Squeals of excitement escape a toothless smile as Grandma Mouen runs up to greet us. Every morning when we pile out of the van, she is waiting in anticipation to wrap her tiny arms around each of us, squeezing us with all the strength her fragile body contains. Grandma Mouen, Vuthy’s grandmother, lives in the remote village that my team drives an hour away to teach in every day. She takes care of us as we work with the children, making meals for us and welcoming us into her home.
Throughout the day her joy never wanes. She is always ready to reach out and grab our hands in her own and communicate through her eyes how precious we are to her. She speaks no English, but love isn’t bound by words. It radiates from her entire being.
When she isn’t cooking for us, she sits at her little snack stand by the street with her Bible open in her hands. She has only been a Christian a year, but it’s obvious to anyone that passes by that Grandma Mouen loves the Lord.
A few days ago, we sat down with her at her stand and our translator relayed her testimony to us. She had never heard the name of Jesus or anything about Christianity when she had a dream about a man in white. In her dream a big tree stood in the middle of a field while the man in white stood beside it. When she approached him, he asked her what she knew about him. She said, “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t know who you are or anything about you.”
The next night she had another dream in which the man in white came again. This time he told her about the beginning of the world, describing each day in great detail to her starting with the separation of light and darkness up to the first man and woman.
When she woke up the next morning, she called her grandson Vuthy knowing that he had left the Buddhist faith and thinking he might have an idea who the man in white was. Vuthy gave her a Khmer Bible, which she took home, opened to the beginning and started reading. The story in the Bible was word for word the story that the man in white showed her in her dream. From that day forward, she knew that the man was Jesus, and she believed in him because he had come to her.
When she stopped going to the temple, Grandma Mouen said she lost a lot of friends. It’s hard being the only Christian in the village that she's lived in since birth. People talk and think it very strange that she left the faith, and there is distance between her and the other villagers. But, she said that the Lord provides and brings friends from other countries to bless her and encourage her. As she grabbed my hand and patted it I realized that she was talking about us. And it hit me, we are the only community Grandma Mouen has. Missionary teams that come through provide the only fellowship that this dear old lady experiences.
It’s no wonder that she runs out to greet us. We are family to her, the only real family that she has.
And yet, God provides all that she needs. Happy is too dull of a word to describe Grandma Mouen; she is radiant with joy. There is a spring in her step and a dance in her eyes that no eighty-year-old contains, even those in the epitome of health.
God has big plans for Grandma Mouen. She is His beacon to reach this little village of two hundred families.
As we walk around homes visiting with the Cambodians, hope is in the air. In just three weeks we felt the atmosphere shifting, and God is just getting started. There are several villagers who are close. Each time we talk to them, they have questions waiting for us and curiosities about our faith.
Vuthy is praying that a church will evenutally stand on Grandma Mouen’s land. I believe that it’s going to happen soon, that Grandma Mouen will experience intimate, consistent church community in her lifetime.
