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.