Finding Him in the Stillness

I’ve been in Thailand for almost two weeks now, and I’ve been putting off looking back at my time in Cambodia and truly saying goodbye.  The season my team and I spent there was a sweet one, and so full of simplicity and life.

I miss it.

I miss the roosters crowing and the dogs howling each morning.

I miss the 5:30 am prayer time, when every kid in the orphanage rolled out of bed and sat in a circle, each one praying at the same time.  I’ve come to realize that there is power in community prayers all spoken out loud, as one voice, no matter the language.

I miss the early sunrises–each morning, I would grab a cup of coffee, my Bible, and sit under the rising sun while I spoke with Jesus.

I miss the bucket showers and the squatty potties.

I miss the cat we named Bryan, who insisted on sitting on our laps through every meal and sometimes snatched food right out of our hands.

I miss the cows who would come aimlessly wondering into the orphanage’s property and spend the day eating the grass there.

I miss bike rides to the market.

I miss the sound of my little friend, Kao, calling me with his version of my name: “Levon Levoo!”

I miss prayer walking through the thick mud of the village.

I miss our off days spent in Siem Reap, exploring the city and coming back to the same coffee shop three times in the same day to get ice cream or a latte.

I miss dancing with the kids.

I miss the time I taught the best dancer there, Phekdy, how to waltz.

I miss chasing the smallest boys around the same bushes ten times before grabbing them and spinning them around and around.

I miss painting with the older girls, and spending time with them as they spent hours in the hot sun refilling my paint roller and holding the bottom of the rickety ladder I used to reach the top of the building.

I miss handing out colorful string bracelets to the kids.

I miss our Sunday night “parties,” when we all sat down together for dinner and drank soda and danced to songs in Khmer.

I miss driving with our host, Soapie, as he told us more about Cambodian culture and about how he met his wife.

I miss the monsoons there, and the way the rain drowned out all sound and washed everything (including the clothes we hung outside to dry) clean.

I miss the room I shared with three of my teammates.  Each week, we’d rearrange our sleeping pads so we all had the same amount of floor space, but every morning I’d still wake up with Rachel’s face an inch from mine–and I miss that too.

I miss the way my mosquito net, hung up around my sleeping pad, made me feel like I had my own “room.”

I miss acting out skits for the children.

I miss facetiming my parents and then the kids coming around me, excited to talk to “Mom” too.

I miss the tuk-tuk drivers, who were so kind and full of laughter–even when they tried to overcharge us.

I miss the flowers that grew all over the orphanage, and the girls braiding them into our hair.

I miss the late-night talks with my roommates, and our “Parent Trap” movie night.

I miss Kao getting so excited to take my phone and get a video of himself singing “Set A Fire.”

I miss the huge chickens and geese running around and wreaking havoc.

I miss cleaning the dishes each night.

I miss the movie nights we had with the kids.

I miss teaching English, and hearing the kids finally grasp the words or the songs we were teaching them.

I miss the quietness there.  Despite the howling dogs and the crowing roosters, there was a stillness that took over everything.  The peace and gentleness of the orphanage suffused the air.  God did a mighty work during our time there–but He did it in the simple moments, in the whispered conversations, in the pure laughter of a child.  He changed hearts and He moved mountains–but He did those things in the calm, in the lulls between our scheduled ministry.

My God is an awesome God, but He is also a quiet God, a peaceful God.  His love is extravagant and mighty, but it is also so overwhelmingly gentle.  He’s taught me to rest in the simplicity of who He is and to find comfort in that.  My prayer is that, in this next season, I can hold on to those truths and seek out His stillness even when it seems hard to find.