{{A little girl who lives in Phnom Penh…she wasn't wearing a shirt…and there were no parents in sight.}}
It was a situation you don’t even think about. Literally. It just never crosses your mind. As it unfolds in front of me…all I can focus on are his dark, brown eyes…watery…but angry. Baby sister in one arm, crying and missing half of her clothes, he clenches his fist angrily…and walks over to a table near by next to a building under construction. He reaches his frail arm out and wraps his fingers around an orange brick, turning to us and raising it above his head. Lip quivering, his tear-filled, furious eyes set on us, he begins to step toward us as if to throw the brick. Everything around me and my teammate slows down…the sounds of the night market, begin to drown out…and for half a second…all I hear is my small gasp, my pounding heart, and his heavy inhales through gritted teeth. There was so much anger…so much hatred wrapped in this little 9/10-year-olds body…I mean, back home…this little boy could have been friends with my little brother. My stomach clenches and hands extend outward to protect myself when he begins to hurl the brick forward in his hands…and everything goes black.
How did I get here, you might be wondering? What did this missionary do to hurt that little boy and piss him off that much? My mind is reeling as I type this to you. And all I can say to you is that tonight I stared the enemy in the face…through the body of a little boy. It’s a disturbing thought…to imagine a life that should be so pure…so innocent…such a slave to Satan. And up until tonight, I would have never believed anything like this would have happened to me. I’ve often gotten children and/or their parents something to eat on the race. Instead of giving money, I like to go to a nearby mini-mart, pick up soup and gatorade…or a sandwich and water, and give it to them…hopefully showing and being Jesus to them when there is such a language barrier. In fact, a few days ago, I bought a sandwich for a woman and her daughter outside of the Blue Pumpkin in Phnom Penh. I don’t say this to gain any kind of recognition…but to say that this has gone well in the past. She was so appreciative…and had the biggest smile on her face when I walked out to her with a turkey and cheese sandwich and water bottle. She thanked me over and over again…and all I could let out through the wave of emotions running through me was “Jesus loves you, you’re welcome”. We even saw her later that day…and she practically threw her daughter into my arms telling her to thank me. Again, all I could think of to say was that Jesus loved her. I was so thankful to be used by the Lord that day. Helping the homeless isn’t something new to my world race.
Today we traveled 6 hours to Siem Reap, a city in Cambodia most known for Angkor Wat, a huge temple/city that is extremely well preserved in order to visit Angkor Wat, and meet with a potential contact. After dinner, team time, and getting settled, myself and another teammate took it to the streets to have a one-on-one and do a little exploring. The best way to explain this city is a Cambodian Bourbon Street…or in downtown Nashville were in Cambodia, this is what it would look like. Western owned bars, tattoo shops, and a huge night market. As we were on our way back, a little figure bolted from a shadow over to me. I’ve seen this game time and time again. He right away began to ask for: "food, a meal, no money, for my sister, please, she’s hungry, no money, just a meal”. I stuck to my routine and asked his name…which was Han. I said that it was very nice to meet him, and it was. The Lord has given me such a heart for these children. His jet black hair was going in all kinds of directions and his eyes were serious, and filled with worry. I saw his little sister giggling and walking in my direction. She wasn’t wearing any pants, but had the sweetest smile. She went right to her brother, who scooped her up and repeated his story. His little sister beamed up at me, then, reached out her arms in my direction. She was about 1-years-old…maybe a little older…but not by much. My throat clenched a little. “She wants you to hold her”, he said, and immediately asked for a meal again. “I would love to hold her!” I exclaimed as I scooped her into my arms and immediately tickled right above her collarbone. She giggled and began to play with my turtle necklace, humming softly and squealing with excitement.
I decided that because it was a meal, and not money, that this was just another opportunity to love on these children and maybe talk about Jesus. We head over to a mini-mart and the closer we get…the more uneasy I feel. He’s done this before…which, I immediately thought to myself : ‘well of course he’s done this before…probably once a night…kids gotta eat!” He whips the door open of the mart and walks right over to where the Formula is located. My eyes go immediately to the price…praying it wasn’t anything compared to how much it was in the states. It was. “$15.00…” I said, sadly. For the next 3 minutes I explained to him that I don’t have $15…that it wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it’s that I didn’t have it. Also, I didn’t want to buy this for this kid for him to give it to his mom to sell so he could pocket the money. I walked over to an isle with cookies and saw three boxes of baby cookies. I offered him those, but he refused. Clearly getting upset. I told him I was sorry. That was all I could afford…it would fill her belly…and she had teeth. She was to the point where formula wasn’t the only option. I saw past his sales pitch…and was providing a counter offer. Which he refused. He left the store angrily. I bought a bottle of water and bag of M&M’s just in case I saw him again, and as soon as we walked out, he ran up to us asking for the money we had on us, so he could find more money to buy formula. I offered the water and M&M’s and his anger only spiked. He yelled that his sister could not eat that and that he needed the formula for the 4 month olds. I told him I was sorry and that it was nice to meet him and began to walk away when he snapped. He pushed me and began to hit my teammate…throwing his fists wildly. When he saw it wasn’t working, he swung his sister with all his might and cracked her head across my teammates chest…causing her to cry. And cry a lot. His eyes looked desperate. I pulled the boy away from my teammate and we started to walk away. My heart was shattered. That poor baby girl…that poor little boy. I can’t imagine what has happened to him in his life for him to act this way…how hurt he’s been, how abused. He runs past us a few times…shaking his finger at us saying : “You’ll be sorry! You hurt my sister! You’ll be sorry!” And finally, the fourth time passing in front of us…he sees the bricks.
It was a situation you don’t even think about. Literally. It just never crosses your mind. As it unfolds in front of me…all I can focus on are his dark, brown eyes…watery…but angry. Baby sister in one arm, crying and missing half of her clothes, he clenches his fist angrily…and walks over to a table near by next to a building under construction. He reaches his frail arm out and wraps his fingers around an orange brick, turning to us and raising it above his head. Lip quivering, his tear-filled, furious eyes set on us, he begins to step toward us as if to throw the brick. Everything around me and my teammate slows down…the sounds of the night market, begin to drown out…and for half a second…all I hear is my small gasp, my pounding heart, and his heavy inhales through gritted teeth. There was so much anger…so much hatred wrapped in this little 9/10-year-olds body…I mean, back home…this little boy could have been friends with my little brother. My stomach clenches and hands extend outward to protect myself when he begins to hurl the brick forward in his hands…and everything goes black as I squeeze my eyes shut, ready to get hit. I open them and look at him dead in the eyes and muster a : “Don’t you dare.” I’m thinking this little boy saw my mothers eyes in that moment…eyes that were not full of hate or judgment, instead a righteous anger…because I cared about him and this was not okay. He raised it again, and I let out a smooth, calm : “It’s okay…it’s okay.” My hand was out, extended toward him…I slowly lowered it and didn’t notice the quiver until my other hand touched wrapped around it. My teammate took the brick from his hands and put it back on the table, and we walked away. Tuk Tuk drivers in the area asked if we were okay, and rolled their eyes in the boys direction and chuckled.
This afternoon, I've been forced to do a lot of thinking thanks to a migraine. A teammate told me that he asked around and found out that children asking for formula is a common scam around here put on by men who will take the formula back to a store and get above the price that I would have paid for it. I shudder when I think about these men. What they do to these children to make them so unbelievably desperate to beg for this "meal". My mind goes to my "friend" Han. And what I would give to know that someone takes him out of that pain and abuse someday. Heck, what I would give to be able to give him a way out…a home. Hope.
So here I am. Still extremely excited about Christmas Eve, and not allowing Satan this victory. As some of you know, our team is looking for donations so that we can take some street kids in Phnom Penh to get ice cream as a Christmas treat. We’re up to $210 so far, which is about 30 kids. And we are so blown away with how gracious everyone is being! My wish for this blog is not to make you think that these kids are “too far gone”…no child is too far gone. If we can show Jesus to these children…and if just one life is shown true kindness…maybe it will prevent things like this happening in the future. Maybe by making a child smile, he/she will realize that there is still good in this world…and that they are worth loving. So, as my eyes begin to burn with exhaustion…I ask this one thing. Pray for these little ones on the streets. It’s like satan has a full buffet of children to prey on here…and in all the countries we are visiting. Pray for Han. Pray for his sister. That he can grow to be a man who protects her, and does not cause her anymore harm. That the innocence that has been ripped from these two precious lives, can be restored. And that they can know, believe, and feel the love of Jesus. If you would like to donate for the Christmas Eve Celebration with these awesome kids…please donate via paypal to [email protected]. We’ve had donations from $5-$50. So whatever your heart desires would be amazing. Merry Christmas, everyone.
