Love from Cambodia

So sorry I have been this remiss in posting anything about our trip . . . I've been playing serious Mommy catch-up. But, thanks to a little nudging from a friend, I sat down last night and wrote out a monster email to friends & family members who were involved in the most special part of our trip: a visit/mini-humanitarian project with an orphanage in Cambodia.

When we were originally planning on visiting Angkor Wat in Cambodia, we quickly realized that we would need an English-speaking guide and started doing our research on locating one. After looking for a while, we found one that came recommended. His name is Ratanak Eath (for any of you out there who are interested in using his fabulous services).

In online correspondence Ratanak had previously asked us whether or not we'd be interested in visiting an orphanage while we were there to see Angkor Wat. Of course we answered emphatically "yes" and then recommended him to some friends (J&J)who would be going to Cambodia just a week before us, and who would also likely be very interested in something like that. When J&J returned from their trip they immediately called us to update us on the conditions there at the orphanage, and to organize/gather items and funds to assist the children there. Immediately this project took on a life of its own, and within just a handful of days we were ready to fly to Cambodia packed to the hilt.

To give you an idea of everything that took place, feel free to read the letter I sent out to the parties involved:

Dear Friends and Family,

Since returning home from Asia this week, Pearly-Q and I wanted to write all of you who contributed to the wonderful experience we had in Cambodia. As all of you know, J&J visited Siem Reap, Cambodia last month and visited the PACDOC orphanage there. Upon seeing all the dire need amongst those children, they returned with a helpful report about what was needed in addition to what we’d already planned on taking with us when we would visit just a week later. This gave us just days to collect all these items before we left for Cambodia.

Thanks to J&J and to all the generous individuals here that also heard about the needs of these orphans, we were able to collect used toys & clothes, new underwear, toothbrushes, educational supplies/kits, and money for school uniforms in order to enable the children to attend the public schools there locally. With all these items tightly packed for the trip, we headed off for Cambodia on February 22nd.

Upon our first full day there in the country, our guide, Ratanak (the same one who helped J&J) took us to the orphanage to assess the needs. At first we were confused because it did not look like the same building that our friends had showed us in the photographs. Ratanak explained to us, however, that the two orphanages are in different neighborhoods but share resources and are run by the same man, Toun Boran. (Please see their new website for more information about him and the work they are doing there: http://www.pacdoc.org/ I think there are even some pictures of Pearly-Q and me on there).

Ratanak and Toun Boran

We loved our welcome here, as the children lined up in orderly rows to greet us, girls on one side and boys on the other. Their beautiful smiles were contagious as they kept shouting out “hello, hello!”, making us that much more eager to share the items we had brought. Before meeting with the children, however, the orphanage director took great care to give us a tour of this fairly large facility. Besides the typical sleeping quarters and kitchen, the grounds held a sort of gathering area/schoolhouse which contained all sorts of posters/pictures with English words. (Because of Angkor Wat and the increased tourist industry there, being able to speak English is an important skill for any Cambodian to get a decent job.) Toun Boran also showed us that they had built another small area with a computer keyboard to teach the children basic computer skills, as well as foot-propelled sewing machines where they could learn how to sew. (Boran had previously been a tailor by trade). In addition to these useful skills, the children have learned how to weave hammocks, something virtually every Cambodian sleeps in at night. They also had a large garden at the back, along with some chickens, ducks and two pigs. To be honest, the entire operation was extremely impressive since it was easy to see that this man was truly seeking to assist these children in becoming more self-reliant.

After discussing with Toun Boran more of the needs of the orphanage (i.e. uniforms, food, etc.) all the children piled into their schoolhouse, and watched us expectantly as we pulled some of the toys, toothbrushes, school supplies, and underwear for each of the children, taking care to reserve part of the items for the children in the second orphanage that we would visit later that day. We especially enjoyed this as we pulled out all the toys our four kids had previously cleared out of their own playroom with the intent of sharing it with these very children. Items I had before seen played with and then abandoned by my own kiddos were now embraced with such gleeful excitement, I felt like Santa Claus. The sound was deafening, and I couldn’t believe the joy the just even one matchbox car could bring. Who knew?

After saying goodbye to the beautiful children there, we moved on the second orphanage where the children that J&J had previously seen, live. I could NOT BELIEVE how hot their little shack was! Cambodia at this time of year is in the mid-90’s with almost 100% humidity. Add to that a tin roof that attracts the sun, without a smidgen of greenery around it to cool things down, and you get the picture. These poor little kids were literally dripping with sweat.

We quickly pulled out photographs that the J&J had taken on their previous visit and had developed for the kids to have pictures of themselves. As the children gathered there to receive them, however, we quickly realized things were a bit different than we’d expected. Some of the children in the photographs were either in the first orphanage, or not there at all, and most of the children who gathered in there actually were not actually part of the orphanage. Located in a destitute area, the orphanage also assists many other children from the neighborhood, many of whom would not have the opportunity to eat otherwise. This made things tricky, as we had only held onto enough items for the 18 orphans that J&J had previously met with. Because we knew by this point that toys were particularly such a hot commodity and there was now a real limited supply, we had to ask the teachers to separate out the neighborhood children from the actual orphans so that we could distribute things out without things getting out of hand.

As predicted, quite a few of the children were completely naked, and so we were happy to pass out what underwear we could. However, because of the lack of adequate nutrition in that country very few of the children actually fit even the small sizes of underwear or secondhand clothing we had bought with us. We realized we would need to purchase some for the little boys in the local market in Siem Reap. Passing out the toys was again crazy, but we were especially grateful for all the toothbrushes that had been sent as it allowed us to pass out something to all the neighborhood children (30+) gathering at the doorway.

At the end of this day, Pearly-Q and I carefully discussed what needed to happen with the funds that had been sent with us. We felt an important stewardship to make sure that the funds were wisely used. We prayed about how to do this most effectively. Some of the needs were different than we had previously expected. More of the orphans had uniforms than we had thought, although Toun Boran said that they would need uniforms for the next year. He also said that their most pressing need right now was actually rice. For 60+ orphans they were almost completely out of food. Beyond that, we also felt that we wanted to leave them with something that would make more of a long-term difference. We considered whether or not some livestock would be helpful by producing more food--especially protein-- for the children. From what Ratanak explained, ducks actually produce more eggs than chickens and are therefore quite beneficial. So, ducks made the list.

To make what is already a long story shorter, (I apologize if this is already boring you to death), we ended up purchasing the following items:
- Eleven 50-kilo bags of rice
- Roughly 40 school uniforms
- Mosquito nets
- Toothpaste
- Underwear for very small children
- And yes, 30 ducks. (You should have seen Pearly-Q trying to catch these himself. It was a riot!) Within 3 months, these should produce 200-300 eggs per month, and should also generate more ducks in the future.

Buying Rice in a local market with Ratanak

At the orphanage with uniforms and rice

My new friend Chantra. Doesn't she radiate goodness?

This little guy could not get enough of Pearly-Q. He was so darling.

Uniforms!

New underwear.

We cannot thank all of you enough for your kind generosity. Watching this process unfold within just a few days was miraculous on so many different levels. Not only did people pour out of the woodwork to help, but our funds were stretched in unexpected ways, such as the airlines surprisingly finding ways to save on our very overweight and extra luggage. (By the way, for those of you who provided all the extra toothbrushes, larger clothing and underwear—your items did not go to waste. We found a very small, yet poor village with adults who were thrilled to receive these things. With such small people, most of the grown men fit comfortably in the Size 12 underwear, and it looked like most of them had never had access to a toothbrush).


The people from this little vilaage were so gracious. After we'd passed out our gifts, they presented us with several handwrapped containers of palm sugar they had made themselves--one of their only sources of income.

Yay for Hanes.

This little lady laughed at me when I offered her a toothbrush. "What for?" she asked.

Between this, the food, the uniforms, and other items, we would have been at an absolute loss without Ratanak’s help. He went above and beyond the call of duty to assist us in securing all these things. I can’t imagine of what he thought of these strange American tourists who expected him to help us secure almost 40 uniforms within just two days. I truly hope that he is blessed for his goodness to us.

Most of all, we were most deeply touched by the hand children played in the giving. We literally had dollar bills straight from the piggy banks of children carried over with us to purchase items for these kids. Pearly-Q's 10-year-old niece, MeLisa single-handedly put together 20 educational kits complete with handsewn bags and items purchased from the money she had saved up from her lemonade stand from two whole summers. The most touching moment for me personally was explaining to these children that there were other children their age in America who cared for them, and had done this for them. I wanted them to understand this and to know that someday, when they had the means and the ability, they would also have the opportunity to give to someone else meaningfully. I wanted them to know that one day they could make a difference. Seeing their faces when we explained this was priceless.

Enjoying MeLisa's bag.

"Thank you, MeLisa."

To end this discourse, I thought I’d type up a copy of the letter that Ratanak and the orphanage director gave us upon dropping us off at the airport in Cambodia. (Keep in mind it’s copied verbatim):

Angkor, Siem Reap, Cambodia

Dear Pearly-Q & Curly, [Yes, I've changed names for the blog version]

We are so happy to meet you in Cambodia and would like to say thanks to you and your family and friends whom trying to help Cambodians especially orphans.

Cambodia is a country of warm smile after so many years suffering in war. We try to show our smile and happy with all of you in order to have a brighter future. We strongly believe that your stay with us unforgettable experience and safe to travel back home.

Thanks again for sharing your proterty, strength, and other efforts to encourage the young generation in positive future. We appreciate all your helps. We hope to meet you again one day in Cambodia.

Best regards,

Ratanak and Boran
Love from Cambodia

I'm Back!

So I don't know if there is really anybody who actually reads this blog regularly other than my beloved husband. But, for those of you who may and have wondered where I've disappeared to, Pearly-Q and I just got home from a two-week trip to Cambodia, Hong Kong, and Vietnam.

The opportunity for this adventure really came out of nowhere, and though leaving a baby so young was not my ideal, it was hard to pass up since it included seeing Angkor Wat in Cambodia. For those of you who are not familiar with Angkor Wat, the ancient temples there essentially qualify as the pyramids of Southeast Asia. One of the temples in particular is actually the largest religious complex in the world, and is still used today by many for religious pilgrimage and worship. The square area of the temples at large surpasses 35 square miles. . . Pretty impressive stuff, and Pearly-Q and I have wanted to see it for years. We figured the fulfillment of this dream would be a fitting celebration for our 10-year anniversary.

In the next few days I will definitely post more about our adventures we had over there. Interestingly enough, I would say our biggest highlight of the trip was not necessarily Angkor Wat, but rather some experiences we had at a couple of orphanages over there. I'm still relishing in the memory as I write this.

In the meantime, I am thrilled to be back home with my kids. Though I'm still readjusting to what's it's like to juggle everyone's needs & schedules, plan & execute meals and cleanup, and do laundry, I am so happy to be able to hold each of my kiddos again, and drink in my baby as much as possible.

It Was Just Snow

February in the Intermountain West can prove exasperating. Two months past the Christmas season, the general population is anxious for spring to appear since the once-celebrated snow now appears worn and melancholy. Winter this year has made this especially so. Normally a fluffy drift doesn’t feel so frustrating, but lately the moisture has been fickle and infrequent, thus making the wintry chill dull—monotonous even.

Today the afternoon held a welcomed surprise. Much to my satisfaction, a beautiful downy snow began right before our hallowed napping hour, and its deafening quiet perfectly matched the calm in our home. Before long baby Coco stirred, eager for her afternoon feeding. I tiptoed into my room to feed her at my rocking chair adjacent to our French doors which overlook the backyard and the open golf course behind it. As I answered Coco’s hunger I smiled to listen to her tiny gulps, and glanced up at the tranquil scene outside the window. Large and irregular, the downy flakes meandered down gently, and reminded me of pieces of colorless cotton candy.

I paused to consider the wisdom in the snow. None of these flakes seemed to be in a hurry. Dancing to and fro, they ease their way downward, obviously enjoying their happy flight. It made them more beautiful, and I wondered if I could learn something about their approach. It seems that in the past I allowed myself to get sucked into the worldly notion that faster is always better. That philosophy asserts that if we don’t all join the rat race of doing more—more—more in less—less time then somehow we’ve failed. Truth is, it ain’t necessarily so.

Going to law school taught me that lesson. The culture surrounding that industry can be acquisitive and cutthroat. More often than not, attorneys enter the trade anxious with ambitious aspirations, only to find that it affords them little time with their families and if they haven’t daringly fought to protect their personal interests they invariably burn out, wishing for the luxuries of a “slower” profession. Though it took me a long time to detox from that philosophy, I can say I now enjoy the unhurried splendor of some of these quieter moments in my mothering.

As I continued to glance at the snowfall I smiled again and wondered whether or not what they say about no two snowflakes being the same is really true. As thousands of them streamed from the alabaster sky, I questioned whether or not it was really possible that none of them could ever emerge identically. . . So many, and each unique . . .

In that moment, I could help but think that we somehow resemble snowflakes. “God sees us this way,” I thought. We all descend on this earth with our own distinctive blueprint, lovely and picturesque in our own right, hoping to be recognized and loved as such. Looking down at my sweet baby I realized all too easily how obvious it is that a parent can differentiate between all the unique traits of each child, every one with his/her own design and pattern.

I closed my eyes and savored the moment in drowsy silence. With Ansel Adams stillness, I stood in awe of my Creator and my worth in His eyes . . . and for the first time this season, I thanked Him for Winter.

My littlest snowflake:

Post-Valentines Delirium

So I have been horribly remiss in being consistent on posting much. . . Which completely defies the entire reason why I started this blog in the first place. Turns out, though I used to pride myself on being a “self starter” (whatever that means) in reality I desperately need deadlines, and without them I particularly fail at recording anything of note about my life. I guess I should just chalk it up as another epiphany of motherhood as I discover more shortcomings I never knew I had. Oh well. I know it definitely won’t be the last time, right?

As far as deadlines go, however, turns out I missed another one this weekend: Valentines Day.

Growing up in my house we always received a Valentine from my mother next to our pillow, along with a small gift when we woke up Valentines morning. In it my mother always expressed her sincere love for us, (whether we really deserved it or not). Since becoming a mother, I’ve tried to keep up and expand the tradition, partially as a way make up for my lack of journaling about my kids. In addition to surprising them with a small gift next to their pillow, each year Pearly-Q and I stay up in the wee hours of the morning the night before V-day and write each of our kids a “love” letter of sorts. In it we share our favorite memories of each child from that year, as well as a snapshot of what they are doing in their lives at that particular moment.

It’s a lot of work and at this point our kids are so small they don’t seem to appreciate this effort yet, but we file the letters away realizing that the real enjoyment will come later when they’ve grown and can read about themselves and what they meant to us.

Sadly enough, we missed even our one annual deadline this year. In trying to get ready to celebrate two birthdays at our house, and prepping for other vacation plans, it simply got past us. We’ll try and get the letters done this weekend, but honestly . . . it’s pretty sad. I suppose I should feel better about the fact that I am blogging at this point. Then again, like I said, I haven’t been so consistent in that department either.

Does anyone else struggle with the desire to record/journal the lives of your children better, but just can’t seem to get there? I feel like my life with them is slipping by so quickly, and my memory of it is so fleeting sometimes. I fear that one day I’ll look back and wonder if I can remember any of it, if I was even there . . . I’m sure it sounds a bit melodramatic, but I get concerned sometimes when I repeatedly walk into a room, wondering why I just came in there. Is it the childbirth that does this? The constant keeping track of kids’ different schedules? The aging? I seriously want to know, b/c sometimes this momnesia thing is downright creepy. . . I promise I used to be smart once.

On a brighter note, though my intellectual capacities seem to be challenged, lately I’ve had some wonderful spiritual breakthroughs in my life that have brought me a lot of solace and joy. I plan to share more about it at some point when I can actually collect my thoughts in a more coherent manner and figure out what is appropriate to share. In the meantime, it is wonderful to know that despite my deficiencies as a mother, I am still cherished by a loving Heavenly Father who knows me individually. It is truly what provides me peace.

Now for a few non-traditional V-day photos:

I came out of my room after feeding the baby to discover the natives like this. They informed me they were "exercising."

Nothing makes my heart swoon like watching a good man care for his baby.

Old Ladies

Not too long ago our family sat down to a typical dinner—especially typical because I kept pleading with my children to eat what was in front of them. Apparently fed up with this, Bitty stood up in his chair, and emphatically pointed his finger in my direction, “You eat your dinner, OLD LADY!”

Pearly-Q and I completely broke into peals of laughter. Where a child at that age had come up with age as an insult to his mother, I’ll never know. Thankfully, it didn’t bother me, and I have since smirked with silent delight whenever I hear the phrase. As a result, whenever I have gone to spend time with my book club I always tell my kids with tongue-in-cheek amusement that I’m going to spend time with “the old ladies.” That way, I figure they won’t realize they’re missing out on anything. The real truth of the matter is, if they had any idea how much fun I have with these women, my kids would beg to accompany me each time.

This last weekend was a perfect example of this phenomenon. For just a few choice days, my book club got together for our 2nd annual retreat, complete with lots of time in the car, sharing music, pampering at the spa, eating good food, recharging emotional batteries, walking, watching movies, laughing, and dancing like what else?—“old ladies,” of course.

Truth is—the time I spend with these women can be magical. Though each of us is so unique and different, we share the common joy of celebrating each others’ triumphs while also mourning each others’ losses. Whether it is weathering the storms of ill health, the challenge of caring for aging parents, difficult marriages/children, miscarriage, infertility, financial frustrations, or just rejoicing in new life, new opportunities, or other healing, we are there for one another. We realize that when one of us is down, there is another to strengthen us—all the time realizing that one day the direction of need may be reversed. This is friendship at its best—a place where appearances, social standing, or material wealth mean nothing, but where character and love mean everything.

At our last breakfast together, a member of the book club said a prayer with something that astonished all of us. She asked that we may “always breathe deeply, laugh loudly, and love eternally.” Astounded by the wisdom of that simple phrase (spoken by an English teacher, of course), I ran to write down her words. I recorded them because I felt it embodied much of what I’d basked in for those few days—the joy of feeling love from so many women that I’ve come to respect.

Women need each other, and when other distractions from the world’s expectations of us don’t get in the way, we can really get down to business and become the people God expects us to be. It’s the perspective that all too often doesn’t come until later in life . . . which means, being called an “old lady” ain’t so bad after all.

Belle of the Ball

Mornings at our house are full of entertainment. As the baby awakes bright and early at 6:30 a.m. we can already hear the kids playing together upstairs, awaiting us to catch up with them. After Coco is done eating and starting her morning coos (we discovered more dimples this morning, BTW), her older siblings amble in one by one and eventually surround their little sister on our bed. Surrounding their favorite nucleus, they gleefully hover over her with electric excitement.

Fortunately Coco’s neck is pretty strong, and allows for her to look back and forth, back and forth, as each sibling competes for her adoration and well-earned grin. Meanwhile, she holds the finger of one of them in each hand and basks in all the attention. I mean, who could resist?

Lately this whole scene has been accompanied by its own soundtrack. Sassy loves to sing (in her sweetest little voice replete with cracking), “I love you baby, I love you baby, I love you baa—bee soo much!”

Meanwhile, the Big-O croons, “Hello baby, hello baby. We love you sooo—“

Bitty’s version repeats, “I love you, baby. You’re so cute—baby, baby, baby, ohhh!”

Sometimes all these tunes are delivered simultaneously, which at first might seem overwhelming for a newborn. Gleefully however, Coco identifies with the happy noise. After all, it symbolizes all the sweetest cacophony of childhood.

God's Pencil

For I was hungred and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
-- St. Matthew 25:35-36, 40

Today I feel restless. Incredibly restless. And I feel the need to talk about why.

I know that many of you probably feel like you’ve reached your threshold in hearing about the tragedy in Haiti. . . It’s tough, tough stuff.

For those of you who don’t know me as well, I have a bit of history with the place. During my last year in law school I actually volunteered for a nonprofit that had built an orphanage there, and was assisting them in trying to streamline adoption procedures, as well as begin efforts to possibly build an orphanage and/or facilitate adoptions in China. During this time, Pearly-Q and I were childless and infertile. Not knowing what to do, we thought we would prepare to adopt from either Haiti or China. Subsequently, I was scheduled to fly to Port-au-Prince in order to meet with some of their adoption officials, as well as visit the foundation’s orphanage. Unfortunately, because of civil unrest (practically a way of life for the Haitians), we had to cancel the trip 24 hrs ahead of time.

This devastated me. After years of wanting a baby, I sat in church and wept, knowing that at that moment I could have been in the Haitian orphanage, feeling out whether or not I felt a real connection with any of those children. I knew that if I did, I would then begin down the path to desired motherhood. At that moment I offered one of the most intense, anguished prayers of my life, and pled for the opportunity to be a mother. Little did I know that that very night the Big-O would be born, and that awaiting me within just a day or two I would experience the greatest miracle of my life—when someone would approach me about a beautiful baby boy, and would I be interested . . .? But, that is a different story for a different day.

The point is, I care deeply for the Haitians and their heartbreak. Long before this earthquake hit it was already considered the 2nd poorest nation in the world (Afghanistan being the poorest). So, when I heard about the quake in Port-au-Prince, I shook my head in shocked disbelief—of all the places! It is simply too much to bear.

Since then, Pearly-Q and I have known that we wanted to donate—but where? Having worked with a nonprofit long enough taught me the importance of making sure your dollars go places where they’ll actually make a difference. Not every nonprofit is created equally, and not all their contacts on the ground are reliable—especially in Haiti. The corruption there would make the heads of the Italian mafia spin, and as a result I felt some reserve in giving just any ol’ place. Pearly-Q's company offered to match donations made to the Red Cross, which is awesome. But, I still, for whatever reason felt resistance or difficulty in making the donation there. I didn’t know why, and I had started to feel badly about it.

“Have I become totally callous to the needs of others?” I thought this morning. “Have I forgotten what I have been incredibly blessed with, and have become stingy unfeeling? What is wrong with me, Heavenly Father?”

Then, I got my answer, and it makes me cry to think about it now.

When I went to pick up the Sass from dance class, I noticed people dropping off boxes at a neighboring business, full of all sorts of odd and ends medical supplies and clothing. And then I saw the sign: Healing Hands for Haiti. In all my previous research and work with Haiti, I had heard about this organization before. They provide physical medical help and rehabilitation assistance there in the capital, particularly for those who are disabled. Curious, I went in to ask specifically what was going on with the donations, what the needs were, and how I could help.

Apparently the large medical facility run by Healing Hands, completely collapsed with the earthquake. As a result, the group has been unable to function. Fortunately, the group that I ran into this morning, (the Utah Hospital Task Force), was gathering medical supplies and other items to put on a chartered plane to Port-au-Prince tomorrow, along with 50 construction personnel, 50 doctors, as well as other nurses and medical staff. They will be there for a month while they work to completely rebuild the hospital and get Healing Hands of Haiti back up and running.

Now, if you’re wondering whether or not this is a major need right now in Haiti, read this article off of today’s CNN. It will blow your mind to think of what the Haitians are medically facing right now, and how ill-equipped many of these doctors are who are trying to go down there to help. The need for a decent facility in addition to the medical staff cannot be overestimated. Providentially, in this case the group organizing this effort is incredibly well prepared, and have reliable contacts on the ground with whom they are closely working with . . .

Let’s just say that I found where our money needs to go, and I am once again overwhelmed by God’s awareness of our desires and needs, as well as His ability to communicate that when we sincerely ask. Being led in this way feels beautiful, and it reminds me of something Mother Teresa was known to say:

I am God's pencil. A tiny bit of pencil with which He writes what He likes. God writes through us, and however imperfect instruments we may be, He writes beautifully.

I would never presume to put myself up there with Mother Teresa. The woman was distinguished as a saint for good reason. But, today I can identify with her sentiment. There is nothing more exhilarating that being led by God. The times I have felt that in my life have been the times I have been the most serenely happy. And though right now I come nowhere close to being able to act as His pencil, I hope that perhaps I could at least work as a thumbtack. That would be good enough for me.


Note: For those of you who might be interested in donating to this project, you can do so online, and the gov't will allow you to do so and deduct it off of your 2009 tax return. If you choose to do so, make sure that you follow the directions outlined on the Utah Hospital Task Force website in designating that it goes to their particular group. You'll see what I'm talking about when you get on there. It's an extremely worthy place to send your aid. All donations will go to cover the expenses of the chartered plane, the rebuilding of the medical facility, and basic food/water needs of the volunteers--just what is required to keep this massive project moving forward.