Typhoon Ketsana

Well, we have had an interesting week. On Monday, things got quite stormy around here. We lost our electricity and water and moved into the Brewer house about 1/2 mile inland. The situation escalated throughout the next 24 hours, and a powerful typhoon named Ketsana hit on Tuesday. The high winds and heavy rains destroyed homes and claimed lives. As of October 1st, 5,800 homes in Vietnam have collapsed as a result of Ketsana and another 163,000 have lost their roofs. 92 people have been confirmed dead and 19 are still missing. In other countries affected by the storm, hundreds more have lost their lives and hundreds of thousands are homeless.

In a nearby district, flooded roads have left many families stranded. Today, Enoch, Duc and I bought 100 boxes of noodles to distribute. We had some difficulty reaching the families--the first road we tried was flooded, and we had to turn back. Several miles into our second route, we came to a portion of road that had beeen swept away by the waters. Again, we turned back. On our third try, we made it to a river where we were able to rent a boat. Traveling down the flooding river, we tossed boxes up to stranded families. Others waded through knee-deep mud to reach us. Children and adults ran beside our boat as we traveled and crowded toward us in desperation when we stopped. The experience was overwhelming. This morning, I worried that we wouldn't be able to find 100 families in need. This afternoon, I despaired because our supply was not nearly enough.

Tomorrow we hope to try again

August

August was a busy month for us! We had two visiting teams: a group from CBN was in Danang to film some of Orphan Voice’s projects, and a second group from Ohio worked with us at our school in Cambodia and an orphanage in Vietnam. We had a lot of fun with both teams and were blessed by their visits.

We have been encouraged to see the Spirit working in the hearts of people here. Earlier in the summer, a couple of us had the opportunity to pray for a sick girl. The girl was healed, the healing being an act of love that has produced much fruit. As an example, a few days ago the same girl was sick with a headache. She asked her caregiver to call Duc and Marissa so they could come and pray for her again.

Last week, we took several children from the Dai Loc orphanage to an eye hospital in Danang. Though the purpose of the visit was to determine if the children needed glasses, the tests revealed a more serious problem with one child. A teenage girl named Hanh was diagnosed with glaucoma. She has already lost some vision, but we’re praying that it will return. Hanh is taking prescription eye drops and will return in three months to be reevaluated.

During the course of her tests, Hanh spent a night in Danang with Enoch and me. Because she is shy and speaks little English, Hanh wanted her friend Tu to stay as well. The four of us had lots of fun—we took a taxi ride around the city, looked at pictures, painted fingernails, and ate pizza. Over and over, Tu said, “I love it here”. She asked again and again if she could come back. Despite a leaky bedroom, roaring wind, and pounding rain, the girls seemed comfortable and totally content.

That night, I was touched by two especially sweet gestures. Early in the evening, Enoch had to run out. I left the girls in our kitchen and hurried upstairs to grab some fingernail polish. When I returned, the girls were smiling broadly and giggling softly. On our whiteboard, they had written, “I love you. I want to kiss you because I like you.” It is still there, because I just can’t bring myself to erase the board.

The same evening, Tu showed me her rings. On one of her fingers, she had two matching bands. Tu slipped one band onto my finger and kept the other. I wear it constantly—it reminds me of her beautiful smile.

I don’t think the rain has ceased for more than a few hours since the night of the girls’ visit. The monsoon season has started full force, and there has been a considerable amount of flooding in Danang and in the Quang Nam province. I am told that 9 people in our area lost their lives to the rising water yesterday. Please pray with me that the waters recede and that the people of Danang and Quang Nam are protected.

Also, please remember the Brewer family. On Sunday, they headed back to the States for a two month visit. Pray that the Lord will anoint their words as they share about the needs here in Vietnam and about His work.

Thank you all for your love and continued prayers.

Ut, Dat, and the Twins

Ut and Dat have been such a blessing to us. For us, and maybe even more so for the Brewers, Ut and Dat became a part of the family. So it was a bittersweet day when 11 of us, 8 Americans and three Vietnamese, packed into a van to escort them home.

Ut and Dat live in a small home in the countryside. Their house has doorways but no doors, and no furniture to speak of. The main living space is maybe 10 x 12 feet, and part of that is partitioned for sleeping. On the outside, adjacant to the house, is a covered area for cooking over a fire. There is no kitchen sink and no bathroom. To get water, Ut and Dat walk to a community well.

I'm not sure if anyone had dry eyes when we said our goodbyes.

Last week, Tony, Duc and I made a two-hour trip by motorbike back to the same district. The purpose of our visit was to meet with another family in need of help. After bouncing and winding along narrow paths up the side of the mountain, we had to hike the last part of our journey.

At the top of the hill, we met a single mother living in a sparsely-furnished one-room house. With her were twin girls, infants, who she cares for on her own. To make things more difficult, the girls have many health problems. The three of them live on less than one dollar a day.

We brought milk for the children, rice for the family, and a commitment to continue our help. We're looking forward to future opportunities to sow blessings into their lives.

Small Gifts

Enoch and I have been staying with Ut for several nights now as she recovers from her surgery. At first, I think she was a little bit skeptical about whether or not we would really be able to help her—after all, we don’t even speak Vietnamese. Slowly, though, I think we’re beginning to win her over.

During our first night, Ut’s feet and legs were swelling pretty noticeably. She had been told to keep them elevated, so she was resting her feet on a metal bar running across the wall—not the most comfortable position. Patients provide their own pillows in Vietnamese hospitals, so Enoch went out and bought two more to use as cushions for her legs. Ut was so surprised to receive the gift—her eyes got big, and she kept trying to hand them back to us. She gestured that we should use them ourselves and get some sleep on the floor beside her. After a little encouragement, Ut finally moved her legs onto the pillows and breathed an audible sigh of relief.

It is customary for Vietnamese people to sleep on hard surfaces; in fact, most sleep without mattresses. In Hue, hospital cots are wooden slats covered by straw mats. All customs aside, when you’re lying in one position for a long period of time, a little padding starts to sound pretty good. We noticed that Ut had folded up her blanket to have something more comfortable to lie on. Two of the patients had brought in some extra cushioning, so we asked where we could find some of our own. We bought Ut a small water-mattress, which she loves. Tonight, she is wrapped up snugly inside of her blanket instead of sleeping on it.

Probably Ut’s favorite gift has been a trinket that we picked up on a whim. Before coming to the hospital one evening, we saw little containers of artificial flowers at a local store. I hesitated before making the purchase—I’m more of a live flower person and, besides, no one else in the hospital had flowers in their room. One arrangement in particular was cute and sweet, so I thought it was worth a shot. Ut’s excitement over the gift was such a surprise! She held it up for everybody to see, then brought it close to her body as if it was precious. Ut smiled broadly and discussed the flowers with her roommates, studying them intently from time to time, even smelling them to see if they were real. One roommate must have asked for a flower from Ut’s bunch, because Ut quickly pulled the arrangement away and started to laugh. From that moment on we’ve been friends.

I’m not a gift person; I guess you could say that gifts are not my love language. Or at least they weren't. I see more and more how receiving a gift can make a person like Ut feel valued and loved…and I want that very much.

The Hospital

I'm writing from a hotel room in Hue. Ut, the Vietnamese lady who had been diagnosed with liver cancer, was able to have her surgery last week. Her recovery has been slow, but she is eating a few bites and can sit up and walk with assistance.

Vietnamese hospitals are quite different from American hospitals. Patients don't receive the same sort of round-the-clock care, so family members stay in the hospital to feed and care for their loved ones. In the case of Ut, her only family is her son Dat. Several of us are taking shifts at her bedside.

Enoch and I arrived in Hue last night. We were a little surprised when we saw her hospital room for the first time. The rooms are small--not as big as a college dorm room--and they have four beds. In each bed is at least one patient and one or more family members who are there to help out. In Ut's room, people were sitting on the beds, on straw mats on the floor, and on a cot similar to a stretched-out lawn chair. I counted 15 crammed in the tiny space.

The longer we stayed, the more attention we attracted. Before we knew it, the hallway was filled with curious onlookers; others crowded around the outside window to peek in.

Meanwhile, Enoch and Jillian Brewer had slipped outside so Enoch could prop up his leg, still swollen from a motorbike wreck. Soon after they left, Jillian came in to tell me that it was crazy outside. In the open space outside our wing, a circle of people huddled together. There in the middle of all the commotion was Enoch, looking a bit bewildered as he was repeatedly questioned about his leg in Vietnamese. Convinced that he was a hospital patient because of his bandages, one woman even tried to give him milk. Our Vietnamese friend Linh laughed and called Enoch a celebrity.

Please keep Ut in your prayers--she is in a lot of pain. Also, remember us as we stay at the hospital each night. The language barrier makes things difficult, and we want Ut to be properly cared for and to feel safe and comfortable.

Thanks for the prayers.

With love,

Marissa and Enoch

Hue

During the last couple of weeks, our time has been divided between Danang and Hue. Dat's mother, Ut, is still in the hospital in Hue. Ut has been diagnosed with liver cancer and is waiting on surgery, but the doctors now think that her heart may not be strong enough for an operation. Regardless, we serve a God who heals--please remember Ut.

Hue is not far from Danang on the map, but a stretch of mountains seperates the two cities. The road between Danang and Hue is famous as one of the most scenic roads in all of Vietnam--Hai Van Pass. Hai Van Pass is the highest pass in Vietnam--in fact, its name means "Sea Clouds". The narrow, winding roads pose a challenge to travellers, so we used several modes of transportation before finally tackling the pass on motorbike. Our first trip was via taxi. The second time we took a less expensive but considerably slower option--the train. (In the picture above, Dat, Duc, Jillian and Enoch are playing a Vietnamese card game on a sleeper car from Hue to Danang.)

This Wednesday we went to Hue via motorbike, but chose to go through Hai Van Tunnel instead of over the mountain. As a safety precaution, motorcycles are not allowed in the tunnel (if you've ever experienced Vietnamese traffic you most certainly understand) so we paid a small fee to load our bikes on a trailer and take a bus through the tunnel.

We must have been feeling brave on Friday, because when we returned to Danang we made the full journey over the pass on motorbike. Our climb was rewarded with breathtaking views.

Thank you for your prayers for Ut and Dat.

With Love,

The Eubanks

International Children's Day

Monday June the 1st was International Children's Day. We had a big celebration at the Dai Loc orphanage, complete with a blow-up slide, juggling, face-painting, music, balloon animals, nail painting, a yummy meal and a movie. The kids loved it...and so did we!

The days that followed were spent with a team from CBN. We showed them around our projects and spent an afternoon in Hoi An (called "Ancient Town" by the Vietnamese), a beautiful little tourist attraction close to Danang.

During the visit from CBN, Tony, Cindy, Duc, and our visitors met some of the people we help in Hiep Duc, a district in Quang Nam. They were approached by a woman asking for help. The woman shared that she is very sick with cancer; she needs an operation but does not have the money to pay for it. Since she had no hope of living and no relatives, the tiny woman asked that Orphan Voice care for her child after her death.

Orphan Voice is doing what we can to help this lady. We brought her and her son, Dat, to Danang, then on to a cancer center in Hue. She is in the hospital now for testing, and we hope she will have an operation next week. She has already received the greatest gift--she is now our sister!

We (especially the 5 Brewer girls) have had a unique opportunity to sow joy into Dat's life. Even though he has to be going through the hardest experience of his young life, he is seeing movies, playing games, and sightseeing. On the day we took his mother to the hospital in Hue, we visited the Forbidden City of Hue and an amusement park. Dat rode the bumper cars over and over. For that moment, at least, he was happy.
Please remember Dat and his mother. We'll keep you updated.

With love,

Marissa

(The top picture shows a child enjoying the blow-up slide; the second picture is of our little parade--all of us, the Eubanks, Brewers, and the team from CBN toured Hoi An via cyclos; the last picture is of Dat and Marissa in the Forbidden City of Hue.)