Early Bird • Night Owl

If the early bird catches the worm, what does the night owl catch? As a night owl myself, I would sure like to know. Along with many blessings and trials that come with mission work, an unexpected advantage Bradley and I have received, is getting to know each other better. In all of our marriage, I think we have learned more about one another in the past 10 months than the previous 9 years, collectively. Our first few years of marriage were split between balancing family adjustments, as we were the first marriage on both sides; Bradley's full-time schooling, and part-time jobs; and my full-time day job, followed by night school. The years following this were spent in preparation for children. Whether it was striving to gain footing in my tiny graphic design business, which had taken the place of night school; home projects that would allow a more peaceful and beneficial place for us to grow our family; or filling a seat at a middle school orchestra concert in support of my hubby, I kept myself busy. At the same time, Bradley was attempting to juggle his career, our relationship, and church responsibilities. Due to the amount of hours we were both putting in, our schedule consisted of the following: wake up; eat; survive the day; accomplish something at night; try to get at least 6 hours of sleep...or catch up Saturday if there happens to be a free weekend in the near future. It was a blast - yes, if you could hear me, there would be some irony in my voice. ;o)

I say all of this, to convey the fact that Bradley and I have never had much time together, outside of vacations. Once I began my nanny job, we did have a little more time together, as Bradley would come to work with me some, but our time together has never fit our ideal situation. When he was home for summer break, I was still working full-time; and when I was off during the boys' school hours, Bradley was mastering his teaching skills in the classroom. In moving to this new country, we were thrown into a lot of time together. For the first few months I was in hog heaven. I was getting Bradley all to myself for more than a week, and for the first time, everything we did was together. We had always been working together toward a common goal, but up to our move, most of our work had been independent of one another; we have always been a team, but now we were out on the field at the same time, instead of handing off in a relay race. It felt great!

Then we began getting a little, let's say, grumpy with each other. One day we had been short with one another one too many times, and it was therefore time for a heart-to-heart. Bradley, being the kind soul he is, could not bring himself to say it, so I said it for us, "I love you, but you are getting on my nerves." I have come to believe this is the plight of an introvert-extravert marriage, as the intro/intro-vert and extra/extra-vert marriages I know, do not seem to struggle with this problem as often. Bradley was suffering from cabin fever: being stuck in the house with only one person, away from the hustle and bustle was driving him mad - I'll let you decide if I mean angry-mad or crazy-mad. *wink-wink* On the flip side, I was growing frustrated with constantly having someone in my space: having anyone trudging around an otherwise peaceful, creative space, was trying my nerves. I am laughing as I think back on this moment. Here we were, both annoyed with each, but neither one of us wanting to admit it aloud, which only made the problem worse. Thankfully, as best friends, we were desirous to figure out a solution to our problem, because, well, we really like each other a lot, and it was just no fun being grumpy. The conclusion seemed obvious: Bradley needed to go places and see people, and I needed time alone, in my home, to work and create. Everything was fixed, and we lived happily ever after...umm, only in Hollywood guys.

Our next problem, was how to resolve our issue, now that "Dr. Brandi" had diagnosed us. My alone time was easy to accomplish, as it was as simple as Bradley leaving, but where do you go in a foreign city where the majority of the people do not speak your language? If you truly answered this question just now, you are most likely an extravert, and therefore you understand that simply being out and about can be a blessing, regardless of the company. If you shirked this question, hoping it would be answered for you, as you would not want to be in this position, you are most likely an introvert, like me. Hello friend! Let's limit our time together and be best buds!

Bradley welcomed the opportunity to run errands, meet people for coffee, and just get out of the house. For several months, this arrangement worked well for both of us, but then frustration again reared its ugly head. It took a little more effort to discover our problem this time, as I was quite happy with the situation, and I am the one more likely to share my vexations. In the states, our schedule had allowed Bradley roughly 1-2 hours of alone time in the morning. Either at home or at school, he rose early to relish in grinding and brewing his coffee. He would sip his dark delight while he answered emails, read his bible, or tended to a host of other items on his agenda. He had this extra time because I am not a morning person. Even as a baby, I would stay up well past midnight, and sleep until 9 or 10 the next morning. At 21 years of age, my mom was thrilled with the hours her baby girl kept. However, American life, in general, does not cater to those of us who daily live out the scene from Disney's WALL-E. Just the sound of his alarm beeping gives me the creeps. *ewww* Back to Bradley. In trying to be a devoted wife, I had been going to bed and rising with Bradley, even though I would have rather stayed up later to get some things done. Well, come to find out, the man would actually prefer that I sleep in, in order to allow him some time alone in the morning. So, being the ever so gracious and giving person that I am, I agreed to his nearly unbearable terms of keeping my own hours. After all that, he had the audacity to offer to make us breakfast once a week. Oh the agony! I am not sure how long I will be able to bear this affliction, but I guess I will just have to find a way to endure.

We have been practicing this early bird/night owl routine for a few months now, and I am not going to lie, it has been wonderful! Bradley has his morning time to work out; brew his coffee; and feel energized before he greets his night owl with a sweet, words-are-not-necessary hug. {I love that he gets me!}

I am also enjoying the ability to give in to my night-time energy, whether it consists of organizing a shelf; house cleaning; or the more often, creative inspiration that hits just as Bradley is ready to wind down. I still get ready for bed with him, as he prefers we pray together, before tucking in for the night. {I guess I get him too.} Once the bedroom light is out, I either carry on with my work in the living space, or I work by the glow of my computer screen in bed.

With 14 months ahead of us in this work, I am quite sure we still have a lot to learn about each other, but I am grateful for how much we have grown thus far. Each morning I am blessed to be awakened by the smell of coffee brewing for my early bird, and every evening, I look forward to kissing my best friend good night. I may not catch the worm, but this night owl has caught more blessings than I deserve.

Question time:

1) Are you an early bird or a night owl?
How does this affect your schedule and/or relationships?

2) Are you and yours intro-extra; intro-intro; or extra-extra verts?
Do you feel this has made your relationship easier or more difficult at times?

I look forward to your answers. Cheers!

We're not in Kansas anymore...

As a child, I recall watching The Wizard of Oz with Judy Garland. I remember being appalled by the insolence of Miss Gulch and her hatred for Toto; I was terrified as the tornado bellowed through Dorothy's home, knocking her out with an entire window; and I was fascinated with the magic of technicolor when she stepped through that door into the land of Oz. To this day, I can see the agony in her face, as she desperately pleaded for a way to get home. Although there have been times throughout my life that I have felt homesick, I had never coveted the power of those ruby red slippers until recently.

When we signed on for the mission work in Cambodia, we accepted, reluctantly, that we would be giving up precious time with our family and friends. Although we had no desire to miss any of the blessed moments with our loved ones, we deeply felt the meaning of "seek God's Kingdom first." For some, this means living down the street from mom and dad, but for us, when we surveyed our life, we felt that God had been preparing us for this work for a while.

After agreeing to embark upon this adventure, we battened down the hatches, and made it through the tornado that ensued as we packed our life away for 2 years. We may not have been knocked out by a window, like Dorothy, but when we awoke in a new land, it was definitely strange and filled with small(er) people. There have been several times I would have joyfully welcomed the presence of a Glinda on my path, but I've been thankful to have my 3 witty pals as we have made our way down the yellow brick road - I will let you decide who is who. ;o)

Holidays and celebrations with family have either been missed, or enjoyed for a short hour on Skype. However, this past week, Bradley and I had to endure what I think is the greatest frustration with mission work: hearing bad news from afar. Our precious niece, just over a week old was taken to the emergency room with meningitis. The reality of living in a foreign country, is that news, good or bad, will most likely be delivered via email or facebook. Grant it, years ago, we would not have known about our dear Millie's need for prayer, until the crisis had passed, and therefore I find myself once again thanking our heavenly Father for technology. When Bradley and I read the message requesting prayers for Millie's health, we prayed immediately, doing our best to not panic. Out of respect for my brother and sister-in-law, we did our best to not bother them with questions or messages, but it was near agonizing to sit and wait. If we had been in the states, we would have been sitting and waiting just the same, but it felt so much more difficult to do with thousands of miles between us and our loved ones. Every hour or two, one of us was hovering over the computer, waiting for an update, hoping for good news. It was such a relief to know that grandparents were there to assist in whatever way Carli and Aubrey needed, but as the oldest children in our families, we naturally struggle with guilt when we are not close at hand for our siblings.

Beautiful Millie dressed in her finest.

Such a precious little face... 

 Always such an attentive father, we are blessed

to call him our brother; and it is evident, in this

picture, that our Millie will be just as blessed

with her precious older brother, Pierce.

Carli, always a gentle and caring teacher to her precious

children, is a wonderful example of a godly mother.

After nearly a week, on Mother's Day, we were blessed to learn that Millie had been released to go home! We were extremely grateful to hear the good news about our baby girl, and we are still praising God for His gracious mercy shown in Millie. Aubrey and Carli are such amazing parents, and we were so proud to watch them face this trial with their beautiful godly strength, proving once again that they both have hearts of gold. I would have given anything to have borrowed Dorothy's shoes, but this trial from afar was a healthy reminder that we are not in control. I could have tapped the tar out those ruby heels, but they could not have healed Millie; only the Great Physician could do that, and we are still thanking Him for doing so.

A precious face that once again proves there is no place like home.

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?