I started to write this blog about a year and a half ago. I posted the first part, which you can find here: Part 1:: a daughter’s heart. After I wrote that, I didn’t really know how to put into words what I felt and I certainly didn’t feel comfortable sharing that part of my heart with anyone who happened to read my blog. But since yesterday was Mother’s Day, I figured it might be about time to share. So here is my story about that time I finally realized what it is like to be a mom… sort of…
As I pedaled my bicycle away from the village, tears welled up in my eyes. This thought sprinted through my mind on repeat, “I have no idea when I will see my baby girl again or if I will even see her again in this life.” I waved to the families I have seen every Wednesday morning for the last few weeks knowing that my face will fade into the faces of white people that they have seen and will see. With each pedal I pray that maybe they saw something in my smile or felt something in my hug that showed them the love I have in my heart for them. The children I grew to love ran alongside my bike until I sped up and their little legs could no longer keep up. I had to get out of there or I was going to lose it. I make the last turn to get out of the village, turn around one last time to glance at the children who ran into the street and at the village where most things never change. I spoke hope over that ground one more time, turned and pedaled onward back home.
It was just another Wednesday in Cambodia. It was our last Wednesday of ministry before we left for our next and final month of adventure on The World Race. I rolled out of bed at 7:21 a.m. and set out to find some breakfast in the kitchen. I grabbed a banana and made some toast and went back upstairs to change. At 8 a.m. my team got together for our morning prayer. That morning as we prayed, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Probably along the lines of “God show yourself to us today in a precious way. Help us to be your light in the village today. Be in our touch, our smiles, our hugs. Help us bring your kingdom to this village today.” We got on our bicycles and left for the village right around 9 a.m.
On Wednesday mornings we went to a slum village just down the street and around the corner a little bit. The bike ride wasn’t far. I looked forward to going to village because we got to play with the children. I turned into a human jungle gym for a few hours. The hugs are endless. There are always children battling for your attention, attention they don’t get because in their small bamboo hut home they are just another mouth to feed in a long line of siblings. When they are old enough… old enough being 6 years old, some of them are sent to the bus station to beg for money to keep their bellies full. Some families, that is their only income. The children use violence as a way to get their point across to each other, but when we handed out hugs or held hands with them or sat and cuddled for a while we could see their walls come down.
This particular Wednesday, we rode our bicycles into the village as usual and the children came running. As I got off my bike and began to hug the faces I was used to, I saw two little girls holding hands just staring at me. I recognized one of them but the other I hadn’t seen before. I bent down and just extended my arms, offering a safe place in my arms for a little while. The girls just stared at me for a moment. I just smiled and held my ground, they were either going to run away or come into my arms, but I wasn’t about to reject them simply because they didn’t hug me the second I offered. Eventually the one I recognized came and grabbed my hand, so I offered my other hand to her friend. She took it and didn’t let go. The girl I recognized, now remembered we had been there before and ran off to hug the rest of my team, but her friend stayed with me. She stared into my eyes, touched my skin, and was just very calm. Eventually she snuggled into my arms wrapped her arms around my neck and stayed in my arms until I had to leave.
As soon as this little girl touched me it was like we had a supernatural connection that only came from the Lord. She was mine. A precious little girl with a family and a life of her own, but in the Spiritual realm, she is my baby girl. I am her mama. I braided her hair as she sat in my lap. I hugged her tightly and didn’t let go. I prayed for her and it was like she knew what I was saying. She asked me if I wanted to go for a walk, in her language and somehow I knew what she was asking me. As we walked she showed me her which small bamboo hut was where she lived with her grandmother and many siblings. I dreamed for her outloud. I dreamed big dreams and small dreams. She played with my hair and wore my sunglasses. It was like we were meant to be together. I knew her in the deepest part of my heart. The way a mother knows her child. All too soon I had to get on my bicycle and go back home to eat lunch and teach English. Pedaling away from my baby girl was like ripping my heart in two and I have never been the same.
A day that started just the same as any other day turned into a day that turned my heart inside out because God showed up in a slum village in Cambodia. We often pray that God will break our hearts for what breaks his, or show us who to love, or help us love someone; often, we aren’t ready for the weight of his response. I was ready to come home and find a way to adopt my girl. I was ready to give her a life that she could only dream of, to give her hope for her future, to be able to hold her and love her every day of her life, to make sure she can eat every meal, to take care of her the way my mother took care of me. But the law is such that I cannot adopt her from Cambodia. I cannot adopt her because so many people have misused the opportunity to make someone’s life better and have sold countless women and children into trafficking situations. She is not allowed to be adopted out of the situation she lives in, so I am her spiritual mother from afar. I get to pray for her every day and talk to my translator about her to see if she is okay. My heart longs for her in the worst way and I cannot help but wonder if she is okay, if she made it another day in that village.
Even now, one year and seven months later… my heart aches to go back to that village and be with her. She taught me so many things in the few hours we got to be together. That day I became a spiritual mom to this precious little girl. I love her to pieces. To all the moms who have never actually given birth, but are moms to one or many YOU are celebrated!! Keep loving well. And to all the moms who taught us what it means to love well, Happy Mother’s Day… we couldn’t do this without you!
Much Love,
-A
