How the parents of this "little sister" came to faith
Saron says, "I saw her situation..."
“I saw her situation, and she was the same as me.”
Minea is thirteen years old. She has a gentle smile and doesn't shy away from my questions. Looking into her eyes, nothing appears to be seriously wrong with them. One eye is too red, that's all. Years ago her little sister was playing with a knife. She threw it, and Minea has only seen from her good eye since then.
Minea's family has often been a place of turmoil and violence. That's why it's so exciting that things are beginning to change...
Saron is eighteen. She asked Minea to be her little sister just over a year ago. They were neighbors at the time, but then Minea's family moved to a new home thirty minutes outside the city. It's hard for Saron to go there, because she doesn't feel safe traveling that far alone, but she visits Minea as often as she can.
Usually they read the latest Alongsiders comic and talk about it. Minea says it helps her to learn more about Jesus, and she likes the practical lessons. She feels stronger now than she did a year ago and more aware of Jesus' love. In the future she hopes to work in a bank.
Saron says she chose Minea because, "I saw her situation, and she was the same as me."
It's a common thing for Alongsiders to say, and it's a powerful statement. Think about it. There are tens of thousands of vulnerable children in Cambodia, and each one is different. Every child has a unique story and individual challenges, and they live in thousands of local communities. How can we help them personally, wholistically and effectively?
That's a lot to hope for. There are some good organizations making a difference, but they can't work face-to-face with hundreds or thousands of children. But Alongsiders can, because Alongsiders live in the same local communities that the most vulnerable children call home - and most Alongsiders have faced similar challenges and vulnerabilities.
You may be asking, why did Saron identify with Minea?
Saron saw that Minea's parents were constantly fighting, hurling abuse at each other and also at Minea and her siblings. That's the same situation Saron grew up in, so she knew what Minea was enduring and wanted to walk through it with her.
Saron's pastor is a gifted and compassionate leader
And here is the good news: Minea's parents have been changing. This year they came to faith in Jesus. In the past few months, they have been fighting less and less, and they treat Minea much better than before.
This isn't something Saron brought about alone. Members of the church had begun reaching out to Minea's parents before Saron ever became an Alongsider. In fact, Saron's pastor was the one who suggested that Saron consider asking Minea to be her little sister.For the past few months, Saron has been able to visit Minea by catching rides with her pastor - who has been going faithfully to visit the family.
Change and healing come through relationships. When a church community - and a family and neighbors and an Alongsider - come together in love, the results can be transforming!
Of course, some situations resist change.
On the day I met Saron, she had received the results of her high school final examination earlier that morning. The high school exam is extremely important, and she had passed! It's a big deal, so I congratulated her, but she was sad. Her grade was low, and she was afraid to go home and face her parents. They haven't come to faith, and her home is still an angry and abusive environment.
Saron hopes her passing grade will be enough to qualify her for a government sponsored nurse training program that educates tens of thousands of young Cambodian women each year.
I'm sure she would welcome your prayers, and Minea as well.
Reflections from an intern: "What the slum taught me about changing the world"
How could I possibly love a family and community so much and still walk away?
Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I answered, "Change the world."
As an intern for Alongsiders International, I was excited to travel to different Cambodian provinces to conduct interviews, write for the blog, and live in a Phnom Penh slum. I was sure I would see God working in incredible ways in my slum community.
I moved into an extended family of eight people, a dog, several pesky rats, and a million mosquitoes. I took bucket showers and slept under a mosquito net. I ate rice three times a day and tried hard not to get food poisoning. I went with Ming to the market to buy live frogs and helped her and her son cut them up and cook them. I biked to work in crazy traffic and learned to ring the bell on my bicycle when turning corners to alert other drivers to my presence.
Most importantly, I fell in love with my host family and neighbors. I'll never forget the night I carried the baby outside the slum to a sand dune to watch the sunset, while she laughed and clapped her hands. Or the night that Theary and I read Alongsiders comic books for hours. Or all the days spent playing Moan, Moan, Tia with the neighbor kids (Cambodian duck, duck, goose). Or rocking in a hammock while eating green mangoes dipped in chili powder and salt, trying to communicate with my host family using my limited Khmer.
But I also can't forget the hard things: the nights I ran to the bathroom with food poisoning. The day a drunk man shook Ming, and her terrified little granddaughter tried to slash him with a wire hanger. The meals when I looked down to see yet another plate of boiled, fatty fish and steeled myself to choke it down again. The neighbor lady who would slap her her little daughter. The food offerings made to ancestors by people who could hardly afford three meals a day. The rubbish and the stench everywhere.
Most of all, I can't forget the way I had to leave. One of the sons had a party, and eight hungover men sprawled in the living room later, my time in the slum came to a screeching halt. I cried to leave, choked back tears when Ming asked if I still respected her family. How could I possibly love a family and community so much and still walk away?
Because I had money and a support network, I could walk away and find new housing. The young granddaughters staying with Ming weren't so fortunate.
I had spent three weeks living beside them, playing with them every day, and now I had nothing to show for it but a broken heart and a lot of memories that were suddenly more bitter than sweet. I had read the story of changing the world, and this wasn't how it was supposed to go-- was it?
As I tearfully told the story to a friend, she stopped me. "What if living in the slum wasn't about you changing the slum but about the slum changing you?"
During our listening prayer time at Alongsiders the next day, I closed my eyes and told God how much it hurt to have fallen in love with my slum community, invested wholeheartedly in it, and then been forced to leave it unchanged. I poured out my prayer, and waited for His response.
He said simply, Listen.
“You are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”
Over the next few weeks, I began to listen to God. At my new house, there was nothing for me to help with, so I found myself with a whole lot of silence and spare time. In the stillness I realized why it had hurt so badly to leave the slum: my identity had gotten wrapped up in making a difference. I was basing my worth as a person on 'changing the world,' at least in my Cambodian slum. Yet I myself had loved the people in the slum for who they were, not for anything they did.
The week I left the slum, I re-learned two important things: I am not the savior and my worth is wholly in the Savior. Ultimately, I learned that changing the world starts with being changed.
Three weeks later I got a text from the son: "I want to know that you feel safe now. I am sorry for the inconvenience. Our family would like to say goodbye before you leave."
So I head back to the slum one last time, to say goodbye to the community I've laughed and cried with, the community that taught me that worth is in being not in doing. As I walk back down my old street, the children come running. "Hello!" they cry. "Hello!" I enter the gate and Ming comes out and gives me a hug. My heart begins to heal as I greet her in Khmer.
It wasn't exactly the incredible summer of changing the world that I'd planned on. But I don't regret it for a second.
“When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow.”
The second generation - Sros' Story
“I grew up without a father and we were very poor and it was difficult to get by. One day, a young man, Lee, who was older than me, asked me if I wanted to become his little brother…
Sros (in blue) and Piset at an Alongsiders camp prayer time.
“I grew up without a father and we were very poor and it was difficult to get by. One day, a young man, Lee, who was older than me, asked me if I wanted to become his little brother…
Lee encouraged me to study hard, not to lose hope, and listen to my mom. He was always warm and friendly to me, just like my dad used to be. He invited me to attend church with him and when I believed in Jesus, my whole life changed. My studies at school, character, and obedience to my mom all improved.
Now I have my own little brother, Piset who is 12 years old. I believe this is the plan of God that God had me take on this boy as my little brother. I plan to fulfil my duties as a mentor to the best of my abilities and encourage, visit, and spend time with him, and follow up on his studies.
I really want to express my thanks for Alongsiders where I first received love, especially the love of Jesus.”