Home Sweet Fort Knox

There are some certain parents - I won't name any names - who are, from time to time quite concerned for our safety in this far away land. Well, may all rest assured that we are safely tucked away in our lovely cage every night. Surely I am exaggerating you say? Well my friends, I'll let each of you be the judge. With the heat here, it is almost imperative that we keep our flat open to allow a constant air flow through the house. Here is our daily routine as we live in our own version of Fort Knox:

Bradley: "Hey Brandi, I know, let's go somewhere!"
Me: "Okay Bradley. That sounds swell!"
Bradley: "Alright honey, let's bar the place down... literally!"
Both of us: "Hahahahaha!"
Me: "Oh Bradley, you're so funny. Surely you don't mean that we have to literally bar the place down, do you?"
Bradley: "Why Brandi, yes I do. The Lord gave us brains, and our landlord gave us locks and bars."
Me: "Wow Bradley, that is so true. Welp, let's get to work."

First: The outer, metal doors...

We remove the door stop from one side...

and the bungee cord from the other - good thing we aced our 'how-to-ghetto-rig-anything class' huh?!

Now to close them in the proper order, as one has an outer lip. Vanna White ain't got nothin' on me.

We slide this bar into the door frame loop above, and twist it into the locked position. Then we repeat the same act with the bottom bar, before latching the two doors together.

Then comes the bar on the orange, inner door...

and ner' we forget the bottom bar that slides into the floor.

Then I have to unstick the door that Bradley has forcefully propped open...

and here we have an actual key and handle to lock the doors.

Then come the windows above the table. The lock on the window was broken when we moved into the place. We showed it to the Landlord. Her response: "oh, it's okay. Don't worry about it. You do not need to pay for it." Our response: "um, okay? Thanks?" Then we turned to metal wire... sorry, duct tape doesn't work for everything.

The kitchenette and hallway windows are last on our way out the door. Speaking of...

Because the wind slams the door shut if we don't have it... bungees are an American-Cambodian's best friend.

Another key and lock! Our door is actually orange, but the red color is pretty...

Good job Bradley! Now that you know how to properly lock down your home, you should go enjoy a nice, refreshing Coke. (You're welcome Coca-Cola company. I'm a Pepsi girl myself.) Don't forget to be cautious on that ridiculously uneven staircase. You never know where the accident monster is lurking, just waiting for its next victim.

Look what was waiting to greet us... a couple of our downstairs neighbors. Like most little Khmer boys, this cutie pie enjoys airing his innocence. Clothes are so over-rated when you're 2 years old.

Oh no! Bradley! What happened to your head?

Oh, phew! It's just a case of a tiny, cramped, built-for-only-little-people stairway. Originally, Bradley's parents were planning to visit us, and we were all looking forward to watching dad attempt getting through this space. I know, we're so bad. Love ya dad!

The final descent. We're almost out of the cage... yes, I said almost.

Our mudroom. No, seriously, this is usually where the mud collects when it rains. ;o)

The mudroom leads into our garage, and the final barred gate. It gets a little cramped at night, as our neighbors park their moto in here too. It could always be worse though.

Jingle, jingle go the keys. Here's our final lock, and look! It's on the outside of the gate. Oh joy! We have the fun of trying to unlock the door from the inside. No need to fear though, Bradley and his crazy unlocking powers are here.

We made it to the other side, and now it's time to ride...

Not too bad, huh? We like it, and we're thankful that God has given us a safe haven in the midst of this sometimes crazy-to-us place. The bars and many locks were slightly overwhelming at first, but now it's just a part of our life. It is amazing that with God on the throne of our hearts, home is wherever our hearts rest, and for the present, our hearts are resting here. So, anytime you're in Phnom Penh, just look us up. We'll be more than happy to welcome you into our Home Sweet Fort Knox.

Does it really matter?

During the planning process of our move to Cambodia, thanks to my over-thinking skills, a supposedly simple decision became very complicated. I feel confident if I were a super hero, my super natural power would be the ability to over analyze any situation... ANY situation. So, when it came time to choose a hotel for our transition into a new country, I managed to convolute the task.

I began with over 60 hotels that fit into my criteria, before sorting through the various lodging options. After a few weeks, I had it narrowed down to 3 spots that would suit us well, and our desire to be in closer proximity to the Bouth family knocked us down to 2. For some, a simple coin toss or "eenie, meenie, minee, moe" would do the trick, but this was a job for the Over Analyzer. So, to that I said, "let the agonizing commence!" ;o) Bradley listened to argument after argument, knowing full well that he was not a part of the personal debate taking place in the living room, and wisely kept out of the web I was busily weaving.

For roughly 2 weeks I bounced back and forth between worry and prayer. Worry brought on guilt, as I was not turning over my burden (as small as it was), to the Almighty, but then I would begin to feel silly praying for such a seemingly unimportant matter. I mean, it is not like the course of our entire life would be altered because we were at one hotel or the other, right? I was being silly, and I knew it. So, with one final prayer {ya know, just in case this choice really did matter}, I clicked on and paid for the hotel that would be our temporary home in a foreign country. *PHEW!* It was done, and I could now relax, knowing that we had a bed waiting for us, and that the Heavenly Father was hopefully pleased with my decision, if it had any bearing on anything. The move came, and before we knew it, we were standing at the entrance of the Frangipani Hotel.

After the first week, Bradley had managed to make several friends {big surprise!*wink*wink*}, and one man in particular was often perched near our breakfast table, wishing us well and doing his best to assist us in any possible way. Being an introvert in a strange land, I was not always keen on this gentleman hovering nearby, but Bradley's God-given talent won out, thankfully. At first our conversations were cordial, necessary for politeness sake. Soon, however, the "good mornings" became "can I help you buy phones," and then evolved into "I will take you to the market and help you purchase such and such." As the Edwards were at the same hotel (an unplanned coincidence... or was it?) , Bradley recommended this young man's services to them as well. Before long, Jonathan and Bradley had interviewed Vanny for employment as our translator/interpreter, and this serious, very business like man left the same hotel to join us in our work for the Lord.

Now, let me introduce you to the man who is Chan Vanny.
In this culture, their family name is listed first, and their "V" is pronounced like our "W". So, Vanny's name sounds like "Wonny" to us.

Even when he struggles with motion sickness, he's ready to cheese it up for a good laugh.

Although at first he appeared very somber, with a let's not mix business with pleasure type of attitude, it soon became evident that this was a facade easily penetrated. A prankster, waiting for the next opportunity to startle or trick his nearest victim, it was easy to fall in love with this "little brother," as I know how to play the role of big sister all too well. He literally thrives on making me jump, and if I scream, it is just that much better...the little stinker! ;o) As a baby, his older sister passed away, and not knowing her in this life, he has said that he longs to make her laugh in heaven. If she is able to look down on her younger brother, I am sure she is already giggling joyfully.

Vanny is an invaluable blessing, and I will try to help you learn a little bit about the man whom I proudly call my friend and brother in Christ.

Born into a rough life without a father, and a mother who was incapable of raising her children without a husband, he spent most of his childhood in the care of his grandparents. Their family was in poverty, and there were many times Vanny played the part of a street urchin. This is a nickname given to children who are orphaned and/or poor, and who try to make money by performing random small jobs, like dusting a windshield or selling handmade bracelets. Chum Ben is a holiday when the Buddhists throw sticky rice on the ground of the pagodas for dead relatives to "eat," and sometimes guards are posted to ensure no one sneaks into the grounds to snatch the food. Vanny bears the scar of one of these attempts. When I see that scar, I am reminded of a hungry boy trying to feed himself, but the sadness fades quickly when I see the smile of the man he has become. He is Aladdin in real life - a street rat who is truly a diamond in the rough.

This man recognizes what God has done for him, and it shows in everything he does. Over the past 8 months, I have been privileged to watch the Lord working in and through Vanny for His Kingdom's sake. In the beginning, he was often nervous, even reluctant at times to share (interpret) Jonathan or Bradley's thoughts or questions with others during a study, but now... Now, he is eager to go and share the truth with anyone who is willing to listen. The talents God has placed in him are so complimentary with Bradley and Jonathan, and I am in awe as I watch them growing as a team for His sake. He has chosen a beautiful wife, Sopeak, who has recently given him their first daughter, Grace. Already I am looking forward to the day when I get to hug this couples' neck, twenty years gone, knowing that we were so honored to serve in the birth of the church in this land we call Cambodia.

Vanny's baptism... Penny loves her Mister Vanny.

Vanny interpreting Mr. Sarem's words to Jonathan.

Hard at work, ensuring the message is understood.

Although the young man changed his mind, Vanny worked very hard to find him a job in the city.

Vanny working his "magic" in personal work.

Always able to laugh and love life...

The first study Vanny led on baptism.

Some may say our meeting Vanny is coincidence, and they may be right. However, looking back at the decision that I thought was so ridiculous, I cannot help but see God's hand in it all. I know some, if not many, when dealing with the small details of life will ask "does it really matter?" Well, for me personally, all I have to do is look into Vanny Chan's face, and then I know, "Yes, it does."

Table for two, please.

Well, the 6 month blues are finally wearing off, thankfully, and it's starting to feel like home around here. I had been warned {thank you Debbie!} about the homesick blues, and it appears to hit most people between the 3 and 6 month mark. The homesick blues are when you hit the point of "this-place-stinks-and-I-wanna-go-home" as the excitement and newness fades. I am grateful to have been prepared for that part of our Cambodian adventure, and hopefully my experience will serve as a help to another missionary wife in the future. As the homesick blues dissipate, we're settling in quite nicely. Bradley's second semester is under way, and as he works at the same time each day, all be it, the days still vary, it has allowed for a more steady rhythm in our life. We have both been busy with various projects, as we work together to set up our homestead, and I am thrilled to announce the newest addition to our home: our table! First, though, let me take you on the fascinating journey of table crafting...

Phase 1: Finding the perfect piece

Bradley, the poor soul, was forced to hunt down this piece in a small warehouse full of every size of wood imaginable. {For those who don't know, Bradley is obsessed with wood. In other words, it was like a kid in a candy store}

Unfortunately, this piece was not deep enough to serve as a table. So, Bradley chose to try his hand at concrete. He followed a natural split, and then drilled holes to create the rest of the split.

Our stair rail served as his make shift "work table." He used a kromaa and a small piece of wood as a sort of clamp for the base pieces.

He cut the rebar into small pieces to insert into the strips of table where the concrete would later be poured.

Hacksaw + man power = baby rebars

Baby rebars in place.

Essentials for my craftsman: sketch pad; measuring tape; and most importantly, a hot cup of coffee.

Yes. That is a hand saw.

Yes. He sawed everything by hand.

Yes. He misses his power tools.

Phase 2: Mending the tear

Aww, finally a power tool. His drill was his only electrical friend on this job... well besides lights.

Wood crafting is a dirty business...

Yuck!

Phase 2 completed.

Bradley is 6 feet tall, for a reference on the length of our table.

Phase 3: Concrete evidence

My hubby did his research! He went online to find, and then create 6 different concrete recipes. In the states, we would buy concrete bags, premixed. Here, you purchase the separate components to mix on your own. After the 6 samples had dried, he did a stress test to see which ones would move onto the final round: Brandi's texture obsession. Four samples made it to my hands, and sample "A" was the winner. Its color, appearance, and texture were perfect for our table.

Late night mixing...

Time to pour, spread, and cover.

After the concrete dried, my artist chiseled away at his baby, ensuring the smoothest surface possible. Then onto the last stage of the process:

Phase 4: Apply sealer, and enjoy!

Isn't it absolutely gorgeous!

Front view of the table and base.

The base. The vertical pieces are what were "clamped" down with the kromaa and wood piece.

We love our table, and have already employed it for games, office hours, and our Khmer lessons!

It never crossed my mind that a table would make our home feel more like a home, but, as an American, it makes sense. Although any table would have worked in our space, no other piece would be such a blessing. I'm not a huge gifts person when it comes to my love language, but this gift was an act of service and love. I feel very blessed to have such a talented husband. After 10 years of marriage, he still has the ability to amaze me with his talents. I'm jazzed to see what he'll make me after 20 years. Hehe! ;o)

Question time: What piece of furniture makes your home feel like a home?

Who needs an enemy when I have me?

The month of January flew by, and I feel like I lost so much of my life in those 4 1/2 weeks. Byron, my brother, came for a 2 week visit, and it was sorely needed. Between being homesick and struggling with cultural frustrations, I needed to see his face and hear his hearty laugh in person. His light-hearted, yet deep-thinking spirit was a blessing, but then he was gone. The following few weeks were spent attempting to play catch up with the tasks, chores, and work we'd neglected during our stay-cation with my brother.

Here we are now, nearing the eight month mark of our stay in Cambodia, and I'm feeling overwhelmed. I have work for Flirting with Fonts; design work to aid in our mission here; we're increasing our Khmer classes, which is greatly needed; and a home that has several projects yet to be completed. All of this is hanging over my head, while I try to complete normal day to day tasks. Sometimes I feel like I'm at the kitchenette, preparing meals for 80% of my day, and for someone who would honestly eat pbj's and cereal for most of her meals if she were single, it can be a beat down. Yes, I feel horrible saying that, as feeding my family is a priority, but I still struggle with feeling like I'm "wasting" my time preparing food, when I could be working. No, I am not saying that food prep is a waste of time, b/c it is obviously a necessity, and therefore an extremely important job, and yet I still wrestle with the feeling of futility in my efforts.

So, here I am, writing, in hopes that this will allow me to release. Back home, I had several factors present in my life which assisted in lowering my stress levels. First, I had the boys. Zach and Max were my focus. I know for some people, children are a stress. I do not mean that children are an unpleasantry, but rather, no matter how much that mother, father, or person loves said child, they often feel flustered or out of control in their presence. I know some wonderful, loving mothers, who seem to have the most peace when they are alone. They seem more capable of focus and peace apart from the child or children, and in having those moments of peace and quiet, they can then be more purposeful for their child/ren. Although I had my moments when I needed alone time, apart from the boys, in order to collect my thoughts, overall, children focus and calm me. They provide an energy or source of peace for me that I don't find with adults, or even alone. Left to myself, I often fall into a routine of I-don't-know-what-to-accomplish-first, and then I overwhelm, overload, and melt down. It's really rather pathetic, but true. With children, I just do. I don't think about it; I just clean, organize, and work. I think it's because my focus is on the child/ren, and I am distracted from my annoying, over-analyzing brain. Between insuring proper nutrients are supplied; playtime is peaceful; screen time is monitored; sufficient nap time is given; and an overall well-being is provided, well, who has time to worry about the order in which your tasks are accomplished? It's almost like my mind finds peace in multi-tasking. My conscience can focus on the little ones, while my sub-concsience tends to all of the other items on my to-do list. My favorite time was after the boys had woken from their naps. Neither of them woke up peppy in the afternoon, and I relished quiet snuggles on the couch while Little Bear or Peppa Pig brought them back to life. As a physical affection person, holding my little guys was a piece of paradise for me, but I no longer have my boys on a daily basis - a heart heavy topic in and of itself. When I do see them, my attention is 100% on them during our Skype sessions, as they are my sole and only purpose and accomplishment during those moments. I cannot wait to once again hold my little slices of paradise in my arms. I miss them so much.

Another stress relief was my cat, Oscar, and every once in a while our other feline, Bitsy, would stop being a brat long enough to give me some love too. In those moments when the ceiling was crushing down on me, grabbing that little fur ball, and snuggling him under my arm was a solace. He didn't expect anything from me, so long as I had filled his food and water bowls at some point during the day, and to have that moment of freedom from responsibility; to be completely selfish in cuddling with my little fur baby; it was invaluable. Although my kitties are well cared for in the states (thank you mom and Granny!!!), I no longer have that option of temporary retreat from the world. Animals are very different here in Cambodia. They are usually treated more like strays than pets, but even if you do find one that is used to being loved by their master, they are so dirty and ridden with disease and parasites, loving on them is not a safe or viable option.

So, I strive to create a peaceful homestead, yet, I don't have my boys or Oscar during those times of desired refocus or retreat. Here, I have different and sometimes greater stresses in this task. I cannot simply make a run to the nearest Target or Hobby Lobby for decor or crafting needs. Then I flip, focusing on the notion that things do not make a home; people do. Striving for balance between making our home welcoming while remembering this is a temporary homestead, is to say the least, challenging for this over-thinker. In the moments I'd temporarily withdraw from the world with Oscar in tow, Bradley could continue his life, free from my crazy self, but I do not have Oscar here. My poor husband has to deal with me as is, and let me tell you, it is not pretty. We all have our flaws, and one of my greatest ones is allowing myself to be swallowed by disappointment. I have always been this way though. My mother said that conferences with my grade school teachers went something like this, "Brandi is an excellent student. She loves to learn, and is always eager to help her fellow students (a nice way to say I talked too much). However, she tends to spend too much time on her work. She wants things to be perfect, and therefore has a hard time moving onto another task if her first task is incomplete or does not meet her expectations." Well, not much has changed. I still love learning; I am still eager to help others; I still talk too much; and I still strive for perfection, even when it's unnecessary... and possibly unhealthy. Ugh! My mother has always said I am my own worst enemy, and it remains the same at thirty-two years of age.

However, I am determined to not let this get the best of me. Satan is very crafty in his ways of toying with us, and he knows that I am my own worst enemy. I've been making his job easier, and I realize that I have to stop. My goal this week: accept imperfection, and embrace reality. After all that I have learned through my trial with infertility, I still find myself struggling with feeling out of control. Silly Brandi. When will you ever learn? You have never been in control, and the only way you can gain control of your stress is to let it go. It worked for Queen Elsa, right? ;o) Proverbs 3:5-6 will be my montra, and I will find peace in His truths, because in order to fully serve the great I AM, I have to remember that I am not.

Okay, question time...

What is something that gives you comfort and/or peace when stress knocks down your door?

Frustration

As I sit here, typing, I continue adjusting my sitting position; loosening my tense shoulders; straightening my back for the 500th time; releasing my locked jaw; all of it, over and over again. Today is one of those days. I would like to say that everyday I'm positive, cheery, and ready for whatever life throws my way, but, unfortunately, that would be a lie.

For the most part, I believe that I've done a great job of being the optimist in our American group. Often, where one sees a nasty bump in the road, I see a roller coaster ride; where someone hears a local laughing at their attempt to speak Khmer, I hear a group of friends enjoying a good story; when it's pointed out that the moto in front of us pretended to not see us, I assume they really didn't see us.

Well, sadly, today is not an "optimist" day.

Today I feel the weight of the culture around me. I am an outsider, and I am struggling to find the positive in that. I hear the hundreds of conversations occurring outside our windows, and I feel the frustration of the language barrier. I smell the trash that's been left too long to rot on our street, and I feel the frustration of the lack of civilization in the system. I taste the apple I bite into, only to realize that I bought the wrong ones, thanks to my inability to appropriately speak Khmer. I feel the sweat run down my back, longing for a day with a high less that 86 degrees. I see the half painted walls in our flat, waiting until I can finish the image alterations for some church work, and part of me wants to scream... even though it's my own choosing to decorate this place. Ugh! Bradley is feeling the frustration too, although in his own way, and this, of course, makes it all worse, as neither of us has the desire to be the peppy cheerleader for one another. Was it not just a week ago that we were happily celebrating 10 years, and this week we're striving to be civil?

Okay, you do not need to panic. We are fine, but this is something we deal with from time to time. I understand this is a completely normal part of culture shock, but that does not make it any less frustrating. Thankfully most of my days are enjoyable, and I go to bed feeling accomplished and gratified with my work for the Lord, my husband, others, and myself. Then there are those days, like today, where I wonder if I will ever understand this culture; if I will ever make a difference. Along with the culture shock, we are feeling homesick. We are missing family time and the annual New Year's Meeting with loved ones, which makes our hearts a little heavier right now. Another stress factor is our current lack of routine. Bradley is out of school for 3 weeks for the "winter" break. A lot of the expats (foreigners) fly home during the break to places that actually have a winter, which is the reason for the extra vacation week. Oddly enough, the holidays effect quite a bit here. I guess there are enough expats to cause this effect, and it has left a peculiar feeling in the air. Although I cannot fully describe the feeling, it is a cross between the energy of New York City, and the stillness on New Year's Day. This introvert is wrestling with the excessive vitality floating through the air, while Bradley is ready to bust through the stillness. Tomorrow, Lord willing, I will be able to return to my optimism, and today's frustration will dissipate. I wonder if Paul felt this culture shock at times during his mission work? It has really made me meditate on the greater shift in culture Jesus must have encountered when He came down to earth. It kind of makes me shutter. I guess I need to make that my goal: to handle frustration as gracefully as the Lord. If He can descend from Paradise, I can man up and deal with my pitiful frustration.

I enjoyed your responses last time, and I would love to hear from you again.

If you have lived, or are living abroad, what is your greatest frustration concerning culture shock?

If you have not lived abroad, out of the items I mentioned plaguing my senses, which do you think would most overwhelm you?

Cheese and Chocolate

Everyone has indulgences. Mine? Mine are cheese and chocolate. Okay, so there are a few others, but food-wise, nothing beats thick, ooey-gooey, melted cheese that's been slightly browned from the oven. My mouth is already watering, and I haven't even described the decadent, rich, velvety yumminess that dark chocolate provides. *I'm now drooling!*

Well, in the kingdom of Cambodia, these two food items, common place in any grocery market in the states, are rare and expensive luxuries. I was relieved and surprised to find some pizza chains here. Some make what they think is pizza, and then there are a few that make the real thing. Pizza Company is my favorite. Although the Edwards have decided they do not care for it's Pizza-Hut-like pizza, and Bradley would prefer the fancy gourmet pizza served up by Brooklyn's Bistro, I crave their double cheese pizza with cheese-stuffed crust, along with their endless refill Coke. *sigh* Yeah, I know you healthy nuts are gagging, but you aren't in a land where cheese and pizza are special treats, not something you can pick up for $5 on the way home from work. {There's no need to comment on the fact that healthy nuts would not be picking up pizza on their way home. Just let me have this.} In mine and Marissa's hunt for cheese, we have found a few options that are occasionally doable. The grocery market nearest to us sometimes has mozzarella or "cheddar" cheese. The "" are for the fact that the cheddar suspiciously resembles mozzarella with a little less moisture. I'm able to get the equivalent of roughly 10-12 ounces of cheese for $3.30, which is almost three times what I paid in the states, and with a grocery budget of about 1/3 of what it was in back home, cheese does not appear on our menu too often. Then there's a grocery market in town that has a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese that's 1.5 kg, which is a little over 3 pounds. Unless my memory fails me, a bag that size back home would cost me around $6-12, depending on the brand, store, etc. Well, for this incredibly amazing bag, you have to fork over $39 USD. That's right. That's almost a 1/3 of my monthly grocery expenses. So, yeah, that won't ever be in my shopping cart.

Then there's chocolate. With the French influence here, there are pockets of places with delicious pastries and goodies, but again, we have to yield to the idea of "everything in moderation." This one is as much for my hips and blood sugar level as it is for our finances. My favorite find here is the Double Chocolate Cookie Dough mix. {What is my obsession with double delights?} A precious commodity, we have tried eating it several different ways, but have settled on living dangerously with the raw form. Raw cookie dough out of the fridge. I mean, seriously, are there many things better than that? At the lowest price, these packs sell for nearly $4 at one location, but the Edwards and our family cleaned out our market a while back when they went on sale for $1.10 each! You would've thought that Missy and I had discovered oil, and the guys were as proud and happy as new fathers. Well, we just finished our last pack a few weeks ago. Sad day. However, care package brownie mixes have been filling the chocolate void that was left in our lives. {Thanks mom!} So, even though it means juggling the finances a little here and there, we try to allow ourselves the little, intermittent luxuries of life, and mine are cheese and chocolate.

I'm tired of only hearing myself talk. Please, I want to hear from you. What food indulgences do you think you would miss most if you were living abroad? Or if you have or are living abroad, what common food items do you long to taste?