This year, I took Sawyer with me across the world to Cambodia—a place that has changed my heart.
Cambodia has taught me to slow down, look closer, and see people differently. I hoped that by bringing Sawyer, he might feel some of that too.
One of the first things that struck me was how quickly the language barrier disappeared between the kids. As adults, we worry about what to say and whether we will be understood. The kids did not seem to worry about any of that.
They just found each other.
They laughed, worked, taught, and played side by side. Somehow, curiosity and love were enough.
I watched Sawyer work with sweat rolling down his face, doing whatever needed to be done. I watched him form his own relationships and find his place among kids who lived thousands of miles from home.
Then, during a home visit, he met a 12-year-old boy whose parents leave for nearly a year at a time to find work. While they are gone, he cares for his younger siblings, manages the home, and still goes to school.
Their lives could not have looked more different, but Sawyer understood something in that moment.
He saw how much he had, but he also saw how much this boy carried.
Not just hardship.
Strength. Responsibility. Courage.
He did not see someone to feel sorry for. He saw someone to respect.
As his mom, that moment stayed with me.
One afternoon, I rode my bike through the Cambodian countryside. The breeze moved through the green fields, and dark storm clouds gathered in the distance. I remember feeling hopeful.
Hopeful for a world where curiosity is stronger than fear.
A world where love helps us see beyond what is different.
A world where service brings us close enough to recognize the strength in one another.
I took Sawyer to Cambodia hoping he would learn to see people more deeply.
He did. And somehow, I came home seeing my own son differently too.
