Hopeful 2026!

Tonight is countdown night.

Classes are still going on as usual today, but the campus feels different. Many of our students have already gone home. Some rushed to bus stations early this morning. Others quietly said their goodbyes yesterday, eager to be with their families before the year ends. The hallways feel lighter, quieter, almost like they are holding their breath.

This year, Cambodia will not welcome the new year with fireworks.

Even though a ceasefire has been agreed on just days ago regarding the border tensions between Cambodia and Thailand, the government has chosen to remain cautious. There will be no large celebrations, no fireworks along the river. Safety comes first. Wisdom comes first.

And maybe also compassion.

Because how can we truly celebrate when so many are not home yet?

Almost half a million people remain displaced near the borders. Families are still uncertain. Parents are still worried. Children are still adjusting to temporary shelters and unfamiliar places. Lives have been interrupted. Plans have been paused. Stability feels fragile.

Joy feels complicated this year. 

Our family usually joins the crowd by the riverside every countdown. We would eat dinner first, then ride the ferry. We always make two rounds so we can get closer to the fireworks display. It is our simple way of celebrating. Cheaper than booking a hotel room or reserving seats at a sky bar or balcony. Just us, the river breeze, and bright lights welcoming the new year.

But this year, we are at peace with not doing it.

We respect the announcement. We understand the reason. And somehow, this quieter ending feels fitting. It matches the weight of what our nation has been carrying these past weeks.

I officially filed for a half day leave today, but I chose to stay longer. I wanted to finish all the administrative work before stepping into 2026. I wanted a clean slate. A clear desk. A lighter heart.

The day was full.

Since early morning, I have been helping our marketing and PR team with social media communication. What started as a simple call for support turned into something beautiful. Our university raised more funds than we expected. Students and academic staff came together with unity and compassion.

We chose to honor those at the frontlines and the families affected by the border situation. With the funds raised, we were able to provide sacks of rice, diapers, boxes of noodles, canned sardines, and medicines. These are simple items, but they carry dignity and care.

I am grateful that the handover of these supplies happened in an official venue designated by the Prime Minister. It was within the city council where our university is located. Everything was done properly, transparently, and with accountability.

In times like this, unity speaks louder than words.

As I head home later, my heart feels full.

I am thankful for Vandy’s family. My sister in law is preparing dinner for us tonight. It will be a quiet meal. A traditional Khmer meal, the kind we all love and feel comforted by.

My father in law, whom we lovingly call Kongkong, has been staying with us for a few days now. This will be his first countdown with us here in the city. He rarely comes, and when he does, it is usually because of health concerns.

Vandy has been accompanying him to doctor visits, going back and forth, patiently and faithfully. We are praying that his health will improve as we enter the new year.

We see this season as another chance to show God’s kindness and goodness to him.

The boys love having Kongkong around. He lights up when he talks about David. He is amazed that David is doing well with his brownies business. Watching his grandson bake on his own brings him joy.

Our nephew Pich becomes more talkative when Kongkong is here. There is a special bond between them. It was Kongkong who took care of Pich when his own father left. There are wounds there, but also deep love.

Tonight, our home will not be loud. No fireworks. No crowds. Just shared food, gentle conversations, and prayers whispered quietly.

And somehow, that feels enough.

The Light That Darkness Cannot Overcome

As the year ends, my heart keeps returning to one verse.

John 1:5
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

This verse feels especially real tonight.

Darkness comes in many forms.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
Conflict.
Loss.
Waiting.

Sometimes darkness is loud. Sometimes it is quiet. Sometimes it looks like national tension. Sometimes it looks like a sick family member. Sometimes it looks like unanswered questions as a new year begins.

But John reminds us of something simple and powerful.

The light shines.

Not shone.
Not will shine someday.

It shines now.

Jesus is not absent in dark moments. He does not wait for things to feel safe or stable before showing up. He is already present. Already working. Already shining.

Darkness does not win in the end.

A Hopeful Beginning for 2026

As we step into 2026, we do so with open eyes. We are not pretending that everything is fine. We are not ignoring the pain around us. We are not forcing joy.

Instead, we choose hope.

Hope does not mean everything will be easy. Hope means we trust that Jesus is with us, even when the road ahead is unclear.

Whether you are part of the faith community or someone quietly observing, wondering, or searching, this truth stands firm.

Jesus is exactly who we need.

Not just in church.
Not just in prayer meetings.
But in classrooms.
In border areas.
In hospitals.
In homes.
In quiet dinners without fireworks.

Five Reflections for the New Year

Rooted in John 1:5

Reflection 1

Light does not wait for darkness to leave

Jesus did not come after the world was fixed. He came while it was broken. The light shines in the darkness, not away from it.

As we enter 2026, we do not need to wait for perfect conditions to trust God. We can trust Him now.

Prayer
Lord Jesus, thank You for being present even when things feel uncertain. Help me trust You in the middle of it all. Amen.

Reflection 2

Darkness may feel strong, but it is not stronger than light

Darkness can feel heavy and overwhelming. But John reminds us that darkness has limits. It cannot overcome the light.

Fear may speak loudly, but it does not have the final word.

Prayer
Jesus, when fear rises in my heart, remind me that Your light is stronger. Help me rest in Your truth. Amen.

Reflection 3

Hope can be quiet and still real

Hope does not always come with fireworks or celebrations. Sometimes hope looks like showing up, helping quietly, or sharing a simple meal.

God sees small acts of faithfulness.

Prayer
Lord, help me recognize hope even in quiet moments. Teach me to see Your light in simple ways. Amen.

Reflection 4

The light shines for everyone

Jesus is not only for those who believe easily. He shines for the doubting, the tired, the hurting, and the searching.

If you are unsure about faith, this light is still for you.

Prayer
Jesus, thank You for welcoming everyone. Draw hearts closer to You in Your gentle way. Amen.

Reflection 5

Walking in the light changes how we live

When we follow the light, we choose kindness over anger, peace over fear, and compassion over indifference.

In 2026, may we reflect His light wherever we go.

Prayer
Lord, help me carry Your light into my family, my work, and my community this year. Amen.

A Gentle Invitation

As the new year begins, I invite you to pause.

Breathe.
Reflect.
Hope again.

Whether you are praying tonight or simply thinking deeply, may you know this truth.

The light shines in the darkness.

And the darkness has not overcome it. 

Blessed 2026! 
The Hourngs in Cambodia 💕💗🙏