAC1U/i7RPK-GybP8/s1600/1502738_854544344567297_8445890892745905083_o.jpg" width="320" /></a>I was excited and happy to see David. To be honest, I was also just a bit scared. I didn't know much about Burma, now called Myanmar, but in the past I had heard that it was a repressed society and a controlling regime that didn't appear to allow freedom of thought or religion. And one that didn't appear too concerned about restricting, forcibly if need be, the actions and movements of foreigners to the country either. I knew of the persecutions missionaries had endured in the past. And I knew that Open Doors had ranked Myanmar as number 25 on their Watch List of countries where persecution of Christians is most severe. I had little idea of what to expect, but had the thought that it might be decidedly uncomfortable. And so my initial response to David's invitation to visit his country was 'No thanks...' But the idea would not go away. And when my friend Linda asked me to join her on a trip to Myanmar, I began to give the idea some serious consideration, And then of course, that beautiful song, 'Oceans' rocketed to the top of the Christian worship songs list. I was challenged, over and over and over again by its uncompromising lyrics:<br />
<br />
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">You call me out upon the waters,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">The great unknown where feet may fail</span></i></i></div>
<i>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">And there I find You in the mystery</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">In oceans deep</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">My faith will stand</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">And I will call upon Your name</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">And keep my eyes above the waves</span></i></i></div>
<i>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">When oceans rise</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">My soul will rest in Your embrace</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">For I am Yours and You are mine</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Your grace abounds in deepest waters</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Your sovereign hand</span></i></i></div>
<i>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Will be my guide</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">You've never failed and You won't start now</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">So I will call upon Your name</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">And keep my eyes above the waves</span></i></i></div>
<i>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">When oceans rise</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">My soul will rest in Your embrace</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">For I am Yours and You are mine</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Let me walk upon the waters</span></i></i></div>
<i>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Wherever You would call me</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">And my faith will be made stronger</span></i></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">In the presence of my Saviour...</span></i></div>
</span></i><br />
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">As the months passed by, the idea began to move beyond idea to possibility - and now, here I was. </span>Later, as I stood up to speak in a large hot room at the top of a building in Yangon, I would honour David for his persistence in holding onto a vision he believed was from God, and for persevering in dreaming, praying and asking until it came to pass.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AvMqRTDf9s0/VdD6fBKWyYI/AAAAAAAAC4I/qDs1wedt--0/s1600/1556339_854544117900653_7358808337206428481_o-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AvMqRTDf9s0/VdD6fBKWyYI/AAAAAAAAC4I/qDs1wedt--0/s200/1556339_854544117900653_7358808337206428481_o-1.jpg" width="142" /></a></div>
I received such a warm welcome at the airport from my young friend and his companions. Any anxieties I might have had were instantly allayed by their smiling faces. I was given a beautiful pearl necklace from David's family as a welcome gift, and many photographs were taken. I felt like a celebrity :-)<br />
<br />
We took a taxi to the hotel. It was interesting to see Myanmar for the first time, which, at first glance, does not look that different to Thailand and Cambodia. Of course the differences become apparent within a short while, but the vegetation is similar. There are many beautiful buildings from the era of colonial Britain, but sadly many are run down and are in need of care. There are lots of building projects though, and, of course, many beautiful pagodas. The city is lively and busy, and evidence of wealth and evidence of poverty are all jumbled up together. One thing that makes things much more manageable than Phnom Penh is that motorbikes are not allowed in the city.<br />
<br />
Although I had had a very good trip, I was feeling tired, and my body clock was rather disorientated, as I was now almost 7 hours ahead of my UK schedule. I was looking forward to a rest at my hotel, but there was no time for that. I had been invited to speak to a group of students. So it was just a quick change and a snack and then off out. One look at these students quickly dealt with any sorry-for-me feelings. It didn't take me long to realize that I was deeply privileged to meet them. Aged between 18 and 25, they come from
remote villages, and spend 9 months in Yangon, training as pastors and
missionaries, after which they return to their communities. They live, study
and work in the same building for that period of time, except when they go on
outreaches. The depth of their passion and commitment is a challenge to the Western church. <br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
Linda and I were delighted to see each other. It is rather incredible, when you think of it, that two middle-aged ladies who met just once before, two years previously, had chosen to travel half-way around their respective worlds, to meet up in a country which neither had visited before, in response to the repeated invitations of another person, David Joy, whom we had also only met once before. And it is incredible to think that the three of us had met in Cambodia, as part of an XP Missions team, and that Linda was from America, I was from England, and David from Myanmar, and that now we were were together again in his home country. It was actually incredible to think that we were in Myanmar at all. Who would ever have thought such a thing, in the years when were were growing up and Burma was a far-away country heard of briefly in Geography classes and in occasional news reports? Certainly not me!<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">On this first evening I was invited to share a few thoughts with a Youth Group. I knew they were Bible College</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9rSumQMwno0/VdD-VQ2IY0I/AAAAAAAAC4U/lFiFtluSoxM/s1600/IMG_0521-Edit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9rSumQMwno0/VdD-VQ2IY0I/AAAAAAAAC4U/lFiFtluSoxM/s320/IMG_0521-Edit.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> students, but honestly, nothing could have prepared me for the passion and
the devotion of these young people. They were young in years but certainly not in spirit. I was shocked and awed by them, and by the uncompromising purity of their commitment to Jesus in a country in which persecution is more than a </span><i style="text-align: center;">possible</i><span style="text-align: center;"> outcome. </span>They were expectant and focused. We began with worship, and then Linda
spoke about the Feasts of the Lord. It was very hot, and we had some lovely
young women sit with us and fan us to keep us a little cooler for the WHOLE
evening. I am sure their arms got tired, but they served us with patience and
smiles. It really touched my heart. In fact, the whole week did that. Throughout
our stay we were treated as precious treasure, and our every wish was catered
for. We didn't pay for our own meals, not even once, and everywhere we went we were
showered with gifts, gifts of traditional tribal fabrics, clothing, jewellery
and food. We had a hard time remembering, a lot of time, who was ministering to
whom….</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
After Linda had spoken for some time. David explained about the
Tallith, the traditional Jewish prayer shawl. Looking at the discomfort the
students were enduring, sitting crowded together on a hard floor in a hot room,
I thought that maybe that was enough, and that I should not speak that night.
In fact, they were shocked at the very idea. Didn’t I have anything to share
with them? So I picked up my Bible and asked the Lord what He wanted me to tell
them. I remembered how, when I was their age, I had been so totally impacted by
Prov 3:5-6:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Trust in the Lord with all
your heart, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and do not lean on your own understanding. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>In all your ways,
acknowledge Him, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and He will direct your paths.</i></div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
We read this text together and then I spoke, point by point, about
God’s promise… that if we trust in Him, don’t depend on our own understanding but
on His, and acknowledge Him in ALL our ways, He will make our paths straight
and lead us in the way we should go. It was a powerful word, much more so than even I
had expected.<br />
<br />
When I finished I asked if anyone wanted to recommit – of course
I knew they were already committed, because they were at Bible College – to a lifestyle in which they would choose to acknowledge the Lord in ALL their ways. Going on previous experience in the
Western world, I expected a few to come to the front for prayer.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fhxyM2kPHo/VIAX1my7XhI/AAAAAAAAC1g/-0D1SnKYozc/s1600/10623620_854550077900057_2738663985165100820_o%2B(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fhxyM2kPHo/VIAX1my7XhI/AAAAAAAAC1g/-0D1SnKYozc/s320/10623620_854550077900057_2738663985165100820_o%2B(1).jpg" width="320" /></a>To my
amazement, about half of the students streamed to the front, where they fell on
their knees, worshiping and crying out their commitment to acknowledge God in
all things. Linda and I were not sure what to do, as we didn’t know the
language, and there was no way we could have prayed for each person individually
with our one translator. I asked God what to do, and felt just to go from
person to person, laying hands on them and allowing God to do the work. This
Linda and I proceeded to do. We had such a powerful sense of touching precious
and anointed vessels of God, His treasure, and knowing that many of them might experience
persecution and suffering for this promise, even death, made it all the more poignant. I was
close to tears the whole time, and I felt so honoured to have been permitted to
minister to them. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
</div>
There are times in your life when you find yourself close to the holy things of
the Lord, and even in the privileged position of being His daughter,
I know that this is very sacred, and to tread carefully and to handle His
things with great respect. This was one of those times. This is what my first encounter with the radical,
passionate, laid down lovers of Jesus in Myanmar, the Burmese Christians, was
like. It set the tone for the week, and I have to say, that it was the same
everywhere I went.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-42578692296892550162014-11-09T12:12:00.000-08:002015-08-16T13:05:13.992-07:00Packing for Asia<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OQ4_coCJ7Pc/VdDjxiypjEI/AAAAAAAAC3E/Z2ozGXA_OpE/s1600/IMG_9653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OQ4_coCJ7Pc/VdDjxiypjEI/AAAAAAAAC3E/Z2ozGXA_OpE/s320/IMG_9653.JPG" width="213" /></a>Packing. Always such a challenge. How do I fit my clothing for three weeks, the gifts for the children in the safe house and for my friends, and all the things I want to take for the children in the slums into that 1 suitcase and that measly 20kg allowance?<br />
<br />
I fit as much as possible into my hand luggage, and squeeze and shove objects into every nook and cranny of space. I am so excited about every single item, and I am not willing to leave anything behind.<br />
<br />
I am of course most excited about the children's presents. For Johnnie I have some beautiful artist's pens and a very detailed colouring book. And for Esther there is a pink tea set, with a teapot that sings cute songs and that speaks in a very proper voice: 'Shall we have some tea?' I can't wait to see her face when she hears it.<br />
<br />
Eventually I accept that my suitcase is full and I weigh it and weigh it, hoping each time that it will weigh a little less than the 27kg the scales tell me it weighs. It doesn't.<br />
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<br />
My friend Fabiola and I pray over it, asking that somehow, I will be allowed to take everything with me. I decide that if necessary I will jettison the sweets at the airport, and decide to wait and see what happens. Somehow, I have a feeling that all shall be most well.....<br />
<br />
At the airport my suitcase is passed without comment. A 'Heavy' tag is put on it. But I am not asked to pay in anything. With a sense of being looked after, I breeze my way through security.<br />
<br />
Interestingly, before I reach my final destination of Phnom Penh where most of the contents of my suitcase are going, I take 4 flights on smaller planes with Bangkok Air, and with Angkor Air. As I queue for check-in I pray, and feel again that strong sense that all is well. I am reminded that I am His child, a princess, and i hold my head high. On the other side of the world Fabiola and Jeremy are praying too - I have sent them a text to tell them I am in the queue. And everywhere I am treated like royalty, with smiles and courtesy, and no one tells me I am not allowed to take all that weight, even though they comment that my suitcase is very heavy! I arrive gleefully overloaded with all the sweets and toys and gifts I wanted to bring. Thanks be to God...Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-49747830800200974212014-11-07T02:38:00.000-08:002014-11-23T00:50:12.040-08:00Asia AnticipationsTwo days to departure. I am super excited and a little tense as I encounter the usual challenge of really wanting to go and really wanting to stay! Cambodia pulls and I find myself yearning to be there again. And there is a real sense of rightness in this trip to Myanmar too. But I don't like leaving my home, Craig, my precious children and my ponies. There is always a cost, and it is seldom the material one that hurts.<br />
<br />
Our lounge has been taken over with toys and sweets, wrapping paper, mysterious parcels and summer clothing. It feels like Christmas as we wrap presents for precious children in far away countries. I am now packing things into my suitcase, and I am already on my weight limit! And that is without toiletries, shoes and personal items. Oops....<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zD8dtx7gvZE/VFyi4dXKsnI/AAAAAAAACz8/-YTQjejEN5M/s1600/_68495768_myanmar_map.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zD8dtx7gvZE/VFyi4dXKsnI/AAAAAAAACz8/-YTQjejEN5M/s1600/_68495768_myanmar_map.gif" height="180" width="320" /></a>I am busy finalizing my talks for the Bible College in Yangon. I will be teaching on 'Praise and Worship' - why it matters, and how to do it (that is kind of obvious, but it is interesting to look at the Hebrew root words and Biblical practices). Most evenings we are also busy, meeting with various Christian home groups and Youth Groups. These will be less formal opportunities to share our experience of life with God. I will be sharing around the theme of the 'Father Heart of God'. Sunday the 16th, I speak in an Assemblies of God church, and my topic is 'The Family of God'. This is very appropriate, when I consider that my first 'home' as a new Christian was with an Assembles of God church.<br />
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Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I travel. 27 or so hours of travel lie ahead of me, and I am speaking the night I arrive. I hope I can stay awake :-) The grace of God!<br />
<br />
More information about Myanmar here:<br />
BBC Country Profile - <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-12990563" target="_blank">Myanmar</a><br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-11685977" target="_blank">Aung San Suu Kyi</a>, political leader of Myanmar<br />
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<br />Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-49998176490421594362014-10-14T14:00:00.002-07:002014-11-07T02:58:53.430-08:00Asian AdventuresI have been wondering for some time about whether or not I would go to Asia this year. Then an American friend, Linda, wrote to ask if I would consider accompanying her on a trip to Myanmar. A mutual friend from Myanmar, David Joy, had been asking us to come for some time, to share stories and encourage Christians in his city, Yangon. Linda really wanted to go. <br />
<br />
I spent some time investigating options and praying about the idea. It seemed entirely possible that I could link a trip to Myanmar with a trip to Cambodia - if I was going to Cambodia, that is. And if I could go for at least three weeks. The more I considered the idea, the more excited I felt about it. When I asked Craig, Julie and Kate what they thought about the idea of me disappearing off to Asia for almost a month, when we had just moved and were still in the throes of unpacking, I was rather surprised to find them entirely supportive and certain that it was the right thing.<br />
<br />
A flurry of emails and Facebook discussions ensued, and I am now delighted to be able to say that I am going to Yangon, Myanmar, for a week. From there I fly to Siem Reap to see my friend Narith and his wife Mealea - and finally, on my 4th trip to Cambodia, to see the famous World Heritage site of Angkor Wat. And then I spend almost two weeks with the <a href="http://www.xpmissions.com/" target="_blank">XP Missions</a> team in Phnom Penh. I will travel with them to Poipet, to see how the projects there are progressing, and hopefully to see some of the street-children I met and shared about on previous occasions. Finally, I will travel back to Pattaya, Thailand, to see friends from our first trip to Asia, Operation Extreme Love 2012.<br />
<br />
I am still asking God questions about the
'why' of these Asia trips, but I am very happy just to come along - as
long as He knows why, this is enough, isn't it?<br />
<br />
I do have some
thoughts though:<br />
* My heart has been engaged with Cambodia and it won't let go, and there
are so many specific people who matter to me there; it is good to keep
and develop the connections.<br />
* I have long cared about children who are sexually abused and want to
play a part, however small, in stopping it.<br />
* I have grown to love and respect the full-time missionaries, and bringing them some support, encouragement and
blessing means a lot to me.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LIcUMgxa6UU/T9heaPCMoII/AAAAAAAABTo/WESxvjuHD4w/s1600/IMG_4454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LIcUMgxa6UU/T9heaPCMoII/AAAAAAAABTo/WESxvjuHD4w/s1600/IMG_4454.JPG" height="230" width="320" /></a>* I am researching and writing - there is a book coming I think; I'm not sure when,
but it is in process.<br />
* I am better equipped to be a voice when I know from experience what I
am talking about, and I have more authority and credibility when people know that I have been 'there'.<br />
* The foundation of all the above remains the idea Patrica King communicated
with the title of her book 'The Light Belongs in the Darkness'. My perspective changed the day I saw that book (didn't even need to read it!!!) and it has really affected how I live my life as a Christian.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-12442184881248641262014-01-20T14:23:00.000-08:002014-10-14T14:34:21.168-07:00Sophy's Visit<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y1kuxI4zExo/VD2WM-MNvzI/AAAAAAAACzg/RzjoPdP6CXI/s1600/1555512_10152190749943689_1247100892_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y1kuxI4zExo/VD2WM-MNvzI/AAAAAAAACzg/RzjoPdP6CXI/s1600/1555512_10152190749943689_1247100892_n.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a>Sophy Kann is the <span class="st">Operation Justice Director with XP Missions. I met her in 2012, and we have become good friends. It was a lovely surprise, last year, while in Cambodia, to hear that she had been invited to a wedding in England. We waited with bated breath to see if her visa application would be approved, and were delighted when it was. We then invited Sophy to spend the week after the wedding with our family in Hampshire. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">It was an amazing privilege to have her with us, and the things that happened during our short week together really warmed my heart. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">First, we were able to take her to meet the UK contingent of Kingdom Horse and some of the Horses for Orphans team. As I had told her a lot about our love for Brazil and Ingela's project there, it was wonderful to connect the pieces. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4rOdKE4vGmI/VD2WMvRpkTI/AAAAAAAACzk/dffyyZQ1nsA/s1600/1557713_10152197989033689_162173427_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4rOdKE4vGmI/VD2WMvRpkTI/AAAAAAAACzk/dffyyZQ1nsA/s1600/1557713_10152197989033689_162173427_n.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a><span class="st">Later in the week, our good friends from Brazil, the Santiagos, came to visit, and we had a culture day, during which Sophy taught the children about Cambodia, and prepared a Cambodian meal for us. (At least, it was similar to a Cambodian meal - Sophy was not happy because the ingredients were not correct. It is not easy, for example, to find fresh lemongrass in England!) Again, there was a wonderful sense of distances being breached and the world being made small. I love Brazil and I love Cambodia. Living in England, I am equally far away from both countries, and they, of course, are extremely far from each other. But God brought together representatives of all three countries, to sit together and talk and enjoy a meal and worship our God, the same God for us all. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st"></span><br />
<span class="st">Over the weekend, we met with good friends of ours who run a church in Swindon. They invited Sophy to share about XP Missions, and we ended up doing so together. Afterwards, they took up an offering for Sophy's work in Cambodia. Again, it was a special time, and who would have believed it possible, that she and I would get to share the beautiful stories of children rescued and restored - in an English context. </span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<span class="st">The final thing in a week of special things, was that I got to introduce Sophy to my precious Highland pony, Teri. I gave her a lesson in horsemanship and then she had a ride. Not long, because it was very cold in January, and Sophy was not used to our weather at all!</span>Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-43240012585417446572013-11-28T08:05:00.000-08:002014-11-07T03:07:36.647-08:00Sharing with Patricia King<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qu3rf4hQvBI/VFyn5I9cObI/AAAAAAAAC0M/5n9YzIY5I5o/s1600/580627_10152105981868689_1554532429_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qu3rf4hQvBI/VFyn5I9cObI/AAAAAAAAC0M/5n9YzIY5I5o/s1600/580627_10152105981868689_1554532429_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>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. <br />
<br />
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.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-35696507003827962262013-11-27T14:05:00.000-08:002014-10-14T14:07:04.549-07:00ConclusionsReflecting 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
What were the highlights for this particular trip?<br />
<br />
* 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.<br />
* 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.... <br />
* Re-connecting with my amazing and much-loved Khmer friends - Sambo, Rose, Sophi and Kim<br />
* Narith Chhoeum coming all the way from Palin to see me, and us all going out for supper together<br />
* Delicious food, especially the salad I had at 'Daughters of Cambodia''s restaurant, and my meal at the Khmer restaurant<br />
* Coconut!<br />
<br />
* 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.<br />
* Visiting the Killing Fields and S-21 prison; a difficult but important experience<br />
* Hearing Sambo's testimony<br />
* Visiting New Life church<br />
* Visiting 'Daughters of Cambodia's restaurant and shop and seeing something of this wonderful ministry at work.<br />
* 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!)<br />
* Hearing and receiving from long-term missionaries like Eric and Ginny Hansen, Steve and Molly, and Alice Collier<br />
* Our daily 'God Times'<br />
<br />
* Singing the Creation song with yet another group of Khmer children<br />
* 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.<br />
* Visiting with the elderly couple in the village where we washed feet<br />
* Seeing Johnnie and Esther in the Safe House and being with Lorraine when she bought and delivered their bikes<br />
<br />
So many precious things, treasures, collected in one short week. It is this that keeps on bringing me back to Cambodia. <br />
<br />Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-66415273261068501792013-11-24T22:30:00.000-08:002013-12-04T12:15:49.957-08:00Safe House and other Special Treats<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eotOTqgheGY/Up9-PTWktMI/AAAAAAAACuU/k0F2CnheeGk/s1600/_MG_8100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eotOTqgheGY/Up9-PTWktMI/AAAAAAAACuU/k0F2CnheeGk/s320/_MG_8100.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">I woke up with a sense of excitement at the thought of going to <a href="http://www.cambodiaoutreach.org/whatwedo" target="_blank">New Life Fellowship</a> 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.</span><br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jfdmYjMd2oI/Up97g1joGLI/AAAAAAAACuI/SlJaNYOy1wo/s1600/IMG_8329-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jfdmYjMd2oI/Up97g1joGLI/AAAAAAAACuI/SlJaNYOy1wo/s320/IMG_8329-2.JPG" width="320" /></a>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.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lum7gOxHa80/Up9_2P5W39I/AAAAAAAACuw/JLX05vO4qzI/s1600/IMG_8336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lum7gOxHa80/Up9_2P5W39I/AAAAAAAACuw/JLX05vO4qzI/s320/IMG_8336.JPG" width="240" /></a>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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hBEkX9dZEM/Up9-RLQfumI/AAAAAAAACuc/HDFGRSFh3p4/s1600/_MG_8048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hBEkX9dZEM/Up9-RLQfumI/AAAAAAAACuc/HDFGRSFh3p4/s320/_MG_8048.JPG" width="320" /></a> 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!<br />
<br />
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.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-86698478420908142942013-11-21T01:41:00.002-08:002013-11-22T08:26:08.097-08:00Washing FeetToday 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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YXc8n8lqK0E/Uo-ABHaNIqI/AAAAAAAACtY/sb2XETiLqvo/s1600/DSC00641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YXc8n8lqK0E/Uo-ABHaNIqI/AAAAAAAACtY/sb2XETiLqvo/s320/DSC00641.JPG" width="320" /></a>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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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We then went straight for lunch - at a Western restaurant. Cynthia was completely overwhelmed at the size of her sandwich!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Later that night Sambo contacted me with the sad news that Rigen's dad had in fact died.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-57323644116950695522013-11-20T22:50:00.000-08:002013-12-04T12:11:17.450-08:00Women's Ministry FocusThis morning Ginny Hanson came to speak to us about her life and work here in Phnom Penh. She and her husband Eric, run <a href="http://ihsionline.org/" target="_blank">In His Steps International</a>, an organisation that oversees various community projects and interventions in Cambodia. Ginny came to share with us about one of these, <a href="http://saksaum.com/" target="_blank">Sak Saum</a>. 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."<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3Bpmxf_vbEE/Up-CdqACrAI/AAAAAAAACu8/Rx8t_kYigWk/s1600/_MG_7545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3Bpmxf_vbEE/Up-CdqACrAI/AAAAAAAACu8/Rx8t_kYigWk/s320/_MG_7545.JPG" width="320" /></a>We went to one of <a href="http://daughtersofcambodia.org/" target="_blank">Daughters of Cambodia</a>'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 <a href="http://daughtersofcambodia.org/retail-and-service-business" target="_blank">retail and service businesses.</a><br />
<br />
'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.<br />
<br />
Upstairs in the same building is the <a href="http://phnompenhhouseofprayer.com/" target="_blank">Phnom Penh House of Prayer</a>.<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
I have complained about the inconvenience of having only one bathroom; these people have no bathroom.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e89tFOe_kIo/Up-GJ0IIeMI/AAAAAAAACvU/eb0C5e-f1ws/s1600/DSC00559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e89tFOe_kIo/Up-GJ0IIeMI/AAAAAAAACvU/eb0C5e-f1ws/s320/DSC00559.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hYLXcVjFJJ4/Up-GUVC6SSI/AAAAAAAACvc/muvT31Iu-QU/s1600/DSC00562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hYLXcVjFJJ4/Up-GUVC6SSI/AAAAAAAACvc/muvT31Iu-QU/s320/DSC00562.JPG" width="320" /></a>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!<br />
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<br />
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.<br />
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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...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BMtYCaUKc6o/Up-IVT_f-hI/AAAAAAAACvw/W5mIAWCIUCQ/s1600/_MG_7587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BMtYCaUKc6o/Up-IVT_f-hI/AAAAAAAACvw/W5mIAWCIUCQ/s320/_MG_7587.JPG" width="320" /></a>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!<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SnBdZwodb0I/Up-GWwT5amI/AAAAAAAACvk/h_fhjlFizhg/s1600/DSC00577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SnBdZwodb0I/Up-GWwT5amI/AAAAAAAACvk/h_fhjlFizhg/s320/DSC00577.JPG" width="320" /></a>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.<br />
<br />
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<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
Like Sak Saum...<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_882387892"></span><span id="goog_882387893"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/47534447" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/47534447">Sak Saum - Story Company Partner [Cambodia]</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/storycompany">Story Company</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-76660796693570735752013-11-19T08:04:00.000-08:002013-12-04T15:23:13.348-08:00Children's Ministry FocusToday we have had a great day.<br />
<br />
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:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Be my first thought, when I wake up...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Be my daydream, when I'm leaving...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>be my last thought, when I fall asleep...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I want to be Your sacred space</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I want to be a place where You can rest; where You don't have to strive with man...</i></div>
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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.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eY-4VPLLmv0/Uozex9_J1ZI/AAAAAAAACsk/rvIuntgFPDA/s1600/_MG_7245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eY-4VPLLmv0/Uozex9_J1ZI/AAAAAAAACsk/rvIuntgFPDA/s320/_MG_7245.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DQRrEcz5VRs/UozetKNuqWI/AAAAAAAACsc/XvYkxyNzdk0/s1600/_MG_7274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DQRrEcz5VRs/UozetKNuqWI/AAAAAAAACsc/XvYkxyNzdk0/s320/_MG_7274.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely Rose</td></tr>
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Before lunch we had some time to prepare for our <br />
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.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J41e0sPCBI0/UozezngtsvI/AAAAAAAACss/YWm-HAI-6_o/s1600/_MG_7317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J41e0sPCBI0/UozezngtsvI/AAAAAAAACss/YWm-HAI-6_o/s320/_MG_7317.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Creation Song</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fTLs2hPixVM/UoziK3G-jhI/AAAAAAAACtI/J4U2LOUK5mE/s1600/_MG_7329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fTLs2hPixVM/UoziK3G-jhI/AAAAAAAACtI/J4U2LOUK5mE/s320/_MG_7329.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George & Cynthia telling a story</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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'.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7P5By7LzdnI/Uoze-8jFLWI/AAAAAAAACs0/arWsaOZIaPg/s1600/_MG_7462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7P5By7LzdnI/Uoze-8jFLWI/AAAAAAAACs0/arWsaOZIaPg/s320/_MG_7462.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sambo, after the water fight</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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....<br />
<br />
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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-89669481293187515472013-11-18T22:30:00.000-08:002013-12-04T15:21:15.521-08:00The Killing FieldsI 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.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JdY1yjfFSUU/Up-odrf_93I/AAAAAAAACw4/o1wLXh_d4-o/s1600/2495aA-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JdY1yjfFSUU/Up-odrf_93I/AAAAAAAACw4/o1wLXh_d4-o/s320/2495aA-23.jpg" width="320" /></a>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Our first visit of the day was to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Choeung_Ek" target="_blank">Choeung Ek</a>, 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.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sBeQvZG_J40/Up-h4s_MYnI/AAAAAAAACwg/v8zcfUT0fQc/s1600/2495aA-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sBeQvZG_J40/Up-h4s_MYnI/AAAAAAAACwg/v8zcfUT0fQc/s320/2495aA-15.jpg" width="320" /></a>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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...'<br />
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My heart just broke, listening. What these people have endured....<br />
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It was really hard, going to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuol_Sleng_Genocide_Museum" target="_blank">Toul Sleng Detention Centre</a> (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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://www.insightguides.com/destinations/asia-pacific/cambodia/cultural-features/bon-om-tuk-water-festival" target="_blank">Bon Om Tuk</a> 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.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BLzEoAG0HU0/Up-z73s_r-I/AAAAAAAACxY/e7jFuMk6FIs/s1600/IMG_8168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BLzEoAG0HU0/Up-z73s_r-I/AAAAAAAACxY/e7jFuMk6FIs/s320/IMG_8168.JPG" width="240" /></a>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:<br />
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<i>The earth shall be filled</i></div>
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<i>with the knowledge of the glory</i></div>
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<i>of the Lord</i></div>
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<i>just as the waters </i></div>
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<i>cover the sea.</i></div>
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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. </div>
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Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-34255326715508736952013-11-17T22:00:00.000-08:002013-11-18T03:52:59.489-08:00Arrivals Part 2I 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...<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ehx6Mr4K2fs/Uonyl5176wI/AAAAAAAACsM/kgglI_8KPLs/s1600/2495aA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ehx6Mr4K2fs/Uonyl5176wI/AAAAAAAACsM/kgglI_8KPLs/s320/2495aA.jpg" width="320" /></a>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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sydney_Schanberg" target="_blank">Sydney Schanberg</a> and Cambodian <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dith_Pran" target="_blank">Dith Pran</a> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-53789125599576997762013-11-17T08:23:00.002-08:002013-11-18T02:49:59.096-08:00ArrivalsI 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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">'The Lord is my shepherd; </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">He leads me on</span></span></i><br />
<i><i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> Beside the still waters, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">He restores my soul </span></span></i></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Though I walk through the valleys, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I will not fear</span></span></i></div>
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<i><i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> I know You are with me, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I feel You here.</span></span></i></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I am safe in Your arms; </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">in Your arms</span></span></i></div>
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<i><i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The Lord is my shepherd t</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">hrough darkest night </span></span></i></i><i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span></span></i><br />
<i><i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Though evil surrounds me, You defend my life</span></span></i></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i>Goodness and mercy for all my days</i></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i>In the house of my God my heart will stay</i></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i>I am safe in Your arms, in Your arms</i></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i>And my heart overflows - forever I love You </i></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I love You...'</span></i></span></i></div>
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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.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ReQQ_ZLBWQ/Uojrvlox_SI/AAAAAAAACr0/odLN_zoefxk/s1600/IMG_8128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ReQQ_ZLBWQ/Uojrvlox_SI/AAAAAAAACr0/odLN_zoefxk/s320/IMG_8128.JPG" width="320" /></a>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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonl%C3%A9_Sap" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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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...<br />
<br />
<i style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.09375px;">"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: </span><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.09375px;">First They Killed My Father</span></span></i><br />
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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.<br />
<br />
Coming around a corner, I asked Andy if he knew of <a href="http://www.beat-richner.ch/" target="_blank">Dr Beat Richner</a>. 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?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DkQwh-NXMGw/UojsQ_v8YUI/AAAAAAAACr8/xTyvoko5ssQ/s1600/IMG_8142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DkQwh-NXMGw/UojsQ_v8YUI/AAAAAAAACr8/xTyvoko5ssQ/s320/IMG_8142.JPG" width="320" /></a>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!<br />
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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.<br />
<br />Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-67435307802492419482013-11-13T09:15:00.004-08:002013-11-13T09:20:40.039-08:00New OpportunitiesWell, 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.<br />
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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...'<br />
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Really God? Wow!<br />
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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.<br />
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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....<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dLvrgqX5x6Y/UoO0bp6witI/AAAAAAAACrY/P2CklkAGtnY/s1600/215px-The_Killing_Fields_film.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dLvrgqX5x6Y/UoO0bp6witI/AAAAAAAACrY/P2CklkAGtnY/s320/215px-The_Killing_Fields_film.jpg" width="214" /></a>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!<br />
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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.<br />
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Phnom Penh has been in my heart ever since. God uses everything.....Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-66956701458003908842012-11-23T06:45:00.001-08:002013-11-17T08:38:37.113-08:00Cambodia Trip - Wednesday, Day 10It was really hot today. As I emerged from my hotel, the heat hit
me in the face, and only the thought of the air-conditioning in Destiny Cafe stopped
me turning back again. I found myself feeling like I really ought to be doing
‘something’ on this, my last day in Cambodia for now.<br />
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Instead, I bought iced coffee and sat quietly, enjoying the
unexpected luxury of unallocated ‘free’ time. In fact, all three these days
have been like this; time, carved out of my busy life, in which to reflect and
write and think. Time to tidy my feelings and emotions and experiences, not
just for this last week in Cambodia, but also for the preceding ones in Brazil.
I have been so busy; there has been little time to reflect, and the days have
meshed into a hodge podge of pain and suffering and sorrow and loving and
laughter and joy. What a privilege it is to be human, and to touch hearts
across the barriers of language and culture. There truly is a universal
language, I am discovering. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So how do I feel, all these weeks of ‘missions’ and ‘outreach’
under my belt (such spiritual, noble-sounding words those). In actual fact, all
I have done is live. Fully, wholeheartedly, deeply engaged, the way –
increasingly this is my conclusion - we are supposed to live all of our time. Spending
time with people who live with all but the essentials stripped away, I have had
a chance to evaluate what matters most. Reaching out, touching, feeling,
sharing; it is relationship that makes life precious. Most of my friends would
concur with these high sentiments. But I have been able to live it in an
intensely focused way for a while. I have been privileged to meet with people
whose faces are now forever painted on my heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Alongside my thoughts and impressions of these few weeks, I
wrestle with the tragic and unbelievable news of the death of James Roberts, 3*
Parelli Instructor. I knew James, but not well. He was one of the many
satellites in my horsemanship circle. Did I say satellite? It is probably more
accurate to say ‘star’. Knowing he was there, hearing from friends who did
courses with him, seeing him at Parelli Celebrations – it was always in my mind
that ‘one day’, when I was ready, I would do an Experience Week with him. And
after conversations with my good friends Karen & Russell Barker, who had
done two of these weeks with James, I had decided that 2013 would be the year.
One of the things on my ‘To Do’ list for my return to the UK after this trip
was to book this Experience Week – hopefully along with another good NH friend,
Sue Rowe. This thought, in the back of my mind, was both challenging and exciting.
I was not sure I was ready for James yet, but I was aiming to be. And now this has
to be one of the dreams that dies. Like a child born far too soon, there is no
way to sustain it. Much as my deeper self argues with this fact and refuses to
accept it, there is no other option. Because James died on Sunday, in a car
accident. And none of us who saw his light can believe it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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James was a fine horseman, with tremendous courage, vision and
purpose. The few times I ever spoke to him, I found him generous with his
attention - thoughtful and kind. He gave me advice, way back when my daughter Kerrin
was just a young and dream-filled teenager, about how best to support her in
her pursuit of good horsemanship and the Parelli pathway. He offered for her to
come and work with him so that she could gain experience and insight. He also
offered free tuition for any of my children alongside me should I come on a
course. Sadly my hip problem meant that I did not take him up on his offer. But
I never forgot his generosity or his smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I first met him just after he had purchased his ‘Foundation
Station’, and it was wonderful to hear his ideas. Wonderful to walk around on
his property, and to feel the energy of the dream. Wonderful to watch, from a
distance, as he made those ideas reality. Wonderful to hear from so many, who
were encouraged and who found their horsemanship enhanced after time with him,
laying proper foundations in their horsemanship. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He was – is – inspirational. He demonstrated what can be done with
a big purpose and a little bit of time. I am so sad to find that I will never,
now, get to learn directly from his wisdom. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Which brings me back to my earlier thoughts about relationship.
Unfortunately we have no way of knowing how long we have with each other, when
next we will have that chance to say ‘Hey, I care about you!’ I am glad to have
had the chance to practise caring in extreme contexts these few weeks, and I
find myself going home with an even deeper resolve to live mindfully,
thoughtfully and lovingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Carpe Deum!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I sat chatting with Andrea and Brenda for a while, and then Paala
did my nails for me. This was wonderful, not just because it was the first time
that I have ever had nails long enough to be ‘done’, but also because they were
done by Paala. Paala is the lady, you may recall if you followed my blog about
the first trip to Poipet, who went to Patricia King and asked her for a ‘righteous
job’. Six months later it was my privilege to experience, first hand, the
effects of the training Paala had received as a result, training that has
opened up a new world for her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then it was time, if I wanted to feed street children one more
time, to head for the border. I had money from Elizabeth for this purpose. Parking
the truck at the roundabout, we found a couple of the children and asked them
if they were hungry. Within a short time we had a crowd of enthusiastic
children, and we headed for a street vendor who was soon busy cooking noodles
for them. A mother came over with her small child who was hot and feverish; we
prayed for him and commiserated with her in language without words. She too
joined the growing group of people waiting for food. And then two old ladies
joined us, indicating that they too were hungry. They were absurdly grateful
when we said ok, we would get noodles for them too. Our street vendor was kept
very busy, cooking; including the old ladies we fed 15. Fifteen people with
food in their tummies for today. Total cost? 440 Thai Baht, or £8.99.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then there was time to hug the children and to try to explain to
them that I was leaving to go away on an aeroplane. (Miming up, up, up in the
sky). It took a while, but suddenly they understood, and I was surrounded by
hugging bodies and smiling faces saying ‘Aw Khun’ (Thank you) and ‘Lea Hai’
(Goodbye). Tears threatened to overwhelm me as I gave a few last hugs and then
I said ‘Goodbye’ to Andrea and headed for the Cambodia border office. Passport stamped
I headed past the Casinos towards the Thai border office. Here there was a very
long queue and it was more than an hour before I was finally on my way. By now
I had met up with the Cambodian representative of my taxi service, and he accompanied
me to the parking area on the Thai side of the border. Here we waited for my
driver to arrive. He said that he had noticed me feeding the children, and he
asked what I was doing in Poipet. I shared that I came because I loved the
children and wanted to help them... at which point he bowed and formally
thanked me for caring about the children of Cambodia. The innate courtesy of
these people is very moving.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The driver was late, and we were kept waiting for a while,
wondering what had happened to delay him. It was a surprise to find that I had
the same driver who had brought me to Poipet, 10 days before. He greeted me
like an old friend, and it was with a lot of warmth that we prepared to set off
on the long drive towards Bangkok. Unfortunately he did not speak much English,
so our communications were limited to smiles and gestures. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Just as we were about to leave a young woman had arrived – it turned
out that she had hoped to catch a bus to Bangkok, but she had missed the last
bus of the day. She was in an awkward position, as she had already crossed the
border, and it would be difficult for her to go back. And there was no sign of
anywhere to stay for the night where we were. I offered for her to travel with
us, at which point she almost cried, saying that she had been praying and
praying for help. I then said that maybe this was exactly why we had been
delayed; that God had known she was coming, even though we didn’t. She turned
out to be from the Phillipines, and she had had a holiday, travelling from
Vietnam, across Cambodia to Thailand. She was now on her way home. It was good
to have company in the car, and we chatted for a while until she fell asleep.
The drive to Bangkok takes about 3 hours, and it felt very long in the
darkness. <o:p></o:p></div>
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At my hotel I tumbled thankfully into my bed, too tired even to
eat. Besides which, I had spent the last of my Thai Baht on the street
children, forgetting that I might need something to eat myself when I arrived in
Bangkok!<span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8430782599049645092.post-50607645749790915652012-11-23T06:44:00.001-08:002013-11-17T08:40:49.543-08:00Cambodia Trip - Tuesday, Day 9I have just spent an hour with Sam*. And with this hour I have
come full circle. It was the story of Sam that first opened up my heart to
the possibility of coming to Cambodia. Late one night, I had sat, horrified,
tears pouring down my cheeks as I watched the video clip XP released of the
rescue of this severely abused and traumatised
child. And short months later I was in the conference in Devon when
Patricia King spoke about what she had seen and experienced in Poipet, Cambodia.
When she asked who would like to help. I was one of those who stood to my feet,
and later I went to ask her about coming on an outreach week with Operation
Justice – which I ended up doing just months later. But I did not meet Sam.
I did not expect to meet him, knowing that he was in need of special care and
that he was under the protection of social workers and XP.<br />
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Last night I mentioned in passing how it is that one event can
trigger a response and a whole new direction. Andrea then said she would
enquire as to whether I could have a bit of time to meet this child whose story
had determined so much of what my year has been about. And so this morning,
while she had a meeting to discuss some of his future care arrangements, I got
to play Lego with Sam. He must have wondered why this funny English woman
had such a huge and perpetual grin on her face! He spent quite a bit of time
trying to rub a freckle off my arm; he seemed pretty sure that it was a dirty
mark! I built a house out of Lego for him, but he was much more interested in
building towers. I made some stairs for his tower, and that idea met with his
approval. And he especially appreciated the small container of bubbles I gave
him – but he wouldn’t blow them, or let me or anyone else blow them either! And
when he had had enough of my company, he pushed me away and hid under the
table. I spent time with some of the other children, and every time I looked in
his direction, he smiled but motioned me away. Later the school children came
over and asked if I was his teacher. I said that I was Sam’s friend. Which I
am.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I then went along to have cake in honour of XP staff member Betty
who was leaving today. Five of us went along on the trip to take Betty to Siem
Reap airport – me, Andrea, Zoe, Gunther and Brenda. It was good to have time to
relax and to experience ‘normal’ life. It has also been good to meet other NGO
volunteers involved with different projects. There are some amazing people
here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The drive to Siem Reap takes about 2 ½ hours and there is a lot to
see along the way. Right now Cambodia is a rich green, after the rainy season
and with the rice ready for harvest. All along the way there were tarpaulins
spread out and rice drying in the sun. Rice was also being harvested and there
was a lot of activity in the fields. Cattle and water buffalo were everywhere,
as were the dogs. At one point we even saw a large snake wiggling across the
road. Surprisingly, one seldom sees animals killed by cars. In this society
where only the strong survive, do they just have more road sense than our
Western animals?<o:p></o:p></div>
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The countryside is very beautiful at this time of year. I enjoy
drawing in all the scenery, the way the houses blend into and enhance their
environment – beautifully shaped red roofs are particularly lovely. I found
myself hoping that one of these days, there would be opportunity to explore
Cambodia more. I realise again that Poipet is part of Cambodia, but that there
is so much more than what I know right now. I would like to see Phnom Penh, and
Sihanoukville, and the Tonle Sap and the mountains and, and, and... I would
enjoy to have time and opportunity to take some really good photographs to add
to the hasty, ‘on the run’ snapshots I have of this beautiful country and these
beautiful people. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In Siem Reap we had supper (I had rice and chicken cooked in
coconut and Khmer spices – delicious!) Brenda had definite ideas about our
activities for the evening, so we called her ‘Agenda Brenda’ and obediently
went along with her plans. These included ice cream, and a foot massage, and
shopping at the night market. We had fun! Later we took Betty to the airport
and then set off on the long drive back to Poipet. We were grateful for Gunther’s
driving skills; he got us safely back to the hotel by midnight. <span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
* <span style="font-size: x-small;">Name changed to protect privacy</span></div>
Cathy Koetsierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05490602811230934114noreply@blogger.com0