Children’s voices sound outside as they get ready for school. Their morning chitter-chatter and laughter greets the day as I snuggle down into my sleeping bag, trying to justify not getting up quite yet. The children walk over to the kitchen from their dormitories for a quick breakfast, then the dirt road comes alive with the sound of clattering bicycles and motorcycles.
I finally sit up on my sleeping mat and unzip my tent, slipping out into the open-air room with six tents neatly lined up in two rows (which we set up to ward off nightly mosquito attacks). Pausing outside our room, I take in the peachy-pink sunrise over the dry fields with tall coconut-palms scattered across the landscape. Then I make my way slowly (and carefully!) down the metal ladder to the wash house.
The property is alive with honking geese, quacking ducks, whining puppies and clucking chickens. As I meander toward the breakfast nook, suddenly my legs are wrapped in little 5-year-old arms and “Tiger” (as they call him) looks up at me with a huge smile.
That was worth getting out of bed for.
Our main responsibility this month is to spend time with 36 children at a New Hope Orphanage in the Kampong Cham province of Cambodia, giving the house parents a much-needed break. We play with them, pray with them, tutor them in English and share with them about Jesus every night.
Each day, I am learning that impact on a child’s life may not occur in one monumental event. But the small moments we spend together can mean the world to them:
-Taking the energetic puppy for a walk with a few of the (just as energetic) kids. This is my favorite part of the day… walking hand-in-hand down the dusty road toward the fish pond as the sun sets big and orange, singing happily in both Khmer and English.
-Laughing as we toss food to the hundreds of fish that they’re raising for food. Hannah and I reach down into the water teeming with catfish, trying to catch one with our bare hands. We later find out that this may not be such a good idea (they can sting you if held incorrectly!).
-Peeking over our balcony one afternoon to see a few older boys competing with a handmade slingshot. I venture down to learn, discovering that it’s harder than it looks, at first! But the boys are patient with me, and soon we’re aiming at moving targets with our slings and stones. This is so much fun!
-Heading out for a bike ride with my teammates, each of us finding a Cambodian child hanging on for the ride. I smile as I hear little Nadi’s voice behind me, singing “Father Abraham” in English to entertain herself. I join in for the chorus: “Right arm! Left arm!”
-Feeling my heart swell seeing kids like Yabesh closing his eyes and fervently praying while we worship together each night. This little boy, now 8 years old, almost died as an infant. Through a lot of prayer and the strong name of Jesus, his life was spared. Now he sings passionately with the other children in their national language (Khmer). I can still hear his strong young voice as he hugged me goodnight and surprised me with an English phrase: “God bless you!”
-Noticing a teenage boy sitting by himself as the other kids skip around before bed one evening. Normally, Soktan has a huge smile and a joyful twinkle about him. But tonight, there is sadness in his eyes. I go and sit with him. Do you have any siblings? I ask. That seems to be a safe question here. He immediately perks up and teaches me their names excitedly: Sopwen, Sopha, and Sokten.
“No father…” he pauses, as the pain surfaces. Then he brightens again as he says, “But my mom – so cool! Her name: Sok.”
This dear woman has so many mouths to feed, Soktan was sent to the orphanage to live. Even as we laugh over our broken Khmer and English, my heart hurts for him the rest of the evening.
-Walking through the neighborhood after school with a few of the kids, or maybe just one. Chheng Hak’s shyness gradually melts away as he bravely begins to practice English with me. “Beautiful!” is the first word he chooses, as we admire the sunset together.
One day, our team has a chance to meet his mother: a beautiful woman who cares for many impoverished children in another village. She looks after them and shares the love of Jesus with them, as there is not yet an orphanage in that village. For many months, she has also battled AIDS. We have the privilege of praying for her healing that day. We also are able to share with her a small gift to help her cover her medical and living expenses. Immediately, she hands back a portion of it to us to pass on to her son.
I give Chheng Hak a hug for her when we return home. His face lights up… he has the same joyful and generous spirit of his mom. But they cannot be together.
Cambodia’s people are still recovering from the horrific genocide of the Khmer Rouge regime, not 40 years ago. I cannot begin to understand their pain… but I can enter into it with them. I can learn from their ready laughter, limitless love, and incredible generosity, even in the wake of such atrocities.
I’ve fallen in love with Cambodia, and hope to return someday: the day when Soktan becomes a father, and watches proudly as his son takes his first steps. The day when Chheng Hak finishes his doctorate and discovers a cure for HIV/AIDS. The day when Yabesh is a leader in worship, ushering brothers and sisters to the throne of the One who saved his life as an infant. The day when Nadi stands in government council and passes an act that changes the course of her country.
I pray that the love we shared served to increase their faith in the God who sees them. I pray that they will know how dearly they are loved, and that they are not forgotten.
