Sometimes you don't fall apart all at once, but rather piece by piece.
If you were to ask me what moment I truly realized I was on the other side of the world, it would have to be my 10th day here. On this particular night, I sat alone on a rooftop in a rural province of Cambodia taking in the view of a majestic moon. It was this breathtaking view that was being lit by my home country that caused me realize just how far away I was from my "norm". I sat in amazement and awe at the realization that what I dreamed of happening two years ago has finally occurred. I have found myself not only in a foreign country, but also capturing the stories of those who have went untold. I tell you, It is a beautiful thing when your dreams become reality.
Today I have chosen this title because I feel like it is one of the biggest realizations I will have while here. Before arriving, I imagined that each day God would wreck my heart for Cambodia – whether that was me laying awake at night crying or simply praying over every dramatic instant I’d experience, I quickly discovered that was not the case. It’s day 25 and I’m still not completely wrecked. Which has led me to ask the question: What am I doing wrong?
However, this week God has reminded me of something that has changed my perspective. Though I haven’t fell to my knees crying out in desperation for God to change the country of Cambodia, I have spent many nights crying out for God to change me. That not only my eyes would weep for others, but also my heart. That each face would no longer be a stranger but rather a beating heart with a story to share. And most of all, that I may choose love as my motive and the proclamation of Christ as my goal. My reasoning behind these prayers are without a doubt owed to those who I find myself encountering daily:
The children who are too shy to hold my hand, but are quick to ask for my name.
The elderly women who are too timid to greet me with words, so they choose a warm smile instead.
The men and women who heavily express hard work with sweat and dirty clothes as they travel through the city.
And my favorite of course - it is the children who seem to lack basic necessities but are relentlessly rewriting my definition of joy.