The light of morning climbed into my room and began to gently nudge me awake.  It's the first morning that I've slept past 3:00 a.m.  Finally, my body may be adjusting to this new time.  The local time is 12 hours ahead of NYC and 15 ahead of LA.

The weather here reminds me of the heavy-hanging humidity of Houston in mid-July at high-noon (or, for those who have never been to Houston, like wearing a coat while sitting in a sauna).  A miniature hell of sorts!  It's hard to breathe, and we're wearing pants, so as not to offend the local people with shorts.

I've not been here long enough to claim any great insight into the hearts of the Malaysians.  But the folks I've met so far have been kind. Their command of English is impressive.

Two nights ago, three students and I rode a train from Kula Lumpur to a small city, the town we'll be in for the next two weeks.  Tim is my 20-year-old roommate for the remaining 14 days.  He works with youth in Southern California.  He and I shared a cabin on the night train, and interwove our laughter with conversation all through the night.  We laughed like Jr. High boys (and maybe even girls) over the smallest things...but that's what jetlag will do for you.  The two female students in the cabin next door found sleep more important than late-night giggling.  But they'll catch on eventually. 

Yesterday was sweltering, but supposedly breezy and cool according to the local folks. We toured the town on bikes, eating a variety of foods and evoking an assortment of looks from the locals.  How strange we must appear, donned in our white skin and naive expression.  But here we are...for all of Malaysia to see.

We talked with several Chinese university students and gave them a chance to practice their English and us a chance to learn about their culture.

We haven't done much in the way of service that would win us any Noble Peace prizes yet.  We haven't purified dirty water, stamped out poverty, tamed greedy hearts, or even helped an old lady cross the street.  But we have come believing, holding out hope that there's more to life than what appears on the surface, that something (someone) greater than the visible has made himself seen.

We haven't come with great agendas or detailed plans, but we have come with a teachable heart and some faith.  Sometimes I feel short on both.

But amidst the stares of old men, the laughter of Asian kids, and my feelings of inadequacy, I sense the presence of the One who can speak peace to these people, and even to me.

May 2003