Compared to the sprawling metropolis Phnom Penh, the riverside town of Battambang is positively monastic. Our hotel in Phnom Penh was steps away from the city’s Central Market, Sorya Shopping Mall, Psar Thmei bus station and the intersection of Monivong and Kampuchea Krom boulevards. I daresay there were more people within one square mile of where we were staying than in the entire city proper in Battambang.

After a long day’s drive, a short rest at the hotel and an evening of entertaining the kids from Battambang 1, 4 and 5 children’s homes and a really disappointing meal at a restaurant we all used to like, we’re whooped. Kori’s putting Xiu Dan to bed, and the boys are in their room watching Cartoon Network. 

Driving in Phnom Penh is textbook “sensory overload.” If you have personal space issues, the walls and windows of your car will just barely keep you sane — bicycles, motorcycles, buses, cyclo-rickshaws, petrol trucks, cars and tuk-tuks press in on every side. Hawkers and beggars hover around your windows at each intersection, waving flowers, newspapers and snacks and grubby, outstretched hands pleading futilely for you to either buy or donate something. Cynical and corrupt police officers — sometimes in groups of six or seven — stalk street corners seeking hapless victims unfortunate enough to be driving without suitable headgear, proper  registration, or sufficient levels of melanin (driving while white is, apparently, a citable offense). The sidewalks are choked with motorcycles, cars, grills, children, dogs, welders (add hookers and drug dealers after 7pm) and makeshift repair shops, some moving, some blocking the movement of others.

Leaving the city takes a while. In fact, it seems to take about an hour to get anywhere like “not-Phnom Penh,” but once you’ve broken free of the city’s hold, things get pretty rural pretty quickly. And speaking of “pretty,” this is a beautiful country. Unless you’re traveling during the height of the dry season, the Cambodian countryside stretches out endlessly on either side of the road in an almost Gaelic patchwork of emerald rice farms. If I wasn’t always in such a hurry to get places, I could turn the 5 hour drive to Battambang into a daylong photo safari epic that would probably win me some sort of an award. Just today I saw at least one hundred perfect vistas for which a more ambitious photographer would have fought a live bear.

Along much of National Road 5, droopy cows chew grass idly while naked brown toddlers sit with ancient, turbanned grandmothers in front of rickety tin shacks selling diesel fuel in Fanta bottles. Tiny schoolkids in dusty blue shorts and cloudy white shirts careen past on adult-sized bicycles while massive grey water buffalo plod by obdurately, chest deep in muddy paddies ready for new rice seedlings, sown meticulously by exhausted daylaborers hobbling perpetually in a painful hunch. Gigantic tanker trucks filled with 20,000 liters of petrol pass perilously, blasting horns in a high-speed and high-stake game of chicken with luggage-laden passenger buses and skinny young dogs feign alertness, guarding some unknown boundary line along — and sometimes upon — the busy road.

About 3 hours in, much of the traffic disappears — evaporating into tiny villages and unseen sideroads — and road stretches out like a carpenter’s chalk line from horizon to horizon. Although most of the terrain is perfectly flat, it’s punctuated by the occasional lonely green mountain, invariably capped by a golden wat, its crenelations glistening like a dancer’s tiara. It’s the kind of place where you can see a rainstorm a half hour away, and where I can really get lost in melancholy speculations about what might life might have been like for my son — my buffalo boy —  had he been raised by his birth family in a rice farming village in rural Vietnam. In my mirror I can see Chien staring blankly out the window, and I wish he really would take me up on my cash offer of a penny for his thoughts. Ben Folds plays sings “everybody knows it sucks to grow up” on the car stereo. Really. It’s kind of a moment.

The real treasure, however, is the destination. The people, not the town — Battambang itself offers little in touristic or aesthetic value. We visited three of our six children’s homes last night, and proved to ourselves once again that the kids here are just as wonderful as the kids we just left in Phnom Penh. We were so tired from our drive that I decided to leave the camera in the car and just enjoy the hugs and the laughter without the pressure of capturing any of it for posterity.

We played and played until Kori whispered to me, “Our kids are really  tired, honey.” Tomorrow we'll hang out at the hotel and relax before heading out to the homes after lunch.

This time, I’ll spare you some adjectives and I’ll actually take some pictures.

It's been a busy two weeks since we arrived in Phnom Penh. The team from Central Vineyard Church in Columbus, Ohio departed for home late last night after 15 days of lavishing attention on their kids from Prek Eng 2, and our family is making the 5 hour drive to Battambang as soon as I can get the kids up and at 'em.

This has been my family's second trip to Phnom Penh (although Chien came with me once when he as in fourth grade). The difference between the two trips has been pretty interesting. Perhaps it's their age, but on this trip, my kids have had far fewer experiences of amazement and wonder (Dad! Dad! An elephant!), but also a much higher number of deep conversations about what it is we're doing.

In various conversations we've had with the boys, and in other conversations team members have reported having with them, Chien and Pak seem to get what we're doing and way. They put things in terms of "fighting injustice." They report being heartbroken over the plight of kids on the street, and eager to see Asia's Hope expand to bring in more kids. They even observe that any sacrifices that we've made financially or professionally to make this happen have been worth it.

This is, of course, a good thing. Pak mentioned last night, "Dad, I'd like to try to Skype with some of the kids -- I've become pretty attached to a couple of them, and I think they're going to really miss me."

Today we end our time with the kids at the five Prek Eng children's homes. We were able to avoid the tearful good-byes, since we'll be back for 3 days at the end of July after we return from Thailand, but the team from Central Vineyard got the full bore of the kids' emotions as they said a final farewell to Prek Eng 2. As my wife, Kori, said last night, "Oh, yes. We understand. We'll have that experience about 20 times on this trip."

But today, we get the squeals and hugs of joyous reunion as we arrive in Battambang, the home of first ever children's home. I'm in a bit of a rush to get on the road, so I'll wait to post the last pics of Prek Eng 'til I'm ready to post the first from Battambang.

Peace to you, Godspeed to us.

It's been a few days since I've posted. It's not for lack of trying.

Things get really, really busy here. By the time I get back home from a long day of meetings, greetings and children's home visits, I'm usually beat. And, frankly, having my kids with me at the hotel makes "office hours" a bit challenging.

I have a few minutes right now, and I've chosen to post rather than nap. Not sure that's a great idea, but I just wanted to say a few things about our visit to Prek Eng 5 last night.

Last year, Prek Eng 5 didn't even exist. It's children were living in poverty and despair, scattered across the country. They hadn't yet met their new parents, and they had no idea that their lives were about to change radically for the better.

Spending the evening with the kids, it's hard to believe that only a year ago they had never met one another. I'm so impressed with the staff at Prek Eng 5. They've done such a great job integrating the kids into their new surroundings. 

Today, instead of crying out, "Why, God?" I'm praying, "More, please."

Having been through this a few times, I've become conditioned to look at the kids I see begging on the streets or working in the fields and see through the grime and the misery and catch just a glimmer of the possibility that is inside each child, no matter how poor or desperate.

"Of course ours are the cutest, objectively speaking." 

I've heard that said, half-jokingly, by dozens of visitors, blog readers and sponsors over the years. All of whom represent different homes, different churches -- different kids.

There's something beautiful about the sentiment. It indicates that our churches are making real, lasting connections, and that their kids are distinguishable from one another.

Hang out with someone from Vista church in Dublin, Ohio, for instance. Start looking at pictures from Asia's Hope. You might get a few coos, and complements for the kids from Prek Eng 1 and 2, but when you get to their home, Prek Eng 3, you start to hear squeals and applause...

"Oooh! Phalla! He's so handsome. Look how big he's gotten!" "Oh. My. Goodness! Rebekah! Have you ever seen a more beautiful smile?" "Oh, little Yohan -- I just want to hug him forever!"

"All the kids at Asia's Hope are wonderful, but I have to admit I think ours are the best!"

Switch Vista for Westview Bible Church or Wooster Grace, and you'll see the same thing over and over. Our churches love their kids. They know them by name. They pray for them. They support them.

This is a good thing. Every kid needs someone to look out for them personally. It's why we create families with moms and dads, not institutions with shiftworkers.

As director of Asia's Hope, I can't afford to have favorites, but I sure don't mind if you do. 

 

During last night's dance party, I turned to Teddy Dellesky, the Central Vineyard Church team leader and asked him, "So, do you think this beats begging on the street or scavenging for recyclables in a trash heap?" He looked at me, shook his head and smiled. "Dude," he said, "Everybody needs to come see this."

This weekend has provoked many such reactions. We've spent a fair amount of time hanging around the city, and we've seen what happens to kids with no one to care for them. We've seen the grubby scavengers fighting over a piece of wire or a water bottle. In fact, Teddy and Jamie went out yesterday morning to see the work of another excellent Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) among young mothers and their babies living on the city dump.

We've taken time as individuals and together over dinner to review the bios of the kids in Asia's Hope's care: "Mother died of HIV. Father died from land mine. Mother died of Dengue Fever. Father abandoned the family. Mother received life sentence. Father laid down on the train tracks and committed suicide..." "Child lived with three siblings with an uncle who provided no care. Child survived by stealing food. Child had to work in the fields tending cattle for a few spoonfuls of rice each day..."

These types of stories, each extraordinary are heartbreakingly banal, thanks to the sheer consistency. Death, disease, poverty, abandonment, danger, exploitation -- these were the daily features served up by life for the kids at Asia's Hope back when they were still orphans.

Chien, Billy and Soran escape the heatSarabeth splashes around with Mathay and Mey Nearng.Kids from Prek Eng 4 sing a song together in church

So, during our exhausting, yet exhilarating, weekend of fun activities with the kids and staff, I caught myself slipping down between two unfathomably high cliffs, falling momentarily into the chasm between heaven and hell, thrilled and at times nauseated to see the two kingdoms pulse and undulate, and times even intersect.

On Saturday, I whooshed and climbed both physically and emotionally as the realizations sunk in as to just what has happened here. God has allowed us to participate in a dramatic rescue mission, propelling us into action, empowering us to reach out and grab these children as they were tottering on the edge of the abyss, and blessing us to join in their restoration.

The kids from Prek Eng 3 enjoy a special treat before the dance party

As my pastor, Jeff Cannell, has said, "The kingdom of heaven can be seen nowhere more clearly than among orphans enjoying a day at a waterpark."

And at last night's dance party, one of our team members said, "Now I've been to heaven." And I think she's right, in a very real and liminally tangible way. The angel told Mary and Jospeh, "Call him Emmanuel, God with us." And Jesus said, "What you've done for the least of these, you've done for me." Calling out -- in Khmer, I think -- we all heard Jesus whisper to us among the squeals of the kids and the "boom-ch-boom-ch-booom" of Cambodian dance music, "Thank you so much for throwing this party. My kids and I are having a great time."

 

Okay. I know I just got a little mystical, and may have lost some of my more cerebral readers, but, man, as Teddy said, "Everbody needs to come see this." So, will you all please continue to pray that God will give us more wisdom, more money, more workers and more opportunities to expand this party, to invite more of Jesus' favorite people until this rowdy racket of the redeemed reaches all across Asia? I don't want to expand just because it seems like the thing to do. I want to blow the doors off this Jubilee and welcome all who are thirsty to come drink, all who are hungry to eat, and all who are funky to dance!

Yesterday morning, it was clear that everyone could use a change of pace. My kids had been out and about, being hustled back and forth between the hotel, the school and the children's homes since our arrival in Phnom Penh, and attitudes were starting to fray. The team from Central Vineyard was also feeling a bit harried, so we decided to take a day off, do some shopping and sightseeing and stay in the city. 

Clearing our schedule ended up being a good thing. My family decided to show the Central Vineyard team to some shopping and sightseeing opportunities around town. On my way out of the hotel, I checked my email one last time, and realized that our director Savorn Ou's email had been hacked, and that someone using his account was impersonating him and sending requests worldwide for money to get him out of a tight spot in, of all places, Spain.

I sent my family along and spent the next hours doing damage control, contacting people from Savorn's email list, establishing new email accounts and setting them up on Savorn's phone and computer.

By the time my family returned, they were almost ready for lunch. Me? I was ready for a nap. But I went to lunch anyway. Probably a bad move. The family and team finished lunch with enough energy to hit the streets again. Me, not so much. In fact, I felt like I was going to yak. I took a moto back to the hotel, sent the rest on the way and got a couple hour's worth of sleep.

I felt well enough to go to dinner with everyone, but not enough to hang out afterwards. I hit the sack relatively early. That's probably why I'm now awake at 3:49 a.m. Ugh.

I'm going to try to go back to sleep. I'll need my energy -- we're taking the kids from Prek Eng 2 out to the water park today. 5 hours of roughhousing with a couple dozen energetic kids in the blazing Cambodian sun can take the spit out of the healthiest man. After an hour or so, I think I'll need to scout out a hammock. Or a gurney. 

After the water park, we're headed to Savorn and Sony's new house for dinner. I'm looking forward to seeing their new place which many of you helped us purchase. Unlike their old house, this one doesn't fill with 3 feet of poo every time it rains. This is a very good thing.

Tomorrow, we're going to church with the kids, and then we're hosting a dance party for all five Prek Eng homes. By the time Monday rolls around, we may need another break. But until then, we're going to give it all we got and try our best to show the kids and staff just how much we love them.

I'll start by trying -- and failing -- to get another hour or so of sleep. If it doesn't work, I'll take an early morning photo Safari.

Day two in Cambodia starts, well, now. It’s 6:09 a.m. and I have finally given up the struggle to stay in bed. Jet lag is a bit harsh, no matter how many times I travel. I suppose that there’s some consolation to be had in the knowledge that it’s much harder on the return trip.

But, hey. I’m not complaining. The trip thus far has been a-okay! My kids are getting along well, the team from my church is having a blast, and the food has been just outstanding. Most important, however, we’re back “home” in Cambodia, visiting with some of our favorite people in the world.

Yesterday afternoon Kori, the kids and I made a brief appearance at our school – just long enough to confuse the students and staff about why we didn’t arrive earlier than 10 minutes prior to dismissal. We got a few hugs, shook a few hands and handed over Chien, Pak and Xiu Dan to the kids from the Prek Eng 2 children’s home. Hand-in-hand, they walked the 700 or so meters home, carefully avoiding traffic on the improved, but still treacherous road from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh City.

Kori and I, finding ourselves momentarily de-kidded, hung around for a few minutes longer and then hopped into our car and promptly got lost. So much has changed in and around Phnom Penh in the last year – new roads, new buildings, new signs – it’s quite easy to take a wrong turn, even if the destination is less than a mile away. We quickly corrected course and arrived at Prek Eng 2 to find Jamie, Teddy, Ben and Sarabeth fed, watered and chatting with Narun and Sophal, the home’s parents.

After the kids arrived home from school, they changed out of their uniforms – the white shirts and blue pants or skirts that every student in Cambodia wears – and we began to play. Teddy, Chien, Pak and some of the older boys got into a spirited soccer match (so spirited that Teddy tore a piece of his foot off on the pavement), Xiu Dan played on the swingset with some of the girls, Jamie, Ben and Sarabeth did ‘Simon Says’ and ‘Duck Duck Goose’ and Kori and I hung out on the front porch and chatted with the kids who tired from the various activities.

The pictures can tell the story better than words: this is a place of joy. It’s a place of hope. Real kids, real parents, real struggles and real needs. A real family that, blessed by some miracle of multiplication — akin, perhaps to Jesus’ feeding of the five thousand — has accumulated so much love that they can afford to give it away freely to me, my family and my friends.

This morning’s activities — a visit to the tailor shop, an massage appointment for Jamie’s aching back, another fantastic meal — all of these are interesting in their own right, but compared the opportunity to share another wonderful afternoon with the kids, they seem pretty routine despite the unusual locale.

Apparently this is a public album, one that you can see without logging on to Facebook. But hey, why not become a friend of Asia's Hope on Facebook? 

Prayers before dinner

Pay reads from the Bible

Sarabeth and her admirers.Some of my favorite girls.Is Pay really that small? Is Ben really that big? Jamie, completely in her element.Home sweet home

Banana chipsHandmade noodles in Phnom Penh

Delicious phở in a streetside cafeXiu Dan and Chien in the Columbus airport

No pictures yet, but we’re here in Phnom Penh. We got to our hotel after midnight, and we’re doing our best to get the kids ready to meet the Delleskys and Collinses for a 9am breakfast. 

I saw Jamie in the hallway and she told me tha they’ve all been up since 4am. Jetlag, especially for the uninitiated, is rough.

I’d be happy to take it easy and slow, but the team from Central Vineyard will only be here for a couple of weeks, so I want to maximize their time with the kids. 

On the agenda today? Well, this morning, we need to hit up the Lucky Market to replace some things that we decided not to pack for space reasons – shampoo, conditioner, and a few other toiletries. Also, we need to hit the phone shop to get some local SIM cards.

After that, we’ll head out to Prek Eng to see the kids at the school and at some of the homes. I haven’t really had time to chat with the team, so I’ll also want to hear what their plans are. We’re sort of “in the team but not of it,” so we’ll have separate agendas at times.

I hope to have some pictures up by this time tomorrow. So far, we haven’t seen or done much. Everyone is good spirits, though, so I’m looking forward to a great day.