to God, that he is my strength, my life, that I’m depending on him to sustain me and only he can do it. We sang about going whatever the cost and up the highest mountain and through the darkest valley. God reminded me that I’m here to stay. Not just in Cambodia, but in relationship with him. I’m not leaving him. I’m stubborn on this point.
So tired. Can barely stay awake after 5pm every day. Up six times last night with one child. There is so much dust here that has to be swept and mopped every day, and that gets old. It feels so futile. Just get up the next day to clean it all again. Everything here is so stinkin’ dangerous. Sharp corners on walls, slippery floors. So much more danger in general.
[Theme #2: My hope is dialed all the way down. Again, oft-repeated.]
[Theme #3: Worship music was my lifeline. You’ll see this one again too.]
Monday, January 23rd
Bought the wrong size diapers. Again. I can’t get this kilogram thing figured out! But I am doing better in general. So is Jonathan. Can’t wait to go back to church.
And good grief the mosquito bites. New ones each morning. So itchy. Jonathan had to fix some electrical wiring today. Plugs are never enough or in a convenient place. Can’t flush in the morning. Showers don’t drain well. The heat saps your energy. Driving saps energy—there seem to be no rules. The nationals and their police know the rules but we don’t. Street signs don’t exist and the roads aren’t N-S-E-W. Dirt is everywhere and has to be cleaned. Laundry must be hung and dishes washed by hand. (Did I mention I can’t wait to get a house helper?) The language barrier is huge and everything is in kg.
Tuesday, January 24th
I’m not particularly happy. I’m not particularly unhappy. I am particularly exhausted. Everything is so hard here but I keep plugging away. “Whatever.” That’s how I feel much of the time. I can laugh, however. We laugh all the time. Mostly at the stupidity of living here.
Everything is so stinkin’ dusty. Floors, furniture, stair railings. Even clean clothes smell like wood fire and spices. Annoying. One kid slept all night with the aid of Benadryl. Benadryl to another kid for his hundred mosquito bites. They were super bad in the house yesterday. Feet hurt excruciatingly badly. I need house shoes with arch support because I can barely walk. It’s so humid here, even in air conditioning, that my hair doesn’t dry at night.
[Theme #4: I can’t survive without laughter. Experts claim that the beginning of laughter signals the slow ascent out of the abyss of culture shock.]
Thursday, January 26th
Another day. Ugg. Why do I have to live here? I don’t want to live here. I don’t want to want to live here. And I don’t want to keep living. Life is easier back home and I want it. Everything bothers me. Why does it have to be so hard? Nothing comes ready-made. You have to do it yourself, and even then the electrical wiring comes apart. I hate mornings. Reminds me how unhappy I am. At least at night I can look forward to sleep.
I suppose one of these days these pages will be happier. But I have never been unhappier. It seems so hopeless. I want to go home. I want to go home so bad that I don’t even care that it would look bad, that my life story wouldn’t mean anything, that it would go against everything we’ve ever said, that it would disappoint people, that we would have wasted people’s money, that it might be hard to find a ministry job. But this life is so terrible. I can’t stand it. I can’t find meaning. I can’t find pleasure. I can’t find comfort. I can’t find ease. I can’t find understanding. I can’t even find food I actually want to eat. And every morning I awaken to more needs from the girls. That is endlessly draining. Can’t clean or cook or do anything b/c Faith needs me to hold her. I’m off to more house work now. Dirty, stinky, unending housework. Bartering is so hard, and you do it in two different currencies, two different languages, and never know if it’s a good price.
So much to fix. I can’t see the end, it goes on forever. This morning I wanted to die. I told Jonathan I wouldn’t kill myself b/c I don’t like pain, but all I wanted to do was to get on a plane alone and run away. Coming here really did seem like a good idea at the time. Not anymore. Plus Faith is sick with a fever, poor cranky baby.
[Repeat of Themes 1 and 2: High on overreactivity and low on hope]
Sunday Afternoon, January 29th
Been sick for two days. Pain, chills, fever (flu-like) along with abdominal pain and diarrhea. Could barely move last two days. I missed church and hated to miss it. When will my heart take up residence in this place? I worry about never accomplishing anything. Never making a difference. To make a difference I’ll have to learn this language (too hard).
[Themes 1 and 2 strike again: Overreactivity and hopelessness.]
Somehow I want to make peace with living here as Jonathan has. Being here makes me love my husband more than ever. He is so sweet to me, taking care of me when I’m sick, being patient with my depressed moods and angry outbursts. Seeing him in this setting reminds me how special he is, much more loving than most men.
[Theme #5 surfaces: I need my husband.]
Wednesday, February 1st
I was so sick. Three days of diarrhea and pain, then went to a local clinic. (I thought I was going to die I was in so much pain.) I needed Cipro. Still not back to normal plus I have a terrible head cold on top of that.
Finding him is no longer fun and exciting. It’s drudgery, fearfulness, pain, sadness. But I am determined to find him in this dark place. He is the light of the world and those who seek him will find him when they seek him with their whole hearts. I will find him. Yes.
Thursday, February 2nd
One thing that’s hard about living here (only one!) is that people like to touch my kids, and they don’t like it. How to stop it politely? I don’t know. In a moment of frustration today I started singing Magnificat. I knew I had to praise, and sure enough, I felt better.
[Theme 3 (worship) to the rescue again]
Sunday, February 26th
Church—great worship. “Your Grace is Enough.” “How Deep the Father’s Love.” A Zoe Group song I listened to while pregnant with Faith and during her labor. I cried during “You are My Strength.” Great a cappella song. Felt so good to sing. Made me homesick for heaven when we’ll all be together again singing praises to our King.
[There I am, relying on theme 3 again (worship).]
March 27th
A few weeks into Cambodia I realized it would be more difficult to pack up and leave for home than to stay.
And then, inexplicably, I stopped journaling. Apparently I didn’t feel the need to journal my unhappiness anymore. So to anyone considering following God in a “big” way, no matter what that is, please do not give up hope that life will improve, that transition will pass. Do not believe that the rest of your life will be as dreadful as it feels right now. Hold on to hope.
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We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love. (Rom 5:3–5)
