A Comforting Touch

Can you imagine going years without experiencing the touch of another human being? No hugs? No tender moments of reassurance that you matter, let alone exist? I can’t. Recently, I had the honor of experiencing firsthand the power of touch. It was a moment in my life that will forever change the way I process, perceive, and especially pray. December 13, 2008, presented an opportunity to serve those less fortunate, namely, the homeless. I had decided a few weeks earlier to volunteer my 12 year old son, Aaron, and I for Operation Care Dallas Christmas Gift being held at the Dallas Convention Center. Leading up to this day, I found myself reluctant, not wanting to attend, or maybe just plain lazy – justifying it by thinking they would never miss our presence. I could have never been more wrong. Aaron and I were registered to serve in gift delivery. Coats, blankets, whatever was available. Upon our arrival, the volunteers at this particular station were numerous. I decidedly asked Susie Jennings, the founder of Operation Care Dallas, where it was she needed us most. To my immediate dismay, she directed us to the foot washing area. Overwhelmed with anxiety, I longed for my desire to stay home to have been our reality. I understood washing the feet of homeless individuals to be a very humbling experience but I was in no way excited with our new assignment. Realizing I was setting an example for Aaron, I was resolved to “deal with it;” otherwise, I ran the risk of planting negative seeds into his head about sacrifice, service to others, and overcoming ones’ fears. “Do as I say, not as I do,” has been replaced with “Live by example.” Drats. As the ten o’clock hour rapidly approached, I began to prepare my assigned station. Baby wipes were unwrapped, the lotion stocked, foot powder at hand, new socks folded neatly as the ever important box of latex gloves closely governed my various paraphernalia. Thousands of homeless began pouring into the Convention Center, heading straight toward the coat and blanket distribution – a place I longed to be. As I nervously stood there waiting for my first “assignment,” Aaron wrestled with understanding his duties as a shoe runner. I was quick to offer his service in this capacity rather than the foot washing that befell me; an overly protective maternal judgment which will assuredly not be repeated in years to come. Enter Charles. A tall, thin man, maybe 6’2”, with soft, kind eyes and ashen skin around the age of 65. I soon learned Charles had honorably served our country in Vietnam. A tracheotomy valve inserted in his neck resulted in a muffled, whisper voice as he gently plugged its hole before each sentence. His right foot was a stump, as injuries in Vietnam forced a partial amputation. I prayed he would not detect my nervousness. Little did I know that he, too, was struggling with my presence. Looking into his eyes, I could see the shame he seemingly carried for his perceived deformities. Immediately I knew it was not Charles who should be ashamed, but me. Ashamed of my selfishness, my lack of desire to serve in whatever capacity God would have me, ashamed of neglecting the fact that Jesus himself washed feet. Who am I to question His purpose for me? Humbly, I began to clean Charles’ feet. Still sensing a bit of apprehension on his part, I began with his amputated foot all the while reassuring him, “It’s okay…please let me serve you…” As each touch was met with renewed sincerity, he slowly began to receive my offering. It was beautiful to see the joy this man derived from my attentiveness as I continually gazed upon Charles’ growing delight. Without warning, he opened his eyes locking them on me. They were tired, yet soft. Sad… yet full of joy. Heartbroken… but filled with hope.  He sat upright in his chair then reached down with his left hand toward my right cheek. With soulful gentleness, he began stroking the side of my face like that of a loving father toward his precious daughter. It was I who then dropped my shoulders, closed my eyes and drank in his loving, sincere touch. How long had it been since last he reached out to another and was met with genuine acceptance? How long had it been since I reached out to someone who desperately needed it? Neither of which I could answer. Having experienced a newfound bond with one another, he sat back in the chair as I began applying lotion. Beyond immediate repair, his dangerously cracked skin drank in what moisture it could. Seeing the condition of his ingrown, fungal toenails, I commissioned the on-hand podiatrist to inspect the damage. Upon completion of his examination, I continued by applying more lotion, carefully yet firmly massaging his aching feet. As weighted shoulders began to lighten and sweet eyes rested peacefully, I watched as Charles’ lips parted and a long, relaxing breath quietly seeped through the tracheotomy hole. It was a sweet, sweet sound like none I had ever heard. I can’t directly speak for Charles with any level of authority but I can comfortably say without reservation, he relished in the experience he’d had with us as we did with him. The power of human touch is absolutely amazing. I sit back every day and think of Charles. What it must have meant to him to experience the fulfillment of a simple, yet long awaited touch. I pray our time together brought to his life a sense of love, acceptance, and peace, even if but for a brief moment. I find myself reflecting on the power of Charles’ touch. A man that most would deem destitute and hopeless, who selflessly reached out his hand to me offering his heartfelt thanks with sincere kindness and overflowing blessings. As for Aaron, I pray his life will take root with a heart to serve. Upon leaving the event, he immediately stated his desire to return again next year. Two days following the conclusion of Operation Care, the Dallas metroplex was covered in a wintry blast of arctic air and precipitation. Arriving home from Bent Tree Monday evening, Aaron’s tear-filled eyes and broken heart met me at the door remembering the faces he had served Saturday. He listed them off, one by one, name by name, wondering if they were blessed enough to have gotten a bed that night in the shelter. Yet more questions I could not answer. There were only two things I knew to do to bring him comfort. The first was to pray and the second was to offer a comforting touch.

Monday June 22, 2009 – First Day in Kompong Cham

Monday Morning:

4:00 am came in gently. No barking geckos, no barking dogs, no roosters crowing, and no bad attitude. Yes, the beauty of the morning danced in with sweet welcome and sense of purpose. After a brief overview of the material, Hannah had a complete meltdown and heavily questioned her presence & desire to be here. Having prayed the night before for similar things, thought, feelings, I had hoped her morning would resemble mine. It was not to be…

As students began to arrive, I asked Hannah if she would like to take the first class. She did. I can’t begin to explain the God-sent awakening, the beautiful transformation that unfolded before my eyes.Hannah found her “sea-legs” and there was no stopping her! Yeah God! The students were eager & hungry to learn. We were met with great smiles and gently repressed laughter. When one laughed, we all joined in. To see their excitement is to watch your child take their first steps, or to explore nee & exciting territory. I can’t wait to see what unfold in the days to come.

Following our beginner English class, the entire staff gathered in the meeting hall for praise, worship, prayer, & Bible study. It was like none I have ever experienced. I’ll share more about that later. As for now, the day feels complete and it’s 10:00 am.

Monday Afternoon:

This afternoon was sweet, sweet time with students & staff. So much laughter & fun. They love to smile and all of them truly flow from within with the love of God. I had some special time with Bun Lang today. He is the mechanic and driver here for HOPE and has very broken English. We spent time together walking around and pointing to various truck parts. I would pronounce them in English and he would repeat it. Then Bun Lang would stop and write them in English with Kumai translation next to it. He was so delighted with his new found English words that related to his job.

So much of the day was spent in fellowship with the staff. They were anxious to inner act with us, laugh with us and to learn. Mondays for them are spent planning for their week followed by short visits to the field. Our evening intermediate class begins at 4:30 pm – 6:00 pm. They whipped through the lesson plan with ease and we found ourselves dumbfounded with next steps. We will have to plan for the unexpected ore. Meals have been fantastic; though the boiled chicken is a little tough and bony, but I know it’s because all of the farm animals are SO skinny here! Regardless, I am so grateful for the meals here as so many go hungry. Not so much the W.R. staff, but much of the population goes without.

One of the first things I noticed here is the resourcefulness of the people. In Texas, we tend to think we need a truck to haul stuff around. Well, I’m here to tell you otherwise…As I was standing on the balcony yesterday watching the traffic go by, a man on a moto was transporting (on the moto, mind you) a fully assembled queen size wooden bed with frame, head-board & foot-board. Cambodians carry everything on motos – and I mean everything!

Some crazy stuff I saw on a moto (just to name a few):

• six Cambodians (on one moto)
• 4′ square cage of chickens
• 3 half dead pigs heading to the slaughter with the legs still twitching
• 50′ of PVC pipe
• mobile grocery stores
• fully assembled queen size beds
• hand-carved doors
• huge stacks of crops headed to market strapped to back of moto 6′ tall