Cambodia April 14th 2013

I held on, gripping the waist of the interpreter in front of me. The path snaked out in front of us, as the rural village whirred by in faded palm draped huts and prayer flags. Brahman and their lazy ears perked up as we sped passed. I gripped a cage full of chickens as we returned from the market and the hens huddled in the corner with sour expressions. This was not their day. They’d probably be soup later anyways.

A group of young men and children stood along the road on both sides, as if they were waiting for us. It looked like some sort of ambush. What did this mean? What would they do?

The road narrowed and the motorbike whizzed in a high pitched way, struggling as if tripping over gears. Surely it wasn’t supposed to sound like that?

“Get ready!” Hannah said, gripping the handlebars a little tighter.

Get ready? For what?

We were approaching them. I could see buckets sitting at their feet. The motorbike whizzed.

Splash!

Water collided with my face, my hair over and over again with shocking speed. Those alongside the road, shoveled cupfuls of water at us to the chorus of laughter and Cambodian banter I didn’t understand.

What in the world?

The water kept coming as we slowed, making our way through the gauntlet. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

Poof!

A powdery white substance hit my face. The motorbike slowed and I felt hands touching my cheeks, smearing powder across them. A laughing child trotted beside us, tossing baby powder like confetti. His dark eyes danced with mischief and his round face beamed as if he had just given me the greatest gift I would ever receive!

“Hallo!” He called.

The motorbike squealed and we picked up speed as the mob waved at us and shouted the iconic “hello!” It was the signature word for every occasion, if you were a foreigner.

I caught site of my ashen face in the round mirror and laughed. I was a soggy ghost! The poor chickens were cooing and puffing out their feathers, madder than a bag of black cats!

“Thank you!” Hannah laughed as we drove away.

“What in the heck did you thank them for?” I asked, spitting the baby powder out of my mouth.

“They throw water and baby powder on passerby’s to shower blessings and good wishes for the new year! We say “thank you” back! It’s tradition! This is Khmer New Years in Cambodia!”

“How festive!” I laughed back, not minding a reprieve from the oppressive heat that had been beating down on us for the past several weeks.

Kentucky, New Years, 2023

I’m currently trying to keep my 5 month old happy as I try to pound this (very short) blog post out. My hair is a little wet with spit up and I should be putting dinner in the oven. My other two daughters keep running in to show me how perfectly their mud muffins have turned out. I keep “oohing and awing,” but my patience is wearing thin. They also keep leaving the door open and it’s cold outside.

As I get up to close the door (for the sixth time I might add) the cold air slaps me in the face and I’m reminded of the time I spent in Cambodia and the numerous lessons I learned there.

It may seem ludicrous to respond with “thank you” when something unpleasant and unexpected smacks you square in the face, at least it certainly does for me. I for one don’t typically respond with thankfulness, when I experience annoyance, pain, inconvenience or mess of any kind. In fact, my go-to signature phrase is “this is not fair.”

But James 1:2-4 illustrates quite a different course of action.

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.”

Boy. That one stings!

James is suggesting that as we’re plugging away on our path in life and someone dumps a bucket of water on our head then proceeds to throw baby powder on us, the proper response is a simple “thank you.”

Those “inconveniences” are truly gifts to us if we choose to see them that way, because they produce a fruit in us that can only be forged through pressure: patience. Life wants to churn us and press us on all sides, trying to get us to crack while it has us in the fray. It wants us to jump off the bike, storm the attackers and give them a what-for, but without that inconvenience, we wouldn’t grow and we would continue to be in lack.

Maybe you’re rolling your eyes and maybe that’s a natural response, but I’m being serious when I say that I’m sick and tired of being a victim to the ever changing atmosphere around me. I can’t control what’s coming down the road. I can’t control how many poop blow ups, tantrums or the shocking amount of food that ends up beneath the table each day. I can, however, control my response while in the midst of it.

Picture it with me: you’re tired (I mean like weary), the kids have been animals, the husband is out fixing the truck that keeps breaking, the baby is cutting a molar but instead of blowing up when the unexpected hits, you utter a simple “thank you” to God instead, for yet another opportunity to grow.

Now that would be a powerful response! That would be living in the reality of being His beautiful workmanship.

That’s my prayer for this year for myself and it’s my prayer for you, too.

We won’t get it perfect, but if we begin “counting it all joy,” then the habit might just stick.