Last night we received a welcome not surpassed by royalty. When we arrived at Rapha House and they opened the gate, 100 girls had formed a corridor and were waiting to welcome us. As soon as the first team member exited the bus the girls began applauding. The first girls placed fragrant jasmine bracelets that they had made on our wrists and as we walked through the gauntlet of praise we looked into the sweetest faces you have ever seen and the Cambodian smiles of appreciation brought tears to more than one team members eyes. When the last team member exited the line the girls gathered around us and took our hands and hugged us and said how happy they were to have us here. Over and over the precious children introduced themselves using the phrases they had learned in English classes: “Hello, my name is (Sreymom). What is your name?” Thus began what is sure to be one of the most emotional weekends most of us will ever experience.
For the past day and a half each team member has had a girl approach them and take their hand and ask “Would you be my mother (father, grandmother, grandfather, sister)?” Some have asked : “Do you love me?” How could we not? Chris has often said since our trip last year that the only way she can handle the situation emotionally is to block out the reality of the abuse these girls have suffered. I haven’t figured out how to do that. Last night at the welcome party many of the girls performed traditional Khmer dances for us. As I watched them dance, especially the younger ones (some as young as 6 years old), I could not help but think “How could someone be so evil as to see these tender children as sex objects?” And my heart broke once more over at the hell they have been through.
One of my favorite children is a little ball of energy who speaks excellent English. I was especially impressed by this because when we met her last year she had just arrived from being trafficked in Thailand. I mentioned this to Theara and she said “Oh, she speaks or understands 6 languages.” I asked how such a young girl could from a poor country could know so many languages, and when the question was half-spoken the thought came to me that I didn’t want to hear the answer. As I had feared she said “Her traffickers taught her so she could communicate with the customers.” I’ m not sure that I can talk to her tomorrow without weeping.
Tomorrow we deliver the dolls and with them the love that you share for the girls of Rapha House. Tomorrow night we say goodbye. Pray for us. We will need it. And pray passionately for these precious, beautiful, innocent yet scarred little girls. They need it so much more.
Randy
This is just so amazing and touching! God bless you all!
I can’t read this without crying, I can’t imagine being there! What a blessing for these girls to see that so many love them just for who they are, wanting nothing from them. I pray God will erase the memories of their past and replace them with memories of His love- that you all are showing them.