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Today was the first time in a LONG time I have prayed in Khmer. It was over lunch and I was encouraged to give thanks.

It was a shaky start but I soon loosened up… perhaps a little too much. After I had asked God to bless the cook for making such a scrummy meal, I lost concentration and slipped in an automatic “Lord”.

I held my breath, giggled and then hastily explained that it was English … I didn’t want God to think I had just told Him to jump.

Prove it.

Last week I began formal language learning again after almost a total break of two years. The hormones of pregnancy and breastfeeding had rendered my brain useless as a memory storage device (designed that way to ensure mothers forget anything other than the good and thereby agree have more than just one child) and an emotion regulator (surely a design flaw as a result of the fall). But I digress.

There were two surprises for me after my first week of 3 x 1½ hour lessons. First was the speed in which I picked up long forgotten words which did wonders for my confidence. The second was a little more disturbing.

My new language teacher was very talkative (I’m not sure if I bring that out in people or if teachers just like to talk). He told me much about himself, his faith, his English school on the side, and his plans to develop another business in order to help other people and share his faith with them.

Two years prior, I would have fallen off the chair with excitement and rushed to blog about it (if I had a blog back then). Last week, I listened politely with smiles of encouragement but my heart was cynical (or perhaps “optimistic with real truth flavour” for the Amazing Race fans). I was shocked and saddened by my response.

Sadly, the faith and finances of foreigners has led to a number of pretend conversions here in Cambodia. Our jobs always pay better (ie fairer) and workers are keen to feed their family by making their employers happy. How could I know whether my new language teacher is any different?

The answer didn’t hit me like a bolt of lightning but it certainly fried up my despair… by the Fruit.

I will continue to watch my teacher. I will also encourage him in his efforts by studying Marketing terms during my lesson to teach him along the way. I may also put him in contact with another person who could help him expand his idea. But I won’t assume his faith is real… I want him to prove it.

And if I’ve learnt anything from my time here, it is that he (like everyone else here) is watching my life also. And they should. Because talk is cheap.

Bang Bang

In his grade three class at school, our 7 year old Velociraptor is playing mental maths games called Bang Bang. As a super-competitive child, we are delighted that he is not just winning all the time but also learning to lose with perspective and grace.

Unfortunately, this week Cambodian and Thai soldiers have been playing their own game of Bang Bang at the disputed land around the Preah Vithear temples currently on Cambodian soil. It threw the border towns into panic and many people have fled the area.

The official reports from this side of the border tell us that only 3 Khmer soldiers were killed and 7 “Siam” soldiers were injured before a ceasefire was called. Prior to the fighting the leaders of both countries were talking “big”, but now blame the other side for the outbreak of fighting.

I am reminded of the Khmer proverb “When the elephants fight, the ants die”. I just wish that the elephants of the world could recognise the impact their antics have on the ants and gain some perspective and grace of their own.

Not-quite "90 minutes in heaven"

It was dinner time and I had already finished, being in the habit of rushing my meal as most young Mums. While the rest of the tribe continued to eat, I could hear the call of muted music travelling into our front room. One of the visiting Australians was playing worship songs on their hosts' electric piano.

On a whim, I asked if Steve could watch the kids while I ducked next door in the hope of joining in. Knowing me well, he gave me a time limit... "Just be back in an hour".

For the next hour, I was in heaven. Four voices, one piano and a large echoing room are a far cry from the multitudes that will one day join together in song before the throne of God. But for me, for now, it was bliss.

Tripping with Mr Happy

Over the last two weeks, Mr Happy and I have been on a whirl-wind tour of our hometown, Brisbane.

While Mr Happy is obsessed with "airfranes", he is not a great passenger and slept fitfully throughout the overnight flight. However, the train in Kuala Lumpur International Airport was much more fun and we rode it many times throughout our 5 hour stopover.

When we finally arrived in Brisbane we hit the ground running. My Mum met us and we were whisked off to our first of many food-intense appointments with family. Extra fuel was necessary because sleep was rare as I tried to stuff every moment with those I love most.

The reason for our trip was my Dad's wedding which was a mixture of happiness for his new-found love and profound sadness that my parents could not find that in their own 37 year marriage.

While I was glad for the opportunity to see everyone, I was very pleased to return home to my own family. They too were very pleased to see me with suitcases packed full with gifts, oats, rice crackers and "pulla" (a favourite Finnish bun lovingly made the day I left).

Surprisingly, settling back here hasn't been difficult as I was reminded once again that my heart is firmly here in Cambodia.