Binding Wounds Lovingly

[Blogger's Note: I feel like Friday's post was a bit of a cop-out. So here's something completely different. Enjoy. :) ]

If you told me to give you a list of things I missed the most, I promise you the beautiful country of Cambodia would be near the top.

Ah, Cambodia. 

Traveling to Cambodia in the summer of 2013, right before I came to Baylor, as a matter of fact, was one of the major turning points of my life. I could write a book about all I experienced and learned throughout that journey.

During my stay in a rural village in northern Cambodia, while one main task was to build a water tank to catch rainwater, another thing we did was promote hygiene. Believe it or not, the organization we were partnering with at the time just so happened to manufacture their own soap.

Grabbing the soap and a few medical supplies, mostly band-aids and rubbing alcohol, we left the school where we were staying and trekked down the dirt road into the village proper. Seeing a group of locals gathered underneath one of the stilted houses, we joined them in the shade as we explained what we were doing.

Someone was very happy to have his hair washed!

Healthcare in rural Cambodia is the worst. There are no doctors for miles, so villagers do not have access to the basic medical care and supplies that they need. Infection and lice are rampant. And that's just the mild part.


The women would bring their children for us to examine. Knowing almost nothing about doctoring people, and not trusting myself to do anything correctly, I planned to document the action using something I could use correctly. My camera.

One of the people I admire the most in the world. 

I'm actually in this picture, so I didn't document EVERYTHING. 

But plans change. Within a few minutes, a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a soft white pad were pressed into my hand. I protested, but the replies were firm. Taking a deep breath, I knelt in front of the small child in front of me, and gently gently smeared a soaked pad across her scraped up knees.

After administering the necessary band-aids, I moved from child to child, glancing at the various cuts and sores their mothers gestured to, assisting my other team members with their tasks.

I was scared when I first arrived in Cambodia. I wasn't great with people or construction. I ended up getting very sick early on. (You can read about that little adventure here.) I felt inadequate and unwanted. I, too, felt wounded. But not in the physical sense (unless you counted the nasty ant bites that covered my feet).

 Although I still am not great with people and construction (And let's face it, will I ever be?), I was able to contribute in small ways. With each brushstroke of cement paste as I clambered barefoot on the roof of the rain catcher, with each hand slapping game with the local kiddos, with each time I held their hands, with each time I applied a band-aid to a boo-boo, I showed love that I never though I had.

Alex and Mac, my sisters in crime. 

I felt compassion for things and people and a world greater than myself. And even though my team and I were there for a short time, we brought love to a dark place.

No action was insignificant. 

I still struggle with feelings of inadequacy daily. The past few months have been some of the hardest I've ever had to live through. But I'm determined to not let that stop me. Why? Because love binds wounds. Hugs, smiles, little notes of encouragement, time spent with friends in this wide world under the sun and stars. Love keeps us going, even when everything hurts.

And without it, we simply could not exist.