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He was one of my toughest critics, though he seldom said a word, I could feel him watching me in my work and play with the other children. He seemed to be looking into my soul..., questioning my motives..., and evaluating my sincerity. For that reason, whenever he returned from the Hospital after a Doctors appointment and presented me with an ear of boiled sweet corn or other special treat that he himself had chosen to give to me, I was greatly humbled. |
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He had been with us nearly a year but his condition was getting worse instead of better. On the 16th of January 2005, he refused to get out of bed for breakfast and so we let him sleep in... but later that morning when I checked on him he was very weak. I decided to start an IV drip but had difficulty finding a good vein. He offered little resistance as I poked around in his frail arm with the needle. For Chhang that was unusual and when, after several attempts I looked up, I realized his body was beginning to shut down.
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Several of the children came around, as did the other residents..., they all knew what was happening; we have been through it so many times before and they all know, from the youngest to the oldest, that at these times I need them more than ever to provide emotional support. With candle and incense lit we sat there quietly waiting for what none of us wanted but all of us knew would come... and it did... but unlike any other death before, Chhang took a firm grip of my hand and while his other arm reached up to wrap |
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"Wayne!" he shouted... quite clearly, for all of us to hear. I literally saw him coming up and out of those big dark eyes and felt his Spirit, like a cool breeze on a midsummer’s night, passing through me. His lifeless arms than fell back to the bed while his eyes gently closed behind his departing spirit. |
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I have always assumed that just before death, when the eyes have fully dilated and the respirations have ceased, there was no more recognition by the dying person of things going on around him, at least not of worldly things. Often I have seen the body of the dying make a final attempt to breathe in, just one more time, the air that has given it life but I have always attributed that to nerves or muscular contractions. For that reason, to have Chhang reach out his arms for me and call my name, long after I had assumed his Spirit had departed, was a bit startling…. What could it mean? |
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I suppose there are many possible explanations for what happen that day but since no one has yet come out with their theory, I will have to stick to mine. I believe that GOD sent me here to Cambodia to be the Hands, Feet and Body of JESUS and that as long as I continue to be open to allowing JESUS to work through me, HE and I are One. Chhang was able to feel GOD’S Love through me and therefore called out to that LOVE in my name, with his dying breath. |
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I am neither a Prophet or a Righteous Man and as a Volunteer For JESUS I am perhaps one of the least of HIS disciples..., yet I believe that because Chhang offered me a hand chosen ear of boiled sweet corn, in response to the Love of GOD he felt flowing through me..., he has not lost his reward.
VFJ Wayne Dale Matthysse |
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Jesus said, "He who receives you receives me, and he who receives me receives the one who sent me. Anyone who receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet's reward, and anyone who receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man's reward. And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward."
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UPDATE 21 October 2006
This past week we had some visitors here from Taiwan. One was a young women who was visiting Cambodia for the first time. Two weeks prior to her visit, she had had a dream in which a thin young boy asked her to come and visit him. She had no idea what the dream meant. The day she arrived in Cambodia she was told that some people were coming to visit our place and since she knew nothing about AIDS she decided to come along for the ride.
A part of our tour is the small conference room in the weaving center where several pictures of our project are on display. As we walked into the room she walked right by me as if in a trance and walked straight to the back of the room and started shaking nervously. “That’s him! That’s the boy in my dream!“ she exclaimed in Taiwanese.
The picture she was standing in front of was that of Chhang..., taken just a short time before his death on the 16th of January 2005?
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There was fear on his face as I took hold of his hand; he looked straight into my eyes, following my every move. If I would let go of his hand he became restless and so I continued to hold it while staring back into the ever-widening pupils of his big dark eyes. His breathing became shallow and his body relaxed but his eyes never stopped watching me. |
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around my neck, like he had done so many times before when he wanted me to carry him, he cried out to JESUS, in the only name by which he knew HIM. |
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Photos of Chhang by Mak Remeisa and Tang Chansothy
THE BRANG CHHANG STORY
Loveable is not a word one would use to describe Chhang and he was well aware of that. At one time before the sores started, his looks were more tolerable but he never did gain weight in his lifetime and having AIDS was something he couldn’t hide from others. To weak to play with the other children, he would sit or lie on the table and watch the activities but became irritable should anyone attempt to include him in with the fun. He was content to be invisible... unless something didn’t go his way, than everyone knew about it. At times his demands went unnoticed however and he would eventually take his blanket and simply cover his head and pretend the world did not exist. He did have his moments, usually after a meal, when he would come over to my table and sit on my lap. I was not always sure if it was to be with me or because he could clean my plate of the left over scrapes of meat or fish heads I had not consumed. He wasn’t much for cuddling and didn’t like to be tickled; most of the time he would just curl up and fall asleep in my arms.
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