On being a Mum

I am a Mum. It is my current role, job, ministry, burden and profession. I’ve only got one chance at it and I want to do it well.

So, like any serious worker, I am intentional about professional development. Over the last six years this has included reading numerous parenting books, seeking God for wisdom, strength and the occasional miracle, and asking lots of questions of those who have gone before me. In particular, I target women who are a couple of steps ahead of me and grill them to determine the secrets of their success.

It happened again the other day at the school athletics carnival. We were sitting on a mat in the shade of gum trees (yep, another Australian export). The other Mum had an extra five years of experience over me. It started innocently enough. “How are you? How’s your work? How are the kids going?” The general chit chat.

Gently I pressed further. “Are the kids happy here in Cambodia?”

Her yes only encouraged me to push harder. “Why?” She openly shared about different reasons and I stored each new idea away as something to ponder later.

I then moved to her work in Child Protection (she’s a gold mine, I tell you), before she looked at me and interrupted the flow of the conversation.

“You always do this to me, you know”. Whoops.. Sprung!

“Really?” I faked. I joked it off, “Ah, that’s why you avoid me.” I wondered momentarily if she was going to charge me for her time…

Then we were back into it. Addressing abuses of children’s rights in Cambodia. Policies. Training insights.

“Most people, particularly Christians, think of child abusers as in some other category separate from themselves. But I begin the training stating that we are all child abuses – the Khmer seem to understand that.”

It then got personal. “What makes you a child abuser, Lisa?”

She got me. I knew exactly what she meant. I try hard as a Mum, but when I am tired, busy or emotionally just-not-up-to-it, I charge over the thin line from “training my children in the way they should go” to abuse. But I said nothing, only nodded, digesting this new thought.

She continued. “We then look at managing the stressors”. Yes. Reading books, grilling experts or trying harder is sometimes just not good enough. I need to cut down the stressors – don’t over commit outside the home, look after myself, eat well, sleep and take time work on each relationship including my marriage.

A casualty from the sports day cut short our conversation. We were heading home to tend the wounds when she called out to me, “It’s an important job, Lisa. Don’t underestimate how important.”

Thanks for the reminder. Thanks for everything. The cheque is in the mail...

No one likes funerals...

There is a funeral being held on our street. They erected the tent yesterday morning with the customary white and black sashes and a white “ghost” figure hanging out the front. As you can see, the steel framed tent actually covers the street and when the ceremonies begin all traffic is blocked… only those daring enough to interrupt the mourning of others squeeze past the round tables with white rice bowls and ladle-like spoons.

I walked through there yesterday on the way to school and gave a sad nod to the old man with red watery eyes. The kids strained to get a peek at the deceased’s photo and 2 metre golden shrine (similar to what you might see in miniature in a Chinese restaurant in Australia) set up in the front room of their house. Throughout the day, close friends and relatives dressed in white shirts and dark pants / wrap skirts come to bid them farewell by praying, lighting incense sticks and eating a simple meal of rice porridge.

This particular funeral was Chinese-style with the decorated truck to carry the body to the temple, accompanied by men and boys dressed in yellow satin “pyjamas”. They loudly bang drums and cymbals to send off the spirit. These are interspersed throughout the day briefly interrupting the constant stream of traditional songs of mourning, chanting of monks and plinky plonky music played over loud speaker all designed to let the spirit know that they are being appropriately mourned and can leave in peace.

Ah, peace. The odd Australian unaccustomed to such “noise pollution” from neighbours relishes the brief pauses when the CD is changed. Still others have been known to entertain crazed thoughts of interrupting the power supply. Early in our time here, I tactlessly asked a Khmer friend if she was annoyed by the blaring music and unintelligible chanting. She replied surprised, “No. I pity the family.” Ouch.

Now when the music begins, I take a moment to mourn someone whom I never knew, who died without hope or certainty for what is ahead. And I pity the family who fruitlessly try to send them there.

However, at 5.30am this morning when drums the drums clashed for their final procession, my sympathy was a little difficult to find. Never mind.. I should locate it before the next stage of the grieving process begins in 6 days time.

It's enough for me

Returning to Cambodia is late July this year was very difficult for me. The memory of life in Australia was fresh, making parts of life here a little hard to swallow. Holding the fort and helping the 3 kids settle and adjust left me with little energy.

My husband, Steve, was hanging around home, waiting on word from the boss as to when the next physio training course would begin. He treated a couple of patients but spent most of his time in language learning. When he finally returned to work six weeks later, it suddenly made life easier for me.

Why? Surely it would have been more difficult without the extra pair of hands to help. No, the stories he brought home from the clinic that day made it all worthwhile.

“Mother of one treated for a bad back is now able to have more children”. “Operation for severe back pain paid for by project funds. Grateful man praises God publicly.”

Not headline stuff, but so important to each of their lives. And that it is enough for me… for the moment anyhow.

Counting down

Hours of sleep last night = 5

Times woken by feverish, screaming baby = 4

Hour seriously considered taking baby to doctor = 3 (am)

Worried, hassled and distressed parents = 2

New teeth discovered in morning = 1

Brain activity next day = 0