A few years ago I was in the running to be the “Dream Girl” of a fraternity on campus and for the event I was going to Las Vegas. I found a skin-tight dress to wear, whipped out my highest heels and went to the store to find nail polish. I mean, a girl can’t be crowned without perfect nails, can she? (Did I mention I struggled with vanity?) I looked at the wall of colors and immediately one popped out. It waspink, the same color as the sash I hoped to win, with the biggest chunks of glitter that I have ever seen. It looked like a bottled disco ball. I watched the light reflect off the glitter and was filled with excitement. I thought to myself, “If any nail polish was made for Vegas, this is it!” So I skipped over to the register and paid seven dollars for one bottle. (Yes, the equivalent to my current budget for seven meals on the World Race.)
Fast-forward a couple years to when I have been redeemed by Christ. I am leaving for the World Race to spread His love around the world for 11 months and the last thing I grab as I run out the door is that same bottle of nail polish. I hadn’t really thought about my reasoning behind it, but it caught my eye so I shoved it in one of the pockets of my pack. This month, in Cambodia, I pulled it out.
We are living in a school with children from the surrounding community that live too far away to go home at night or on weekends. The tuk tuk price of $5 to bring their 6 children home is just too much for the families to bear, even if just once a week. Both Friday nights that we have been here, Mike has set up movies that play on the wall of the school to entertain these precious children. And in the back corner on both Fridays, I have painted all of the girls’ nails with that bottle. I wish I could have captured the look on their faces when I first pulled it out. The Christmas lights that I had set up bounced off the glitter and made it come alive. I may have had gold, pink, and red, but it didn’t matter. Their eyes were wide and transfixed on that bottle. All they wanted was the glitter. Each girl waited her turn and then came and sat next to me. She would place her hand on my leg and meekly ask me to paint her nails with the glitter. As I painted, she watched with such focus that it honestly made me nervous. Then, every time without fail, as soon as I finished the biggest smile would come across her face. She would bring her fingers closer to the light and wiggle them, as if to make the glitter dance.
As soon as the movie was over and it was time to go to bed, every single one of those girls hugged me with intensity. And in a small, quiet voice I heard, “Good night teacher, I love you.” We finished that bottle off this past Friday night and I couldn’t help but think about how wrong I had been. That bottle was never meant for Vegas, it was meant for Cambodia, just as I was. The Lord knew all along, it just took me a little while to catch up.
