Christmas in Cambodia is a dangerous, exhilarating time

Editor's note: June Seabaugh is an occasional columnist for the Southeast Missourian. She is from the area but is currently teaching English in Cambodia.

It's two days after Christmas, and I think I'd like to tell you about a "cool event" among my holiday memories this year. Then I'll try to share about one of my student's lives so you can understand why I'm so excited to be here.

On Christmas Eve I went caroling with the boys and girls from the Asian Hope orphanages. Since we're in Cambodia, we definitely were not caroling on the streets. So 25 of us squeezed into a school van. We headed to the houses of some of the missionaries whose children attend my school. At each house they unlocked their security gates and we sang our medley of songs with children perched in palm trees in 90-degree heat. At one house the old van's side door wouldn't open, and we all climbed over seats to exit the back hatch door. What a hoot!

That was wonderfully spiritual for me, but I think the highlight of the evening was not so spiritual; it was incredibly patriotic for me. After we finished our house caroling, the girls' orphanage supervisors wanted me to get to see the American embassy since it was lit up for Christmas. We dropped off the boys (who'd already seen the display) and went to the U.S. Embassy.

I really believe that they'd managed to put a light bulb on every blade of grass, every palm leaf, and every edge of every roof. No, there was no manger or Nativity scene, no baby Jesus or anything religious, but America was proud of the holiday enough to have lighted Santas, sleighs, poinsettias, snowmen, reindeer, two-story trees and just plain ol' palm trees lit in myriad colors. Yeah, there were guards in case terrorists took a notion to destroy it, but it was kind of fun to see America enjoying its display of power and wealth.

No other embassy put out a single string of lights, not Canadian, British, European or Australian. But America celebrated Christmas in Cambodia. Our little group found a missionary family from our school and we sang our little hearts out in Christmas carols under the Cambodian sky. I laughed that I ought to be singing "I'm Proud to Be an American," but I still like living on Earth too much to do that here.

My Canadian friends razzed me about my tax dollars being burned. Maybe we're stupid to do something so outlandishly extravagant, but I was proud of us. I would have been happier to see a manger scene, but I still sang myself happy. I didn't have my family around me, but I had America's lights and our group's songs raised to worship our Savior -- and I had fun!

And now for the reason I'm here: It's to share the gospel with people like Srey*, one of my seniors in high school. When Srey was 5, she lived among rice fields with her parents, a younger sister, Kiri*, and a baby brother. Srey's mother had TB. Srey remembers that one day her father came home from gambling again, and her mother cried to him that she would rather be dead. An hour or so later two men came, shot at Srey's dad and missed, but killed her mother. Srey and Kiri were taken to live with their uncle and his family. She has not seen her father or brother since then and doesn't know where they are.

After a year of living with their uncle's family (where they were miserably abused) at the edge of Phnom Penh, the Funcinpec party tried to take over the government. As their house burned, Srey, Kiri and their uncle's family ran to take shelter in a Chinese man's house. Bullets whizzed by and bombs exploded around them. About 50 people hid there for two days, but one night soldiers from the Cambodian People's Party came and ordered them to leave, saying there were spies among them. That's when the miracle happened that changed Srey's life.

A new neighborhood woman from another country had been telling her neighbors about Jesus. Srey prayed to him that night as she listened to the bullets and bombs going off, smelled the smoke of burning buildings and watched the two neighboring gas stations explode. She prayed, and she remembers stepping on a grenade as she walked. She says she saw it, but didn't have time to stop. She felt it under her foot, but it didn't go off. She knows she received a miracle.

Later, the neighbor found the two sisters and adopted them, along with four other Cambodian children, before the adoption laws in Cambodia changed in 2004 and essentially stopped Westerners from adopting Cambodian children. Two days before the law changed, the adoptions were finalized. Because her mom is from another country, Srey will attend college there next year. She will study accounting.

By the way, Srey's hard-praying Christian family sees a lot of miracles. Four years ago the children in the family didn't want their mother to take in a baby whose parents had died of AIDS and who also was dying of AIDS. They just didn't want to face watching another child die. But, in Srey's simple words, "We could not ignore him."

Today he's one of their adopted children, and the tests during 2007 have all come back negative for HIV/AIDS. He's a happy, healthy 4-year-old.

These are the children I teach. And Srey's mother is one of the many missionaries whose children I teach. I get to hear their miracle stories and be a part of their miraculous lives, and I realize each day how miraculous life is for each one of us.

I pray that you are enjoying the blessings of Christmas as you consider the miraculous birth of our Savior. And I pray that you appreciate the love of God who gave you the miracle of life and then offers the miracle of eternal life.

* Names were changed to protect the girls.