An American in Cambodia—what does this exactly mean, especially when it comes to celebrating American holidays? What does it mean to raise “American” kids in another country? What American traditions do we make a priority, if any? These are questions that I struggle with—especially when I think about our two Third Culture Kids (TCK–not quite American, not quite Cambodian, so another category is necessary).
The longer we’re in Cambodia, the less I identify with being “American”. This may come as a surprise or even as an insult to some of you. Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for the privileges that accompany my American citizenship. I am utterly thankful for the men and women who sacrifice to protect the rights of our country, and for those who have fought—on the battlefield and on the congressional floor— to uphold our freedoms. I grew up in a community where patriotism and politics were an integral part of our existence–and I’m fairly certain that I had a crush on several of the Founding Fathers at one point (Can we say, “Homeschooler”!).
Even as a resident in Cambodia, I have to constantly fight the impulse to compare everything with the measuring stick of my homeland: “Ugh…this would NEVER happen in America!” “Why don’t they drive like we do in America?” etc. Believe me, I frequently think about how much I took for granted the FDA, DMV (Yes, the DMV, where people have to actually pass the exam to drive!), police, firefighters, good roads, building codes…and this list could go on and on…………and on.
My point is that the longer I’m away from the States, the more I’m making Cambodia my home…and isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? As Christ embraced a foreign place (Earth) for the sake the Gospel, should not I also step outside of my comfort zone and embrace an unfamiliar, often uncomfortable cultural shift for the sake of the Gospel? I’m still learning this lesson and it’s a [daily!] battle to fight my inclination to make comparisons with life in the US, but my hope and prayer is that I will “lay aside every weight”, even if that means my American identity, and run the race that He has set before us.
And, in case you were wondering, we DID celebrate Independence Day/July 4th, in our own unique way.
This was the first thing that Ava saw in the morning, and she was very curious about it: “What IS that?”. I hung the flag on a clear line in the kitchen (I decided not to be too obnoxious to our Cambodian neighbors by hanging it outside). We bought this flag at the Russian Market, for those of you who might be interested (it’s cheaply made, but it works).
Paton is excited!
I purchased these matching patriotic shirts when we were visiting the US last year. Ava loved her shirt and has worn it several times since the 4th. Come to think of it, Cambodians were probably curious why a [filthy, scavenging, detested here] monkey is holding an American flag–it could be seen as an insult to America! Oops.
We did a mini photo shoot with the kids in our yard.
Since there were no parades or fireworks, we celebrated the 4th by eating American food all day (although, what IS “American” food, really? Ha ha). We began the day with yummy cinnamon rolls at The Coffee Grounds.
After grilled cheese sandwiches at home (that’s “American”, right?), we headed out to Swensen’s ice cream, a chain that apparently originates from San Franciso (although, I’m fairly sure that it’s now obsolete in the US). It was fun because they placed little American flags in our ice cream. I’m confused as to why this [now] Asian company was celebrating July 4th in Cambodia, but we were glad for it! FYI—{voice of vanity} I’m wearing tennis shoes with a skirt because my foot is still injured (3 months now, possibly exercise-related?) and thus I’m not supposed to wear our customary sandals/flip flops. I’d appreciate prayer for my foot! The pain is fairly constant, and the ever-present tile floors don’t help!
The Statue of Liberty! (at Swensen’s)
We had originally planned on eating Mexican food for dinner, but the restaurant is on the other side of town, and with evening traffic, it just didn’t seem worth it. Instead, we went to our favorite local place, the Shop Too. The owners are Belgium, but I suppose that’s almost American? Just kidding. Nate was eating pizza and Paton kept touching his rice cracker to the pizza, almost as if to add pizza flavoring to his bland cracker. It was funny.
