Morning Star

16 months ago, I went to Việt Nam. It was a trip I looked forward to all my life but I wondered if I ever would be ready. I went to taste the exotic fruits every Việt Kiều raves about. I went to feast on its wild tropical beauty and hear the lilt of the Vietnamese language on every tongue. I went to skip on Hà Nội's cobbled streets, haggle with the vendorsi n Saigon's Bến Thành, and breathe in the waters of the Mekong River, where my parents once made a livelihood. I went back to Việt Nam as a young woman, yearning to understand the country of my birth, the land my parents fled and I never knew, the nation whose political upheavals have cast on me a new identity: Vietnamese American. I wondered if I would recognize the form my answers would take. I met Cường. I met him on my first day in Việt Nam because he was our tour guide. Young, intellectual and charming as he bought us a fruit knife when he noticed we were buying mãng cầu, mãng cụt, and thăng long by the kilo as we

When I was a kid, I had a teacher who was a Garfield fan. My favorite poster was "I'm learning by osmosis." Garfield had books tied to his head, his arms, stomach, feet, and tail. (By the way, Garfield is an overweight orange cat and proud of it.) Osmosis, as I learned in Biology, is the absorption of liquids and nutrients through porous membranes and partitions. It's what happens when you put a wilted flower into a vase of water. The flower absorbs the water through osmosis and it revives. We had two bishops ordained in Dallas the past Tuesday. Many people come to the Mass because of the music, the majesty of the ceremony, and the importance of the occasion. I come because I get to see the Book of the Gospels placed upon the bishops' heads. Literally. The book is opened and two deacons stand on either side of the bishop's head. The opened book is laid upon the bishop's head for a good minute. The gospels by osmosis. Gospel is Greek for good ne

I met Ferdinand at the movies. We were watching "Blind Side" at the dollar theater for Easter. Leigh Ann, the mom in the movies, asked Mike if he ever heard of Ferdinand. I haven't heard of Ferdinand either. Once upon a time, there was a bull named Ferdinand. All the other bulls would run, butt heads, and be ferocious. They wanted to go to Madrid, be in a bullfight, and become famous. Not Ferdinand. He just wanted to smell the flowers. His mom was worried because he wasn't like all the other bulls. One day, lots of important looking men with interesting hats came to visit the pasture that Ferdinand and the other bulls usually grazed at and lived. The other bulls ran faster, made loud bellowing noises, and butt heads more often. The men with the interesting hats looked on admiringly. Ferdinand wandered off and decided to sit on a grassy patch. He did not see the bee. It stung him and he jumped up suddenly. He bellowed and he ran. The men clapped their ha

I don't get football. And I hope you forgive me. I love "U" (pronounced ooooh) though. I call it Vietnamese football. It is simultaneously relaxing and heart-pounding. If you wear glasses, you should take it off. There are two teams. The purpose is to put the opposing side under hostage. Your breath is your ball. Person 1 from Team A runs across the dividing line, saying "Ooooooh." If Team B grabs Person 1 and Person 1 runs out of breath, s/he becomes a hostage. If Person 1 touches anyone from Team B and makes it back to his/her territory, the person touched becomes captive. It's a violent game. I taught it to the kids on the iJesus retreat. I couldn't resist. They were playing baseball with a tennis ball and we had 5 cars within 20 yards of their game. Johnny wasn't too happy when I asked them to stop. Royal looked as if the world had stopped. The others wondered what they would do with their remaining free time. It was time for &qu

If there had to be a cereal, it has to be "Honey Bunches of Oats." The sisters know that. There was a time when I ate cereal 7 days a week for 5 years straight. With "Honey Bunches," you can taste joy in every spoonful. I quit eating cereal about a year ago. Then I was at this retreat the past weekend. There was 52 of us and seven families. Each of the families had to come up with a fun and inspirational name. We named ourselves, "Frosted Flakes." I didn't tell them. But I never eat Frosted Flakes. It was a difficult vote. We were deciding between Snapple, T-Mobile, and Energizer. Frosted Flakes got the vote because no one really voted. We could hear the other families laughing and joking. Jennifer took the plunge and started drawing our poster. Tony and Mathew looked on, intrigued but not interested. It was time to be a "momma." I asked everyone to pick up a marker and color. Hung wrote "Yo Daddy Hung!" (He was the

When we were kids, we fought over who got to light the candles for family prayer. Every day. A pair of candlesticks framed our altar to Jesus and Mary and there were seven of us siblings. So, my favorite Mass of the whole year became the Easter Vigil Mass because we each got our own candle. Actually, I didn't know that was what you called it until I joined the convent. It was always the "Night of Light." The little boy next to me was playing with his candle. He held it low, to avoid attention. He cradled it carefully in his hand, looking intently at its burning heart. Last night, I was at Easter Vigil Mass in Arlington to pray for two friends. They were getting baptized. They were teens. Father asked everyone to blow out the candles because Scripture was being proclaimed and this was the Light of truth for our world. And also because the wax might dirty the pews. My neighbor kept his candle lit. His mom didn't stop him. I don't blame her. I didn