The "M Word" (Part II)

July 21^st, 2019

9:29 P.M. Phnom Penh, Cambodia

After returning from a weekend trip in the province Kampong Thom, I’ve been reflecting on how many incredible people I’ve met. It makes me want to cry just thinking that I have to leave them all in 7 days. How can strangers become so close in such a short amount of time? For this blog post, I want to dedicate it to four individuals I’ve had the honor of meeting and the privilege of becoming their friend. 

I believe in soul mates, but not the conventional kind. I believe we all have several soul mates. They're usually not romantic, and each one comes into our lives and changes it completely. Sometimes they only stay in our lives for a short time, and sometimes they stay in our lives forever. But they make you see the world in a different way, and I know for a fact, that these individuals will change the lives and become soul mates with so many other people.

This is Vincent. He’s from Nigeria and going to Liberia.

Why is he so great? Vincent brings the sunshine to the room. He asks me at least 3 times a day, “How are you doing?” with the biggest grin on his face. And he’s always trying to learn. Several of our sessions are long and about serious topics, but after sitting next to Vincent, my mood is always lifted. His smile never fades, and he tries to relate the new information he’s learned to himself and others around him. It’s not uncommon to hear, “In my culture, we do this. What does your culture do?”

It was only 3 days after meeting me that Vincent would always greet me every morning with a much appreciated hug. Not only is he kind, but Vincent has taught me to be humble and ask questions. He has taught me to embrace each person that comes across my path, and to “let love lead” wherever I go. 

This is Ben. He’s from Tennessee and going to El Salvador.

Ben is the kind of person I always have strived to be. I’m usually the loudest one at the table, but Ben sits back, listens, and notices. He’s always the first to say, “I think we should let ______ have a turn to speak.” Not only does he provide space for others, but he is one of the most selfless people I have ever met.

We have a Fellow in our program that is fluent in Spanish but is still working on her English. Ben has been working with her for the last couple of weeks to improve her English and translate when needed. While any bilingual person can translate, Ben creates a safe space. Trying to learn Spanish myself, I often ask Ben questions, and he answers so kindly without coming from a place of superiority. I'm not afraid to make mistakes, and he’s actually created a comfortable environment where I can attempt to speak my limited Spanish and our other Fellow can work on her English. If you’ve ever learned a second language before, you know that it’s not easy to do this. Learning a second language takes a lot of vulnerability, and Ben has set up a space where two people can not only be willing to make mistakes, but also feel connected to one another, even while speaking different languages.

This is Glory. She’s from South Korea and going to Greece.

When I first met Glory I had just arrived in Phnom Penh, and she was asking me several questions about where I was from, where I was going, how excited I was, and what I was going to be doing. Glory is an attentive listener and has the ability to make every person she meets laugh and feel good about themselves.

I’m in awe of Glory, not only because she’s kind and smart, but because she left her home to live in the United States for 4 years while obtaining her degree at university. I admire people that have the courage to turn their world upside down. I honestly question whether or not Glory has the ability to be mad or upset because I’ve only seen her be happy and make others happy. She embodies what it means to live a full life, and I hope I can inspire people the way she has inspired me.

This is Elma. She’s from Mexico and going to Germany.

There are so many things I would like to say about Elma, but I don’t have the time or the proper vocabulary. Elma is mi hermana mexicana, and I know she’ll be in my life for many, many years. Elma is unapologetically herself, and is always telling me how important it is to love myself and others. She also yells, “I love Mexico!” every 15 minutes, which makes me love her even more.

Even when she’s not around, I’m thinking, “Dang, Elma should be here”, and then she usually pops around the corner yelling at me: “¡Mi niña!” Elma has one of the biggest hearts. She loves deeply and she loves everyone. I hope I can use what I’ve learned from Elma these next two years so that I can help others like Elma has helped me.  



All of these individuals have unique stories and gigantic hearts. It's not my place to tell their personal stories, but I want to share what they have done for me and mine. 

Take the time to find the soul mates in your life. Learn from them, and share with others what they have given you. 

The "M Word" (Part I)

July 16^th, 2019

10:54 P.M. Phnom Penh, Cambodia

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write a post like this for a few days now. Every day in our sessions we talk about the diversity of our group, something I’m super passionate about, but we also talk about the M word, and I’ve been struggling (and still am) to figure out how I want to deal with it.

Okay. The M word. I really detest the word “missionary”. It seems ironic coming from someone that is going to be dedicating the next two years of her life to being one, but it really does bother me. The connotations that I have with the word “missionary” are white people going to a country in Africa to play with some children and post about it on their social media with complete disregard for the psychological damage they’re creating for these kids who associate missionaries with free gifts, only to continuously watch each wave of them disappear after a few weeks.

I know for some people, that last sentence was very blunt. Well, I am blunt. Sometimes to a fault. However, I understand there is a time and a place, so as for the following…

“Oh my gosh, why do we always have to talk about race?”

“For once, could we please not blame white people for everything?”

I’m not here to do that. I’m not here to tell white people about their privilege because, my gosh, it’s 2019. Wake up.

What I do want to talk about is what it means to be a missionary in the Global Mission Fellows program. I also want to talk about stereotypes about who can and who can’t be a missionary, as well as where they can serve in order to be effective. For that reason, need to talk about how our race and/or nationality affects people’s perceptions of this job.  

In my cohort, there are over 50 individuals from 26 countries.

(Countries: Brazil, Burundi, Cote d’Ivoire, United States, Kenya, Cambodia, Taiwan, Thailand, Zambia, Ukraine, DR Congo, Mexico, Ghana, South Korea, Philippines, Zimbabwe, Colombia, China, Togo, Ecuador, Nigeria, Cameroon, Indonesia, India, Honduras, and Sri Lanka.)

Part of our training is learning about how we will be stereotyped, because whether we like it or not, it will happen in our places of assignment. So for part of a session, we were asked to discuss what people think about our home countries. The trainers asked, “What stereotype do people have about you or your country? Why is it wrong? How does it make you feel?”

When I have traveled outside of the United States before, I have always been embarrassed to tell people I’m American. Without getting into politics, I never realized why I have always been embarrassed until our trainers posed this question. I’m not embarrassed to be from the United States. I’m embarrassed because people automatically stereotype me as having money.

“Oh, everyone in the United States has money. They are so rich.”

And part of this perception is from the U.S. missionaries that go to poorer (economically) countries and give money just to make themselves feel better instead of actually helping the communities they are in. But that’s a whole other topic for another blog post. (Book suggestions: When Helping Hurts by Brian Fikkert and Steve Corbett, and Toxic Charity by Robert D. Lupton)

I am so lucky to have been born in the United States, but it’s so frustrating to be looked at like a pile of money. It’s simply not true.

Then there is the opposite side of the spectrum. I had a friend share his frustrations when talking about his home country of Kenya. While his experience was the opposite of mine, he had similar feelings.

“We had a missionary from the United States come stay in our town. She stayed in a 5-star hotel with a pool, spa, and the most delicious food delivered to her room every morning. She was in the air conditioning and had maids come in to clean her room every day. But what picture did she take and post online? She took the one of the starving child on the street. And of course she had to get the picture of the child crying instead of laughing or playing. She couldn’t have taken a picture of her on the balcony at the top of this hotel surrounded by the beautiful city landscape? Kenya is not a dirt patch.”

My friend is so lucky to have been born in Kenya, but it’s so frustrating for him to be looked at like a charity case. It’s simply not true.

A missionary does not have a certain “look”. It might be difficult to switch our way of thinking, especially since the media does not help break these stereotypes at all, but it is essential to allow people to serve freely as themselves.

On the flip side of this conversation, I have a friend in my cohort going to Northern Ireland to serve for 2 years. She immediately shared, “When I told my friends, family, and people at my church that I was going to Northern Ireland, they looked at me and said, ‘Why? They don’t have problems.’”

Let me repeat this for the people in the back.

THERE ARE PROBLEMS IN EVERY COUNTRY IN THE WORLD.

THERE IS A NEED IN EVERY COUNTRY IN THE WORLD.

However, let’s also be clear about something else. As Fellows, our job is not to go to another country and convert people to Christianity. (I personally believe you should be whatever religion you want to be! Or none at all if that’s the life you’re living! Go you!) As Fellows, we’re not there to bring free gifts, and we’re not there to provide an unwanted service in the communities where we will be staying. These are communities that have said, “Yes, we want a Global Mission Fellow to come live here and help us with this.” 

We are to come alongside the people, not come at them with our own ideas about how to “help” make things better. We need to give the dignity back to the people that are graciously welcoming us into their countries and communities. And we need to rid ourselves of the idea about what a missionary looks like, as well as where that individual can and can’t serve.

The Killing Fields

July 13^th, 2019

4:46 P.M. Phnom Penh, Cambodia

After several days of sitting in a nice air-conditioned room, learning about gender justice, discussing culture shock, and reviewing health and safety, we finally got to go out on an excursion. This afternoon we went to the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center, otherwise known as “The Killing Fields” in Phnom Penh.  

For those that don’t know, between 1975 and 1979 (yes, ending only 40 years ago) Cambodia experienced a mass genocide. Right after the end of the Vietnam War when U.S. troops had used parts of Cambodia as home base (as well as bombed parts of the country after suspecting Vietnamese targets), the Khmer Rouge, the communist party of Kampuchea, took power and tried to put Cambodia “back to Year Zero” and build a new republic. In order to make everyone “equal”, The Khmer Rouge executed anyone educated and "above" average. Doctors, teachers, journalists, and even those wearing glasses were singled out and killed because they were a threat to the system, seeing as they had had an education or looked like they were educated. However, this brutal regime believed that in order to stop these individuals, they also needed to kill anyone related or affiliated with the intellectuals, so families were also murdered.

Cambodian victims would be rounded up, taken in cramped trucks, and dropped off at The Killing Fields to be exterminated. Sound familiar? That was my thought, too. This was eerily similar to everything I had learned about The Holocaust in Germany. I kept thinking, "Why have I not heard about this until now?" It bothers me that this is recent history, there was U.S. involvement, and we don’t talk about it in schools. Many of the families that were separated still don’t know if their loved ones are missing or simply dead. Beyond that, around 40,000 Cambodians have been (and continue to be) victims of landmines produced during the reign of The Khmer Rouge. This mass genocide killed one-third of the entire population of Cambodia, and its lasting effects are continuing to kill and maim thousands more.

When first arriving to The Killing Fields, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The Cambodian heat made the entire experience uncomfortable on its own, but I don't think I was prepared for what my eyes were going to witness. Upon walking through the gates to the site, we received headphone sets to guide us through the fields. Each time we stopped at a marker, we would receive information about what was happening at that particular spot. The first thing we saw was a large and beautiful structure. At first glance, it was a nice piece of architecture. At second glance, it was holding thousands of human skulls.

After returning from The Killing Fields, I was doing some reflection on what I saw with a couple of the other individuals in my program. There were moments of absolute disbelief. Along the path we would see pieces of bone and clothing stuck in the dirt. In my head all I could imagine were people literally being ripped out of their clothing and pushed to the ground to be either hit in the head with a hammer or have their neck sliced. There was even a tree (which was now decorated in bracelets left behind by tourists) that they discovered had been used to kill babies. They would swing the child so hard against the tree that its skull would be crushed and it would die. And hundreds were killed this way.

As some of you may know, this journey I’ve decided to do is a global program. Over 50 individuals from all around the world (and from 26 countries) have decided to make a similar decision. One of those individuals is Cambodian. She willingly shared that growing up she didn’t understand why she didn’t have grandparents, or why her father talked about his siblings but they never saw them. It wasn’t until she became older that the devastation of what had happened in her country became a heavy weight on her heart.

Hearing her speak reminded me of a student I had while finishing my student teaching in Lincoln, Nebraska. She was from Cambodia, only having lived in the United States for a few years. Every day she came to school ready to learn, participate, and improve her English. She was a model student. And it frustrates me that during my time I spent being her teacher, I didn’t know her history.  

A fellow American peer said it best while debriefing. As Americans, we feel we are connected to things happening all over the world. The United States has resources and is powerful. We seem to always stick our noses in whether we belong or not. But these things keep happening. So, what are we missing?