Remembering the Basics

"Han-naa, jam n'tEk.  Kn'om owee duk k'dau," Ming insists, moving swiftly before I can say a word.
           
Without the strength, nor the language, to fight for the little pride I have left, I stare into space, saying nothing.  Ming takes a large cooking pot, fills it, and puts it over the fire.  I wait, numb of emotion, unsure of myself, unsure of what to expect...

Stepping into the small space that is our bathroom, I slowly lift the small blue bucket handle over my body.  As I turn the bucket upside-down, a rush of hot water sweeps over my numbed fever-ridden body, suddenly awakening an ocean of emotion within me.  Closing my eyes, tears—strikingly warm—push their way past my eyelids, down my face, and into nothing.  I have forgotten the feeling of hot water.  As I lift another scoop over my body, I recognize a more costly forgotten feeling: the feeling of gratitude.
                     
                      Gratitude, for life itself.
                                     For running water, for boiled water.
                                                 For the Cambodian family that has taken me into their
                                                             living space, and cared for me like their own.  

                                                                     - - -

That was the first month in Cambodia.  Over the next several, I would learn this lesson again and again, receiving grace when I had absolutely nothing to offer, but a broken body and a drained spirit.  Feverish-illness would only strike me twice more.  But I would be overwhelmed with gratitude many many times over.  I would experience gratitude for the steel roof— leaky as it is— as rain water thundered over.  I would experience relief for electricity, that, for the most part, faithfully powers the portable fan that cools us down on unbearably hot days.  I would be grateful for fresh running water, when sewage water from flooding threaten to clog up the pipes.  But mostly, I would be grateful for the individuals that walk me through. My siblings, whose lighthearted spirits lighten up a tough day.  My co-workers, who care for me like family. My brothers and sisters at church, who share the same living community as me.

Gratitude, I have experienced, is one of the deepest evidences of God's presence.  It breaks through in the midst of utter chaos, providing moments of clarity to remind us of God's faithfulness.  I have seen people in destitute poverty testify to it, times when fear of disease, death, war, are no longer at center stage.  On the other hand, I have seen people living with great excess, deny its existence, frantically scrounging around, as if having lost life itself somehow.  Gratitude is stunning testimony to a God here and now, that allows us to be present with the people around us.  Together, reminding each other to be grateful for life, and for the very God that gives life.  

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There are a short 5 weeks left in my time in Cambodia.  My prayer is that we as a Global community would continually remind one another, of a God that gives life where we are at.

Gratitude, I must add, does not discount the realities of fear, death, and sickness that are a daily struggle.  Instead, I believe it empowers us to to confront the realities of brokenness face-to-face.  My Ming is fighting a psycho-somatic condition each day, as non-stop worry physically drains her health.  I ask for prayers for her healing, and rest in her heart, as she continues to seek a God she does  yet know for answers.  I pray also, that Christians would surround her through the struggle, and be further strength to her each day.