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Srey Niht: The Orphan That Taught Me the Love of a Father

“The greatest legacy one can pass on to one’s children and grandchildren is not money or other material things accumulated in one’s life, but rather a legacy of character and faith.”
– Billy Graham –


 

Before this trip, I thought nothing of my tenure in Cambodia. I thought that I would just go through the motions and see what happens, I expected nothing and thought little about the ministry-at-hand. Before coming here, I found myself avoiding children and even in small interactions I would ignore the child or go out of my way to dodge them. Needless to say, before this trip I wasn’t the biggest fan when it came to small people. Then along came New Hope Orphanage in Kampong Thom, Cambodia. More than twenty children running, playing, hugging, and laughing with you 24 hours a day. It was a mad house, but in a weird way I loved it. There was one particular child that latched on to me whom I grew especially attached to.

Her name was Srey Niht (pronounced: Srae Neet), she was twelve years old, long black hair, soft round cheeks, eyes that spoke to her tender heart, and a hug that would crush the mightiest of boulders. Niht was in grade 6 and was exceptionally bright for her age. Niht quickly became my favorite and I became hers, whether it was a fast-paced duel of patty-cake, a painful tickle fight, sitting quietly in my hammock as we rocked to the soft breeze of the wind, or simply holding one another in the most genuine of hugs. Srey Niht was the orphan who taught me what it means to feel the love of the Father, and to love a child in the same way He loves me.


            The love of God over our lives cannot be overstated. He loves in ways the world can barely comprehend. He is our protector, a mighty and fearful storm in times of disobedience and a calm gentle breeze in times of faithfulness. Though in the world we still have bad things happen to us, He reminds us of His amazing love over our lives every day. He is our Father in heaven watching over us. I find it curious how the same can be said for most fathers in the world today. They love so unconditionally, even when we misbehave and throw a tantrum in the parking lot.  They have the toughest, most calloused hands in the world yet they’re the most gentle and loving instruments we’ve ever known. Our fathers fight for us, provide for us, and protect us against everything they can. That’s so amazing. The unconditional care and love of a father is something I could never fully understand. I never had that fatherly instinct, and I got confused just thinking about it. You would never find me running over to any baby or going out of my way to play with a child. It’s amazing what a month at an orphanage in Cambodia can do to change the heart of a once senile mind.

“See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are…”
1 John 3:1


 Before I tell you about how this little 12-year-old girl, Srey Niht, changed my heart in ways I didn’t think possible, I first want to tell you about all that she is. Niht is beyond her years intelligent. She is careful and kind. She likes to poke a little fun in the right moments. Niht is incredibly responsible, I could almost swear that this girl could run the orphanage herself. Niht demands authority when speaking. She looks after and protects her brothers and sisters from the orphanage. She cares for them when they are hurt, and nurtures them when they are sad or crying. She sticks up for the little guy. Niht loves in quiet. Niht is responsible and gets the job done when needed and has fun when she can. Niht is sweet, loving, and tender-hearted. In her I saw not only a child that would melt my heart, but I saw myself in her. All that she showed and proved herself to be, was everything I could see in the mirror of my soul.


Two weeks into our tenure in Cambodia, I received word that my last Grandfather was ill and was on his last breath. Of course, we prayed for healing, just enough that he would still be there when I got back so that I may tell my Papa I loved him one last time. Sadly, he passed two days later. Both of my grandfathers I called ‘Papa’, both now passed. Shortly after his passing, the children brought it upon themselves one day to refer to me as ‘Papa’. I still to this day do not know why they did this, all I know is that it broke my cold heart. I mourned for my own Papa, I wept, and I moved on thinking nothing of it. A few nights before we left, after praying over Srey Niht she perked up on her tip toes, kissed my cheek, and what she said to me will never ever leave my heart so long as I live: “Goodnight, Papa, I love you.” Nothing, and I mean nothing, made me weep so hard so fast. She said unto me the exact words I would’ve said to my Papa before he passed. I saw God in that moment, through the pure heart of an orphan child, I saw Him speak through her to me. I knew that both of my Papas were there watching me, standing there with me, hearing those exact words through me.

Through Srey Niht I see God’s tenderness. His love for the soft-hearted and sympathetic. His joy for those who protect and serve in selfless passion toward those who are weak. I see the love of a heavenly Father. The ‘serve everyone else first and yourself last’ love, as I would watch her personally prepare and serve every meal for not only my team and I, but every child as well. I saw her soft heart break the moment we returned from our first “adventure day,” as she ran up to me with tear-filled eyes saying “Papa! Papa!” and embracing me in a hug so tight The Incredible Hulk couldn’t have matched. With every hug, every gentle smile from a distance, every small-handed wave from the street as they returned from school, and every little origami shape she made me I saw the meaning of fatherly love. 

Through her I see the love I will one day have over my own children, and those I adopt; before this trip I had zero intention of adopting or having children, but I see now that God has declared this over my life. During a self-reflection period with my team, I heard the Lord telling me to pray over her every night, and for a week leading up to our departure I did just that. I embraced her in every moment. I laughed with her. Taught her new origami tricks. Assisted her when I could. Anything and everything I could do for her, to teach and grow her, I did it. I loved her unlike I have anybody else before. This love and desire I know will never end, for the love of the Father is never ending. And my love for Srey Niht will never end, she taught me how to see through Heaven’s Eyes as the Father in heaven also sees me.  

“So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.”
1 John 4:16


 

I’ve grown in a few different ways during my month in Kampong Thom, Cambodia, but the greatest of these is through a little 12-year-old girl named Srey Niht and how she taught me the love of a Father. She taught me how to love the smallest of the world. She taught me how to care for my own children, when the day should come. She taught me how to view the world through the eyes of a loving father. She showed me more of Him, and she showed me more of Me. I saw more joy in her eyes than any child before, and joy is truly an infallible sign of the presence of the Father. I will forever miss her presence, though I know I will see her again, God has a funny way of bringing those who love one another together again and again.

Niht left a legacy of family, child-like joy, and fatherly love on my heart that I believe will stay forever. I pray and hope that I left a similar legacy on her own heart. She will forever be a part of my life, as will many other children from the orphanage. Within my heart and love, I consider her a daughter. I would dare to think that in another life we would be together far longer, but for this life a month will have to suffice. One month was all that was needed for God to tell me what He had planned. I will miss hearing “Papa!” yelled at me from across the yard, only to turn around into a gut-battering hug. There is little ‘good’ within goodbyes, yet we say it still, perhaps that’s the human spirit desiring desperately for it to not be the last time. ‘Goodbye’ is like a desperate hope that one day we’ll meet again, and that it will be good. I pray only that a legacy of love was left on her heart, with that I say my goodbye and leave with rain falling on my face from the sky on a clear and sunny day. As she fades behind the haze of the horizon, waving all the while, I close my eyes and see her clear as day: That innocent giggle. That tender smile. Those soft eyes. Those five simple words: “Goodnight, Papa, I love you.”


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