My eyes flicker from the road toward the gray stone entrance with elaborate designs. I return my focus to the task at hand: following the directions back home.
But my husband's interest is also piqued. "We should turn in to see what's going on there."
I'm tempted, but I also know we still have an hour and 15 minute drive back home. Stopping now would guarantee my youngest got to bed late.
Plus we'd already grabbed Indian cuisine from a food truck. A splash of something different than our usual.
But after passing a second entrance, I cave.
I pull into the gravel road and we quickly realize we'd stumbled upon a special celebration in this Buddhist temple complex. One that was winding down, but worth hopping out to explore.
We meander through a long row of vendor tents selling Southeast Asian food and drinks. Many closing shop after a long day.
We learn a special all-day celebration had wrapped up for the Cambodian new year.
Trash cans overflow with drink and food containers. Long rows of tables contain mounds of leftover rice. Piles of fruit and incense set before altars out of thanksgiving to Buddha.
We weave our way through the Buddhist complex. We stroll past dozens of gold and colorful Buddhist statues. We admire the architecture of the Buddhist temple. We watch the rainbow-colored prayer flags above our heads flap in the gentle breeze.
My husband and I explain a bit about Buddhist beliefs with our boys. They stroll quietly through the complex, taking in all that was different.
I miss living cross-culturally. Stepping outside of American culture for 30 minutes alongside my boys feels like a mini adventure. A sampling of the incredible world beyond our country.
And while there's a real heaviness to a religion that doesn't honor Jesus, it's an opportunity to pray for those who walk in darkness.
To stand on the front lines of intercession on their behalf. An invitation to pray for God to receive the glory He deserves from all people, even those who don't yet worship Jesus.
When it was time to head back home, GPS took us back to that same Indian food truck we'd stopped by earlier for dinner. And I couldn't help but wonder if the Lord directed us that way so we could be reminded of His heart for the world. And that it isn't as far away as it sometimes feels to me.
On the car ride home, our boys asked questions about our faith. I love these types of organic conversations sparked by learning about other cultures.
My second children's chapter book is based in a Buddhist country. And I'm grateful my boys got a small sample of this worldview in-person today. I'm glad I stopped to explore even if it meant my youngest getting to bed late.
May our hearts be spurred to pray for our Buddhist friends in our neighborhoods, a nearby city, or half-way around the globe.
May we continue to marvel at how we serve a God so great that everyone—including Buddhists—should know and worship Him.
And may we yearn for the day when our Buddhist friends bring God glory in a special way only they can contribute.
