Tabitha newsletters
January 2000
Dear It is a wonder to write the year 2000 - this will take some getting used to but isn't it a privilege to be a part of this new century? All of us at Tabitha-Cambodia want to wish you and your family a year of hope and expectation - of new dreams and new visions - of thankfulness and thanksgiving.
January 2000
Dear Lisbeth, It is a wonder to write the year 2000 - this will take some getting used to but isn't it a privilege to be a part of this new century? All of us at Tabitha-Cambodia want to wish you and your family a year of hope and expectation - of new dreams and new visions - of thankfulness and thanksgiving.
September 1999
Dear This week we met as a staff to discuss our work for the past year and to talk of our dreams for the coming year beginning in October. It was so very good to be together; to take the time to speak of what we had done well, to speak of what we had failed to do; to speak of hopes and dreams and to speak of fears and failures. We shared of our own personal growth, growth not just as individuals but as families and as an organization. We encouraged and comforted each other; we were grateful for each others efforts and for our support of each other. We spoke of our God who remains ever faithful and gracious in His love for us. It was very good.
March 1999
Dear A phrase has been running through my mind these past few months: "What you do unto the least of these, you do unto me." It is a phrase that has caused me pain and made changes in my life and in our lives with Tabitha. We have become very aware over the past year of the pain and sorrow inflicted on people by the disease called AIDS. In our work at Tabitha, approximately 20% of our families are affected. Our joy is that through our work, these families have been able to cope with the devastation of this disease by enabling the people suffering to do their own business or to produce products. They have been able to contribute to their own families with lives of dignity and respect; in turn; their families have been able to surround them with care and with love.
February 1999
Dear A phrase has been running through my mind these past few months: "Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me." It is a phrase that has caused me pain and made changes in my life and in our lives with Tabitha. We have become very aware over the past year of the pain and sorrow inflicted on people by the disease called AIDS. In our work at Tabitha, approximately 20% of our families are affected. Our joy is that through our work, these families have been able to cope with the devastation of this disease by enabling the people suffering to do their own business or to produce products. They have been able to contribute to their own families with lives of dignity and respect; in turn; their families have been able to surround them with care and with love.
October 6, 1998
Dear We are at the end of our fourth year and the beginning of our fifth. This past year has been one of extreme difficulties and wondrous miracles. It began with the aftermath of the fighting in July of 1997. The uncertainty surrounding the issues involved left the general population confused and very frightened. It affected the foreign community in a similar fashion. Many were disheartened and discouraged. This had a direct impact on our work. Local sales dropped to a minimum; foreigners unsure of their future and the future of this country stopped making homes for themselves and stopped buying. It has affected us deeply and continues to do so.
October 6, 1998
Dear We are at the end of our fourth year and the beginning of our fifth. This past year has been a one of extreme difficulties and wondrous miracles. It began with the aftermath of the fighting in July of 1997. The uncertainty surrounding the issues involved left the general population confused and very frightened. It affected the foreign community in a similar fashion. Many were disheartened and discouraged. This had a direct impact on our work. Local sales dropped to a minimum; foreigners unsure of their future and the future of this country stopped making homes for themselves and stopped buying. It has affected us deeply and continues to do so.
October 6, 1998
Dear We are at the end of our fourth year and the beginning of our fifth. This past year has been one of extreme difficulties and wondrous miracles. It began with the aftermath of the fighting in July of 1997. The uncertainty surrounding the issues involved left the general population confused and very frightened. It affected the foreign community in a similar fashion. Many were disheartened and discouraged. This had a direct impact on our work. Local sales dropped to a minimum; foreigners unsure of their future and the future of this country stopped making homes for themselves and stopped buying. It has affected us deeply and continues to do so.
April, 1998
Dear Our week started with the chant of "I am of no value, I am of no value." The faces staring at me were a mix; some were so very angry ; some had that lost, glazed look and were somewhere else in their maze of memories: one said, "I cannot see", another tuned out the world by being deaf. We had started a meeting about the reports of Pol Pot's death. The thirteen staff had unanimously agreed that it was not true. My response was to ask them to pretend it was true, what then. The emotions in the room swirled, the responses varied; some were sorrowful for not learning why he had done it, others said it doesn't matter, "I don't want to think about it anymore" said one and then the memories started flowing and anger and hurt became the norm. Sambath, was very angry, "there were 18 children in my family, only 3 of us survived - my grandparents, my aunts and uncles are all gone, my parents are too old, they don't feel anymore ." The others were nodding and then it started " I am of no value, I am of no value." It was the phrase Pol Pot used to destroy them, "you are of no value." It was horrible in its intensity, horrible to watch the refrain being picked up by everyone; it was horrible to see them being metamorphazised into emotionless, monotone robots.
April, 1998
Dear Our week started with the chant of "I am of no value, I am of no value." The faces staring at me were a mix; some were so very angry ; some had that lost, glazed look and were somewhere else in their maze of memories: one said, "I cannot see", another tuned out the world by being deaf. We had started a meeting about the reports of Pol Pot's death. The thirteen staff had unanimously agreed that it was not true. My response was to ask them to pretend it was true, what then. The emotions in the room swirled, the responses varied; some were sorrowful for not learning why he had done it, others said it doesn't matter, "I don't want to think about it anymore" said one and then the memories started flowing and anger and hurt became the norm. Sambath, was very angry, "there were 18 children in my family, only 3 of us survived - my grandparents, my aunts and uncles are all gone, my parents are too old, they don't feel anymore ." The others were nodding and then it started " I am of no value, I am of no value." It was the phrase Pol Pot used to destroy them, "you are of no value." It was horrible in its intensity, horrible to watch the refrain being picked up by everyone; it was horrible to see them being metamorphazised into emotionless, monotone robots.
