Fear of Flooding

Last week one of my friends had a dream. In his vision, the sky was falling around him in a deluge of wind, rain and fury. He dreamt that he cried out to his ancestral gods to save him... but to no avail. Then he cried out to Jesus. Calm was restored. He told us about the dream, slightly embarrassed that his first instinct was to call out to false gods. However, his confident testimony was that Jesus is still King over every calamity.

I'm freaking out over the possibility of flooding this year. There are public holidays next week and our office is closing from Monday to Friday. I want to get away. I need a break. Everything in me is craving time out to do anything but think about work. That's why I fear flooding.

Floods are overwhelming. Yup. Flooding means that I have to walk downstairs to a river running through our office. Flooding means every kind of work we had planned to do gets cancelled. It means that I'm forced to think about the other 100 000 people in this city and how they are trying to handle life in the mud. I feel like I have no idea how to respond. I don't like the switch from sport, education, development to having to think about emergency relief. It's stressful. I know that Jesus is bigger than any disaster. I also hope that this belief isn't tested in the next couple of weeks.

shout out to Plunge in Oz

Plunge 2011 have said goodbye to Cambodia! (Yeah, I wish I could have jumped on the plane with them, even just for a long weekend in Sydney.)

Plunge have been such a positive, flexible, encouraging group. You get the vibe from this one summary sentence on their team blog, "Wow, what a life-changing, life-giving and all-together beautiful two and a half weeks we've had together." If you want to read more about their trip, go here.

Thank you Plunge.

Bridge Jumping

Cate and I had a day off in Siem Reap yesterday. I had hopes of long runs around the temples but many parts of the city were underwater so that wasn't an option.

We spent a couple of cautious hours poking around the market area in the morning, sitting at sidewalk cafes and buying snacks from the vendors. By the early afternoon, the sun had broken through and we found ourselves at the river. It was crazy! The river had burst it's banks and flooded half the city. Teenagers jumped from the bridge into the dirty water, swimming across the current to the shore again. Tourists took photos and kept dry.

Cate and I watched the fun for a few minutes before I broached the subject, "Do you want to jump?" She said yes. We dumped our stuff at our downtown guesthouse, walking back barefoot. We avoided the police who were patrolling the bridge, stood on the top of the central pillar, counted to three and leapt into the murky flow! So great to play like a kid again!

Siem Reap

Stories like these...

One day a young woman walks into the village carrying her seven-month-old son. She has a small bag with a spare shirt, a phone and a few notes worth about nine dollars.

First she finds a place to live. She moves into a tiny, one-room, thatched-roof, low-to-the ground shelter made from bamboo, rubber and thatched leaves. It's almost like camping. But there are no roasted marshmallows at night. There's no sizzling bacon in the pan for breakfast or packing up the car or driving home to a hot shower, soft bed and an alarm set for an early start to beat the Monday morning traffic.

The woman is hungry. She sells her phone for eleven dollars to buy food: rice, oil, salt, eggs, garlic, soy sauce, fish.

Some women in the village notice her arrival. They talk with her and feel compassion. To her surprise, they visit with cooking pots, coals for the fire, bowls, spoons, forks, a light cotton blanket and clothing. She wonders why they show her such kindness and they tell her about Jesus.

Some men in the village also notice her arrival. They see poverty and desperation; loneliness and need. They see an opportunity. Some think, "Maybe she has a trade that requires very little in terms of start-up costs? Perhaps this woman has something she is willing to sell?" A few men make suggestions but she refuses their advances. Still, the question lingers in the village like smoke from the evening fires, "Maybe she does have something to sell?"

The young woman is quickly caught up in the warmth and love of the Christian ladies at the local church. Someone from outside the village sends her five kilos of rice. She feels more secure with food in her stomach, hands of these new 'aunties' to hold her baby, the prayers offered to a God she doesn't know but somehow feels, the talk of NGOs who might be able to help. The embrace of this community gives her courage to think about new possibilities.

A few days later she asks one of the teen aged girls in the church to look after her baby for a while. She comes back with cash in her hand. She doesn't try to hide where and how she earned the money. Whether or not it was deserved, she already had a reputation as being, "that kind of girl". Why hide the reality of her occasional business? She has a baby and she's sick of him being sick. She is tired of being hungry.

The ladies in the village church keep praying and keep loving. They are hopeful that God might provide an alternative way for her to earn money as well as take care of her son.

The donor who gave the rice knew it probably wasn't ever going to be enough. She sips her morning coffee and scribbles in her journal and wonders about the next chapter. She hopes the woman will stay. She fears the more likely scenario is that the young woman will soon move to a new village where nobody knows her and nothing has changed. The story starts over again:

"One day a young woman walks into the village carrying her eight-month-old son...."

Guys are funny...

On Saturday afternoon I was leading a group of visitors to a village church for some children's ministry. We left the van and driver on the road and walked the last few hundred metres down muddy tracks. Just before we got to the church, there was a group of three or four guys in their twenties sitting on their motor scooters on opposite sides of the narrow road.

One young bloke called over to his mates, "Oh- many beautiful women."
He paused for moment before adding the punchline, "Maybe I should start going to church?!"

Oh..funny! Funny that someone understands what you said. Funny that maybe you should go to church. Funny that maybe you should go to meet up with Jesus, not to hook up with chicks!

How to Plunge Cambodia

The Plunge team arrived in Cambodia on Tuesday morning. After 1.5 days of briefing, introductions and survival language lessons, they have split into three smaller teams of nine. Over the next ten days these teams will explore several cities and villages around the country. Plunge is here to learn and to be challenged. They are here to give what they can: offering smiles, games, cooking assistance, English conversation, cultural exchange, a partner for a game of ping pong, curious questions, encouragement and some tourist dollars that help local people.

Yesterday team one spent a day exploring Phnom Penh by Tuk Tuk. They had questions to answer and various activities to help them get out an engage with people. (Cultural Anthropology 101.) They visited a Cambodian pre school and met one of our team members for dinner.

Team two visited a medical centre in the morning and Peace Bridges in the early afternoon. They met two of our long-term team members at their home yesterday afternoon for dinner.

Team three spent 8.5 hours traveling up the highway to Poipet. Arriving at our home/ office at 4pm, we repacked essential equipment (mosquito nets, sheets, food, water and torches) for an overnight village stay. One of our Cambodian staff went with them. The road was muddy and the team had to walk the last 800m to the thatched huts. But I hear they've had a good time meeting widows and women affected by HIV Aids, worshipping with them and playing with children who live near the centre.

This morning they will Plunge into life in Cambodia all over again.