Peas in a Pod

 

Keo and Kara, peas in pod.  From the first moment, I stepped through the gate at Happy Tree, the orphanage in Phnom Penh, we were inseparable.  I am not sure what made her pick me, but after the first day, we were fast friends.  I let her use my camera which probably helped. Officially, she was the keeper of my way cool sunglasses. Everyday we would grow a little bit closer.  Her size will fool you; even though she looks about 10 she is actual 14.   She never looked aimless, unless she just woke up from a nap.  

  

 

    

 

 

 She dragged me all over the orphanage,showing me her room and where she like to hang out.  Keo Lakana always seemed to have a purpose.Mostly, during those two weeks, she purposed to take pictures of her and her posse in every room, every tree or shrub and in front of anything remotely interesting.  Keo had such a big heart. She was always taking care of others.  There was one baby in particular that she doted on all the time.  He was included, she made sure of that.  Also, she took care of me.  Always explaining as best she could in charades and even shoving spoonfuls of her sweet lentil mush into my mouth for snack. 

     

 

 I love the look on her face when I  first arrive.  Eyes that danced and a face that was radiant with joy.  Alternatively, leaving was the worst.  However, we made up our own goodbye. We would say and sign, “God loves you. I love you too! See you tomorrow.” It was said at least  ten times before I would pry myself away and head for the tuk-tuk that was waiting to take me home.  I loved knowing that I would see her tomorrow.

 

Finally, our last day at Happy Tree had arrived. I had prepared myself for it to be hard. I am not going to cry because it will just make it harder on the kids. I repeated this to my self to build my resolve . We finished our planned program and the kids treated us to traditional Cambodian dancing and some not so traditional Cambodian Dancing.

 

                                  

I know now how my mom must have felt at all my dance recitals growing up. I was so proud and determined to capture every second on video.  The other girls were the same way. We kept saying we felt like parents.  The program was ended  with a song, Sank you Sank you Jesu.  I’m pretty sure it was Thank you, Thank you Jesus, but it will forever be remembered as the former.  The program ran long so we had to rush to leave.  It wasn’t  until the last moment I even realized this could possible be the last time we would ever see each other.  Wrapping my arms around Keo, I held her so tight and she held on like she was never going to let go. My will no longer had control of my tears. Our embrace would never be long enough to satisfy either one of us.  Keo and Kara, peas in a pod. Wet peas.  

 

For the first time in two weeks, Keo didn’t walk me to the gate. We didn’t say our special goodbye.  There was no joy to be found in those last moments. I left her at the steps, the saddest I had ever seen her. Turning to go, I didn’t dare look back.  I would never make to the gate. About halfway to the gate, I was sobbing uncontrollably.  Jen put her arm around me. “It hurts so much” is all could say over and over again.  ” I can’t do this 7 more times,” I cried.  Poor Jen, I sob the whole way back to the tuk-tuk.  I hated being one more person to leave her. One more person who says ” I love you” and doesn’t stay.  One more person who can’t really make anything better.  Keo Lakana has HIV and will never leave that orphanage.  She is home.

 

My only hope is to pray that the seeds we planted and the love of the dedicated workers at the orphanage will bring her hope. Eternal hope. A hope in Jesus Christ as her Savior, friend, and King. I look forward to the day when Keo and Kara will once again be peas in a pod hanging out behind a much nicer gate.