Washing Feet

Today we went to one of the village communities in the city, where we washed feet. Following the example Jesus modelled for us just before His death, we find that it has a powerful way of expressing our hearts and opening the way to further conversation with people. In Khmer culture, the feet are the lowest and the least honourable part of the body. When we come and wash their feet, they understand that we are honouring them on the deepest possible level. In a country where life is bought and sold; where Cambodians are often seen as inferior by the nations around them, and where the old and the weak and the poor have even less value; where hearts are still broken after years of trauma and rejection and shame and suffering, this means so much.

We started off washing the feet of the children, and of course it was ticklish, which made them laugh and laugh. We had 7 wash basins, so the team took it in turns to wash feet. Some of the people started crying when we washed their feet. I had three little boys come to have their feet washed, one after the other. The first two giggled all the time, but the third was very serious. He seemed a thoughtful child, without any of the frivolousness of his peers. However, he didn't seem sad. I could imagine him as a MP one day.... What if I was washing the feet of a future leader of Cambodia!

After my turn to wash feet, I wandered over to where Rome was chatting with a family. This family had been very welcoming when they saw us arriving, calling out greetings and smiling and waving. Rome asked if there was anything he could pray for, and the husband said that he had less energy as he was getting old. So Rome prayed and asked that he could have more energy and strength than before. The couple had a beauty and a dignity and a gift of hospitality and they made us very welcome, inviting us to sit with them and talk. They were very interested to hear where we had come from and our ages. They introduced us to their son and his wife and daughter - their grandchild. They were a very connected family. I found myself thinking that this must be like old Cambodia, Cambodia before a whole generation was so mercilessly wiped out with the resulting defragmentation of culture and society and family.

The son was a strong and beautiful young man, and as I looked at him I had a definite impression that he had a lot of leadership on him, and that he had power to influence his community, but that he had to choose whether to use this power for good or for bad. I shared this with Kim, and she said that his dad had told her that he was taking drugs. I felt that there was such a big calling for him, and so much that God would do through him, but that there was a choosing that had to take place. The impression remained, so I asked Sambo to translate for me and I shared this with him. I told him it was to encourage him, and because I really wanted to see him enter into all that is meant for him. He listened attentively, and thanked me. I felt so much for him. So much potential. Please God, let him not waste it.

The mother of this young man was very lovely. She had grace and dignity and I found myself thinking of the woman described in Proverbs 31. She shared that she had five children; I said so did I.  She then showed me a photo of herself and her husband when they were younger. The same grace and dignity was present.

Meanwhile, another elderly lady arrived, much older than them. She said she also wanted prayer for her age. The husband of the family told us that she was ninety years old! She was amazingly healthy and agile for her age. And she was so full of joy; she smiled all the time. But she didn't have a single tooth in her mouth!

We prayed for her, asking God to bless her and strengthen her. She then told us that she was a Christian, and that she went to church every Sunday. She also told us that she used to be a Khmer dancer, and as she started to show us hand movements we caught a glimpse of how lovely she must have been. She was quite astonishing; she was so old, but so full of life!

We chatted a little longer, and then it was time to go. As we prepared to leave the husband of the family said please to visit again and that we were welcome in his home anytime.  We left feeling so favoured. We came to honour them, but they honoured us. It is amazing how often this happens here in Cambodia.

We then went straight for lunch - at a Western restaurant. Cynthia was completely overwhelmed at the size of her sandwich!

Back at the hotel we had some time with Eric Hanson, husband of Ginny, who runs Sak Saum. They have been in Cambodia since 2004, and he shared a little about their lives and their work and about the heart with which they approach it. He spoke about servanthood, and about how Jesus washed His disciples' feet, demonstrating the attitude with which we must live. It was very relevant considering that this was exactly what we had been doing earlier that day. He told us about the 'Khremar' (I'm not sure of the spelling), a scarf most Cambodians have, and which is used for many purposes. At the end he gave us each one as a gift; to remind us always that our calling is to serve. It was a very precious thing, and it felt like an impartation from his own serving heart came along with the scarf.

In the evening we all went out for supper. Somewhat to our surprise, it was raining hard. Which made it rather hard to do what we had planned for the evening, namely take a walk along the river and see if there were any people in need that we could pray for. We returned to our hotel and after a lot of joking around and dilly-dallying, decided to have a night off so that we could do a bit of processing, thinking, writing and praying. We are a great team, and we have such a lot of fun together, but nothing changes the fact that there is overwhelming hardship and desperate need all around us, and we see some pretty heart-breaking things. It is so important to take our own hurts and reactions to all this to Jesus day by day, and to allow ourselves time and room to process our own emotions and thoughts...

I had hoped to catch up with my friend Rigen. Rigen was one of the translators in Poipet on my first trip to Cambodia, and we have kept in touch via Facebook. It is nearly two years since I have seen him, and we had arranged to meet in the hotel lobby at 5. But then he contacted me to say that his father was in hospital, unconscious and maybe dying.

Later that night Sambo contacted me with the sad news that Rigen's dad had in fact died.