Saying Goodbye

Saying goodbye to Ngo has probably been the hardest thing we've experienced in Vietnam. To spend time laughing with a child one day and dressing his limp body the next is agonizing. Seeing the pain of the other children is almost as difficult. We held them as they called out to their friend at the hospital and cried with them at his funeral days later. Enoch and I can't help Ngo now and we can't take away the grief of his friends, but we can love and support them along the way.  We are doing our best.

On the morning of the funeral, Tony, Duc, Enoch and I left Da Nang at 3:00 a.m. We took a van into the mountains and drove until the road ended at a river. Our group crossed in a small rowboat and then hiked into the hills toward Ngo's village.

The services had begun by the time we had arrived. Some of the orphanage children were playing a gong and a large drum, both part of Buddhist funeral rituals. Others were offering incense. Many of the children looked on solemnly, but others were in tears; a few sobbed.

After a time, a man dressed as Buddha danced and sang. Then, several young men lifted the coffin onto bamboo poles and carried the body up the hill toward the gravesite. Mourners followed with incense, dropping offerings of money along the way. Ngo was buried along with the bamboo mat he slept on and many of his personal belongings. The rest was to be burned later.

The service concluded with breakfast (noodles...and vodka for most of the Vietnamese adults), then a hike back to the river.

Since the funeral, we have tried to be around more often. We have spent time at the orphanage and in the hospital with Nguyen, the other boy involved in the accident. When we first visited Nguyen, he didn't appear to be in physical pain but the pain of his heart was all too evident. When we entered the room, Nguyen couldn't look us in the eye. During our conversation, he shared that he felt guilty to be living. On the night of the accident, Nguyen wore a helmet; Ngo did not. We assured him that he was alive for a reason and that the accident was no one's fault. Enoch had a very specific word for Nguyen, and gave him his wrist band as a reminder.

When we visited the hospital several days later, Nguyen looked directly at us and smiled broadly. The change in him is clear--Nguyen is being healed physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

About a week after the accident, Enoch and I had the opportunity to talk with all of the children about loss and grief. We assured them that everyone expresses loss differently--some people are angry, some cry a lot, some feel a mixture of emotions and some don't seem to feel anything at all. We told them that feeling any or all of those emotions was normal. We said it would be good to talk about the way they feel, and we made ourselves available.

Then we passed out a picture of Ngo with his head thrown back in a laugh. The conversation turned to Ngo. We talked about how he was always joking, always trying to entertain his friends. Ngo wanted to make other people happy. Each child then had the opportunity to share happy memories of Ngo. They were given foam leaves and flowers to hang on a tree. As each hung their flower, they reminisced aloud. There were some laughs and some tears. The evening concluded with a discussion about how we can bring joy to others' lives the way Ngo brought joy to ours. After our time was over, the children came up and gave us big hugs.

We see changes in the children every day. They continue to wear mourning clothes and to set out a place for Ngo at meals, but they are smiling and laughing more easily. The sorrow may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning.

Children Need Love

We pull up to the orphanage gates around 6:15 pm every Thursday.  A handful of children are there at the gate, waiting.   They cheer and run to the bike, crowding close, reaching for us.  As we ride up the hill, the group runs with us.  Their excited yells alert the others, who hurry from their rooms with shouts and squeals.  The same children who once eyed us warily and shied away from our touches now greet us with embraces.

I read a great quote on facebook today: "Children need love, especially when they do not deserve it."  Unconditional love is something that many of these children know little about.  Enoch and I want to be people that they can trust, look up to and depend on.  We want the children to know we will love them no matter what and be there for them always.  I have no doubt that we will fail at times, but to the best of our abilities, empowered by the Holy Spirit, we are determined to show these children love.  They may not understand how much we care for them yet, but they are opening up to us slowly, letting down their guards.  We can only pray that over time they will come to understand just how much value they have in our eyes.

Birthday parties are not as common in Vietnam as in America.  Some of the reasons are cultural; some are practical.  Since children in the Dai Loc orphanage came from tough economic situations, their birthdays weren't celebrated.  Most of the children in Dai Loc have never had a birthday party or received a birthday gift.  We want to change that.  Three boys had birthdays in May.  On each of the special days, Enoch and I gathered everyone around to sing "Happy Birthday" as we presented a small cake and a gift to the birthday boy...nothing big, just a way of saying that we celebrate the day they came into the world--we celebrate their lives.

One way we try to express love to the children is by meeting their physical needs.  We are around them more consistently now, and we can see needs that we wouldn't have been aware of otherwise.  Spending the night at the orphanage means showering at the orphanage...and in the process we learned something--the children were in desperate need of towels!  Yesterday, we rode from Da Nang to Dai Loc carrying bags full of new brightly-colored bath towels.

After dropping off towels on our most recent visit, Enoch and I took a trip to the local market in Dai Loc--this time in search of food.  Twelve of the orphanage children are studying all hours for important exams.  The caregivers asked if we could help with a snack to give them an extra boost.  The request?  Milk and eggs for each testing child.  But not just any eggs, fertilized duck eggs.  So every week we go to the market and, using pictures, gestures, and our best attempts at Vietnamese, we shop for eggs with baby ducks inside.

June 1st was International Children's Day, and we wanted to bless the children in our programs with a big celebration.  Orphan Voice rented a large convention center to host a party for children from six orphanages.  Around 275 children, caregivers, staff and volunteers participated in the event.  The kids enjoyed three carnival-type rides, relay races, soccer, badminton, volleyball, face painting, necklace making, coloring, figurine painting, snacks, and a meal. The event involved a lot of preparation and scurrying around--by the end of the day, our crew was exhausted but satisfied.  We had done our best to show love, and we were rewarded with front row seats as 200+ smiling, chattering, giggling, skipping, bounding little ones played the day away.

Dai Loc

Enoch and I first moved to Vietnam about two years ago. In those two years, we have done a lot of administrative work for Orphan Voice (e.g., maintaining records, fundraising, and reporting) and we have been involved in several projects (e.g., providing disaster relief, delivering food, and providing hands-on care). We have helped at two orphanages in Vietnam, but most of our time has been at an orphanage 45 minutes from Da Nang. For example, over the last month we have shown a movie at this orphanage, we have taken one of the children to the hospital, and we have visited at least four other times for various reasons. In the future, our involvement with those children will increase. We love them. We want to know them more deeply—to understand their emotional and physical wants and needs and, the Lord willing, to help meet them.

The language barrier has made it difficult to develop the type of relationship we are going for. We have to learn Vietnamese. On several occasions Enoch and I studied with Vietnamese friends, but each time we became discouraged and gave up. Now we are determined; we are taking regular classes in a formal setting four times a week. It is tough but we are making slow progress.

Since Friday is our day off from classes, we will be driving to Dai Loc Thursday evenings to spend the night at the orphanage. This gives us the day on Friday to meet with the children individually, to play games, to tutor, to teach English…to develop relationships. Last Thursday was our first sleepover.

When we arrived on Thursday night, the children came running to meet us. They helped us get situated into an extra room, then eyed our belongings with curiosity. We brought out some crafts that my mother had donated, and soon everyone was busy fashioning hearts and flowers out of pipe cleaners.

Enoch showed the older boys our Vietnamese textbook and notes, and that provided quite a bit of entertainment. The night was full of new vocabulary. The children even used props--they brought us a kitten, teaching us to say “meo”, the Vietnamese word for cat. Our weak attempts at pronunciation drew lots of laughter.

Later we styled hair, and soon there was a line of girls waiting their turn with the curling iron. With each new curl that appeared, the onlookers called out “dep”—beautiful.

The night wore on and it was soon time for bed. The orphanage walls have holes to allow a breeze to flow, but bugs use the same openings. The kids and caregivers helped us set up a mosquito net (three sides tied to poles, the fourth to the window), and brought us a blanket for cushion (the children sleep on bamboo mats laid across the wood slats). We hugged the children good night, pointed the fan toward the bed, and turned off the light.

Sometime during the next few hours we lost electricity. It was a hot night.

A little after five, our restless sleep was interrupted by children outside our window. Vietnamese are early risers. We shook a frog out of our clothes, changed, and stumbled toward the bathroom.

By 9:00, we had eaten breakfast, helped one of the older girls study for an English test, played cards and badminton, made crafts with stencils, and tried to catch a bird with the youngest kids. When you are surrounded by 38 children, life is full of activity!

Brotherly Love

Usually Marissa writes blogs because she is good at putting her experiences down on paper. But I felt like I was supposed to share two stories that blessed my heart; I hope they bless everyone else’s.

During the weekend of the fireworks I loved having the children from the orphanage stay with us. It was hard sleeping on the floor and standing in the rain but it was all worth it to see their faces and hear the shouts of joy.

One very special thing happened to me that weekend. It was rainy Sunday morning. We all sat down to watch Chicken Little. It is a weird cartoon, but funny. Then a lot of the kids wanted to go to the beach because it stopped raining. I wanted to go but Marissa and the caregivers wanted to go with the little kids and there were 4 teenage boys that wanted to stay. So I stayed to finish the movie. I can't speak enough Vietnamese to really hold any kind of conversation but the movie was in English with Vietnamese subtitles. So the five of us were able to hang out, laugh and just enjoy each other's presence.

Now there is one thing that I'm not too comfortable with here in Vietnam and that is how affectionate the men can be with each other. It is all pure and good intentions but it is still something I'm not 100% comfortable with. Men in the U.S. are... well... men so they subconsciously do whatever they can to not touch each other. In the U.S. if I sat right next to a buddy on a park bench when there was easily enough space on the end I would soon get a punch to the face. We all clearly see why.

Well, I'm starting to think part of the preparation of going on all those short term trips before Vietnam might have been that one day I would have to learn to accept this expression of friendship here in Vietnam. Many men in other countries express friendship in this way. The U.S. might be one of the very few that don't.

So while we were watching the movie one boy just put his hand on my back. It startled me at first but I knew what was going on. It blessed me that he saw me as someone he felt comfortable enough with to do that. Before that moment, I didn't think the older boys thought much of me. They are teenagers that speak a different language. They are too cool to just jump up and run to me when I show up at the orphanage. The little kids do that and so it is easier to get know them better and have fun. But in that short moment of time I saw that maybe I don't speak their language and maybe I don't have the same likes as they do but maybe they see the love that I've been trying to show and THAT'S very encouraging.

The next story that I would like to tell you is about a little boy with Down Syndrome that lives next door to us. I have mentioned to some of you that one of my favorite things to do is go to the end of the street to a store and buy a box of cakes. Then, on my way back up the street, I pass them out to all the children that live close to us. I always buy 20 and most of the time I pass out every single one.

Well this boy that I’m talking about is one of the 20. I’ve liked him and wanted to show him that I care about him ever since we first met. Sometimes I talk to a neighbor who speaks English; when she sees me with the boy, my neighbor says, “He’s stupid. Yeah. He can’t learn. He’s stupid.” This hurts me and makes me want to interact with him more.

Every day when I come home from the office, I go over to the gate that divides our front porch with theirs where he is always waiting yelling, “Hello! Hello!” so that we can shake hands. He is usually locked up on the porch so that he can’t get out to the streets where the other children play. One evening when we showed up from work, the boy wasn’t locked on the porch—he was out on the sidewalk. I parked the bike and walked over to see him. The first thing he did was run up to me and give me a big hug. I was stunned but was so happy at the same time. We hugged for what felt like a whole minute. What a great feeling.

When he was done he went right back to what he was doing: tearing up a poor little palm tree out close to the road.

For the next 30 minutes we played outside. Well, he threw rocks and I had to dodge them but I knew he was having fun and that’s all that mattered to me.

Fireworks!!!

For some time now, Da Nang has been preparing for their annual international fireworks competition. Bleachers went up along the river, gardens were manicured, boats were decorated--the city was a buzz of excitement. As the date neared, we discussed how great it would be if the children could enjoy the festivities. Eager for the kids to share in the fun, we came up with a plan for both orphanages to see the show. Thirty-four children and four caregivers stayed at our house last weekend. It isn't quite as crazy as it sounds--half came Saturday night and the other half last night--but it was a houseful nonetheless!

Saturday afternoon, 20 children and 2 caregivers from Dai Loc squeezed into a van bound for Da Nang. They arrived at our house around 4:00...which is pretty nigh supper time for this crew! The caregivers helped me prepare some noodles while the group explored the house. When I went to hunt everyone down, some were looking at pictures, some playing cards, some napping, some listening to music on the computer, and some jumping on the bed (for kids used to bamboo mats on wood slats, a bouncy mattress is a lot of fun!). Needless to say, they made themselves right at home!

After supper we watched a movie and snacked. As time passed everyone became more and more impatient. "Boom!" one of the boys said to me, gesturing explosions. Two girls came up and repeated, "Han River, Han River!". The plan was to leave at 7:00, but by 6:30 the group was too excited to sit still any longer. Everyone loaded back into the van and headed for Tony and Cindy's house, where we met up with volunteers and the Brewer crew and headed out on foot.

The first night's fireworks were spectacular. Our group was too far away to hear the music or see the ground show, but the dazzling lights above drew gasps and cheers from the children. At the end of the night, a tired but very happy troop filed back into our house.

Now the sleeping situation...as you might imagine, we were in tight quarters. Most of us slept on bamboo mats on the floor (which would not be unusual for Vietnamese children, but is not comfortable for American adults; after two nights of that, I'm a bit sore). After their late night I had expected the children to sleep in, but the earliest-risers were up and moving at 5:30 Sunday morning. Ugh.

Breakfast was across the street with "The Noodle Lady". We watched another movie then took a walk to the beach. It was too cool for swimming, but the kids had a blast catching crabs, drawing in the sand, and getting their feet wet. They posed for several pictures, and I promised to print them out and bring them with me during our next visit.

After lunch, a nap, and some hair styling, we said goodbye to the first group and prepared for the second.

The schedule was the same for the second group, but the weather was not. Steady rains meant we needed ponchos, and it seemed to dampen spirits as we made our walk to the river. But things weren't too gloomy--the rain had deterred the crowd, and many of the bleachers were left empty. After a little convincing from one of our volunteers, we were allowed to bring the children right down in front to see the show! To hear the music and get the full effect...well, we were mesmerized.

Everyone went home at 6:00 this morning, and Enoch and I promptly reclaimed our bed and slept most of the day away. :-) What a weekend!

Thy

Thy came into our lives in a most unusual way. One Saturday afternoon I was working on the computer when I received a call from my friend Dawn. Dawn was enjoying coffee at a Western restaurant when a Vietnamese lady entered with a young girl. The lady told the restaurant owners that she had found Thy beside the river. The 11 year old girl, whose home is over an hour away, was wandering unfamiliar streets in search of work. Her family could not afford to care for Thy so they sent her away.

Thy lived with us for over two weeks. While we worked to track down her family and then to get her into an orphanage, we started to bond with the sweet girl. Over and over I told myself, "This is a temporary thing. Thy isn't going to stay with us. She can't stay with us. Don't get attached." Of course that is easier said than done.

For Thy, her time with us must have seemed quite strange. Up until several weeks ago, she had lived in a leaky one room house with seven other people and only one bed. She ate mostly rice. She had to stay home from school because her family couldn't afford uniforms and school fees. She ran from her father, who was violently abusive when he came home drunk.

Then Thy found herself with "rich" foreigners, a young couple with weird customs, an unfamiliar language, and strange food. But there were certain perks to Thy's new living situation. She got new clothes, toys, and books. She had trips to the arcade, the movies and the beach. I can't imagine all of the emotions that must have been rumbling around inside of the tiny thing--fear, joy, anger, confusion, satisfaction, loneliness....talk about a roller coaster.

All the while, I found myself totally inadequate to handle the situation. My friends reminded me that even though I don't speak Vietnamese and I don't have a degree in counseling, I do have love. And when you're hurting, what you really need is someone to love you.

Right now, Thy is transitioning into a nearby orphanage in Danang (I say "transitioning" because it has been a difficult process), but in early 2010 she will be back under our care. Orphan Voice is renovating an orphanage only five minutes from our house. Our office will be relocated there, so we'll be able to see Thy and 30 of her friends every day. We are calling the orphanage "Promise House"; for Thy and others like her, we pray that it will be used to fulfill the Lord's promise to give His children "a hope and a future".

Travels

The disaster relief projects continue! A few weeks ago, we delivered supplies to 200 families who live alongside a river. The dam of a nearby hydroelectric power plant had collapsed, dumping incredible amounts of water on an already flooded area. The result is that entire villages lived on their roofs or in their rafters for three days. When the waters finally subsided, the families climbed down to find that most everything they owned had been washed away.

Orphan Voice helped by giving blankets, mosquito nets (to protect against dengue fever and malaria which are especially dangerous now), cooking oil, fish sauce, rice, noodles, soap, toothbrushes, and school supplies and treats for the children.

As I write, Enoch and Duc are on a three day trip via motorbike to rural areas south of Danang. The are surveying to see how we can help in upcoming weeks. Please pray for their protection.

More travels are ahead. In just over a month, Enoch and I will be on a plane headed for the States. We arrive in Kentucky a few days before Christmas (yay!) and we will return to Vietnam at the end of February. The plan is to visit family and friends and, as God allows, speak in churches and small groups interested in hearing about our work. If any of you know of a church, Sunday School class, etc. that might enjoy learning about Vietnam, please let us know.

Thank you for the continued love and prayers.

Marissa

More Blessed

It has been almost three weeks since Ketsana hit central Vietnam and Enoch and I are still busy with disaster relief. During the days following our noodle delivery along the banks of flooded rivers, we hiked deep into the mountains to bring food to those who had lost everything. Last week, we delivered tin to 25 families whose roofs had either blown off or collapsed under powerful winds. Our organization is funding repairs on a vocational school in Danang whose focus is underprivileged and orphaned children; we hope that their classes will resume next week. Tomorrow we head out to investigate another area to see what the needs are and how we can help; we've been told that the entire village was wiped out by flooding. Three weeks after the storm, the needs are still great.

On our trips into the mountains, many broke down in tears describing their experience--how they hid under furniture as the roof and walls crumbled and how they despaired when their supply of rice was ruined by the rapidly falling--and then rising--water. One lady cried when we gave her a box of noodles, but the tears were from a joyful heart. We were the first to help her, she said; we gave her hope. She related how her husband had been away at his mother's funeral since before the storm, and she had no one to help her rebuild. Each night, she covered her bed and her children's bed with tarps, and they huddled under the plastic to keep dry. The typhoon may be over, but this is the rainy season in Vietnam.

One of the most touching experiences happend on our visit to an ethnic minority group in an isolated area. Though we were delivering noodles to typhoon victims, this ended up being a very different sort of trip. After huffing and puffing through the jungle up the side of a mountain for a good hour, we reached the top. Enoch and I were the only two westerners in our group--and for most of the village, we were the first white faces they had ever seen. Probably the most affected by our visit was a 116 year old woman. A family member gently lifted her from the hammock where she lay and carried her to the door so that she could meet her unusual guests. Enoch showed her the box of noodles, and she investigated each packet carefully. The elderly lady watched us, smiling, asking questions in her native language (which wasn't Vietnamese). When it was time for her to return to the hammock, she refused. First, the lady said, she wanted to touch the white girl...and she wanted the white girl to touch her. So I crouched closer and held out my arms as the lady gently rubbed and squeezed and felt each one, then ran her fingers through my hair. After a moment, she rolled up her own sleeves and motioned for me to do the same. When she was satisfied, the tiny woman smiled broadly, laughed gently, and nodded her head toward me in a Vietnamese gesture of thanks and respect. The encounter was precious.

Lessons learned years ago take on new meaning with the experiences of life. Truly, it is more blessed to give than to receive.

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.)

In the Midst of the Madness--Enoch's Blog

Yesterday, after a blistering hot day of painting out at the Dai Loc orphanage, we headed back to Danang on motorbikes. Unlike the ride up to Dai Loc (if it hadn't been for my sunscreen I would have come out looking like a cherry), it rained. Altogether 6 of us were travelling from Dai Loc to Danang and there were only two bikes. I rode with Duc, my closest friend in Vietnam, and his 3 year old daughter Sally. Duc drove and I sat behind him cradling the little girl. Boy, what an uncomfortable ride.

Soon after taking off (around 5:45) I remembered my English class at 6:30. We still had an hour's drive ahead of us and no supper in our tummies--I had to cancel class.

I somehow was able to hold onto Sally with one arm and slide my hand into my pocket to pull out my phone. I started texting away.

After disappointing my students with my short text message, I clung onto Sally as we weaved in and out of traffic, dodging motorbikes, trucks, and large buses racing to get home. In the midst of all the madness God was able to show me something. I felt like He was telling me to look around at everything He had made. I noticed the rice fields full of water, stretching for what seemed like miles 'till they reached the mountains where the sun was setting for the day. Ahead of us there was a full rainbow, dark clouds rolling close behind. How great is our God?

Where I live back in the States there are many views that rival the ones I see in Vietnam, but I don't always take the time to see them. Yesterday, God slowed me down and reminded me of the miracle of His creation. Maybe He wants to do the same for you. Maybe there are miracles all around you that you don't take the time to appreciate...and praise God for.

After all these things, I looked down at my little companion and noticed another miracle. Little Sally had fallen asleep in my arms...in the rain...on a motorcycle...on the winding roads of Vietnam.

Enoch

Praises

As I write, I am sitting in the shade outside of "Big C", a supermarket in downtown Danang. The bus to Dai Loc stops here, though its schedule is still somewhat of a mystery to us.

We've been back and forth between Danang and Dai Loc a lot lately because of the orphanage renovations. The rooms are coming along--the cracks and holes have been repaired in several rooms. Many of the rooms and some of the shutters have been sanded and painted. I can't wait to see the finished product!

A few days ago when Duc and I were in Dai Loc to purchase paint and supplies we discovered that one of the children was sick. She was in bed with a high fever and couldn't open her eyes; when asked a question, her responses were mumbled and weak. We were very concerned. The caregiver explained that she had started to run a high fever the previous day and had been taken to the hospital. The doctor said that the girl had a "super virus" and that no medicine was available other than fever reducers. Many in Danang have been sick with this particular virus and their fevers are lasting for 7-10 days.

To make things worse, this is finals week for the children. There is no way to reschedule final exams. If you do not take the tests, you fail and have to repeat the grade.

Duc said something to the caregiver and asked if I wanted to pray. Quietly, we brought the girl's needs before our Father. A short time later we returned to Danang.

The next day as Enoch, Duc, and I prepared to leave for Dai Loc we grabbed a box from the US. A while back, an individual in the US had seen the pictures of the children in Dai Loc and felt compelled to send a gift to one particular girl. Duc looked at the name on the box and laughed in surprise--it was for the girl with the fever!

Another surprise was in store for us when we reached Dai Loc. The sweet girl who a day before had been incoherent was on her feet laughing and playing with the other children. The fever that doctors said would last for a week was gone two days after it had begun.

We serve a God who cares about our every need--a God who delights in meeting our requests and blessing us with abundantly more than we dare to ask.

Catching Up

A lot has happened during the last week or so! Here's a summary:

Recently, the Orphan Voice staff have been practicing the sign language for a powerful worship song. A total of 12 of us, both American and Vietnamese, performed at a deaf conference last Sunday. It was wonderful.

A few days ago, Tony, Enoch, Duc and I took a 9 hour motorbike ride into the mountains. The purpose of the trip was to meet with officials in two different districts to discuss starting a new orphanage and possible outreach projects in the future. The meetings were fruitful and the trip--wow! We passed through fields of Vietnamese in traditional dress working in the rice, some of them plowing the fields with water buffalo. Then, as we wound our way through the mountians we drove through dense tropical foliage. The views were amazing--beautiful rivers, striking rock formations, really neat. We came home sore and sunburned--but happy.

Yesterday, we had class with the children at the Dai Loc orphanage. A volunteer from Australia went with Enoch and myself to model some teaching techniques, and we learned so much from her. It was a blessing.

I've been working on getting patterns for murals. Next week, we're going to start renovating some of the rooms in the Dai Loc orphanage. We will add color to the rooms by painting and adding a mural to one of the four walls in each room. We're gonna use a projector to trace the pattern. I can't wait to get started!

Well, it is Sunday morning here so I have to run. Thank you all for everything.

Love,

Marissa

Starfish

Hello!

All is well here in Vietnam. Last week was our first movie night outreach in the Dai Loc orphanage; what a joy to hear the laughter of a room full of children as they enjoy a movie! This will be an ongoing thing, and we hope to enjoy movies with the kids once a month.

Two of the girls in Dai Loc have special health concerns. One of the girls is losing her hair. We talked to her doctor today--the hospital ran some tests on her but has not been able to determine what the problem is. She is on medication and will be tested again in a week. Another girl is having fainting spells. We are purchasing some dietary supplements for her and hope that will help; nutrition seems to be a problem at the orphanage.

Please remember these two.

Tonight Enoch and I walked to the beach, something we hadn't done in a couple of weeks. We had a special treat--there were starfish all along the shore, one every few feet. I kept picking them up, wading out into the water, and releasing them. I couldn't bear to see them stranded.

When we got back to our apartment I immediately got on Google--I just had to learn more about the beautiful creatures that floated across the sand and that tickled my hand with their tiny fingers. I came across a story that I would like to share:

I awoke early, as I often did, just before sunrise to walk by the ocean's edge and greet the new day. As I moved through the misty dawn, I focused on a faint, far away motion. I saw a youth, bending and reaching and flailing arms, dancing on the beach, no doubt in celebration of the perfect day soon to begin.

As I approached, I sadly realized that the youth was not dancing to the bay, but rather bending to sift through the debris left by the night's tide, stopping now and then to pick up a starfish and then standing, to heave it back into the sea. I asked the youth the purpose of the effort. "The tide has washed the starfish onto the beach and they cannot return to the sea by themselves," the youth replied. "When the sun rises, they will die, unless I throw them back to the sea."

As the youth explained, I surveyed the vast expanse of beach, strectching in both directions beyond my sight. Starfish littered the shore in numbers beyond calculation. The hopelessness of the youth's plan became clear to me and I countered, "But there are more starfish on this beach than you can ever save before the sun is up. Surely you cannot expect to make a difference."

The youth paused briefly to consider my words, bent to pick up a starfish and threw it as far as possible. Turning to me he simply said, "I made a difference to that one."

I left the boy and went home, deep in thought of what the boy had said. I returned to the beach and spent the rest of the day helping the boy throw starfish in to the sea.

I can't help but apply that story to our situation. No, we can't meet the needs of every child in Vietnam...but, by God's grace, we can make a difference to some. We are determined to do what we can for those set before us. I hope you are all encouraged to make a difference in the lives of those set before you.

With love,

Marissa

Fishing

Week three....

As we spend more time in Danang, we discover new ways to be good stewards of our finances. We are walking to and from work each day (several miles), and instead of taking a taxi across the river to go shopping we are shopping at stores close to our house. It is funny--each store has a different selection of items to buy, so we go several places just to get a few groceries.

Tomorrow, we are picking up furniture that has been given to us free of charge. What a blessing!

We have started our Vietnamese language lessons and tried out our new phrases on various people. Of course, no one has a clue what we're saying. Enoch says that we are probably less confusing when we talk in English

In the meantime, we are continuing our lessons in listening...not listening to the Vietnamese language, but to the language spoken to our heart.

The Vietnamese are predominantly Buddhist. Scattered around our area are Buddhist temples--there is one at the head of our street, in fact. One of our nightly rituals is to walk down the street to the beach where we talk and relax; on this walk, we go by the temple. A few nights ago as we started out on our walk, one of our neighbors motioned for us to follow him. He led us to the temple where several people were gathered--not in worship, but in conversation--and went in to get a mat so that we could sit. Enoch and I froze at the gate, waved "no", and kept walking.

As we walked to the beach, I wondered if that had been the right thing to do. I mean, was there any harm in going into the building as long as we didn't worship? Did we hurt our relationship with this fellow by turning down his offer? Did we lose future opportunities to compare cultures...and beliefs?

Later, as we walked along the shore, I watched the crabs scurrying under our feet. The small ones want to catch fish on the waves, but they run away when the water comes towards them. They are too small--to weak to keep from being drug off. The big crabs do just the opposite--they run toward the tide to get their food. Spiritually, am I a small crab or a big crab? Am I mature? Are the waves a danger to me, or could it be that by running toward the waves I can catch fish? I need to listen and follow.