by Elizabeth
I
We drive to church. The traffic slows, there’s been an accident. There are gawkers galore, but very few helpers. As we inch closer to the collision, see flesh strewn across the road. Death. My stomach turns. I hold my breath, brace myself for more carnage ahead, hoping my children don’t observe the details too closely.
by Jonathan
10. You’ll get to try new things, like typhoid fever and amoebas.
No worries. Even if you’re the most vaccinated person you know, you just might get sick. On the bright side, most of the time your illnesses will sound cool. And cool illnesses make people pray more.
But note: ulcers are not cool. If you get an ulcer, don’t tell anyone. Ulcers are too American.
Oh, and make sure your kids know how great all these new things are too. I was hanging out at an international high school once and overheard a kid say something about a student who was absent. He nonchalantly said, “Oh, he’s not here; he has an amoeba.” I wanted to grab the kid by the collar and say, “You know that’s not a normal sentence, right?”
He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. 2 Corinthians 1:4
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I almost didn’t publish the following journal entries, which I recorded during our first weeks in Cambodia. When I read them for the first time after a year, I was surprised by the intensity of my original feelings (although I’m nothing if not intense). I remembered that time as being bad, but not this bad. I’m sharing some of my journal here because I want 1) to give people hope, 2) to proclaim, along with Samuel, “thus far has the Lord helped us,” and 3) never to lose my compassion for those currently in the “depths of despair.” (Anne Shirley addicts unite! She still relates to all of life.)
I’m happy here now, and I’m no longer plagued by any of these yucks. We worked to correct some of them, while I simply became accustomed to others. The yays, however, persist – my dependence on worship, laughter, and a wonderful husband, haven’t changed at all.
Arrival Date: January 16th, 2012.
Friday January 20th. And there is absolutely nothing about this place that I don’t hate. Can’t think of any earthly reason why we shouldn’t just pack up and go back. So I pretty much don’t know how I’m ever going to survive here, let alone be happy again.
Theme #1: My Overreactor is dialed ALL the way up. You’ll see this repeated quite often.
Sunday January 22st. ICA was so good for my soul. “My life is in you, Lord, My strength is in You, Lord, My hope is in You, Lord, in You, It’s in You.” In worship today I just declared this to God, that He is my strength, my life, that I’m depending on Him to sustain me and only He can do it. We sang about going whatever the cost and up the highest mountain and through the darkest valley. God reminded me that I’m here to stay. Not just in Cambodia, but in relationship with Him. I’m not leaving Him. I’m stubborn on this point.
Struggling to find God on our first Sunday
So tired. Can barely stay awake after 5 pm every day. Up 6 times last night with Hannah. There is so much dust here that has to be swept and mopped every day, and that gets old. It feels so futile. Just get up the next day to clean it all again. Everything here is so stinkin’ dangerous. Sharp corners on walls, slippery floors. So much more danger in general.
Theme #2: My Hope is dialed all the way down. (Again, oft-repeated.)
Theme #3: Worship music was my lifeline. You’ll see this one again too.
Monday January 23nd. Bought the wrong size diapers. Again. I can’t get this kilogram thing figured out! But I am doing better in general. So is Jonathan. Can’t wait to go back to ICA.
And good grief the mosquito bites. New ones each morning. So itchy. Jonathan had to fix some electrical wiring today. Plugs are never enough or in a convenient place. Can’t flush in the morning. Showers don’t drain well. The heat saps your energy. Driving saps energy — there seem to be no rules. The nationals and their police know the rules but we don’t. Street signs don’t exist and the roads aren’t N-S-E-W. Dirt is everywhere and has to be cleaned. Laundry must be hung and dishes washed by hand. (Did I mention I can’t wait to get a house helper??) The language barrier is huge and everything is in kg.
Tuesday January 24th. I’m not particularly happy. I’m not particularly unhappy. I am particularly exhausted. Everything is so hard here but I keep plugging away. “Whatever.” That’s how I feel much of the time. I can laugh, however. We laugh all the time. Mostly at the stupidity of living here.
Everything is so stinkin dusty. Floors, furniture, stair railings. Even clean clothes smell like wood fire and spices. Annoying. Hannah slept all night with the aid of Benadryl. Benadryl to Isaac for his hundred mosquito bites. They were super bad in the house yesterday. Feet hurt excruciatingly badly. I need house shoes with arch support because I can barely walk. It’s so humid here, even in air con, that my hair doesn’t dry at night.
Theme #4: I can’t survive without laughter. (Experts claim that the beginning of laughter signals the slow ascent out of the Abyss of Culture Shock.)
Thursday January 26th. Another day. Ugg. Why do I have to live here? I don’t want to live here. I don’t want to want to live here. And I don’t want to keep living. Life is easier back home and I want it. Everything bothers me. Why does it have to be so hard? Nothing comes ready-made. You have to do it yourself, and even then the electrical wiring comes apart. I hate mornings. Reminds me how unhappy I am. At least at night I can look forward to sleep.
I suppose one of these days these pages will be happier. But I have never been unhappier. It seems so hopeless. I want to go home. I want to go home so bad that I don’t even care that it would look bad, that my life story wouldn’t mean anything, that it would go against everything we’ve ever said, that it would disappoint people, that we would have wasted people’s money, that it might be hard to find a ministry job. But this life is so terrible. I can’t stand it. I can’t find meaning. I can’t find pleasure. I can’t find comfort. I can’t find ease. I can’t find understanding. I can’t even find food I actually want to eat. And every morning I awaken to more needs from the girls. That is so endlessly draining. Can’t clean or cook or do anything b/c Faith needs me to hold her. I’m off to more house work now. Dirty, stinky, unending housework. Bartering is so hard, and you do it in 2 different currencies, 2 different languages, and never know if it’s a good price.
So much to fix. I can’t see the end, it goes on forever. This morning I wanted to die. I told Jonathan I wouldn’t kill myself b/c I don’t like pain, but all I wanted to do was to get on a plane alone and run away. Coming here really did seem like a good idea at the time. Not anymore. Plus Faith is sick with a fever, poor cranky baby.
Repeat of Themes 1 and 2 (High on Overreactivity and Low on Hope)
Sunday afternoon January 29th. Been sick for 2 days. Pain, chills, fever (flu-like) along with abdominal pain and diarrhea. Could barely move last 2 days. I missed church and hated to miss it. When will my heart take up residence in this place? I worry about never accomplishing anything. Never making a difference. To make a difference I’ll have to learn this language (too hard).
Themes 1 and 2 strike again (Overreactivity and Hopelessness).
Somehow I want to make peace with living here as Jonathan has. Being here makes me love my husband more than ever. He is so sweet to me, taking care of me when I’m sick, being patient with my depressed moods and angry outbursts. Seeing him in this setting reminds me how special he is, much more loving than most men.
Theme #5 surfaces: I need my husband.
Wednesday February 1st. I was so sick. 3 days of diarrhea and pain, then went to Dr Modich at Mercy Clinic. (I thought I was going to die I was in so much pain.) I needed Cipro. Still not back to normal plus I have a terrible head cold on top of that.
Finding Him is no longer fun and exciting. It’s drudgery, fearfulness, pain, sadness. But I am determined to find Him in this dark place. He is the light of the world and those who seek Him will find Him when they seek Him with their whole hearts. I will find Him. Yes.
Out to dinner with Jonathan’s sister before she left the country,
but still recovering from illness.
Thursday February 2nd. One thing that’s hard about living here (only one!) is that people like to touch my kids, and they don’t like it. How to stop it politely? I don’t know. In a moment of frustration today I started singing Magnificat. I knew I had to praise, and sure enough, I felt better.
Theme 3 (Worship) to the rescue again
Saturday February 4th. “This world may pass, and with it common trifles, but God and I will go unendingly.” These are the common trifles . . . mosquito bites that itch, heat and humidity, laundry that smells like fire (if window open) or mildew rotting (if closed).
Sunday February 26th. Church – great worship. Your Grace is Enough. How Deep the Father’s Love. A Zoe Group song I listened to while pregnant with Faith and during her labor. I cried during You are My Strength. Great a cappella song. Felt so good to sing. Made me homesick for heaven when we’ll all be together again singing praises to our King.
There I am, relying on Theme 3 again (worship).
March 27th. A few weeks into Cambodia I realized it would be more difficult to pack up and leave for home than to stay.
And then, inexplicably, I stopped journaling. Apparently I didn’t feel the need to journal my unhappiness anymore. So to anyone considering following God in a “big” way, no matter what that is, please do not give up Hope that life will improve, that Transition will pass. Do not believe that the rest of your life will be as dreadful as it feels right now. Hold on to Hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. Romans 5:3-5
In light of my first post, in which I explain how much I love life in Cambodia, I felt it necessary (in the interest of honesty, which is, after all, one of my highest values), to talk a little about our first month here.
IT WAS TERRIBLE.
And we even had help. Lots of help:
Help #1: My mother-in-law and sister-in-law came to Cambodia one week ahead of us and bought the essentials like beds, washing machine, kitchen appliances. Apparently it was not the purchasing of the beds and refrigerator, but the transporting of them up to the right floors, that was quite the feat. (They may even have this on video.) Bonus: They stocked that fridge and made those beds, and when they were all done with that, they picked us up from the airport.
Help #2: A different sister-in-law made the 24-hour long international flights with us, our 4 (sometimes motion sick) children, and 16 pieces of checked luggage. Bonus: She stayed for an entire two weeks to do whatever we crazed parents needed her to do, like, say, wash the dishes, or watch the children. This was not overkill, as I initially expected it to be. When Mommy got holed-up-in-the-bathroom-sick, she was there. When Mommy was camped-out-on-the-couch-wanting-to-die (that’s not a joke), she was there. Her and her Angry Birds game.
Help #3: When I was brand new to the country and didn’t know how to cook or grocery shop, three different families brought us meals.
That first month was the worst month of my life by far – and that is no exaggeration. Our luggage got stuck in Seoul, South Korea, and didn’t land in Cambodia with us. It didn’t arrive until midnight the next day, leaving us without such luxuries as diapers, shampoo, clean clothes, and tooth brushes for yet another 24 hour-period. (If any of you know my obsession with careful attention to clean teeth, you understand what a hardship that was.) I think I had brought some deodorant in my carryon. Oh yeah. I was real prepared for missionary life.
Fresh off the plane and smack dab in the middle of Transition.
Note the missing shirts, proof of our lost luggage.
Mosquitos ate us alive. Hannah and Faith were jet-lagged. We were jet-lagged. Jonathan had to drive that very first day in country (remember the lost luggage??). As a newbie driver, he got pulled over by police four times that first month — twice on the first day. Such a wonderful welcome to the country, don’t ya think??
One meal was just . . . rice. Another was eaten in the haze of burnt French toast. The plastic-y cheese on those first grilled cheese sandwiches never did melt. Even our kids have bad memories of those days.
I didn’t have any privacy — we didn’t have curtains in the bedroom yet. We didn’t have padding or carpeting for stair safety, and the gates hadn’t been installed yet. (Everything is concrete here, and the stairs are majorly steep. My Harm Avoidance had kicked into Overdrive.) And I couldn’t for the life of me convince the hot water heater to produce hot water, no matter how many exasperated sighs I let out. (My husband, on the other hand, had no such issues with the water. He did, however, find the nightly sighing sessions quite humorous.)
We didn’t know where to buy anything, and we didn’t know the language to negotiate a reasonable price if we had.
And everywhere we went, Cambodians touched my kids. They hated that.
My feet ached from walking barefoot on the concrete floors.
I was so hot. And we came in cool season.
Everything was so dirty.
And I was so miserable.
While Help #2 watched the children, I lay on the couch and wanted to die. Jonathan cried. That’s very characteristic behavior for us, by the way. Under the influence of stress, I shut down; he cries. (He tells me this is the Trotter Way, and he is ok with it now.)
We sent out a desperate “please pray for us” email. (Thank you for praying! We felt all your prayers from the beginning and continuing throughout this past year.)
Then one day, three weeks in, I got curtains in my windows. Privacy! Yay! My stress levels went down by 50%. That was the day I decided I could live in this place. (“They” say transition ends when you make the internal decision to settle in the new place.)
Then a week later, gates were installed on the stairs. Now I didn’t have to follow my toddler around every.waking.minute. My stress levels went down by another 50%. If you’re calculating correctly, I was now functioning at 25% of the first week’s stress — although it’s debatable whether lying on the couch wanting to die counts as “functioning.” That 25% slowly but steadily dropped to pre-flight levels over the next couple months. (Sporadically, levels do pop back up, but only temporarily.)
That first month is what we call Transition — the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad period of physical, emotional, and spiritual Chaos. (To read actual journal entries from that time, click here.)
I’d like to take a moment here, to say, that without the training and support we received from Team Expansion, we’d probably still be drowning. We use the material from Team Expansion’s required training multiple times a week. Our sending church’s elders also requested that we attend a week of intensive marriage counseling before leaving the States, and we use that material nearly every day as well.
I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: Transition is Terrible. Sending Agencies are Amazing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Post Script:
While my first month overseas was by far the hardest month of my life, it does not follow that my first year overseas was the hardest year of my life. That distinction belongs to 2008. I do not merely speak for myself in this; Jonathan agrees. That was the year he began work as a first-year nurse in Truman Medical Center’s Emergency Department, while continuing to work part time at Red Bridge Church of Christ. He had to work nights and attend extra trainings and was extra tired. I was pregnant with Hannah, endured intense morning sickness, and fought overwhelming fears about health throughout my pregnancy. 2008 definitely beats out 2012 for the Hardest Year Award 🙂
By Elizabeth
The Trotters want a TV and DVD player. We plan to drive to Sorya Mall, near the Central Market, after church. Mistake #1: Driving somewhere you’ve never driven before in a foreign country. Mistake #2: Doing it on a Sunday afternoon. There are lots of one way streets near the Central Market, and although we have a map, I misread it, and we drive in approximate circles for awhile. Then we find the hidden entrance to the parking garage. It’s 5 stories high.
Parking, next challenge. Success! Jonathan is becoming quite adept at driving and parking here. I on the other hand am not even attempting yet. My husband’s heart would probably stop if I tried. But back to the mall. And all the people at the mall. We hold our babies close and try to find the floor that has the electronics store. Remember there are 5 floors. All full of people staring at us. Like caged circus animals. Yet again. We find the store, and the kids and I plop down at a table to wait while Papa picks out the cheapest TV and DVD player he can find. Remember this is also where the ultra-elite Cambodian wealthy shop, and it’s expensive. He’s not sure if the DVD player will play our American DVD’s since the regions are different, but the employee assures him it will, and we pay and leave.
But. We’ve promised the kids ice cream at Lucky Burger. So we find Lucky (First we try a few different floors. Remember there are 5). More people staring. Actually, there were no Asians in that burger joint who WEREN’T staring at us. There were 2 white people. They weren’t staring. I am highly irritated. I’ve always been invisible in life, the unremarkable nerd who doesn’t attract attention. And I’m exhausted. It’s past 2 and we haven’t eaten lunch, and the journey to the mall was tiring to begin with. Hannah runs into a table and cries, and Jonathan starts to order. Half naked women are on TV, and Isaac has a hard time not looking at screens. We do all enjoy our ice cream. It actually tastes just like McDonald’s soft serve. Yummm. Now people start taking pictures of the white alien creatures. Time to go.
Time to drive home. A drive during which Jonathan gets stuck in an intersection when the cross traffic starts coming. Yikes. We make it through. Phew! Yikes. There are those police officers again. Phew, they want less money this time. Time to get home. Where we can set up the DVD player and see if it works. Phew. It does. The Incredibles is playing as I type.
Now I’m home, and I like to say my home is like the Embassy. It’s American soil. A Christian nation. And no matter what each day brings to me, at the end of it, I count myself blessed because I have a husband who welcomes me with open arms.
Jonathan & Elizabeth Trotter 