- vatanak2011
- July 13, 2025
- 2:51 am
- 0 comments
In the heart of Cambodia’s darkest chapter, amid the brutality of the Khmer Rouge regime, a quiet act of defiance became a lifeline
for the innocent. My grandmother, now 89 years old, recently found peace in her salvation—a spiritual culmination of a life marked by resilience, sacrifice, and quiet heroism.
During the Khmer Rouge era, she was forcibly recruited by a soldier to serve as a cook. It was a role that placed her in close proximity to the horrors of the regime: innocent villagers imprisoned, tortured, and starved. But even in the face of terror, my grandmother’s spirit remained unbroken. She saw the suffering. She felt the injustice. And she acted—not with weapons or words, but with
vegetables
Each day, as she passed the cells of the imprisoned villagers, she would intentionally drop green vegetables—spinach, morning glory, and other greens—on the ground near the prisoners. It was a subtle gesture, one that could have cost her life if discovered. But it was enough.
Those vegetables became sustenance for the starving, a whisper of hope in a place where hope had all but vanished. Many of those villagers survived because of her. Today, they live to tell their stories, raise families, and rebuild what was once shattered. And they owe their lives to a woman who chose compassion over fear.
But her story doesn’t end there.
Recently, my grandmother fell gravely ill. For years, she had refused medical treatment, saying she would rather die than go to a
hospital. It is not that uncommon in some villages when people either have no belief in medical services or no cash to afford the bills. No matter what, we were heartbroken and desperate. So we turned to prayer. We asked God to touch her heart so she could listen and come to the city for with us—and God did answer our prayers.
In a moment of clarity and grace, she agreed to come to the city for treatment. There, she not only received the professional care of
compassionate doctors, but also encountered something even more powerful: the love of Christ.
It was a moment of divine healing—of body and soul. The woman who once saved others in silence was now saved herself, embraced by a peace she had never known. My grandmother never sought recognition. She never spoke of her bravery until much later in life. But her actions echo through generations.
Her story is a reminder that heroism doesn’t always roar—it sometimes whispers through quiet acts of kindness and faith that change lives. Now, as she walks in the light of her salvation, we honor her legacy. She is more than a survivor. She is a savior. A symbol of humanity in a time of inhumanity. And her story deserves to be told.
We praise you, Jesus, and honor YOUR NAME. We are praying for more souls to be saved as what You did for grandma.