He Picked Me Flowers - Explore Archived World Race Alumni Blogs

As I walk up he gives me the biggest smile and wave. I hold his hand as we walk, I pick him up and bounce him up and down. I am so attached to this little boy and I don’t know why.

I met him my first Sunday in Cambodia when our host took us to a village church nearby they run. After the service, I walked out and I saw him, he smiled at me and said “hello”, gave me a high five and we were friends ever since. He picked flowers and held them out as a gift. I saw him once, maybe twice a week during my time in Cambodia, and each time I fell more and more in love.

I found out his name is Poh (not sure how to spell it in English) and he is the cousin of one of the boys at ELI school. Tokla, his cousin, is another kid I am drawn to, actually let’s be honest, I’m drawn to every one of the village kids here. In class I see them and they stand out against the missionary students from Korea and the Phillippines and they speak less English. They have torn socks, dirty faces and yet, the biggest smiles. They have stolen my heart.

This month we were challenged to pick someone to disciple. Now the thought of this scared me, and wasn’t something I was really for. But I choose the village kids. I choose the kids that stood out, the ones who maybe struggled. I choose to love them the way their Father does.

Because of the language barrier and their age, discipling wasn’t what you may think. But I was committed, over the course of the month to show these kids that they are special, and they are loved.

I thought I was going to spend the month loving on them, but they loved on me even more. Through the hugs, smiles, hands held, laps sat on, laughters shared, these kids have shown me true love and happiness.

But when I would visit their village, I felt sad and ashamed.

Sad that these kids live in the conditions they do. They had shelter, yet it’s nothing compared to the 2 story house I call home in Minnesota. Sad that they need sponsors to pay to go to schools.

Ashamed, for I have been blessed with so much in this world, yet I find myself complaining about marginal things.

It’s too hot

It’s too cold

I don’t like this food

I’m tired

I don’t have ______ or I want ________

For people who have far less (in material standards), I never hear complaints. I didn’t hear Tocala complain he was hungry when he came to school without eating breakfast, I didn’t hear the boy complain when he was sick with a tonsil infection, I didn’t hear them asking for anything whenever I was around, well that’s not true, they asked to play…

I am striving to remove this form of negativity from my life. When I find myself complaining I am to say 5 things I am thankful for in that moment.

These families don’t have nothing, but they have far less than me. I felt ashamed pulling out my iPhone 6 to take pictures of them knowing that the amount I paid for this phone could support these family’s for months.

I may not be able to change the world, but with the life I have been blessed with, I can do what I can to serve and support other people.

Yet in the village there was always happiness. They have shelter, water and food. They are some of the happiest people even when they have less stuff. I’m coming to think there is a problem with always wanting more. Having more doesn’t actually make us happier does it? These kids were always playing. Playing with sticks, homemade kites and each other. There were no phones, TV or electronics in sight. It made me so happy seeing genuine joy on their faces and laughter that filled the air. Maybe less is more?

With all the village has taught me, I still sit with questions

Where will these kids be in 10 years? What kinds of people with they turn out to be? What is in store for the rest of their lives?

When I think of how attached I am to these kids, I also realize that I was only here for a month. A month is such a small period of their lives, and I am so grateful for the glimpse of their life I got to share with them. They will always have a special place in my heart and these memories will be cherished forever. Though I may not know what is to come for these kids, I know it will be great.

This is the hard part of the race, leaving. Every month we meet amazing people doing amazing things. Laughter is had, tears are shed, prayers are prayed, songs are sang, classes are taught, churches are built, and at the end of the month we always have to say goodbye. Though this goodbye is not forever, it’s more a see you later, it doesn’t make the hurt any less.

I put him down, and he tries to climb back up my leg. I say goodbye and he starts to cry. So I pick him back up and tell him I have to leave. I put him down and he holds my hand as we walk to the main road. When I let go of his hand for the last time, I say goodbye and I walk away. As I walk away I hear him cry, with each step my heart breaks a little more.