Every morning I sit as our tuk-tuk passes rice fields, Buddhist temples, and trees bearing all the tropical fruit I could ever dream of. The dirt road is narrow and sometimes we have to stop and weave through the herd of cattle that’s traveling along the same road. We drive past small, bamboo huts that carefully rest on stilts, and I’m greeted with the familiar smell of raw sewage and notice the trash that blankets the ground.
When we arrive at the small tin and bamboo church that doubles as a school, I’m greeted by squeals of joy and smiling faces. I look around for the little boy that can’t be more than 3 years old, the one with the light brown hair that hangs just above his eyebrows. The one who has stolen my heart.
His name is Sophea.
The first thing that catches my attention isn’t the smell of his unbathed body, his clothes that are stained with dirt, the scratching of his lice-infested scalp, the small cuts and scrapes that have turned into oozing wounds, or his little distended belly that stands as a testament to the poverty in this village.
The first thing I notice is the overwhelming love I have for him. It’s only been 12 hours since the last time I saw him, but my heart aches for the joy that little boy brings to my soul.
I love him so much and I don’t know why. I love the way he raises his little index finger to volunteer for things unknown to him just because the older kids are. Or the way he lights up when I bring him to the front of the class to write the letter ‘k’ or circle the letter ‘s,’ even though he’s still too young to have any concept of what the alphabet is. I love the way he’s shy but curious. I love the way he follows along to the songs we sing, staring up at me with bright eyes and imitating my every move. I love the childlike joy that radiates from him. I love how he waits at the end of the road with a wide smile every day after class, waiting for our tuk-tuk to pass and blowing kisses until we’re out of sight. It’s a love that could only be described as the way the Father loves His children.
My heart broke when I visited Sophea’s house to pray for his family.
Mom, dad and all four children live in a small, one-bedroom bamboo hut with just enough space for each of them to lie down. No mosquito nets to protect them from deadly diseases like malaria and dengue, no stable roof to keep them dry during monsoon season. They have no beds to sleep on, no toilet to sit on and no bathroom to bathe in. The kitchen is nothing more than a few damp pieces of wood that will hopefully sustain a fire long enough to cook a frog caught from the feces-filled pond.
You would think that seeing poverty would get easier after 10 months of living amongst the poorest of the poor. But the truth is it doesn’t. In fact, sometimes it gets harder. This was the case for me this month when my heart broke for Sophea and his family. I was devastated by the fact that this beautiful family was bound to live in poverty for the rest of their lives.
But there’s a bright side.
God has appointed people like you and me to pull families like Sophea’s out of the unrelenting cycle of poverty. He’s put people like us in positions of authority to help those who are unable help themselves.
I knew why God had given me so much love for Sophea when I saw the meager conditions his family lived in. God knew they had a need, so he gave me His all-consuming love for them so that I would be able to see that need too. He chose me to be His hands and feet to help Sophea and his family.
I hear God calling me to give Sophea and his family the chance they deserve for a bright and sustainable future. I’ve started a campaign to raise money to build the family a new home and provide them with bicycles and the supplies they need to be able to go to school.
If God is calling you to be His hands and feet too, you can click on the link below to invest in little Sophea and his beautiful family.
www.gofundme.com/shelterforsophea
“Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy.”
Psalm 82:3-4
