We few, we happy few...

A year has come and gone, and seemingly overnight, we find ourselves on the brink of departure. In a few short weeks, Andrea will fly back to the States with Regan and Sister Sophie in tow, while I finish out the school year in Cambodia. The time is apt for reflection: it seems like only yesterday that we arrived in California for our entry level training, and soon thereafter landed in Hanoi for our licensing in TEFOL. The month in Hanoi flew by, but not without myriad opportunities to see the sights: Ha Long Bay, John McCain’s flight suit, Ho Chi Min’s tomb. We came, we saw, we then flew to Phnom Penh. We arrived on a hot August day greeted by Mr. Cho the foreign affairs liaison of NPIC. We piled our luggage into his Four Runner, dumped our gear at our transitional apartment, and later sweated through a Chinese lunch with him as he spoke of the many luxuries of NPIC. The moto-bikes shocked us, the humidity overwhelmed us, and the desire for a good burger was insatiable, but it was home—for better or worse.

The names and faces of the lives we have brushed up against will fade over time, but, for the moment, are vividly seared into our minds. There is Alex, our one time French roommate, who taught me the game of soccer and the value of a good baguette; Mr. Sivoun our English department chair whose quite voice, humble presence, and command of the English language handled all our university frustrations with grace and concern; Roat, a student I tutor, who just yesterday brought us a gift of minted sticks to share with Regan; and Allie, a young woman from Tennessee who is mired in the system struggling to adopt and care for an unwanted five week old Cambodian baby. There are more, but these few form a beautiful and relational mosaic of the vibrant lives that have touched us since living in Cambodia.

In January we flew to Chiang Mai to await the birth of Regan. It seemed an age that we were holed up at the Juniper Tree, but eventually she was birthed after thirty hours of labor. She suffered through an early infection frightening her new and naïve parents. She recovered however, and slept the two hour plane ride back to Phnom Penh on March first. In the wee hours of the night when she usually awakens and begins to cry, one of us will muster what little energy we have and take Regan outside on our NPIC balcony. Snuggled warmly against her daddy or mommy, one of us will walk her back and forth, back and forth, in the dampened heat underneath the starry night sky. From this vantage point, our dorm room’s third-story balcony, our eyes look out over the undeveloped countryside. There are no buildings, no roads, no sounds; only space. The rice paddies stretch out endlessly mingled with Cambodian oases bursting forth cool pools and lush palm trees. It’s a fleeting picture neither Andrea nor I will ever see again. And while the scene is exotically mysterious at night illumined by a pale moon, Regan loves the breezy warmth and quickly falls back into an infant’s fitful sleep.

The Khmer New Year came and quickly passed. April is the hottest month, and so given the time off from school, we traveled to New Zealand for a belated autumn. Three weeks passed quickly thanks to the hospitality of old friends, and soon we found ourselves once again making the trip on the potholed road from the airport to NPIC. The second semester has started, and this is where we find ourselves: teaching twelve credit hours a week, tutoring students, and developing relationships as we can. It has been a year of new experiences and growth; hardships and joy; incredible frustrations and new life. We are profoundly honored and humbled that you have chosen to share this journey with us.

We look forward to seeing you soon,

Benjamin John, Andrea Natasha, and Regan Elise