I hope to catch up with this blog soon. I'm not sure I will, though. Tomorrow, the first of five teams arrives in Cambodia. Two will be staying in Phnom Penh, three will head to Battambang.

My family and I leave for Battambang on Saturday, and will be there for about three weeks before returning to Phnom Penh briefly to prepare for our departure to Thailand.

It's every bit as busy as it sounds.

Today, we spent a long, leisurely lunch with the directors of our Prek Eng orphan homes and their wives. This evening, we ate dinner with our friends Narin and Quenie and their four children.

Earlier this week, we visited the Tuol Sleng genocide museum, visited our orphan homes and delivered medicine to the family of a Cambodian friend living in Columbus.

I have pictures of all of these things, but they will have to wait until I get a chance to pull them off the camera.

We're doing well. My kids are exhausted and have had some iffy attitudes, but hey. That'll happen.

Perhaps I'll get a chance to post again tomorrow. Not sure about that...

Taking a cue from C.S. Lewis, my favorite Christian author, who said, "We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased," we skipped the mud course at the local slum and took a holiday at the sea. Or, at least, the Gulf of Thailand.

What a great time with Savorn, our national director, his wife Sony, and their two sons, Malvin and Billy. I didn't take many photos; I spent far too much time playing, eating and relaxing. We successfully avoided most of the sex-tourists by sticking closely to plans laid ably by Savorn, who chose our hotel and directed us to the best stretches of sand.

While our kids tired themselves out (to the point of sickness, did my eldest), we sat under cabanas, ate lobsters and crabs (each a dollar or less a piece), relaxed and talked some shop. The night before we left for the beach, we spent the evening at Savorn's house enjoying his wife's famously delicious cooking. 

It's been nice. I'm so glad that my national director, Savorn, is not just a colleague. He really has become a friend. I pray that we will be able to minister together for many, many years.

For a little more background on Savorn, check out his testimony here.

Feast by the sea

Savorn and my daughter, Xiu Dan

Malvin, Chien and PakSony and Savorn at breakfast

BillyDinner at Savorn and Sony's house

It's been a few days since I've posted last. And it may be a couple more. But keep looking, just in case!

Today, I'm heading down with my family and with Savorn, our national director, and his family to Kompong Som for a weekend on the beaches of the Gulf of Thailand. 

This should be a good time to relax, to let the kids play, to help my wife and Savorn's continue to build their wonderful friendship and to allow Savorn and I hours of uninterrupted strategy time.

Please pray for a safe trip as we ride by bus the long and winding road to the ocean.

Peace.

Asia's Hope Dance Party from John McCollum on Vimeo.

 

It's funny. I grew up in a time and place where "dancing" was almost a dirty word. Some people were even careful to not use the "d word" when describing the motions set to music in church pageants. It was "choreography."

So, as an adult, I just plain can't dance. I don't know how. 

I didn't do it at my wedding. I never went to a prom, and I never have felt at all comfortable "getting down." In fact, at one point, a dance party would have been my idea of hell on earth.

Cambodia is definitely changing that.

Last night our staff threw a dance party in the front yard of the Asia's Hope Christian School that would loosen up the stiffest, churchiest, most self-conscious person imaginable. After an admittedly challenging meal of grilled quail (served whole -- just rip off the head and dig in) and an interesting soup of various parts taken out of the quail prior to grilling, the orphan home directors pulled out the big speakers, cranked up the Cambodian hip hop, and we got funky.

Well, we didn't start out funky. We started out walking around in a circle, moving our hands in circular motions common to Khmer traditional choreography. But as the night wore on, the music got louder, and the movements got a bit crazier.

Three hours in, the yard was -- in some places -- almost like a mosh pit. From the youngest of the kids to the oldest of the staff, everyone was dancing with abandon. There were no cliques, no "couples," no competition. No one was self-conscious, no one was vulgar or provocative.

It was just a lot of good, clean fun. And it felt to me like heaven on earth, like Jesus himself had come down and thrown a raucous party for his children. When the party finally broke up due to rainclouds on the horizon, we headed home exhausted, but exhilarated.

I took a lot of pictures and a fair amount of video (some more of which I'll edit and post at some point). Looking over the images and footage this morning, I was struck with the awesome weight of just what our God has done here.

Without intervention from God and from those of you who support this ministry, many of these children would be living a very different life. Some would still be working day and night at a construction site or on a farm, earning barely enough for a handful of rice. Others would have already been pimped out, forced to service 15 men each night under threat of torture. Others would be dead.

As David said after he had been rescued by God, “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever.” (Psalm 30:11,12)

Some time soon I’ll post some more of the kids’ bios. When I do, come back and read about the dance party again. You may do a little dance yourself.

My kids found the quail a little "challenging," but the Cambodia kids loved it!

Pak borrows a hat to complete his dancing outfit

DJ Ravi likes to get downEven the oldest of our staff danced all evening

Mary shows Kori how it's done

The last couple of days have been a blur, and I'm thankful it's Saturday. I only wish that it was Saturday at 9:00am rather than Saturday at 5:00am, but I haven't completely kicked this jetlag. 

I knew before coming on this trip that my family would not be able to sustain the 16-hour-a-day pace I've set for myself on previous trips, and I fully expected to limit the time I play in the hot, hot sun. I didn't, however, expect my kids to be so absolutely enthralled by the kids here that they would be the ones pushing us to stay longer, to play more, to go, go, go.

I guess I can't blame them -- it's gratifying (albeit overwhelming, especially for an introvert like my wife) as an adult to be the most popular person at the party. It's intoxicating for my children. There's really no rest for them at all, either at the school or at the orphan homes. From the time they step out of the car, 20 or 30 kids swoop in and whisk them off to play soccer, wiffle ball, tag or some other activity probably best experienced in significantly cooler weather.

Yesterday, at about 6:00pm, just as we were sitting down to eat at Prek Eng 2 Orphan Home, Pak's body said, "enough!" and he threw up breakfast, lunch and snack. As we watched our little guy flush his gut, we realized we'd better pick a different pace. A full day of school and a full evening of orphan homes just isn't going to cut it.

Thank God for Saturdays.

We're going to rest this morning and save up our energy -- we have a dance party to attend with a hundred or so kids tonight, and I preach on Sunday.

Sopang's daughter, Prek Eng 1

Xiu Dan getting ready for dinner at Prek Eng 1

Kori and a couple of her admirers

Me. Wearing a suit. Don't get used to it. I was on the evening news, signing an agreement with the Ministry of Social Affairs.

Well, neither Kori nor I slept terribly well our second night in Cambodia. We both woke up at around 4am after a somewhat fitful night’s “rest.”

We are thankful, however, that we were not greeted this morning by the sound of a pack of feral cats eating a baby strangling a parrot. That, or something very like that, was our cock’s crow yesterday. This morning, we were wooed to semi-consciousness by the collective groan of our household realizing simultaneously that sleep would no more grace our weary, sun-baked bones. 

So at 5:30, our adventuremongering son, Pak, who had previously promised to “go out every morning and watch the city wake up” croaked, “Less juss eat here this mrnnning…”

Yesterday was a big day.

We rose early (thanks to the aforementioned and unwelcomed cacophony) showered, dressed, and headed out to my favorite breakfast spot, a road-side phở stand off Mao Tse Tung Boulevard, across the street from a Cham Muslim mosque. As I suspected, my family was enchanted by the toothsome mélange of beef, wide rice noodles, shallots, herbs and chilies swimming in a savory broth. Pak ordered a second bowl, and would have eaten a third if he hadn’t already snacked at home.

We headed off, fatter and happier, to Prek Eng, and arrived at the Asia’s Hope Christian School, greeted by a hundred smiling elementary kids. I got a few hugs, but most of the attention was lavished on my wife and my kids. “Kori! Hello, Mommy! I love you!” “Hello, Chien! We miss you!” “Pak, Hello, my friend!” “Xiu Dan! You are so beautiful!" 

My kids were somewhat bewildered, but allowed themselves to be led off, grinning, to various parts of the school. For the next four hours, we played games, sang songs, and participated in classes. “Where’s Pak?” I asked. “I think he’s teaching in one of the rooms,” answered Kori.

When the lunch bell rang, the kids went back to their homes for their three hour break. We drove to a nearby restaurant and reflected on the day thus far. “This one girl kept tickling me,” said Chien, trying hard not to smile. “They keep pinching my cheeks!” exclaimed Xiu Dan. “Can we go back now?” asked Pak.

We finished our lunch quickly and headed to Prek Eng 2, the nearest orphan home. We played with the kids for another hour or so, and then walked with them back to school. Kori took a short nap on a cot in a shady area behind the school, I sat in on a staff meeting with all of the orphan home directors, and the kids participated in the classrooms. When the school day ended, I barely had energy to drive home.

After a delicious dinner at a local Thai/Khmer restaurant, we returned to the guesthouse and crashed. Hard. I guess it was about 7:30pm. Maybe waking up at 4:30am isn’t so bad after all, considering.

This morning, we’ll relax for a while and maybe eat breakfast at the guest house. I’ll probably take the kids out to the school, and then I’ll return for an important meeting with the ministry of Social Affairs. I’ll need to put on a suit (I’ll only do it for Asia’s Hope. No one else, so don’t ask.), prepare a short speech and exchange pleasantries with various officials including, I hear, the Secretary of State. I think maybe I should shave, too.

So, we’re busy. We’re tired. But we’re happy. Thank God for Asia’s Hope.

Its 5:02 am. I’ve been awake off and on throughout the night. Even the Ambien wasn’t enough to counteract the exhaustion and the jetlag currently wreaking havoc on my body and brain.

The boys seem to have come through this remarkably well. They slept reasonably well on the plane, napped for a few hours upon arrival, went to bed early – about 6pm local time – and appear to have slept through the night. Kori reports that Xiu Dan was up for a while in the middle of the night; it must have been during the time the Ambien was working, since I don’r remember it at all.

The kids also seem to be adjusting reasonably well to the new surroundings – no fighting, no extreme grouchiness – in fact, they’re treating each other better here than they do at home. We’ll see how long that lasts; we’re going to actually try to get them out and about for a while today, visiting the Asia’s Hope Christian School around lunch time.

We were greeted at the airport by Savorn and Sony, and by all of the directors of our Phnom Penh-area orphan homes. They gave each of our kids single stem roses, and had garlands of jasmine flowers for Kori and I.

The staff hustled us off to our guest house – a beautiful three bedroom apartment in the center of the city, near the famed “Russian Market,” or Psar Tuol Tompoung. The property is managed by a local church pastored by our good friends Narin and Quenie Chey. The Cheys and their four children, Donald, Donna, David and Joshua live across from us in a slightly smaller but otherwise identical unit.

The staff handed over the keys to the apartment and to the car, and Savorn said, “We’ll leave you. You’re tired.” We quickly sorted out who’s sleeping where, and unpacked as much as we could manage – we were running on empty, so we didn’t get far.

Aside from a quick trip to the store to buy eggs and juice, we really didn’t go anywhere or do anything. I took the kids on a short walk, after which the boys went to bed. I haven’t seen them since.

As much as I’d hoped we would be able to sleep through the night and wake up bright and early, I have a feeling that we’re going to be taking it slow today. Thanks for your prayers and good wishes. I’ll try to post more tonight, perhaps with pictures from the day.

Greetings at the airportXiu Dan and Sony

Pak and Savorn

Daniel and Donna, Narin and Quenie's kids

Well, in about a week, Kori and I will gather our kids, wrangle our luggage and begin our family’s first-ever trip together to Asia’s Hope’s ministries in Cambodia and Thailand. The initial journey will take us from Columbus to Chicago, Chicago to L.A., L.A. to Taipei and Taipei to Phnom Penh — about 40 hours of airplanes and airports. We’ll spend about a month in Phnom Penh, three weeks in Battambang and three weeks in Chiang Mai, 70 days in all.

It’s hard to believe that since founding Asia’s Hope in 2001, I’ve spent almost a year’s worth of nights away from home. Finally, I get to take my home with me. What a blessing it will be to integrate both sides of my life in such a beautiful way.

Kori’s always been emotionally invested in the ministry, but she’s always been the one stuck holding down the homefront. I’ve gotten all the hugs; she’s had to pay the price as  a “ministry widow.” I’m so excited for her to experience the joy of Asia’s Hope firsthand. She’ll finally be able to put all of the pieces — videos, photos, stories — together with tangible experiences. She already knows the names and has fallen in love with so many of the kids, now she’ll finally meet them face-to-face. I can’t wait.

My oldest son, Chien (12.5), visited Cambodia and Thailand a couple of years ago, but neither Pak (11.5) or Xiu Dan (5) have made the trip. This is going to be an experience of a lifetime for them.My son with Chien with his friends from the Prek Eng 2 orphan home in October 2007. They all look quite a bit different now...

I’m going to be busy – on the clock pretty much 24/7 – but much of my job will include things I enjoy anyway: interviewing and interacting with the staff, documenting the kids and their homes, strategizing and building relationships with colleagues and ministry partners.

I’m going to try to blog as much as possible, probably at least two or three times a week. I’ll post lots of pictures, and will try to keep things as entertaining and informative as possible. I’d encourage you to bookmark this blog or subscribe to its RSS feed. Pass it along, too! I’d love to give as many people as possible the opportunity to “virtually” travel with us. 

Please pray for our health, our logistics, our attitudes and our finances as we embark on this epic journey together!