Art, Expat, Family, Food, lifestyle, Personal, relationships, Travel

australia.

Mark and Anna, Sept. 30//Oct. 1

I keep waking up in the middle of the night. Sometimes from the acid ravaging my esophagus from some annoying ailment, sometimes from the jet lag that sits heavy on my eyelids at two in the afternoon and pries them awake at four in the morning. I tell myself that first thing in the morning, I will finally compile all of the golden thoughts and sparkling experiences- and predictably, this will vanishes as soon as the sun’s morning rays streak through the window. But after fingers fluttering around my neck and keyboard and apartment for several days, it’s time to write of the past two weeks. My past two weeks in Australia. Our past two weeks in Australia.

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lifestyle, Personal, relationships

“like” this.

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Scroll, scroll, scroll. Like, like, like. Tweet, repost, share.

Pressing my thumbprint onto the home button of my iPhone and waiting for the screen to illuminate, I never felt that my desire for connectivity on social media or phone to be abnormal. Because it’s not. I’ll sit in a friend’s living room where everyone else’s eyes scan their screens, I’ll sit in a café and more than half the faces are turned downward to their phones. I’ll be at a party and people are Snapchatting or taking selfies left and right, unembarrassed and filtered.

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Family, Personal, relationships

Selves.

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Sometimes in a moment alone after a thread of days spent around people for extended periods of time I’ll feel a very distinct feeling of hollowness. For sanity, I require time to just be quiet and still- maybe scrolling through websites, paging through a book, or staring out the window. Although necessary and mostly tenderly enjoyable, there’s a barrenness to the space around me when instead of clattering around in the kitchen or chatter from across the room I hear only the mechanic purr of the heater and cruel tick of the clock.

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Expat, lifestyle, Personal

The Family Business.

GF

Recently, I’ve grown to love organized crime films and shows (if you’re not in with Peaky Blinders, do yourself a solid and get on it) just as much as, well, almost everyone- not just because of the gratuitous violence, gritty history, heavy one-liners, suspense, and bevy of men with slicked back hair who pull of suits extremely well but because of the fundamental family aspect of each story.

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Cambodia, Personal, Phnom Penh, Travel

Family Matters. March 12, 2013.

Proud Papa Dan

Proud Papa Dan

I want to give warm congratulations to Dan and Oun Beck for the addition of baby Rosie to their family unit. We visited the maternity care ward this past weekend and it was simply touching. She’s one of the most beautiful babies I’ve ever seen, she managed to avoid the…how do I say this…squished alien look that we all know babies sometimes have when they’re first born but we love them anyway.

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Cambodia, Personal

September 24, 2012.

If I had a dime for every time someone has told me I’m difficult to read, I would be independently wealthy.
Pulling from my previous post regarding emotional walls, that would be easy to gather.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

If we were in the same room you would feel the currents of profound indignation and righteous anger emanating from me, see the tears pooling into my clavicle. I AM LIVID. Never have I so savagely (and pathetically) destroyed an egg sandwich and this lightning and thunder enveloping the city is only fitting for this battle between sadness and rage.

As young adults (not so young in my father’s case) my parents hosted and helped to resettle a group of Cambodian refugees in Seattle, Washington as part of their ministry work. From this group of refugees, one Cambodian girl and one American boy happened to fall in love and begin a life together.
Thirty or so years later, the American man died here in Cambodia due to asphyxiation through drowning.

The natural sadness of death and shock of loss came and my mother, being nurturing, hardy and strong went to be with the family of the deceased. As a widow herself she was well equipped to step into this role; she questioned and consoled and listened and…listened. And through this listening, details came to light and the whole situation felt seamy, to say the least.

The circumstances of the death led several to question what in the world this man was doing spending the afternoon swimming in a pond with Khmer boys.  Which then led to a deepening conviction that more information and an full investigation was needed. This is a person who had been placed in a ministry setting to guide and protect youth of all ages.  It was discovered that the organization that placed this man for his role has a history of bad decisions: two individuals under their watch actually participated in a sex trafficking ring from their post, fled the country, and were never pursued. Injustice barely touches the realm of these situations. For the sake of personal protection and to stay above legal reproof, I will end the story here.

But God, I hope the story doesn’t really end there. I so hope that should it be found that crimes of any nature were committed, anyone and everyone involved in this are brought to their knees and cast hard from their positions.
If these are the individuals placed in positions to protect and save, then who is safe? Where is shelter?

Who will be held accountable?

These questions cannot be answered unless crimes like these are brought to the surface and faced head on. Until then, I will have to rest with the thought that this man has found his way to the place where all justice is served perfectly..

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