She sits on the corner of the sidewalk every day in the blistering sun in hopes of receiving a few dollars to feed her children. She nervously holds her hands out at the passers-by and looks up at them as her infant baby screams in her arms. Most people pass by her without a second glance. Some look down and smile sheepishly and continue on their way. Every now and then someone will toss down a few hundred Reil (equivalent to a few cents) and hurry past her before she has a chance to beg for more. Her toddler daughter runs around in circles for entertainment, occasionally dancing her way into the path of distracted tourists. Not many seem to notice them. The world continues on as if they don’t exist.
And for three days, so did I.
Then, on the fourth day, something changed. Jeremy and I walked down the street facing the riverside, lost in conversation. As we reminisced over the fun we had shared together over the last few days, I couldn’t help but stare out at the beauty that the river had to offer. I was entranced. Something caught my attention, though I couldn’t tell you what. Eventually we walked into the Blue Pumpkin bakery where we had planned to spend a few hours drinking smoothies and playing card games. To us, the world around us was but a mere distant world. We were in our own little bubble, ignoring the reality we were about to reenter. As we walked past this beautiful mother and her two small children, they caught my attention, and I couldn’t stop staring at them.
She was petite, and it was obvious by her outward appearance that she rarely ate, or at least anything nutritious. She held her baby in her arms, feeding him something out of a bottle, something that looked chunky and moldy. Her daughter sat beside her quietly with her head held low. As she did every day, she held her hands out to all the people walking by, but none even glanced down at her. As I walked past her, she looked up at me and smiled. Her smile was one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen. If there’s one thing from Cambodia I’ll never forget, it’s that smile.
Slowly I opened the door to the bakery and walked in. My chest tightened, and I knew I had to do something. We’ve been told for so long not to give money to beggars. Once you give to one, twenty more will surround you. I knew that even if I walked way having given her no money, I had to give her something.
I looked around the bakery, staring at all the food. This food smelled and looked delicious. This food, which costs just a few bucks for us, would have cost this mother her entire weeks’ “wages”. I picked up a baguette and told Jeremy that I wanted to buy it to give to this mother and her children. It’s not much, and it’s not nutritious, but I knew it would probably be the only thing they would eat that day. As we paid the cashier, I also bought two bottles of water.
I opened the door to the bakery and walked toward the mother. The little girl stood up and twirled around, then sat back down. I’d like to believe she knew I was coming to her, and she was celebrating. As I walked towards them, my heart raced. On the inside, I was excited and nervous. What if she rejected me? What if she only wanted money? What if…?
As I bent down to greet them, the mother’s smile beamed, and I knew everything would be okay. As I began to speak, the infant boy, who was crying, suddenly stopped crying and looked up at me. I told the mother that I didn’t have much money, but I at least wanted to give her a little food and water. It was an incredibly hot day, and there was not a lot of shade. As I spoke with this woman, I learned that she spoke almost perfect English. She shared with me that both she and her infant son were sick, and she wanted money so she could take him to the hospital. In that moment, all I wanted to do was grab them, put them into a Tuk Tuk, and rush them to the hospital. The small girl stared at me, glued to my face. When I looked at the baby, he, too, smiled at me. I'll never forget that precious baby boy.
I handed the two bottles of water to the mother and the little girl. The small girl tried to open the bottle, but failed, so she laid it to the side. I asked her if she wanted some, and she hastily shook her head “yes”. I opened the bottle for her, and before I could blink she had chugged half the bottle. Just as suddenly as she had drank the water, she twisted the cap back on and gently sat the bottle at her side. I knew in that moment she was thinking of how she wanted to savor the last bit of water. What three-year-old should have to do that?
I conversed with her for a few more minutes, and then stood up to walk away. As I did, my eyes started to sting. It was everything I could do to hold back tears while I talked to them. My heart broke for this sweet family that I had grown to love in a matter of minutes. I wanted to give them the world. I don’t have much, but compared to them, I have the world. I turned around and saw that Jeremy had been watching from inside the bakery. I walked inside, turned around one more time and saw that they were still staring at me, that little girl glowing with joy. I walked to the back of the bakery, my heart still racing, and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
The pain I felt for this family came out in ways I cannot explain. All I could imagine was how Jesus loved them and wanted them to be taken care of. My heart broke because this family was no different than me, yet different in every way imaginable. This family, this beautiful family that I had selfishly ignored for three days, is LOVED. I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else had loved them at all that day. I hope so. I prayed so.
I walked away from this day wondering how I would love the people around me, or even more so, how I would love the people back home. I want to love everyone around me the same way I loved this woman and her two small children. I want to love the world the way I love the people in the tent villages here in Cambodia, or the way I love the homeless on the streets in Malaysia. I want to love the people back home the way I love the people elsewhere in the world. This woman’s beautiful smile is a good reminder of how to love.
This woman reminds me that on this Thanksgiving I am so grateful for bread and water. I am grateful for love, and I am grateful for selflessness. And most of all, I am grateful for Jesus’ love. I am so grateful, because I could easily be this woman sitting on the street corner begging for money, but I'm not. What am I going to do with this?
