Together, We Will Change Lives

$9, A Small Gift And
A Lasting Impact

For just $9 a month, you can equip Cambodian youth with vocational training, business skills, and faith-based mentorship, empowering them to break free from poverty and build a future of self-sufficiency.

Let’s take a journey through a common life of a Cambodian child, though this story is from a boy who we haven’t a clue.

I don’t remember a time when my parents weren’t struggling. I just remember their hands—rough, tired, always working. My father labored under the sun until his skin cracked. My mother sewed late into the night, her fingers pricked and worn. Their past was one of silence, shadows of the Khmer Rouge lingering in their eyes. They never spoke of it much, only that they had lost too much, seen too much, and lived through a world where learning had been a death sentence.

But they wanted more for me.

Every month, they set aside forty dollars—one-quarter of all they earned—so I could go to school. That money meant there were days we ate only rice and salt. It meant my father wore the same torn sandals until they fell apart, my mother’s hands ached from stitching other people’s clothes while I had none of my own. Some days, I went to school without a shirt, ashamed, but I never stayed home. "An empty stomach is easier to fill than an empty mind," my mother would whisper when I was too embarrassed to go.

I studied hard. I tried to be worthy of their sacrifice. But dreams alone don't fill bellies. I saw the weight of their choice pressing on them. No matter how much they gave, life seemed to take more.

Then, someone saw me. Someone who believed that my story didn’t have to end like theirs.

An organization took me in, not just to give, but to guide. They gave me a uniform, books, food—but more than that, they gave me a future. They saw more in me than a boy from a broken past. They saw a doctor, a teacher, a leader—someone who could break the cycle instead of being trapped in it.

For the first time, my parents didn’t have to choose between survival and my education. For the first time, I had a chance to become more than a story of struggle.

This is not just my story. It is the story of so many Khmer children, where love is strong, but opportunity is scarce. But with help, love is no longer the only thing we have to hold on to—hope is, too.

And with hope, anything is possible.