I Cannot Relate to These Moms
I don’t know what it feels like to feel rejected and cast out. I don’t know what it feels like to take on the identity of a failure. I don’t know what it feels like to lose a child. The parents of the children at Crossing Cambodia do.
Crossing Cambodia is the ministry we served at in Cambodia. It is a small center that provides for street children and shares the love of Jesus with them. We pick them up off the street early in the morning and bring them to the center. There they receive a hot meal, clean uniforms, and walk to school together. They return for lunch, tutoring, bible stories, games, and a shower. Then they go back to class in the afternoon, and return at 4 for a snack and a ride back to their families. But they receive so much more. They get a chance at a good education which is essentially a ticket off of the street. They receive the love of Jesus from the caring staff who run the center like a family. They are filled with joy. Crossing Cambodia is always filled with smiles and laughter.
One evening the parents were invited over for dinner and an update on the happenings of the center. This is when I met Nga’s mom. Nga is the oldest child at the center, she is 12. When she came to the center, she had failed out of the first grade three times due to unexcused absences. Now she is thriving in the third grade. She is full of joy and has light in her eyes. She looks like her mom, Sreymau, who attaches herself to me the entire evening. She wanted me to sit with her at dinner and refused to let me do any dishes. She was always smiling. Later I sat down with her and another woman who also spoke English, and they talked for awhile in Khmer (ka-mai). After awhile I noticed that Sreymau was crying. The other woman translated for me and said that she feels like a horrible mother because she cannot provide for her daughter. Society has told her she is worth nothing since she cannot provide for herself and her daughter. Yet she has brought her to this safe haven where Nga has hope for a future off of the streets, and Sreymau herself has taken more interest in trying to better her life. I tried to communicate through the translator that Sreymau obviously loves her daughter very much and is a wonderful mother, because she has done all that she can. But the hurt of society still runs deep.
Another day we visited one of the poorest families who attend the center. Five children and their mother spend their days on a street corner and work the night market at night. The three oldest boys attend the center, while the two youngest stay with their mother. This mom is full of smiles when we arrive and is so happy we’ve come to see her. Her children are thin. The oldest has chronic ulcers on his legs that we have been tending to. I sit on the ground next to the small hammock where the youngest sleeps. She is 7 months old but looks more like 2 or 3 months. She is thin and looks like a tiny human, not a chubby baby like she should. I rock her hammock and listen to my teammate speak with their mother. My teammate tells her how beautiful she is, and she responds that she can’t be beautiful because otherwise her husband would not have left her. She only gets some help from her brother who gives them what support he can, but it is not much. She cares for the younger children while the older ones work the night market. We watch her feed the toddler cabbage soup. She has joy, but she also feels defeat.
I do not understand what any of these moms are going through. I feel inadequate to relate to their suffering and almost feel silly offering the hope of Jesus while they are in such dire circumstances. But prayer is welcomed and they are grateful for us listening to their stories, many of which include rejection or loss of a child. But there is still light in their eyes, there is still hope for their children. They know the next generation of their family is not resigned to the streets. The children know it too. When we pick them up in the morning their eyes are downcast, and they don’t say much. When we visit them at the night market some are joyful, but others look ashamed and don’t talk to us. But when they arrive at the center their faces brighten and they start giggling. They act like children again, being playful and silly. They know they are safe and loved, and they know they have hope for their future. They know that Love has saved them.
For more information about Crossing Cambodia check out their website:
http://www.crossingcambodia.org/
Update: I am fully funded!! Hooray! Thank you so much to all of you who are supporting me on this journey of a lifetime. If you still want to give, my teammates are still in need of additional support before their deadline at the end of this month. (Andie Cortez, Lauren Mitchell, Kortney Gulley, Danielle Stueve, Corrie Walker).
