Everything Happens for a Reason

There seem to be infinite ways of making sense of the world: religion, theories, laws, formulas, love, karma, yin and yang, faith, traditions, knowledge, wives tales, predestination, reincarnation, evolution, what goes around comes around. It’s almost overwhelming to conceptualize even an abbreviated list. When I was growing up I made sense of the world through the traditions and beliefs of my family, largely based upon Catholic teachings. While I still consider myself of Catholic faith, I’m at that point in my life where I need to find my own answers to the fundamental questions that lie at the core of personhood: who am I and what do I stand for? I know that the things I am seeing and experiencing with every waking moment here are helping me to answer these questions, although I’ve only been able to affirm one mantra thus far: everything happens for a reason.

Does everything happen for a reason? It certainly can seem that way when luck is on your side, when the chips fall into place, or even when things are smooth sailing. But what about the occasions when things are so-so, not-so-good, or downright bad? Those things certainly don’t happen for a reason, do they? Why would suffering or pain happen on purpose? I don’t know the answer to those questions, but even when the going gets tough, I truly do believe that the things that we experience, whether or not they happen out of chance or luck or design by a higher Being, they happen for a reason. Only when the door in front closes can the pale light from another room down the hall be noticed.

I can’t say that there’s one exact experience that has lead me to believe that everything happens for a reason because I know that it’s a cocktail of the good and the not-so-good. I would be lying if I said that none of it was a challenge to get through and I never questioned my own mantra, but I do know that it makes me who and what I am. If I could go back in time I don’t think I would change anything that has happened because then I wouldn’t be myself. One of the not-so-great, makes-you-a-little-doubtful experiences came and went quickly just last week here in Siem Reap. Last Tuesday morning at school I was more tired than usual because my neck had been sore the night before and had kept me awake for some of the night. I also had a large, swollen bug bite on my arm that did not quell from the usual Benadryl itch stick. When my right eyelid started to swell rapidly around 10 am, I became unnerved and decided to take the rest of the day off. After some coaxing from a concerned friend I decided to call my supervisor and see the doctor, an activity that I dread even in the States.

Within 48 hours my eyelid was back to normal, the soreness in my neck was gone, and the bite looked like an average mosquito’s feast. The doctor attributed the whole situation to an allergic reaction of some kind, and prescribed anti-inflammatory and anti-allergy medications, which I started taking the very same afternoon my eyelid, had swelled. While the swollen eyelid, swollen gland, and swollen bite did not prove to be life threatening, I guess that one can never be too careful here because you run the risk of “Cambodia catching up to you.” I do not know if this “situation” was so not-so-good that it forced me to question the validity of my mantra, although it’s not something that I would choose to occur on a regular basis, neither here nor in the States. Looking back on the whole incident a week later, I have a good idea why the reaction and subsequent scare happened, and as a result I’ve been able to learn from it. I can’t let my guard down, and I need to make sure that I’m taking care of myself: physically and mentally. While it was a nuisance and proved a bit of a temporary scare, that little allergic reaction happened for a reason, and those few swollen bumps helped to affirm my mantra in the end. However, something even that small has the potential to detract from such a belief, particularly while they are occurring. I certainly didn’t feel the situation affirmed my belief until I was healed.

And while little things like that can initially create doubt and skepticism, some things that happen are so powerful that they come close to shattering even shadows of doubt that things do happen for a reason. All of my doubts were nearly shattered just over a week ago when I ran into a group of women whom I now refer to as my adoptive Oregonian aunties. Their names are Shari, Jill, Marylou, Alice, Susan, and Dorothy; they were all from Oregon and were in Cambodia working through Women of Vision, part of the World Vision organization. By chance, or perhaps by the design of a higher Being, they were staying at the Villa, my guesthouse here in Siem Reap. They happened to be checking in while I was coming home for lunch on Saturday. Hearing American English and seeing US addresses on their luggage in the lobby prompted me to inquire where they were from. I didn’t think that much would come of the question beyond my standard “oh, I’m from Pennsylvania” response and the faint chorus of “It’s a Small World After All” playing in my head. Truth be told, I could not have been more wrong; the moment that Shari and I began speaking in the lobby, my weekend plans were transformed, as was my take on the Khmer culture and its’ rich history.

The six Oregonian women welcomed me into their group with open arms, and asked me to spend lunch with them before heading back to school for the afternoon session that Saturday. They also invited me to venture with them to the temples the next day, which I had yet to see. I cannot thank them enough for their openness, their friendship, or their interest in not only in my work with CFC, but in me as a twenty-something girl spending seven weeks alone in Cambodia. Not only did I enjoy a refreshing banana smoothie over lunch while listening to a sampling of their amazing stories, but I gained their friendship, which in turn enabled me to share with them the awe-inspiring experience of the Angkor temples.

After taking in the aura of the temples of Angkor Wat, Ta Prohm, and the Bayon, I can understand why people travel from the opposite ends of the Earth to see such wonders of the world. These temples were built almost a millennium ago at the heart of the Khmer empire’s capital. Think of DC only a thousand years ago. Also consider that such marvels were constructed in old-fashioned ways; these structures were not built with cranes and cement, but by systems devised using elephants, the current of the river, and interlocking pieces. Even after four years of utter cultural and historical destruction the temples that surround Siem Reap cannot be described in any other way except indescribable. They’re just one of those things that you need to see to believe they even exist in such awe-inspiring form. Their sheer existence after all of the time that has passed and all of the events that have occurred in this world of ours epitomizes the phrase “a picture is worth a thousand words.”

Not only was my temple experience magical to say the least, but it was something unforgettable because of the company that I shared it with. Jill, Susan, and I climbed the steep steps “towards heaven” of one of the temples close to Ta Prohm, along with Brett, Shari’s 18-year-old stepson who had been brave enough to travel with six women for a few weeks. The eight of us arose at 4:30 in the morning to see the temples at sunrise, and we watched the sunset in the sky while sharing dinner and one another’s company over an exquisite dinner at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club. We even had some laughs and good fun while bargaining at the night market, chatting away with some of the stall owners, and doing some shopping at the Artisans of Angkor workshop, before toasting to our acquaintance with one last beer on Pub Street. They left the next day, Monday morning, while I was still at school. Although they were exhausted from their travels, they all made it down to breakfast so that they might wish me well and thank me for a wonderful time in Siem Reap.

I still do not know the significance of our meeting, me and my six adoptive aunties and adopted cousin. Perhaps we crossed paths to share in the wonders of Angkor, creating memories that I doubt I will forget for many years to come? Or perhaps our meeting was more than an amazing day-and-a-half in Siem Reap? The answers to these questions will only come with time. For now all that I can know for certain is that everything happens for a reason, including surprise visits from six aunties that I never knew I had.