Morning Star

We came with mops and rags. Greenworks cleaner and Fabuloso solution. Ready to give the new youth room a face-lift. A few specks of dust lingered on the black couch. A handsome white board was nailed to a wall. Our four helpers were not as astonished as Oanh and I. When Father Tân showed us the room a month ago, it was in major need of dusting, mopping, and re-arranging. I had told Father that Oanh will try to make it to the church last weekend to do some cleaning. The rest of us was out-of-town or had work obligations. She never did make it and so we were ready to pour sweat together make the room St. Peter's new home for our youth. We did pour sweat. Because the air-conditioning was switched off for roof repairs. We moved an old Christmas tree, tables, and chairs. Out of work in 30 minutes. By chance? By Father Tân. I should not have been caught off-guard. When I first met Father Tân, he was helping to empty trash at the parish's New Year Festival. I didn't even realiz

9 elegantly shaped leaves. I had no idea what kind of plant it was, but I was told to pull it up. And discovered roots 13 feet long. We had just gotten a wonderful smattering of rain. It was take time to take advantage of the soft soil. It was time to do some weeding. The air breathed light and cool when I discovered this curiously shaped vine. Pull it. Destroy it. It is a weed. What is a weed? An unwanted plant in a human-made space. (according to the gardener and the dictionary) Are there weeds where there are no humans or human expectations? What is a weed? After 30 minutes of pulling, muscle-ache, and discovery of 13 feet of roots, one perceives a weed is a plant with survival skills. What is a weed? Plant or nuisance? Sr. Teresita Thủy celebrated her 25th anniversary of vows the past June. The sisters put together a light program of entertainment. I was the photographer. Take a look at the photo. Who really has the perspective? The one who took the picture of the photographer or

"Sơ, you have to stop by Quán Đồng Hành!" I smiled. It was always good to see a familiar face at Marian Days. Especially a friend. "Anything you want Sơ... it'll be on me," Anh Tuấn continued. I knew he and many of my friends from Holy Martyrs Parish had volunteered to help with the parish's food booth. Each food booth required a crew of at least 100 to not risk overworking themselves and adequately serve the tens of thousands of pilgrims. "You know it's not a matter of wanting... it is time," I replied. "Any time Sơ, any time, I'll be waiting." Late Friday afternoon I left our vocation booth under Sr. Josephine Bảo's care and headed for QĐH. I was beginning to feel the strain of greeting thousands that passed our way and the stifling heat of the roofed pavilion. "Sơ!" Theresa's exuberant yell and hug knocked all my fatigue away. "We just got here Sơ! How are you?" "Good... and hot!" I sa

Commitment. Care. Communication. Without consultation, Mary, Kristy, and Phụng came up with the same words to define "love". They were making a retreat at our convent the past summer. They had words which no one will dispute. Mr. L had actions which many did not like. Especially his sons. His daughter, a recovering brain cancer patient, fell into an unconscious state after minor surgery for a stomachache. Trish, 45 and single, did not respond to any visual or audio stimulation. The doctor said she was brain-dead. The Church teaches families could decide either way for PVS (permanent vegetative state) patients. Her brothers wanted to pull the plug. Her mom, 85 and diabetic, had dementia. Her dad, Mr. L, could not bear to consciously end his own daughter's life. Who could? After a day of hesitation, the family decided to have another meeting. During this time, the doctor took Trish off the breathing apparatus. She breathed on her own, to the astonishment of all. Is Trish al

"Vân, Vân!" A tense hand gripped my arm. We were taking an evening walk in the neighborhood. "Did you see that guy?" I nodded slightly. "Whew!!! He just came out of nowhere!" Sr. Leslie Thu's grasp loosened slightly. "Thu... you are going to bruise me purple while that guy that scared you is going to be 100 miles from here," I teased her. "Oh... I am so sorry... how did you know he was there?... that was so scary! No wonder the sisters say you are a good person to take anywhere unfamiliar!" Sr. Thu continued her story and my mind quietly went back to the time when I was a 12-year-old girl. "Dad?!?" I exclaimed. I had startled myself by suddenly coming upon the still figure. "You didn't see me?" he asked, continuing to weed the flower bed. Dad had an innate green thumb and the garden was full of exotic plants that others had thrown away. "No!... no..." I stammered. I had just gotten back from an

"Bác Vân, come to my party, okay?" Angelo looked up at me. It was hard to say no to those pleading smiling eyes. "It'll be lots of fun," my nephew continued. "Everyone is going to be there!" "I'll try, Angelo" I said, as I planted a kiss on his forehead and buckled his car seat belt. He was going to turn five in two weeks, the oldest of three, and always with an undefeatable smile. Old enough to invite me and really mean it. Too young to realize that I would be back in the convent by July 23rd. He waved again as the car pulled out of the driveway. His smile was contagious. No one stayed mad at him long. He would chuckle after every reprimand and tumble. Undefeatable joy. I remembered his 100th day birthday (as Asians would call the day a baby is born). I was suppose to be at the airport in three hours when Mom got the phone call. Mygnoua had just delivered. Six days early. We rushed out to the hospital. Angelo was the only nephew I

"Here Sister, is $50," Bảo Anh pointed out, as she dropped a handful of currency into the donations jar. "Thank you!" I exclaimed as I peered into her eyes. She was visiting family, on summer break from college in New York. It was nice to see her at Marian Days. "Please don't misunderstand me! It's not my money. You see, Sen and I found this money on the ground." "Oh?" "We don't know who to return it to.... and so, we've decided to give this money to charity... so whoever lost the money can benefit from this deed of goodness." With this, Bảo Anh and Sen headed out. This year, Marian Days were full of organizations who were raising money for the orphans, lepers, and elderly priests. I hoped whoever lost that $100 know that it is not lost. It has taken on eternal value. ps1. Photo http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1237499

"Sister, you'll have to stop by the police station this morning." I looked at Father Toản, CMC quizzically as I continued to make my coffee. He was the head coordinator of all Marian Days events. It was Saturday morning. "You know how you left your money jar at your vocation booth? Well, the cops saw two boys messing with it last night, so they took it and said you could claim it at the police station." I thanked him and wondered what could've happened. "Give Life" Those were the words I painted on the sunny yellow flower pot I converted to a donations jar. Many youth stopped by to say "hello" and drop in a few dollars for the poor in Vietnam. And if they wished, they could choose a paper rose bracelet to wear. I had left the pot out Thursday night and found a substantial pile of coins and dollars Friday morning. I didn't understand how Friday night could be any different. The police officers quickly returned the donations jar and

10 years ago, I had a date. We planned to meet each other in Carthage for Marian Days. Like thousands of other Vietnamese Catholics. We missed each other by three hours. He abruptly returned home because of a family tragedy. Sorrow was mine that weekend. And his. Sorrow brings many people to Marian Days every August. Here they entrust to Mary what only a mother can do. Comfort. Wake you up to reality. In 24 hours, I will be heading to Carthage. To give thanks for that missed encounter. And the reality that my heart rejoices in belonging to Jesus alone. More photos of Marian Days: http://www.trinhvuong.org/PhotogalleryAug2006/NTM%202008/NgyThnhMu2008/index.html http://friarsidechats.blogspot.com/2007/08/vietnamese-marian-days-in-carthage.html

$9.99 for 150 sheets. Or $21.99 for 100 sheets. I had just redesigned an informational brochure of our religious community and was planning to print from home. It is for our venue at the upcoming Marian Days gathering. Over 50,000 Vietnamese Catholics from all over the United States gather to socialize, pray, and renew themselves spiritually. "$21.99," the Office Depot cashier stated. "And because you spent over $10, you get a free backpack." "Really... I didn't see signs of this promotion," I replied. "Yes, we are trying to get customers. What colors would you like? Pick two." "Hmmmm..." This would be great for Sr. Leslie Thu to pass out to the Burmese refugees she works with at Fort Worth Catholic Charities. "Red and blue, please." A mother and a little boy entered the store and stood behind me. The seven or eight-year old looked at the pile of backpacks wistfully. "You know, you get a free bag if you spend $10 o