I met a little two year old girl with no shoes. She had a smile plastered across her beautiful face. Her father told me that she had an older sister who had left the family to be a dancer. In Cambodia, being a dancer means only one thing. The little two year old girl with the huge smile would probably have the same sad future of being a dancer and giving herself away too.
I met a little boy who couldn’t speak. He couldn’t sit up, he couldn’t walk, and he would never be able to take care of himself. He didn’t stop smiling as he looked up at me from the bench he was laying on. Drool was falling down his face as flies landed on his nose and cheeks. This little boy had a grandmother who loved him and would take care of him as long as his little body was functioning.
I met a little girl named Nic. She was in eighth standard, and was different from the other kids who were selling fruit alongside her. She wasn’t pushy or forceful with her bananas; rather she chose to build a relationship with me. She told me about her life of selling fruit and balancing that with education. She was beautiful. I told her that I loved her and that God does too. I hope she believes that.
I met more kids in Cambodia without shoes or clothes than I have ever seen in any other country. Every village, every day, children running naked with no shoes.
God has been showing me more brokenness and helplessness through the race than I ever knew existed. I mean, I knew it was there, but it is such a different experience being face to face with hopelessness day after day.
What do you do with that?
I’m not saying what I did changed the world or even helped anyone but myself, but in growing in my relationship with God through this brokenness, I was challenged with things I never thought I would do.
The race is tough… so I shaved my head and got a tattoo.
I was challenged about my hair and finding too much pride in finding beauty in it. So, I did the only reasonable thing; I shaved it. Like I said, it didn’t change anyone’s life, but it has been teaching me humility and I’ve been able to find my beauty in God alone.
The other thing I did that I said I would never do was get a tattoo. The reasons for it are written out in my blog called Trust is a Noun, but I ended up getting a tattoo of the word trust. A week and a half ago, I went into a tattoo shop in Cambodia, and showed the artist, through charades and lots of pointing, what I wanted. I got the word TRUST written on my ring finger to remind me to stop putting my trust in myself and to give it completely to God.
I can’t trust myself to help these kids. I can’t trust myself to make the right decision about anything; I need to rely on God. He sees the smiling two year old, the handicapped boy, and child-laborer Nic. He loves them. I trust that He is taking care of them and calling them beautiful.
