Morning Star

Drunk

2012-01-04T08:15:00.002-06:00

"Sister, is that liquor?"
I paused mid-step.
The table of young people looked at me expectantly.

"No, but I wish it was!"
They burst into laughter and I smiled.
We had just left church and were at Caravelle restaurant to celebrate Junior's Confirmation.

Our sisters from Việt Nam had sent us beautiful white stone statues of Mary.
This would be perfect for Junior, I thought.
Who else would help him to grow spiritually then Mary, Temple of the Holy Spirit?

I wrapped the tall long box in bright red paper and placed a silver bow on top.
No wonder it looked like a liquor bottle.

Confirmation is a sacrament of choice for Roman Catholics.
Parents baptize their babies because they feel the gift of being a child of God is too good to wait to let their baby decide on their own. Does any parent ask their baby's opinion if milk is good for them?

In Confirmation, the young adults choose for themselves if they want to receive a fresh outpouring and strengthening of the Spirit's gifts. These gifts were first given them in the Sacrament of Baptism. Not all adults choose to be confirmed. Not all adults choose to do what is best for them.

At the first outpouring of the Holy Spirit, Mary brought forth Jesus (Luke 1:35).
At the second outpouring of the Holy Spirit, people thought the apostles were drunk (Acts 2:13).
Drunk enough to convert three thousand people to belief in a crucified God (Acts 2:41).
Drunk enough that this church has lasted over two thousand years, withstood corrupt leaders, and has members from over 150 nationalities.

At the second outpouring of the Holy Spirit, Mary was with the apostles (Acts 1:14).
Where ever there is Mary, there is the Spirit.

I hope all of gets this kind of drunk.

Photo of our celebrating crew at Caravelle in Richardson, TX.

Old Friend from Far Away

2012-01-01T11:43:00.004-06:00

"Oh Janine, it's for you!"
I opened my eyes in surprise.

Sr. Gwen Huyền was opening presents from her family.
We were gathered around our Christmas tree in the convent living room.
All of us had finished opening our presents. It was mostly cash since our families lived far away.

Sr. Gwen's family lived in town and she still had a good size pile.
"It's from Corinne."

She and her husband had gotten a gift for Sr. Gwen and our community.
And me?

Corinne and I went to school together for ten years.
We had our share of fights and talks.

I became a nun.
She got married.
Friendships usually become acquaintances in these cases.

"Old Friend from Far Away" by Natalie Goldberg
The Practice of Writing Memoir
An oil print of a person standing still in a serene winterscape is on the cover.

Janine, I found this at a small bookstore and thought of you.
Hope it gives you new ideas for writing.

Old friend from far away
my words stopped for so long
to do homework, to dry the laundry,
to worry what the new year will bring

It brings
an old friend from far away.
Thank you.

Dedicated to Corinne and Anthony Le
and to Mary, Mother of God and Queen of all Hearts

Amazing

2011-11-19T13:31:00.003-06:00

Clouds of white steam rose from the corner of the auditorium.
There was a small huddle of people around it.

I had risen to get some ice cream for dessert.
One bowl remained and I decided to leave it for the dozens of little kids playing on the stage.
They didn't seem aware this was the three-year anniversary meal of their grandpa's death.

"Thank you, Sisters, for coming," Mrs. Lan murmured as we entered the hospital room.
A profusion of wires and tubing was connected to Mr. Lan.
That wasn't the surprising part.

"The doctors were able to kill the cancer in his lungs. However, there was an infection and it is slowly eating up his tongue, and entering his brain," Danielle explained.
Danielle was a nurse, lived out-of-state, and had flown in to be with her father in his last moments. Mr. Lan's mouth was open and his tongue was filled with bumps and holes.

"Does he still understand?" Sr. Jacinta Ngân asked gently.
"Yes. He just can't talk," Mrs. Lan said sorrowfully. "He knows what is going on. He can hear us. They say that the virus that is in his mouth is causing him much pain."
She turns to her husband. "Honey, the Sisters are here. They are here to visit you. Remember when you use to come to their convent and fix their things? They're here to see you."
Mr. Lan gave a blink of his eyes.

The four of us said our greetings. His breathing changed as he tried to greet us back.
"Sisters, he's ready to go. The whole family has been here to see him before he lost his ability to talk. He had his chance to tell everyone what is on his heart. Now, he's just waiting to go. He's in so much pain!"

We remained silent as Mrs. Lan stroked her husband's hand. They had been married over 50 years. No one could say whose pain was deeper.
"Father Michael has been here three times already. He gave the Sacrament of the Sick, the Last Rites, each time because we thought his end was near," Mrs. Lan continued.

"Mr. Lan, how are you?"
His eyeballs gradually shifted to focus on me.
"Mr. Lan, it's me, Sr. Vân. I know you don't know me very well because I just moved here to Dallas a few years ago. I know you because the sisters show me the renovations you did to our convent." He blinked.

Sr. Jacinta Ngân and Mrs. Lan had a conversation in whispered tones at the other end of the room.

"Mr. Lan, you know your family has all seen you. You've seen them all. Father Michael has been here to give you the last Sacrament. You can go, Mr. Lan. If you want."
The other sisters gave an audible gasp as they heard my words.
Mrs. Lan did not move at all.
Danielle smiled sweetly.

"Mr. Lan, please don't think I'm being disrespectful. I know you are in a lot of pain. I know you lived a good life. I know you love your family and your family loves you. It is okay. You can go."

One of the sisters touched my elbow urgently.
I turned to face her frightened countenance.
"It's okay, Denise. I'm not doing anything immoral or inappropriate. I'm just telling him what he already knows."

Sr. Jacinta Ngân and Mrs. Lan resumed their conversation.
"Mr. Lan, you know what. Today is a Saturday. It's Our Lady's day. You've always loved Mary. Why don't you go back to God today? And Mary will be with you. You know it'll be okay because all your children has grown up, they've made something of their lives, and you know they don't want to see you in pain."

One of Mr. Lan's daughter and son-in-law (who stepped briefly out into the hall to make room for us) could not suppress a grin as they heard my voice floating in the air. Denise told me this later.

"Sisters, thank you for coming. I know you are always busy with the work of God. Would you please lead us in prayer?" Mrs. Lan remarked as she ended her conversation with Sr. Jacinta Ngân.

We prayed 12 Hail Marys and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy.
We saw a bead of tear form on Mr. Lan's right eye.

As we stepped into the convent, our phone rang.
"Sisters, thank you! Thank you! Mr. Lan passed away about five minutes after you left!"
Mrs. Lan herself called us.

Father Michael later teased us that if anyone needed a quick exit from this world, they only had to call the Trinh Vương sisters because he didn't have a good track record.

This was three years ago.
And as any devout traditional Vietnamese Catholic will tell you, a three-year anniversary Mass of the death and a huge meal is usual.

Over 100 relatives and friends were gathered.
The six-course meal was scrumptious.

Then, I saw the clouds of steam.
"It's ice cream Sister!" the man said with a chuckle. He was stirring a huge stainless steel pot with a long stainless steel spoon.
"Ice cream? What's that you're pouring into the pot?" I asked.
"Nitrogen." he gleefully answered.
"Nitrogen?"
"Yes! It quickly freezes the ingredients. Just wait a few minutes. This will be the best ice cream you've ever had!"

I wasn't the only one amazed.
And the ice cream was amazing.
Perhaps a fitting dessert in honor of a man who was not amazed that he will be going back to his Creator.

Photo credit: cynical-c.com Note: All names have been changed.

Visit

2011-09-20T16:15:00.002-05:00

"Why don't you go out and walk a little bit? The nurses don't let you do that?"
He looked at me quietly.

"Have you always lived in the Dallas area?"
He stretched his muscular arms and nodded gently.

"Well, Bryan, if you're still here next week, I'll come back to see you. I don't want to see you here since you want to go home, but I don't know if you're going home," I continued pleasantly.

"What is your name?" he asked. It was the only question he asked in our conversation.
"Janine."
"Janine," he repeated with a soft smile. "Yes, Janine."

One of the nurses had told me Bryan had complained no body cared about him.
So, I stopped by his hospital room to visit.
He had been there for five months.
He said he hasn't been to church in a while.
He didn't complain about his illness so I wasn't quite sure why his stay was lengthy.

"Paraplegic"
I gasped unconsciously.
I had arrived back at our chaplain's office and had looked up his medical records.

Bryan couldn't walk.
And I had told him to take a stroll in the hallways to relieve his boredom.
And he's letting me come back to see him.

"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." (Galatians 5:22 - 23)

A man of gentleness and self-control.
The fruits of the Spirit don't only grow in churches.
They grow wherever the heart is willing.

Photo credit: advances-in-medicine.com

In My Nose

2011-09-14T11:41:00.004-05:00

"Tell Sister why you didn't come to school."
The mom pushed the seven-year-old boy forward.

Sr. Jacinta Ngân actually did not know what the mom was saying since it was spoken in Spanish. Sr. Jacinta did know that the boy had missed the first day of Sunday school. The Spanish translator was late.

"Something was in my nose," he slowly stated.
"Something was in your nose?" Sr. Jacinta asked in wonder.

Sr. Jacinta helps direct a Sunday School with a population of 1700+ students. She had heard all kinds of excuses. This was a new one for her.

"Yes, it was running and running," he demonstrated with his quick fingers.
"Oh, you were sick!" Sr. Jacinta replied.

The little boy grinned and nodded vigorously.
He wasn't the only one smiling.

Photo credit: http://www.pollsb.com

Lassoe

2011-09-12T06:56:00.001-05:00

"The bride and groom my be lassoed."
I wasn't quite sure if I heard Fr. Frank correctly.
I was in line Saturday afternoon for a confession and there was a wedding in the main sanctuary.

Lassoed?
I couldn't concentrate on my examination of conscience and peered through the church's columns.
The couple was definitely tied together by a long string of beads.

I found out later it was a rosary, a symbol of the union and protection of their marriage.
It is not just a tradition of Catholic Hispanics, but of all Hispanics.
Sometimes a cord is used and they are both entwined as a figure 8 loop around the couple's shoulders, "symbolic of their love...as they equally share the responsibility of marriage for the rest of their lives."

More often than not, a rosary is used.
To call upon the greeting that signaled a pregnancy.
An unexpected pregnancy.
And perhaps the end of a happy engagement.

"Hail Mary... fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
Would Jesus unite them or divide them?
He came in such unusual circumstances.

Joseph and Mary, being humans as we are are, would not have been sure then.
With two thousand years of hindsight, we know Joseph and Mary eventually became a faithful and joyful couple.

Jesus will unite us.
If we allow him.
To come as he pleases.

Photo credit: www.weddingbee.com
For more info on Hispanic wedding customs: http://www.weddingdetails.com/lore/mexican.cfm

Touch

2011-09-09T10:19:00.003-05:00

"Anh ơi, em nè."
Everyone broke into laughter as Sr. Marie Trang "pleaded" to be recognized.

The close group of friends were at Quý Lành's 25th wedding anniversary celebration. The couple were also long-time catechists at Holy Martyrs Church and so our sisters were also invited to be part of the festivities.

One of the guests suggested a game. Quý, the husband, would be blindfolded. All the females present would take turns holding Quý's hand. Quý would have to recognize his wife's hands. Quý, a practical jokester himself, quickly got the game started.

"Anh ơi, em nè."
"Honey, it's me," Sr. Marie Trang repeated in Vietnamese. Yet Sr. Marie's close impersonation of Lành's voice could not persuade Quý. The room vibrated with laughter as Quý turned down Sr. Marie and she left the line with a look of pretended sadness.

The two had barely clasped hands when they embraced without a word.
Everyone was amazed.
And impressed.

They knew each other in the touch of a hand.
Voices did not distract them.
Blindness did not blind them.
Pressure and expectations did not intimidate them.

Their hands had touched when the voices of their four children clamored continuously for attention.
Their hands had touched when financial woes had threatened to blind their hopes of a secure future.
Their hands had touched when pressure from both sets of in-laws led them down difficult roads.

They did not win the game out of sheer luck.
They had already mastered it in life.
Would you say the iPod touch is more powerful?

As told by Sr. Marie Trang, CMR.

Written by srjaninevan.

Photo credit en.bestpicturesof.com

Alleluia

2011-09-04T08:40:00.003-05:00

It has been a year over his death when I finally had a chance to visit his grave. A small burnt piece of paper caught my eyes.

Alleluia.
Hebrew for "Praise the Lord!"
Or its Christian meaning: hope, new life, resurrection.

Father Thaddeus Ban has always been a cordial priest.
He was the always the first to give me a call when I came home to see my family.
He was our parish priest and pastor.

Our church was in the midst of tumultous transitions as several priest moved in-and-out in one year.

"Father, how long will you stay?" I asked simply that summer eleven years ago.
"Maybe a year," he replied.
"And you're planning to build a new church?" I gasped.
"It will be where the people are. I'll use any days the good Lord gives me."

He was never transferred that year.
Or the next.
People couldn't persuade, frighten, or flatter him away from his vision.

It was about a week before our new church would be consecrated by Bishop Jaime.
It was a grand structure, within 15 minutes of 2000 of its 3000 parishioners.
It was totally paid for by the people's generosity as they looked upon their pastor's threadbare clothes.

Then the accident happened.
A car crash as he turned out of the sister's convent after morning Mass.
He was unconscious for several hours.

The date of the ceremony could not be moved.
New priests were sent to take his place.
Visitors flowed in and out of his room, bringing flowers and tasty Vietnamese dishes.

One of the dishes was contaminated.
Accidentally or deliberately?
No one knew.

He never made it to the consecration ceremony of the new church.
He stayed in the hospital with a running fever and constant diarrhea.
No one ever heard him voice a single complaint.

Actually no one ever heard him complain, even once, in the ten years he was with us.
Even when people tried to get him transferred.
Or when his health situation made him get acupuncture and he walked around for a few days with needles protruding from his skull.

Nothing matters.
Nothing matters. That's what every visitor heard him say when they came to saw him.
That's what every one of his religious brothers heard when he was sent back home to Carthage to die with his religious family. Nothing matters.

Alleluia.
Praise the Lord. Jesus is risen! Alleluia!!!
The little scrap of burnt paper flew closer to Father Ban's gravestone.

Father Thaddeus Ban has always been a cordial priest.
He was the always the first to give me a call.
I knew that he told Someone to send me news that nothing matters.

He was where the people were.
In their hearts and with their prayers.

Grown-ups

2011-09-01T07:05:00.005-05:00

"Sister, may I have this one for my mom?"
"Of course, honey."

A few minutes later.
"Sister, may I have this one for my aunt, my uncle, and my two cousins?" Stella's four-year-old eyes opened with anxious waiting.

"Why yes!" I answered with a choked smile.
"Sister, I don't need one for my grandma and grandpa. They're away. But I can't give one to my mom and my dad and not have it for everyone else. They'll be sad," Stella explained.

The sisters were watching me choke on my giggles.
Stella had no idea it took us over an hour to make each paper bracelet.
And we needed at least 200 to be prepared for the upcoming conference.

Her dad had stopped by to help us install a storm door.
We had given her and her sister a bracelet as a memento of their visit.
We were unprepared for her reaction.
More specifically, her generosity.

"Unless you turn and become like little children... you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:3)

Grown-ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: "What does his voice sound like?" "What games does he like best?" "Does he collect butterflies?". They ask: "How old is he?" "How many brothers does he have?" "How much does he weigh?" "How much money does his father make?" Only then do they think they know him. (The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery)

Oh how I was thinking that I was "losing" 8 bracelets that day when I was actually gaining a reminder in generosity. And that is I had just finished reading de Saint-Exupery's book.

I realized I didn't read it well enough.
It was one of those books everyone should read through at least twice.

Guayacan

2011-08-30T13:58:00.001-05:00

"I like to carve when I have some time on my hand."
He looked at me thoughtfully.
We were both stuck behind a long line at Bank of America.

"One time a friend gave me a piece of guayacan. It was a pretty thing. It called out to become a crucifix. Once I was done, I wanted to make a little placard to go with it. I usually give my carvings away. Do you know what I found out?"

I shook my head slowly.
I did not want to disturb his reverie. He seemed to be in another time.

"Guayacan is the toughest wood out there. It's used to make cricket bails, the belaying pins in sailing ships, and even used as a lap to cut gems. What got me though (he paused slightly), was its latin name: lignum vitae. Wood of life. And I had carved Jesus on it, the Author of Life. The Spanish call it holy wood because you can use it to treat stuff life coughs and arthritis."

"Do you think it was a coincidence?"
I met his steady gaze.
"Only if you want to call it a coincidence," I replied.

Photo credit http://www.stri.si.edu/english/site_tools/photo_of_the_week/index.php?id=156

The Rite

2011-08-26T06:37:00.005-05:00

"You know, the interesting thing about skeptics, is that we're always looking for proof... the question is, what on earth would we ever do if we found it?" Father Lucas remarks.

"Gets complicated when no proof of the devil is somehow proof of the devil," Michael rejoins.

We do never get to see the devil.
Toads, mules, and three-inch nails are the few extraordinary traces Michael can touch and see.

And so The Rite leads the audience into those eternal questions:
Does God exist?
If so (or not so), does the devil exist?
Or is everything psychology, our brains trying to cope with the immensity of life?

The movie had plenty of chilling effects to keep my head turned away half of the time.
The other sisters had no problem.
I've never had a stomach for horror films.

However, this one wasn't a horror movie like The Exorcist.
The frightening parts were the conversations between Father Lucas (played by Anthony Hopkins) and Michael (Colin O'Donoghue), a seminarian.

Because it wasn't about exorcism.
It was about faith.
Exorcism can be a trick. But not faith.

“Faith is not the simple acceptance of abstract truths, but a close relationship with Christ” (Pope Benedict XVI at WYD 2011 in Madrid)

I would recommend The Rite if you want thoughtful questions about the existence of Christ.
Faith is up to you.

Photo credit: www.spicymoviedogs.com

Body Shop

2011-08-24T07:04:00.005-05:00

"Look! A body shop!" Sister Jacinta Ngân said excitedly.
The huge yellow and orange billboard loomed in the distance.

We just had a blowout and were barely crawling at 30mph on the 75mph interstate.
"It's not for cars," Sr. Gwen Huyền pointed out.
Tattoos. Body piercings. Body art.

It was definitely a body shop.
Laughter broke the tension in the air.
Although I reminded everyone that we were in possession of three debit cards, over two hundred dollars in cash, and three cell phones, the sisters were still worried.

We finally made it to an exit.
The tollbooth operator (thank God for tollbooths on I-44's turnpike) directed us to the nearest gas station. Three hours later (with the help of two men who took pity on us at the gas station and put a spare on our van so we can drive to the nearest Walmart to buy a brand-new tire), we were back on the road.

One of the men had a cross tattooed on his right forearm.
He didn't speak much but didn't leave until our tire was pumped to the correct pressure and all our belongings were stowed back on our van.

Another piece of body art caught my eye.
It was a small flaming sword on the cashier's hand.
We had stopped at McDonald's for a quick evening meal.

"Come back if anything is wrong. I'll make the corrections," he said.
"Oh, he's just new at his job," one of the sisters commented later.

Something inside told me different.
I've never heard a McDonald's employee be so accommodating.
I knew he would microwave water for one of our sisters who was having a stomachache.

"Was it hot enough?" he called as we left the restaurant.
I looked at him searchingly. A look of real concern was on his face. I had not heard his question.
"Was the water hot enough?" he said slowly.

"Oh yes," I replied with a grateful smile.
"New at his job," the same sister commented again.

Maybe so.
Or maybe God sends enough angels to take care of his children.
Photo credit http://tattoos.lovetoknow.com/Cross_Tattoos

Picking Locks

2011-08-22T10:34:00.001-05:00

I looked mournfully at our burgundy Ford Windstar minivan.
It glowed softly in the night air.

Trúc and I had purposely came to Anh Long's car repair shop after working hours to avoid Dallas' traffic rush hour. Anh Long was going to hide our van's keys in the glove compartment and I was suppose to bring the extra set to open up the door and bring the van home for our next-day trip to Springfield.

I need a miracle, I thought to myself.
"This is not going to be fun. We're both going to have to spend half an hour back to get the keys and half an hour to come back here again," I told Trúc.
"I'm sorry," she said graciously.

I need a miracle, I thought again.
My back pain had been bothering me the whole day and in its grip, I had forgotten the spare keys.

"Can I have the Malibu's keys?" I asked.
Trúc handed it over and I stuck it into the Windstar's lock wistfully and turned right. I felt something give.

Righty tighty.
Lefty loosy.

Ooops, wrong direction. But then, I should'nt be using the Malibu's keys. If that key gets stuck in the van's lock, we won't have a way to get home. There was only one other key on our keyring. I turned it left. Something clicked.

"It worked."
"What?"
"It worked. Our van's door unlocked!"
"What?!?" Trúc repeated.
"It's a miracle!" I exclaimed as I climbed into the minivan and found its keys.

A fluke?
That's what one of my sisters said.

Bumping locks.
That's what the lockpickguide.com said.

Am I changing careers?
No. I'll just expect more miracles from a God who always knows what we need.

Photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/

Complaints

2011-08-12T22:15:00.000-05:00

"Geez, Vân, I just don't have much money anymore."
I looked at my mom quizzically.
It was her fifth time making the same comment within three days of my summer visit.
It was not like her to repeat herself so often.

I was thinking of her as I heard myself complaining of the heat at Marian Days.
Actually everyone was commenting (or complaining) about it.
Along with my friends and neighbors in Texas.

Our flowers and vegetables were barely surviving.
Now, we realize that Dallas almost broke the record for the longest 100-degree streak of consecutive days. It was 40 days this summer of 2011. It was 47 days in the summer of 1980.

"Vân, why are you laughing at me," my mom continued.
"Mom, I just realized why you don't have any money!" I chortled. "You just gave $200 to that nun from Vietnam because she said that she was raising funds for her community's work with orphans. And she told you it was difficult to do so because most parish priests are following diocesan's mandates and do not allow unapproved fund-raising efforts. And she did not know that before coming here to the US. On top of that, you gave her $40 for personal spending money. You give it all away. "

My mom looked at me in amazement as I continued with gusto.
"Then, you get a letter in the mail for a retirement home for priests. You send in $1000.00!"

"Well, I can't help it," my mom stuttered quietly.

I knew my my mom couldn't help it.
She didn't give me any money because I didn't need it.
Although I am a nun.

Then she sends in $100 to my community because she knew we were working with the native peoples in Vietnam.

"I can't help it. It is no use storing up riches in this world. It will all pass away," she stated simply. Then she broke into a robust laughter. "You're right. I am silly, aren't I?"

Our conversation broke into my memory as I felt a cool breeze lift a strand of hair from my cheeks. Trúc, my aspirant has been continuously fanning me for the past hour. This morning, Qùynh Dao, a new friend, had fanned me continuously for two hours. And yesterday, Thanh Thúy fanned me for two hours also. Come to think about it, there has always been someone in our Marian Days kiosk fanning the oppressive heat away from me.

During my summer visit, I had thought my mom was the one who was complaining.
Not true.
I was the one who was complaining.

I was aware of the heat.
And not aware of my what I was receiving: "angels" who were sending me cool breezes.

My mom was aware of the heat.
And well-aware of the joy she is receiving in her giving.

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rushing_mania/449262133/lightbox/

May I?

2011-08-09T06:55:00.004-05:00

"Sister, what are these? They're gorgeous!"
"Paper bracelets. See, this is how you wear them."
I wrapped it around the teen's wrist and his eyes widened in amazement.
"These are so cool! How long did it take you to make them?"
"Oh, about an hour. And yes, the sisters were about to kill me because we made over 150 of them!"

The sisters and I were again at Marian Days in Carthage, Missouri.
The heat was stifling and we were blessed to have friends and strangers buy us iced sugarcane juice or rau má throughout the day.

"How much are they?" the seven-year-old looked up at Sr. Marciana Chuẩn.
"None at all. We're not selling them. We're giving them away," she replied.
We weren't the only religious community giving away free stuff. The Divine Word Missionaries gave away fans, the Redemptorists gave away pens, and the Holy Ghost fathers were giving away flashlights. All these items had our websites imprinted on them with the hope that some of these young people would go on-line, visit our websites, and hear God's voice amidst all the conveniences of modern life.

A few minutes later, the little girl and her two friends returned to our booth.
"Sister, I can't buy them. But I may donate right?"
"Oh yes, you may always give!" Sr. Marciana Chuẩn said with a gentle smile.
"Here." she handed us a ten dollar bill and each of her two friends gave us five dollars.

The smile on her face was bigger and deeper than the Thúy Nga singers across from us, raking in thousands of dollars from the sales of their music videos.

Photo: The front view of our vocations booth at Marian Days. In the corner is a sample of one of our bracelets. The wreaths were handmade by Sr. Ann Hương, CMR.

Drawers

2011-08-06T06:09:00.000-05:00

"So many of us spend our lives collecting things, money, reputation."
Fr. Clair looked at us from the pulpit.

"But have you ever noticed that coffins don't have drawers? There is only one compartment. And that is for you!"

Photo credit www.clipartheaven.com

Stardust

2011-08-02T06:50:00.000-05:00

I always wondered why some people's bodies don't decompose.
Catholics call them incorruptibles.
The Buddhists have one too.
Khambo Lama.

Khambo Lama or Dashi-Dorzho Itigilov died in 1927 in a lotus position.
He is still sitting upright and his body is remarkably well-preserved.
His body is only displayed seven days in the year.

There are more than 250 incorrupt bodies of Catholic saints.
Not accidentally preserved as in being buried in hot sand or lava.
Not deliberately preserved as in the pharaohs of Egypt.

These 250 incorruptibles are typically found lifelike, moist, and flexible after many centuries.
"They remain free of decay regardless of manner of burial, delay in burial, temperature, moisture, rough handling, frequent transference, having been covered in quicklime (a decaying agent), or proximity to other decaying corpses."

You can see them for yourself at
* New York City (St. Fraces Xavier Cabrini)
* Turin, Italy (St. Mary Mazzarello)
* Paris, France (St. Catherine Laboure)
* Granada, Spain (St. John of God)

Scientists are baffled at why these bodies have not decayed.
They do know that all humans are made of stardust.
Almost every element on Earth was formed at the heart of a star.

During a supernova, when a massive star explodes at the end of its life, it disperses different elements across the universe. The stardust makes up the planets including Earth.

Perhaps some of us realize we are stardust.
And live to shine.
And so become incorrupt.

ps1. More info on incorruptibles: http://www.catholicapologetics.info/library/gallery/incorrupt/incorrupt.htm http://www.overcomeproblems.com/incorruptibles.htm http://www.marypages.com/IncorruptBodies.htm http://www.sacred-destinations.com/russia/ivolginsky-datsan-buddhist-temple.htm http://www.buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=3,1756,0,0,1,0 ps2. Stardust http://www.physics.org/article-questions.asp?id=52

ps3. Photo credit http://www.clipartof.com

Treasure

2011-07-31T06:33:00.006-05:00

I stopped, gasping for breath.
I had just finished my story, with tears.
My friend looked at me silently.

I felt a cool caress on my face.
For the umpteenth time.
For the umpteenth time I told my story of betrayal.
For the umpteenth time I was given complete attentiveness.
And a cool caress.

I will never understand this hurt.
But I have to come to understand my friend's heart.
It is a treasure.

Photo credit www.fanpop.com

Secret

2011-07-29T09:08:00.000-05:00

"Do you want to know the secret of marriage?"
Dad looked at us with a mischievous wink.
We had just ended their anniversary party with a 30minute slide show of our family.
Dad had let us run the day's event. This was not his usual way of doing things.

"Your program for us has ended. Right?"
He looked at me and I nodded.
"So, do you want to know?" he asked.
"Only if it is the five minute version," Rose answered.
We burst into laughter. Dad was famous for his lectures. Well, which Vietnamese dad isn't famous for their long-winded sermons on how to be good sons/daughters, how to be happy, how to be successful, etc.

"Okay, okay. Five minutes. Ryan, you time me."
Dad pointed at his oldest grandson. We smiled at Dad's good sense of humor.

"Chịu đựng. That means, you put up with each other. I think in the beginning Mom put up a lot with me. Now, I put up a lot with her." We laughed again because we all were blessed recipients of Mom's gentleness. A complaint hardly passes her mouth. Yet, we also knew her failing physical health of recent years was also slowly changing her.

"Okay, mom's turn!" Thắng called out.
"It is. It is endurance. Chịu đựng. If you want to say something because you're upset, hold your tongue. If you want to do something you shouldn't, wait a bit."

"Well, what about love?" Tiffany asked.
She was eighteen.

"Love? That's a given. If you're married, you don't go back and question the other person's love anymore." Dad looked at his grand-daughter with a level gaze. Tiffany had many admirers.

"Now, for my show!" Dad exclaimed.
He left the room.

"Oh, come on Mom. The real secret," Mygnoua whispered with a giggle. We all knew Mom did not voice all her opinions out of deference to Dad.

"That is it! Chịu đựng," Mom repeated softly.

"My children. Thank you. Thank you for your time, your gifts, your decorations of the house."
Dad was gifted with a natural flair for giving speeches.

"Now, Mom and I have a gift for each and everyone of you."

It was their day.
And yet, they were giving us presents.
We each came home with more than we brought for them.

Perhaps there is more than one secret ingredient to a marriage.
Or any relationship.
Generosity.

Photo credit: http://ark.i.ph/blogs/ark/2008/12/20/our-wedding-chronicles-pre-wedding-preparations/

Pilgrimage

2011-07-27T07:23:00.004-05:00

"As my mother would say: God's a big boy now, he can do things on his own."
Fr. Loni, OMI looked at us with relish.
Almost none of us could resist holding in our chuckles.

The King's House conference room was spacious, with a wooden carved fireplace mantle.
Over 50 sisters from different religious communities were gathered to dwell upon the spiritual journey as "Pilgrimage, Passion, and Paradise."

"My sisters, we are all on pilgrimage. This earth is not our homeland. And yes, to arrive at the end, we have to realize that God's a big boy. He can take care of us."

Pilgrim is from the Latin peregrinus, a "foreigner."
Just as Abraham considered himself a foreigner and alien to this earth when he did not see God's promises come true in his lifetime (Hebrews 11:12 -13).
God had promised him that his descendants would be numerous as the sand on the shore and the stars in the sky. And when he was 100 years old, he had one son.
And when he died, he still only had one son.

3000 years later, over 12 million Jews call Abraham "Patriarch"
3000 years later, over 1.5 billion Muslims revere Abraham as "Father" and "Prophet."
3000 years later, over 2.1 billion Christians call Abraham "Father of Faith."

Who are you going to take with you on your pilgrimage?

Photo: Original color pencil drawing

Essence

2011-07-25T07:59:00.004-05:00

"Sisters, I am telling you... whatever image you use to describe the Holy Trinity, it is wrong."
Fr. Hy Nguyen stated matter-of-factly. "The shamrock, the triangle, the what-ever."
We looked at him in disbelief.
We were in our annual conferences and had asked Fr. Hy to return because he was a clear and succinct speaker.

"Whatever you teach your students, it is wrong," he repeated.
"Well, Father, St. Augustine taught that God the Father is the Lover, Jesus is the Beloved, and the bond of Love between them is the Holy Spirit," Sr. Eileen contributed.
"Yes, another image. Poetic. Beautiful. And yet, still an image. It is not the reality," Fr. Hy emphasized. "We have always learned that the three Persons of the Holy Trinity is equal, but different. How is this so? We cannot explain. It is the mystery of the Holy Trinity. Yet, we can say that it is the humanity of the Second Person that makes him differently than the other two Persons."

More silence.
"So, you see. Humanity is not sinfulness. If it is, then Jesus cannot become human. It would mean he became sin."
"Father, what is the essence of humanity then?" Sr. Irene asked.

"To love and to be loved. To be human is to love and to be loved."

I always told my students if you remember one thing your teacher taught you the whole year, it would be enough. I am going to choose to remember the essence of being human.

To love and to be loved.

ps. A line from Meister Eckhart, a 13th German mystic: "When God laughs at the soul and the soul laughs back at God, the persons of the Trinity are begotten. When the Father laughs at the Son and the Son laughs back at the Father, that laughter gives pleasure, that pleasure gives joy, that joy gives love, and that love is the Holy Spirit.
ps2. Photo credit http://www.myspace.com/grumpy1962

Dandelions

2011-07-23T15:39:00.000-05:00

"Ocean, how does Mygnoua feel about y'll putting so much money and time into mom and dad's anniversary?"
"She says I can do whatever I think is right," he paused slightly. "She says her parents never made it that far and we should be celebrating."
"Ocean, you have a good wife. I hope you're thankful!"
"Yeah, yeah," my brother replied bashfully. I knew Ocean only became sheepish when he received a genuine compliment if he had done something wrong.

I hope Emma would take after her mom's generosity.
Mygnoua's parents never made it to their 25th anniversary.
Instead of becoming bitter, she always encouraged Ocean to spend more time with his parents and they always brought their three feisty kids to visit every holiday.

Perhaps it was not by chance that Emma (in the pix) is wearing a crown of dandelions.
Some would look down upon this lowly weed.
Like they would look down upon fidelity and commitment.

"The dandelion is the only flower that represents the 3 celestial bodies of the sun, moon and stars. The yellow flower resembles the sun, the puff ball resembles the moon and the dispersing seeds resemble the stars...Every part of the dandelion is useful: root, leaves, flower. It can be used for food, medicine and dye for coloring...Up until the 1800s people would pull grass out of their lawns to make room for dandelions!"

About two years after Mygnoua's parents divorce, her dad contracted cancer.
He passed away soon afterwards.
What does a daughter's heart say when one's dad goes through a painful illness alone?

A dandelion is a weed to some.
Commitment is a burden to others.

One can weave a crown of dandelions or one can kill it with pesticides.
One can make a life with commitment or one can end life without a commitment.

ps. Quoted from http://mydandelionisaflower.org/did-you-know/

Sardines

2011-07-21T06:45:00.004-05:00

"Here Livy, have half!"
Angelica tore the dead sardine in half and gave it to her sister.
Fish guts hung to her fingers.
The older gentleman nearby winced.

Bill, Angelica's dad chuckled.
The family was at Sea World in San Antonio.
It was time to feed the dolphins and sardines were $6 for four.

Steep prices for a bit of fun.
Bill did it anyway.
Angelica had just lost her mom.

Bill and Lisa adopted both Angelica and Livy when their birth mom left one morning.
Then Lisa contracted cancer.
Bill frequently stopped by our convent to mow the yard because "he wanted to give back to the Lord a little bit."

Now Angelica and Livy had lost another mom.
$150 Sea World tickets were not too much.
$6 sardines were not too much.

Angelica and Livy may have lost two moms but God sent a father with four golden hearts.

Photo credit: http://blog.isango.com/2009/07/13/seaworld-orlando/

Impenetrable

2011-07-19T07:30:00.004-05:00

"Vân, you can't snap a candid picture of us!"
"Why not? Y'll working hard," I replied rascally.

We had just finished cleaning up the banquet hall when these set of sisters dived into the evening meal's preparation. The reception for the Profession Mass had gone well and they were preparing the rau muống, or water spinach.

"Here, take it again. Now we're going to smile... because we are enjoying our work!!!" Sr. Mary said sportfully. Although these five sisters wore black and a different cross than ours, they were from our religious community's motherhouse in Vietnam. It was the first time so many of them could attend our celebration.

"Well, one must be grateful that one can prepare this vegetable without permission," I commented impishly after the photo.
"What do you mean?" Sr. Mary asked in amazement. Although they have been in the United States for over a year, many of the nation's laws still baffle them.
"Rau muống or ipomoea aquatica, is considered a federal noxious weed. If the plant grows in Houston, Texas and we were to bring it up here to Missouri, it would be illegal."
"Seriously Vân, our ancestors have eaten this for generations... what could be so wrong about it?"
"And the Thais, Japanese, Malaysians,and Filipinos eat it too. It's because once the plant begins to grow in drainage and flood control canals, it becomes impenetrable. In other parts, the thick veins of the plant creates water stagnation which encourages mosquitoes."
"Geez..." Sr. Mary said slowly. The rest of the sisters listened in startled silence.

"So, the lesson of the rau muống for us is to be not too impenetrable or else others will need a permit to be around us!" The sisters broke out laughing at my observation.

ps. Photo of our sisters in the kitchen.
ps2. More about water spinach http://www.worldcrops.org/crops/Water-Spinach.cfm
http://www.iisgcp.org/exoticsp/waterspinach.htm

Profession

2011-07-17T08:37:00.000-05:00

"What is profession of vows?" Sr. Cecilia Hiền's little guest asked wonderingly.
Dainty pink ruffles filled out 6-year-old Xuân's dress. About a hundred family and friends of Sr. Faustina Ánh Tuyết and Sr. Cecilia Hiền gather at St. Agnes Cathedral in Springfield, Missouri for their profession of vows.

"This is a profession, although many out there would consider it to be a job!"
Although it has been over 8 years since I received my teaching degree, I can still hear Dr. Loncar's insistence.
"Who are the people daring to say it takes little skill and knowledge to manage 20-plus bodies, eight hours a day? Let them do the job!" she said steadily.

A profession is a line of work requiring academic or practical preparation.
A job is work.

"Profession is to tell the whole world what you think," I replied carefully, hoping the answer wouldn't be too abstract.
"You mean, Sr. Cecilia wants to tell me that she is happy being a sister?" Xuân asked.
"You got it ma'am!"
She grinned broadly.

Profession meaning "skilled work"originated in the early 15th century.
Profession meaning "public declaration" which led to "vows taken upon entering a religious order" originated in the 12th century.

As sisters, we profess vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience.
What is your profession?

ps. Photo of Sr. Faustina receiving the gray veil as the sign of her profession.
ps2. Video of the First and Silver Vows - June 11, 2011.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJOSYSl-gmo&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL

Press

2011-07-15T16:02:00.000-05:00

"Janine, your order came in!" Sr. Gwen called from the bottom of the stairs.
I had just gotten back from my family visit.

"What order?"
A week of conferences in Springfield, two weeks with family, a week on the grounds of Kings House Retreat Center, and several flights were topmost in my memory.

"Someone had rang the doorbell and I found this at our door," Sr. Gwen explained.
I looked at the brochures in disbelief.

It was my first time doing business with this copy center and I was glad it was not too far from our convent. Although it was a little after noon in June, the heat was barely tolerable.

"Everything looks good... however, the bottom part of this column doesn't look quite right."
"Oh, how should it look?"
"Well, it is suppose to be a gradual increase of the shade of orange. This looks algae green to me. Is that what you see?"
"You are right," John Gwartney replied. "That is a block of green. It really depends on what program you use to design the brochure. Sometimes it translates differently onto paper."
"Well, I did print about 25 copies at home from our color printer and it doesn't look like this. Then, we figured out that is probably cheaper to have you do it, so that is why we sent the order to you."

"Oh?" John slowly replied.
"If you still have the file, we can look at it on your computer screen. I used Publisher and that software is usually "what you see is what you get."

"You're right. It's not green on the screen. Let's print out a test page."
A minute later, our community's brochure slid out. The distinctive algae-green block was still present. "That is interesting," John murmured.

"I'll take and pay for the brochures. Please don't worry about it. The green does not take too much away from the overall look. I am just concerned about your printing press. There might be something interesting going on there."

"Hmmm... we haven't noticed anything before..." John continued pensively.
"It is okay... my boss will not have a problem with it," I reassured him.
I was not just referring to Sr. Jacinta, my superior, but my BOSS, the Guy Upstairs. Although it was relatively a small print job (the total cost was not more than $150.00 and with the economy doing poorly), I did not want John to lose his job.

"We can offer you a 10% discount."
"Oh, well that is a good first impression," I exclaimed.
"No, it is not. You didn't get what you wanted," John remarked dryly.

I smiled quietly to acknowledge his integrity and quickly paid.
This was over a month ago.
I did think much more of the incident.

Mistakes happen in any business.
I was not expecting for my order to be completely re-done correctly, delivered to our convent door, and without cost.

I was impressed.
Although the name of the shop was "Minuteman Press," I was treated with more than a minute's attention.

ps. Irving's Minuteman Press website http://www.irving.minutemanpress.com/

Temple

2011-05-31T06:59:00.001-05:00

Her life-story turned movie, earned 7 Emmy Awards in 2010.
That very same year, Time Magazine named her as one of the 100's World's Most Influential People. She's a world-wide lecturer and an author of 10 books.

Author.
Activist.
Autistic.

Yes, autistic.
Those are the opening words to the movie's trailer.
Temple Grandin's life was defined and continues to be defined by this complex developmental brain disorder.

"People are always looking for the single magic bullet that will totally change everything. There is no single magic bullet."

Perhaps her mom above all else understood these words.
Temple was unable to speak until three and doctors recommended she be committed to the mental institution. Eustacia, instead, chose to embrace her daughter's unpredictable bursts of anger, normal symptoms of autistic children. She read to Temple daily, hired a caregiver to play with her constantly, and enrolled her in a speech therapy class.

It was a lonely and long journey.
Temple's dad chose to not get involved.
Eventually, her parents divorced.

Yet, a mother's love knows her child.
Temple invented the squeeze machine which many clinics use to calm down autistic patients.
She also made innovations to a cattle chute in which McDonald's, the largest processors of beef, are using because of its effectiveness. Temple eventually earned a Ph.D in Animal Science and was awarded an honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters from Duke University.

A mother's love knows her child.
And a good child does not forget this.

Temple Grandin was at the Emmy awards.
The movie was nominated for seven awards and won five.
The movie's cast and producer thanked Temple for her life.

In reply, Temple said, "Mother, stand up. I know you're nervous, but please stand up," Temple said, pointing to Eustacia Cutler. She stood, full of joy, as her daughter was recognized.

Perhaps "Temple Grandin" is a movie about a successful scientist.
Or a mother's love.

Temple would agree either way.

Photo: Claire Danes as Temple Grandin.
Post dedicated to my mom and Mary, on the feastday of her Visitation.

Wobbles

2011-05-30T10:43:00.006-05:00

"How do you like it?" Trúc asked me.
"I like it. There's less friction," I answered with a smile. It also means it's going to be easier to fall, I thought to myself.

The Galleria ice rink was still empty at 10am on Saturday.
It was my first time ice skating and everyone has always told me that it was like rollerblading.
With less friction.

The oldest pair of skates date was found at the bottom of a lake in Switzerland.
It was made from the leg bones of a large animal and holes were bored at each end of the bone. Leather straps were used to tie the skates on. The skates are from 3000 BC.

"Don't get too near me. I like to fall," I warned a five-year-old as he coasted past me.
"I know," he replied immediately.
I had to smile at young children's ability to be frank and cherubic simultaneously.

The rink is in the center ground level of the mall and all three levels of the mall faced into it. Many people stopped to watch us.
I wobbled my way past an 8-year-old ice-skating pro, a middle-age mom spending time with her teen, and a 3-year-old taking lessons.

I didn't care I looked silly.
For every minute of wobbles, I had a few seconds of floating.
Perhaps that is why the people of long-ago did ice-skating.

For life is made of wobbles.
And floating for those who want to take part.

Photo: Later, the Galleria had professional ice skaters entertain the mall crowd.

Passion

2011-05-28T22:42:00.005-05:00

"Carlos, I saw a flower near our Lady of La Vang shrine. I've never seen anything like it. Would you know its name?"
"Yes, I know what you're talking about... I just can't remember it. Give me a minute. Let's wait for Kirk to be done on the phone. He's our property manager," Carlos, the center's secretary replied.

Circle Lake Retreat Center was a comfortable 4 1/2 hour drive from Irving. Quaint 11 mph signs lined its roads and small wooden bridges took us over the small lake.

"Passion flower... it's quite common here in Texas. It has a whole story about it and all, how it is like Jesus' Passion," Kirk remarked as he looked at the purple petals.

That morning, the flower had frightened me with its unusual shape.

Five petals and five sepals represented the ten apostles,
leaving out Judas the betrayer and Peter the denier.
The three pistil stigmas are the nails,
the five stamens represent the number of Jesus' wounds.
The corolla resembles Jesus' crown of thorns.
When the flowers are spent after a single day, (the time Jesus spent on the cross),
the petals do not drop from the vine but re-close over the ovary,
and this is like Jesus enclosed in the tomb,
symbolizing the Hidden Wisdom that constitutes the Mysteries of the Cross.

The first time I heard of the Passion of Jesus, I was sure I heard wrongly.
Doesn't passion mean "strong sexual desire" or "lust"?
In Vietnamese, Jesus' last moments on earth was called "sự thương khó", literally "the suffering agony" of Jesus.

What does passion have to do with Jesus?
Passion means "any compelling or strong emotion."
The most fundamental passion is love, aroused by the attraction of the good. Love causes a desire for the absent good. When one obtains it, one experiences the passion of pleasure and joy of the good possessed. The apprehension of evil causes hatred, aversion, and fear of the impending evil; this movement ends in sadness at some present evil, or in the anger that resists it. (Catechism of the Catholic Church 1765)

What are you doing with your passion?
Desiring a good?
Sorrow at some evil?
Anger to fight an evil and obtain the good?
“Resentment is like taking poison and hoping the other person dies.” ~ St. Augustine

Jesus used his passion to accept our weakness and gift us with his power.
What are you doing with your passion?

More info on the passion flower:
http://www.simonhoadalat.com/suyniem/suyniem/MuaChay&PhucSinh/14HoaThuongKho.htm
http://plantsinmotion.bio.indiana.edu/plantmotion/flowers/passionflower/passion.html

Figs

2011-05-21T11:36:00.005-05:00

"If I had some time, I would race you to your car."
They both smiled at each other.

It was not second-graders teasing each other after school.
It was after 5:30pm Mass at Holy Family Church.
The aspirants and I had spent the morning painting and sealing our wooden fence.

Fig bushes lined the parish's grounds.
Who would've known figs were as happy to grow in Irving as in Jesus' homeland?

Figs are one of the first fruits cultivated in Asia Minor. For a time, the Greek government forbade the export of figs to insure themselves of a good outcome at the Olympics. Dried figs are about 60% sugar and humans could probably live on figs alone.

"You would race me?" he replied as sport-fully, his hunch-backed frame leaning on his cane.
"Anytime," the first returned, his silver eyebrows raised slyly.

They both hobbled in opposite directions.
Perhaps figs did not help them to retain their health in these senior years.
However, their spirits gave me a sugar-rush more than any fig.

ps. Photo credit www.keepbelieving.com

Security

2011-05-16T09:22:00.000-05:00

"The security of this nation is very much in your hands."
An audience of over 500 graduates, family, and friends listened, spellbound.

Jon Fleming, commencement speaker was not speaking to West Point cadets. He was addressing University of Texas Arlington's College of Education graduates.

"You are responsible for the welfare of this country as much as the soldiers, sailors, army, Navy, SEALS. You see, the Great Seal of the United States has a bald eagle, one talon is holding a bunch of arrows. The other is holding an olive branch. Education is in the realm of this olive branch. And today, this branch is wilting. Our society is in disarray. Our families are breaking apart. And our schools are hurting."

Three months ago, I did not want to be part of this graduation ceremony.
I did not attend my own college graduation and saw no sense in sitting through a formality.
No one ever got their diploma the day of their graduation because grades weren't done and everyone knew the diploma would come through mail.
Besides, it cost at least $50 to attend your own graduation.

I appreciated Jon Fleming's frankness about our public education system and his fearlessness in reminding of education's complimentary might with military muscle. I wondered if Jon knew that in the final design of the Great Seal by Charles Thomson, the olive branch was placed in the eagle's stronger right talon and faced the eagle toward it.

"Years ago, when our nation was expanding and we were moving west, every single time a town was established, four persons were sent. They were called the four learned professionals: a minister, a doctor, a lawyer, and a teacher. This is the framework of how every town of our society was built. The law, the health, the spiritual, and the education of our people."

I had come in support of Trúc, one of our aspirants, and her accomplishment in achieving a Bachelors of Science in Interdisciplinary Studies.
I found myself reminded of the great need of the 21st century.

Truth.
Truth unadulterated by money and power.

Jesus, the Good Teacher, would agree with Jon Fleming's rousing ending.
"Go forth and teach the world." (cf Matthew 28:20)

ps. Photo credit Great Seal of the United States http://www.statesymbolsusa.org/National_Symbols/USA_Seal.html

Thirteen

2011-05-13T10:39:00.000-05:00

Most buildings don't have a 13th floor.
"$700-$800 million dollars are lost every Friday the 13th because of people's refusal to travel, purchase major items or conduct business."
Although the Thirteenth Club was established to dispel number 13's superstition and includes five U.S. presidents, triskaidekaphobia still abounds.

Triskaidekaphobia.
Fear of the number 13.
In 1700 BC, Hammurabi had it because his code omits number 13.

On the 13th in the month of Adar, approximately 480 BC, the Jews were scheduled for execution by the scheming Haman. Esther, the beautiful (and unknown Jewess) queen, urged her people to pray and fast. She herself put away her royal garments and perfume, prayed, and fasted.

After three days, Esther put on her finest attire and approached the royal throne. No one was allowed to see King Xerxes without being invited. He was indignant but miraculously spared her life. She invited him and Haman to dinner that night.

"Now what is my queen's request?" King Xerxes asked.
"If it pleases you, let you and Haman come again to another banquet I will prepare tomorrow," Esther replied.

That night, the king could not sleep and ordered a history of his reign to be read to him. He discovered that Mordecai, Esther's uncle, had once saved his life and had not been rewarded. The next morning, King Xerxes commanded Haman to bestow orders on Mordecai.

"Again, what is your request? If you wish for half the kingdom, it is yours," King Xerxes asked again at the second banquet. At this point, Esther revealed Haman's hypocrisy and her nationality. In a rage, King Xerxes executed Haman on the gibbet that Haman wanted to kill Mordecai and revoked the decree of extermination against the Jewish nation. (Book of Esther)

In our own times, beginning on May 13, 1917, there was the beginning of six apparitions of Mary in Fatima, Portugal. Some say these are deceptions or hoaxes.
In the last apparition, October 13, 1917, more than 70,000 people including communists and atheists, saw the sun twirl in the sky, radiate colors, and descend to the earth. This event was reported in the New York Times and newspapers around the world.

Mary came with the message, "Repent, pray, and do penance so that there may be peace."
Many will view this message with the same joking condescension as triskaidekaphobia.
For how many of us have seen more world peace?

And how many of us have started to live Mary's message?

Photo credit: http://photos.igougo.com/pictures-photos-p291802-Our_Lady_of_Fatima.html
More on Our Lady of Fatima: http://www.fatima.org/
More on the history of the 13th:

http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1879288,00.html#ixzz1M9af9D4T

Opus

2011-05-11T22:41:00.001-05:00

"Sister, would you like for us to get you anything?"
The couple had a bucket of popcorn between them.

"Oh no, no... thank you! That is very thoughtful of you. I am fine," I murmured as the lights were dimmed in the theater. Good friends had bought us tickets for "There Be Dragons" last Friday evening.

Dragons.
One wonders how well the dragons were tamed in the show.
And so, one does what Josemaria Escriva would've done.
“My role is to hide and disappear, so that only Jesus shines forth.”

Half of the movie was suppose to be about Josemaria.
He got 25% the most.
And he's the one that actually existed, from 1902 to 1976.

Manolo, his antithesis in the movie, got 60% share of the movie.
And is fake, a made-up character.
And his dragons roam further than the movie screen. Anger, jealousy, obsession.

“My role is to hide and disappear, so that only Jesus shines forth.”
It seems as if Josemaria Escriva did disappear from the story line.
Yet, he tamed his dragons. His group, Opus Dei, has more than 90,000 member worldwide.

Opus Dei.
The last time Hollywood mentioned Opus Dei, it was for Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code, a blatantly inaccurate historical novel and movie. It is even misunderstood by its Catholic peers.

Perhaps because its founder, Josemaria Escriva, always understood that every good work will encounter difficulties. Especially the Work of God (English translation of the Latin word, "Opus Dei").

Since even Jesus himself was misunderstood.
"These works that I perform testify on my behalf." (John 5:36)

More about Saint Josemaria Escriva and Opus Dei: http://www.josemariaescriva.info/section/biographical-profile

Photo credit: www.allmoviephoto.com Actress Olga Kurylenko as Ildiko...

Farewells

2011-04-19T20:41:00.006-05:00

He stopped in mid-sentence.
Not a child or adult stirred.

His face was beet red.
His voice was choked.

No one had to search Fr. Peter Tân's face. We all knew he was crying. It was the way he was.

A man of tears.
It worried a lot of parishioners that a priest who could cry so frequently in front of his flock would not be able to lead a parish.

They forgot that Jesus wept. (John 11:15)
They forgot that Jesus never had a one-year, three-year, or five-year plan.
They forgot that Jesus, the high priest, never built a multi-million dollar facility.

Jesus came to sick people's houses.
Jesus blessed and held little children.
Jesus asked his friends and followers to have a little more faith.

That is why tears flowed freely at St. Peter's Vietnamese Catholic Parish the past Sunday.
They knew they were losing a good priest.
Hours and weeks poured into the farewell Mass and reception.

This week we're losing another good priest.
One who told good stories.
One who worked late and woke up early.
One who risked his reputation to win a prostitute's trust.

He's leaving this Friday.
Every year, for over 2000 years, he's left this Friday.

Will you come and bid him farewell?
He "leaves" when the lives of many babies are taken before they are given a chance to live.
He "leaves" when so many women and men intentionally or unintentionally hurt themselves by rejecting motherhood and fatherhood.

Here are two ways to bid him farewell.
Come to Greenville Avenue in Dallas at noon.
https://www.prolifedallas.org/files/Good_Friday_Stations_of_the_Cross_April_22_2011.pdf
Come to South Henderson in Fort Worth at 1pm.

The third way can be any day.
Come to church and look upon the cross.

Are you coming to say farewell?

ps. Photo credit http://web-page-development.com/Harmony/Gallery/slideshow.php?set_albumName=

ps2. For more information on praying for the unborn on the Fort Worth side:
On Friday, April 22nd, the annual Good Friday Prayer Vigil with Bishop Kevin
Vann, hosted by Catholics United for Life and Mother and Unborn Baby
Care, will be held at 1:00pm at Planned Parenthood, 301 S. Henderson, Ft.
Worth. Please plan to attend and pray for an end to abortion.

Laugh

2011-04-15T10:28:00.004-05:00

I bit into the soft chestnut-colored pit.
An acrid bitter taste filled my mouth.

"Thu, have you ever eaten a boiled avocado pit before," I asked her calmly.
"Oh no! I just thought if we could eat a durian or a jackfruit pit, we could eat this too!" she replied enthusiastically.

I continued to chew the avocado pit with relish, hiding my spontaneous distaste of its harsh aroma.
"Wow! Well, when I was boiling it, the water turned a gorgeous burnt sienna color."

"Let me cut off a little piece and enjoy it." Sr. Leslie Thu popped it in her mouth and I watched carefully. She wrinkled her face in horror and ran into the kitchen to grab a piece of chocolate to wipe out the avocado seed's pungent aftertaste.

The other sisters at the table watched in surprise.
I burst out laughing.

"Oh, Thu!!! Gotcha!!! How could I let this opportunity go!" I cried out.
"Geez Van, you look so calm eating that pit. Who would've guessed it was gross," one of the sister commented.

"Oh, for a good laugh!" I replied.

Laugh.
The name, "Isaac" means "laughed." Isaac was the son born to Abraham and Sarah when they both near 100 or beyond. They had "laughed" at God for promising a baby when they were so old. Their life was filled with "laughter" because God did the impossible and brought them joy. (Genesis 17:17 http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/genesis/genesis17.htm#foot4)

Have you had a good "Isaac" today?
Don't let go of an opportunity to give yourself and others a good Isaac/laugh!

ps. The avocado seed does contain toxins that are harmful to animals. There has not been enough studies to show if it is poisonous to humans. I did get a huge headache last night. However, laughter is the best medicine.

ps2. Photo credit: http://whatscookingamerica.net/avacado.htm
ps3. From the same website, an interesting trivia:

The Spanish conquistadors also discovered a unique use for the avocado seed. The seed yields a milky liquid that becomes red when exposed to air. The Spaniards found they could use this reddish brown or even blackish indelible liquid as ink to be used on documents. Some of these documents are still in existence today.

It's the Cheese

2011-04-13T15:44:00.005-05:00

Beep, beep, beep.
Blinking red light.

"Ma'am, please step aside." The airport security official motioned to me firmly. I smiled pleasantly and thought: who knows a terrorist might travel as a nun.

It was curious how I would set off the metal detector because the other nuns in my community never had a problem. You know we wear the same thing!

As I was waiting for a female officer to pat me down, my suitcase got nabbed too.
I began to get worried.
Sr. Irene Khanh had insisted that I bring back presents to Irving.
It meant that besides my clothes, books, and laptop, I was also carrying two packages of American sharp cheddar cheese.

The usual kind.
The kind they sell at Walmart.
One knows better than to argue with Sr. Irene. It's like arguing with your aunt when she knits you an orange and purple scarf. Sister Irene was adamant that it was just cheese and I would be fine. Why am I creating a fuss when I know my sisters in Irving would enjoy it?

The officers dug deep into my baggage.
The culprits finally appeared, double-wrapped carefully in a ziplock bag.
The officers looked at each other and nodded.
"It's the cheese."

Sr. Irene would be so disappointed if the cheese did not make it through.
Despite my anxiety, I could hardly keep a smile off my face as they meticulously probed it with a round white pad and gloved hands.

Both the cheese and I made it through.
"Until now you have not asked anything in my name; ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete." (John 16:24)

Even in the little things, our Father in heaven will give us.
Sometimes we just don't think to ask.
And we lose out on the small joys of life.

ps. April is Cheese Month! Enjoy! Photo credit: http://www.wineandleisure.com/cheesepairing.html ps2. By the way, cheese is recommended to be put in a checked bag. http://www.tsa.gov/travelers/airtravel/holiday.shtm

Bound

2011-04-11T14:43:00.004-05:00

"I want communion."
She looked at me steadily.

"I wish I could, ma'am. But I didn't bring Jesus with me today," I said as steadily.
"I've been here since March. I can't wait to get out of here," she continued.

"I need communion too," her husband added.

It had taken Trúc and I 30 minutes to get to the rehab center when it was usually only a 3 minute drive. We were about to give up on the confusing detour signs. Until we saw another car drive the wrong way down the street and decided upon the same risk.

We were about to leave the center when I heard a distinct comment.
"Look, some nuns are leaving."
Doris Jahn was wrapped in a soft tan afghan and did not appear any less formidable for being wheelchair-bound.

"One nun, ma'am. One nun. My sister here is still in training," I turned around and said pleasantly, pointing to my aspirant Trúc. Every resident we encountered at the rehab center was an enigma. One could never tell if they were unstable because they were mentally incapacitated or they chose to be incapacitated out of despair.

"I want communion," Doris repeated.
"Besides us, there are others who want it too. It's like, we're inmates here," Carl, her husband murmured.

It was suppose to be a short visit to the rehab center because Trúc was busy. The detour had drained time. We had already visited a friend whom we both knew before she suffered brain damage. I was going to return another day to visit my other two "regulars."

Then we met Doris.
"I want communion."

She said this unabashedly.
She said this three times in our fifteen-minute conversation.

She was referring to Holy Communion, when Catholics receive Jesus in the Eucharist.
Most people think of Jesus in the bread and the wine.

Communion (communio) in Latin means fellowship.
To know the other fellow is on the same ship with you.
The ship of human frailty, human wonderings, and human yearnings.

Yearnings which refuse to be wheel-chair bound.
Or time-bound.
Or earthbound.

I wondered what Lazarus felt when he walked out of his tomb that day.
He had been dead for four days.
He smelled awful. (John 11:1-45)

He was bound in strips of cloth.
And Jesus had told his friends to unbound him.
Yet, he knew he was going to die again anyways.

I wondered what he let bound him.
Strips of cloth? Time? Earth?

I wondered what I bound others in.
I wondered what I bound myself in.

Are you truly free, living in this land of the free and the home of the brave?
Are you brave enough to be free?

ps. Explanation of picture:
The caterpillar, bound by the cocoon, becomes free in the end.

Reflections on a Loofah

2011-04-07T16:16:00.003-05:00

The magic of reaching
for the sky
is to wrap your pale green arm
around this metal
and here -
a net of soft balance.

You are a climber
have some faith
reach through the empty space.

Photo from a budding loofah garden at the convent.

Out of the Way

2011-04-04T10:36:00.006-05:00

The hospital orderly I asked didn't look too happy when he handed over his iPhone for me to borrow. As I was on the phone, an older gentleman gently waved his badge at us: "Chaplain"

"I am a Zen Buddhist, studying catechism with a Jesuit priest, and graduated with a masters of divinity from a Church of Christ seminary."
"And I'm Sr. Janine," I smiled in return.
"Do you know where you need to be?" he asked helpfully.
"Yes, I am go to back to where I got off the train."

"May I ask you where you are from?"
"Oh, you mean my ethnicity? I'm Vietnamese!"
"That's what I thought. I studied with Thích Nhất Hạnh. May I walk you back?"

I was in Saint Louis for a training workshop and decided to take the train to our convent instead of having my sisters pick me up from the airport, saving them an hour of rush traffic. After 40 minutes of watching others getting picked up and dropped off, I decided to find a pay phone. There was none on this side of the building.

"If it is not out of your way."
"We are having a pleasant talk, so maybe this is the way."
"Your master will be happy with you."
"Jesus, the Master teaches all to walk the Way."

I had to chuckle.
I had forgotten my companion did receive his Masters in Christian studies.
Before Christians were known as "Christians" in Antioch (Acts 11:26), we were known as the People of the Way (Acts 9:2) for Jesus said "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6).

"You know, I'm not surprised that I'm in this predicament. Sr. Irene Khanh is famous in our community for not being clear with directions. She had told me to get off the train and stand in front of the hospital. She didn't tell me whether it was North or South entrance! Now, I know I wasn't suppose to turn right or left!"

He laughed softly at my jovial frankness.
"Yes, you weren't suppose to be at North or South, but right in the center."

We shook hands and I watched him disappear into the evening crowd.
I suppose I would've saved myself an hour if I did carry a cell phone.
The brisk wind cut through my jacket and gloved hands.
The laptop on my shoulders was beginning to feel heavy.

"Sister, I'm Randall. Would you pray for me?" He had re-wound his steps to look for me.
"Yes..."
"Please do. I am soul, broken and needing healing." He gently pressed my hands and walked away.

I suppose I would've saved myself an hour if I did carry a cell phone.
Then, I won't have been in the center and met a fellow comrade on this journey of life.

ps. Photo is of the Arch in Saint Louis, Missouri

Friends and Fools

2011-04-01T12:21:00.004-05:00

"On the first day of marriage prep, I would say: Welcome to class. You have chosen your cross."
The fifty-plus audience members laughed appreciatively.
We were at the Lynch Auditorium at the University of Dallas and Father John McDermott,SJ was invited to speak this year in the John Paul II lecture series.

"Yes, men and women do think differently. And once, the romantic stage is passed, you will encounter problems." The topic was "Marriage as the Primordial Sacrament."

"According to Nicomachean Ethics, there are three types of friendship." Father John paused slightly. "Friendships of utility, friendships of pleasure, friendships of virtue."

"Utility is a relationship of convenience, pleasure is delight in the company of another. Those would not last. Friendship of virtue? Well, it lasts because virtue is both useful and pleasurable."

Today is a day in which we honor fools.
Because we play the fool.
And we let others play the fool.

To our friends and family.
Usually only to our friends and family.
Because something vulnerable is revealed in a prank.

Our turn-of-phrases.
Our habits.
Our idiosyncrasies.

They may not be bad.
They may not be good.
They do reveal the unique you.

So, they can laugh. And we, too.

If you can't play the fool today (or let yourselves be fooled), then what kind of friendship are you in?

Photo courtesy of www.lovingwhisper.com

Details

2011-03-30T10:34:00.003-05:00

Blueberries for breakfast.
Sliced oranges in the iced tea.
Stir-fried broccoli and beef within minutes from the heat.

This was not the Ritz-Carlton Luxury Hotel.
It was the "Triple-T" cooking team for our Confirmation Retreat.
Chị Thủy, Chị Tường, Chị Thoa.

"Sơ, I can't believe this is camp food!" Annie murmured as she slowly gulped down the hot bow-tie soup. "At our camps, I always had to live on instant noodles for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snack!"

"It is amazing, isn't it?" I agreed as I watched her and the youth dive into the sumptuous fare.
To make the retreat feasible, the youth was charged a minimum registration fee.
It was hard to expect anything more than pizza or instant noodles.

I was in for a delightful surprise as chicken curry and freshly squeezed orange juice was for breakfast. Snack was home-made chocolate cookies, strawberries, and wedges of oranges laid out in formation. The Tripe-T team even made a Walmart run as some of the youth craved their cereal and popcorn!

Yes, we did many activities and heard many talks about God's love.
And God's love was in action.
Especially in the kitchen the past weekend.

"Even all the hairs of your head are counted. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows," Jesus said. (Matthew 10:30-31)

God does notice the details.
Like how sausage and eggs are not cereal.
Like how cookies are not popcorn.
Do not be afraid.

God is probably your Triple-T team.

ps. Looking at the bottom right-hand corner photo:
From Left to Right: Chị Thoa, Chị Thủy, Chị Tường

Give In

2011-03-09T09:23:00.004-06:00

"Good morning, sinner!"
Pause.
"And you too!"
They both chuckled uproariously.

We were stepping into St. Luke's for Ash Wednesday Mass and Sr. Jacinta Ngân was saying hi to her good friend, Frances Edwards. Only these two could greet each other in this way.

It may not be a bad way to greet a good friend.
Notwithstanding priceless qualities, good friends know the other has faults.

Remember that you are dust and to dust, you will return.
Turn away from sin and be faithful to the gospel.

The church greets us with these two sayings at the beginning of Lent.
Then marks our foreheads with itchy sooty dust.

Good friends do this for each other.
They point out our mistakes.
Then accompany us on the path to wholeness.

Our task is to admit our faults.
Give up the vice.
Give in to God's waiting love.

What are you giving up?
What do you want to give in to?

Power

2011-03-08T11:28:00.003-06:00

2 keyboards.
40 pounds of rock.
60 pillar candles.
A Flavia coffee brewer.

2 car trunks, 2 truck loads, and 2 vans of supplies.
We were prepared to help 24 youth make contact with God.

My eyes opened in horror.
The power supply cord to the projector was missing.
Specifically, forgotten. I knew exactly where it was.
One hour away from where I was standing and the youth was arriving in 20 minutes.

I could wait until the next morning when there was another trip back to civilization.
"Y'll I'm heading out to find a power supply cord."
Oanh looked at me encouragingly.

"With hundreds of people out there using this Camp Copass facility, there has to be an extra power supply cord. Jesus says, "Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find." Let's put this into practice," I explained as I headed out into the darkness.

Michael joined me.
"Joe, I know this sounds really funny, but do you know if anyone in your group have an extra power supply cord for a projector?"
Joe had introduced himself to me when I first arrived at the camp. He was part of the ACTS retreat and wanted to let me know that they had a lodge with Eucharistic Adoration.
"Well, Sister. I don't know," he gently replied.
"I know, most groups only bring one projector with them... and why would anyone bring an extra cord? It doesn't hurt to ask, does it?" I commented.

I stepped in to the chapel for a few moments as Joe ran off to check.
"Sister, I'm sorry. We just don't have an extra one."
"It's okay. It is my fault that I forgot anyways."
"Well, I know there is another group here and you can ask Ben to help," Joe continued.
"Hmm.. what does he look like?"

The night was pitch dark.
"Ben Arayos.... he's kinda tall with a beard... oh, there he is," Joe said suddenly.

"Ben? I'm Sr. Janine!" I extended my hand to the silhouette.
"Hello Sister! How are you?"
"I'm well... I am doing something very crazy by asking if you have an extra power supply cord for a projector. I know most groups only bring one projector and then, there's only the cord for that projector... I'm just going by what Jesus says, "Ask and you shall receive."
I could tell Ben worked a lot of with youth because his calm expression did not change one bit. Youth will always come up with the strangest propositions.

We walked into their cabin.
Amazing Grace.
The name of their cabin.

"This, Sister?"
Ben waved a black cord in his hand.
"Yes!!!"

Who would've guessed out of the six groups, 400 individuals, and 11 lodgings at Camp Copass, I would find a projector power supply cord in 15 minutes?

Even with preparation down to the last detail, we had other mishaps.
Yet, I knew who was in charge of the retreat.
And He wasn't going to let anything get in the way of giving His children His gift.

Joy.

That was also the name of our cabin.
How?
Amazing grace.
The name of the cabin in which we found power.

Photo: Us around our cooking concoctions!

Loofah

2011-03-01T14:38:00.006-06:00

Before loofah was in, Dad had already stuck it in our kitchen, restroom, and patio.
We were horrified to see this beige vegetable "carcass" used to scrub our dishes, bodies, and barbecue grills.
Of course, this was back in the early 90s when green wasn't in yet.

Now, a decent natural loofah sponge costs you $5.
And Dad gets to tease us, "It took Americans 20 years to catch up to me!"
And the Vietnamese.

Ocean, my brother called me the other day.
We're planning my parents' wedding anniversary this summer.
I asked him if things would change any since another sibling just lost his job.

"No, Chị Vân! We give what we can. Mom and Dad went through a lot for us. It don't have to be a big shindig. You know when they did their 25th, we were too little to organize anything. Now is our time."

"And however Dad wants to do it, we do it! It's their day!" Ocean continued.
We both chuckled. Dad was certainly a character.

But no one could deny he was a selfless hard worker.
For this, we honor him.
For this, we honor Saint Joseph in the month of March.

ps. Photo credit www.wanderingchopsticks.blogspot.com ps2. Dad's garden typically yielded 70 - 100 loofahs every summer. Plenty of sponges for the year!

JB

2011-02-25T10:04:00.000-06:00

"Sơ, you ditched us!" Melissa did not even turn around to look at me.
"No... I went visiting," I stuttered in surprise.

"Sơ, the kids are mad at you!" Phúc informed me frankly.
"When you went up there with that other family, I just wanted to grab your rock and put it in our pile!" Melissa continued honestly in an irritated tone.

I was suddenly thrown into confusion and sadness.
The night before, at the opening activity of the Ephata retreat, these group of kids had spontaneously adopted me to be their "aunt." We were the JB family, aka Justin Bieber or Jesus da Boss.

Never say Never.
That's what Justin sang.
That's what we'll say to God.

I did not think they were serious.
So, I joined another group for the rock activity.

Boy, was I wrong!
"You think you'll disown me?" I asked David.
"I think we already did," he replied simply. He was the first to give me the invitation.

Anger is a sign of love.
That's what I learned in psychology at college.
That's what I reminded others when they came for advice.

It doesn't seem like love when 7 teenagers are mad at you all at once.
And in those moments (9 hours - I counted), it seemed like they hated me.
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." (Elie Wiesel)

I finally I had a chance to tell them I knew they were mad.
I told them that anger is a sign of love.
Of course they believed me.
And forgave me.

Who hasn't been angry?
I am proud to be their "aunt."
I have "nieces and nephews" willing to be honest.
Willing to forgive.

The best gift I received at Ephata retreat.
Dedicated to my JB family.
Never say never.

Photo of our JB family drawing the words "Piety." Piety is a gift of the Holy Spirit and it means one can see God everywhere and in anything. By the way, the two persons at the end are exclamation marks. God is everywhere and in anything!!

Negebah

2011-02-18T07:02:00.002-06:00

"So, Rachel what did you learn from the rally?"
I looked at her from my rear-view mirror.
Highway 30 was relatively empty for a Saturday night.

The youth knew I would be asking each and every one of them this question.
They had given up a Saturday and I wanted to make sure they would carry one piece of wisdom with them for the rest of their life.

"Negebah... the Hebrew word for woman... it means open... and that is who we are..."
Rachel's voice trailed off softly.
They had divided us into two groups, guys and gals, and given us individual talks.

"Negebah.... the Hebrew word for woman... even the sound of the word sounds womanly."
Stephanie Balser, our girls-only speaker, declared emphatically.
"Bà... of course, it's like Vietnamese," I whispered mischievously to my neighbor.

"Negebah... it also means a multi-faceted gem... like the one on my hand!"
Stephanie continued, flashing her diamond engagement ring proudly.

Multi-faceted.
Not complicated.

Few realize the value of a diamond is not just dependent on its weight (carat).
Color, clarity, and cut matters too.
Cuts or facets allows the brilliance of the diamond to shine through.
Being the hardest substance known to humans, it takes a diamond to cut a diamond.

Who was the Woman who allowed the Light of the world to shine through her?
No one would say she is complicated.
Yet, so multi-faceted, she has over 100 titles.

Mystical rose.
Tower of ivory.
Mother of Christ.
Mirror of justice.
Queen of martyrs.

Mary.
Negebah.
So open, she allowed God into her life and brought Life to the world.

photo credit: http://www.jewelrybloguncovered.com/birthstones_gemstones/april-birthstone-diamond/

Assurance

2011-02-16T21:16:00.004-06:00

"Nathan, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
His mom looked at her youngest son with affection.

"I want to be homeless!" the six-year old replied confidently.
Jessica was taken aback. She herself was nearing completion of a doctoral thesis and her husband was an accomplished engineer.

"Nathan, what do you mean?" she asked soothingly.
"Well, Mom every morning I hear you pray for the homeless and so if I'm homeless, I know you will pray for me!"

Jessica laughed softly to herself.
The innocence of childhood.
The truth of Jesus' promise.

"And whatever you ask in my name, I will do, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask anything of me in my name, I will do it." (John 14: 13-14)

God did answer her prayers.
She prayed for others not to be homeless physically.
Who would've guessed God would flip the tables and her little boy knew the greater homelessness is to be without God's presence?

ps. True story as recounted by Sơ Thủy at our dinner table. Names have been changed.
Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alisas/90237540/in/set-72057594052791117/lightbox/

Reality

2011-02-14T11:25:00.004-06:00

"Hello! Here's our binder."
I gently pushed our paperwork across the counter.
"Saint Peter's?"
"Yes, and we need to register one more."

The receptionist smiled at me briefly and started to flip through the pages.
I quickly sent another prayer up.
Our iSPY youth was in the lobby's far corner, anxious for their T-shirts and eager to join the hundreds of youth from all over the Dallas-Fort Worth area milling in the hallways.

The reality was some of these forms were hard to read.
The reality was some of us may not make it through the gate because the paperwork was complex. The reality was it was our group's first participation in a diocesan youth-only event and all of us adults were nervous.

"Saint Peter's?... Here is your bag with the T-shirts, wristbands for dinner, and you can pay for the extra person down that way."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
We were in!

Seven hours later, none of us could say we didn't know the reality of HPV (the most common STD and the most invisible).
Seven hours later, none of us wanted to destroy the purity and mystery of our body because "everyone else was doing it."
Seven hours later, none of us could deny the reality that we were exhausted (we caught one adult chaperone and two youth sleeping during closing Mass on camera)!!!

Like Jason Evert, our keynote speaker shared, purity is the fire that proves love.
If both can stay pure throughout the relationship, it's real love.
Hard to believe, real in its fruits as stats show that those who remain chaste during courting will have a lower 92% of divorce.

Just in case, we forgot this reality, there is a website.
http://www.chastity.com/

And there is God.
And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. (Luke 11:9)

Purity is a gift.
Why not ask God?

It's Valentine Day.
Wishing you all the gift that opens the Gift.
Purity.

photo: Our iSPY youth group.
Dedicated to all our adult volunteers. It was definitely worth the "craziness"!

Reach

2011-02-10T09:20:00.006-06:00

The steaming hot bowl of phở was good. Too good.
Sr. Gwen Huyền's mom was taking advantage of our Tết visit to serve authentic Vietnamese cuisine. The only problem is she is also a traditional Vietnamese mom. The bowl was overly generous and 20 minutes later, I was still working on it with no end in sight.

"Thái! Thái!"
"Whish!!!!!!!!!!"
The three little cousins chased each other rambunctiously through the house.

"He bumped me!" Ellie wailed loudly.
The six-year old held her lips painfully and pointed at the "criminal" accusingly.
Three-year-old Thái looked bewildered.

"He ran into me!" Ellie continued.
Stella, her sister, nodded in agreement.
The kids waited for judgment.

"Thái, say sorry to Ellie," Hằng, his mom, commanded. We didn't know if Thái would do it or not since the kids have been bumping each other boisterously for several minutes without incident.

Thái stepped closer to Ellie.
"I can't reach her," he stated matter-of-factly.
Reach?... we were all bewildered at his remark.

"O Ellie, Thái muốn hôn con," Hằng said. The Vietnamese was going over Ellie's head.
"Ellie, honey, Thái wants to kiss your owie," I explained.

With a startled look, Ellie zipped away from Thái.
"Guess, that solved the problem quickly," I commented.
All the adults burst into laughter.

Reach.
Sometimes, no one can reach our owie to kiss our hurt away.
Sometimes, it is us that won't bend down to let our owies be reached.

A kiss is out there.
Will you let it be in reach?

ps. Ellie is the taller of the two girls.
Photo credit: Courtesy of Ellie and Stella's mom.

Donut

2011-02-05T08:15:00.000-06:00

"Sơ, do you really think donuts are necessary?"
Thầy John's voice rang plaintively over the phone.
"Yes... you need not worry. Oanh will pick them up and bring it to the station. You know how youth are... they're not going to think about eating a good breakfast. Getting them to wake up at 8am on a Saturday morning is a miracle. And I don't want any of them putting on a face during the rally because they're hungry."
"Okay, Sơ..." He didn't sound convinced.

Mass started at 10am.
The cathedral was filled to overflow by 8:30am.
My job was to reserve seats for our youth group and I was met with those who had the same plans. Even the adjacent multi-purpose room only had standing room left.

Bishop Kevin had called for 10,000 to come to the Prolife Rally to commemorate the Roe vs. Wade court case. Dallas-Fort Worth citizens took his word to heart. The church was packed. The march was longer than the estimated 35 minutes. The parking lot for the rally was so full a side street was closed off so that there would be room to hold us.

"iSPY!"
"Jesus!" our youth group responded enthusiastically. It was 11:45am. They were definitely awake by now as they sat on the hard floor through most of the Mass.
"Jesus!" I continued our group's chant.
"Life!" And they knew we were in downtown Dallas two weeks ago because they had life. And wanted others to have life too.

"Now, guys. Are you hungry?!?"
"Yes!" They smiled good-naturedly at me.
"Good... because we have donuts. Y'll take ten minutes to eat okay... lots of persons are going on this march and we are not going to be left behind... however, we do want to go, right?" Our iSPY youth nodded exuberantly.

"Okay, all of you... gather around."
Thầy John in his methodical and efficient fashion quickly got the youth to dig into the donuts and the other snacks.

A smile flitted across my face.
The first to wonder if we were weighing ourselves down with unnecessary baggage on an important trip, Thầy John was also the first to make himself at service.

How myriad are the personalities of our human race!
How sad to never get to see 46 million that have already been ended here in the US.
How encouraging that 18 of our youth did wake up early on a Saturday morning to say "No" to this outrage.

I'm proud of you iSPY!

ps. What has no beginning and no end and nothing in the middle? DONUT!
Seven days without a donut makes one weak.
(Jokes courtesy of http://www.sesamedonuts.com/fun_facts.html)

ps2. Photo of us some of us and our donuts...

ps3. More on the prolife rally in Dallas 2011.
http://www.ncregister.com/daily-news/pro-lifers-walk-and-pray-across-the-country/

Sense

2011-02-04T15:34:00.002-06:00

12.5 inches in 24 hours for Dallas.
The highest record.
That's interesting to weather forecasters.

Four consecutive days of no school.
Students are thrilled. Teachers are ecstatic.
I know. Both live in my community.
That may be interesting to parents.

Bone-weary from 4 weeks of student teaching.
Strained to breaking from almost a year of full-time social work.
That is the scenario for two of my sisters.

So, it makes perfect sense why we have 12.5 inches of snow.
They need rest.
Why would the rest of us refuse this dazzling beauty?

Square Circle

2011-02-03T06:56:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, the only big song in Vietnamese I knew was "Xin Chúa í-a chúc lành..."
Then, I got to the "square circle" part...
"dưỡng nuôi con bao ngày vuông tròn..."
...nurturing me all these years to be square circle...

If you're Vietnamese, you know square circle "vuông tròn" means a healthy pregnancy.
If you're Vietnamese, you know it's Tết... Lunar New Year!
If you're Vietnamese, you know square circle is the best you can be in life.

That's because your parents want your sides to be straight and your corners to be exact.
That's because your parents taught you that everything in life comes full circle.
That's because your parents showed you that beauty has hidden repetition and all the shapes in the world are really squares and circles.

I was always embarrassed that we didn't exchange gifts for Christmas.
I was always worried that someone would find out that my siblings and I were faking it sick for Tết because it was three days long and my parents said in Vietnam they get to stay home for 2 weeks.

My parents still don't give gifts during Christmas.
Although most of us have kids now or pay our own bills, they still teach us to be square circle.

Happy Tết!
Photo credit: http://blog.yume.vn/xem-buzz/tet-nhat.daudendaduong.35A75046.html

Soupçon

2011-01-21T12:15:00.004-06:00

35 minutes there.
35 minutes back.
40 minutes of idleness.

As I felt the electricity pulse through the electrodes into my back, stillness descended upon my mind. A huge golden moon had greeted me last night as I ran some late errands. The innocent prattle of Dr. Chi's three-year-old daughter rang in the hallways.

I wondered how those who have to go to regular medical treatments handle their moments of idleness. Of vulnerability. Of realizing one day our life will not be in our hands.

I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go. (John 21:18)

Jesus' words were addressed to Peter.
Perhaps it meant that Peter will one day die crucified upside down for his Teacher and Master.

Or it may be for me.
An accidental fall on the staircase.
And now, monthly chiropractic care.

Fortunately, I have friends who will do it for free for me.
With a soupçon of banter.

"Geez, Sister. With the way you walk, who would know you have lower back pain!?!"
I had just whizzed into the couch and the office's brochures rustled at my entrance.

"Oh! I guess I'm so use to being on the go! Honestly, my back is giving me problems."
Dr. Kim and Dr. Chi glanced at me good-naturedly.

My back pain will never go away.
Yet, the pain came with acquaintances who turn into friends.

Peter wasn't looking forward to losing his freedom.
Yet, he has gained so many friends who followed in his footsteps throughout the Church's 2000 year history. What a soupçon of greater things to come!

Photo credit: www.chiropractors-san-diego.com

Teddy Bear

2011-01-19T06:48:00.001-06:00

"Dear God,

I love you so much, I want to give you everything. You can have my Mom, my Dad, my sister, my teddy bear. No, I take it back. You can have everyone, but I want to keep my teddy bear."

Love,
Little Boy.

Fr. Roch hardly lost a beat in his lecture of sin as he told his joke.
Sin is putting ourselves above God.
Not willing to let go.

In actuality, God never wants everything.
He just wants the teddy bear.
What we think is necessary.

Photo source: www.funkyfriendsfactory.com

Shamu

2011-01-18T15:01:00.004-06:00

"I don't mean to be sassy, but Shamu is the name of a killer whale at SeaWorld!" His face lit up in a smile and he nodded slowly. "Yes, yes... but I don't think I am named after him," he replied in his bewitching French accent.

That was our first meeting about a year ago. I was taken by the mildness of his manners as he lay confined to his bed, struck by a baffling illness. I came back yesterday to visit.
The Avante Rehabilitation Center had undergone recent renovations and the home looked brighter and cleaner.

"Hello Mr. Shamu!"
He turned slowly towards me. He was an accomplished engineer who spoke three languages.

"I'm sorry it has been so long since I've seen you."
Silence.
"I think it has been about a month."
"A month is a long time."

He did not say it to make me feel guilty. He was stating a fact.
"I pray to God I will get out of here," he continued. One could not ignore the smell of urine and feces which no air freshener or expensive ventilation can rid of in a nursing home. I noticed a tube dangling from his side. It was filled with a yellow liquid.

I first started visiting the nursing home out of duty.
Did not Jesus say, "When I was ill, you cared for me"? (Matthew 25:36)

I found more than Jesus.
I found myself.

With more balance.
Shamu is famous at the San Diego Sea World shows because he does tricks and gives the audience a good splash. And at the end, a female trainer would appear riding on this killer whale's nose. Last year, a trainer was drowned when the whale pulled her down.

Balance is something the world abhors in secret.
One must be passionate about everything.
So says clothing, cell phone, and car ads.
To be jack of all trades is to be master of no trade.

Balance is something the world says can be bought.
Watch a Shamu show.
Go to a spa.
Learn Feng-shui.

Balance is in our bones.
Accepting the aging process.
Recognizing the mortality of our existence.

Isn't life beautiful?

Partly Cloudy

2011-01-14T09:48:00.000-06:00

"Vân, there is something you got to watch!"
Sr. Gwen Huyền looked at me triumphantly. I was in the midst of cooking dinner. After growing up on Smurfs and Scooby-doo, it is hard to be won over to animation. Especially with Bart Simpson getting his own stamp in 2009 and the only TV character (along with his family members) to get this recognition while the show is still in production.

"You would appreciate it because it has your name in it."
She was still trying to win over 6 minutes of my time. As Mother Teresa says, "Take whatever God gives and give whatever God takes with a big smile."

"Partly Cloudy" was fetchingly adorable.
Tears of mirth rolled down our sisters' cheeks.

The question answered too briefly by the short film:
Who is willing to deliver the seemingly unwanted to the world?

Beauty

2011-01-12T08:45:00.007-06:00

"Janine, don't you think she's pretty?"
My sister drew in a breath quickly.
"Who?"
"Her... the one in that light yellow sweater," Sr. Leslie Thu's eyes continued to follow the young lady's movements.

We were at Barnes and Noble because some of Sr. Gwen Huyền's students had given her a gift card. Sr. Leslie and I was in the calendar section.

"I guess she's pretty..." I slowly said.
"Oh... you're impossible!"
"I can't help it! I don't see what all this business is about. My parents never called any of us pretty, average, or plain. And they never commented on anyone's else appearances either."
"Janine, you know you're lucky in a strange way..."
"To be honest with you, the only beautiful people to me are the people whose company is warm and joyful... that is why I can't understand the attraction some people are attracted to each other... well you know I'm being quite direct because you are direct yourself.. when I know some of these people are quite difficult."

Perhaps beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Perhaps this is why cosmetics is a multi-billion dollar industry and recession-proof.

To some, the nature of cosmetics is to deceive.
The root word of cosmetics is cosmos.
To the Greeks, the cosmos is not the universe or everything. It is the harmonious ordering of the parts which creates the whole. We look at a clear winter sky and perceive the careful array. We pick a daisy and become aware of its minute symmetry.

Cosmetics helps put order into facial features.
Rough spots are smoothed and dark areas are lightened.
Eye bags are hidden and smiles are enhanced.
Beauty dons its mask.

Beauty is not in the face;
beauty is a light in the heart. (Khalil Gibran)

Perhaps this is why none of the evangelists (writers of the Gospel) ever mentions Jesus' beauty. Or his mother's.

It cannot be described by mere physical features.
It is a light which shines forth in their words and actions.

Today, one cannot count the renditions of these two persons.
Can beauty within be captured?

Photo: http://www.digitalrevolutions.biz/works/beauty_1600.jpg
ps. One year anniversary of my blog. Dedicated to family and friends who have awakened the beautiful in me.

Plain

2011-01-11T06:43:00.005-06:00

"Do you know Jane Eyre?"
"Yes, I read the book when I was a kid."
"That's you... honest, passionate, and poetic!"

I re-read Jane Eyre the past weekend.
To the sixth-grader's mind, Jane Eyre is a breathtaking romance.
Plain and poor, she is rescued into marital bliss by a wealthy gentleman.

Plain.
My friend had tactfully forgotten to mention that Jane was plain.
And almost drowned in her love for Edward Rochester.

Who wouldn't want to sink in a sea of the other's intense ardor?
As she acknowledges, Edward "was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol." (Chapter 24)

Truth mars her happiness when she discovers he is still legally married, although to an insane woman. Nevertheless, he is willing to live with public ridicule and wants to marry her. Jane refuses on moral grounds and runs away to escape the tempest of her desires.

In the end, they are re-united even though Edward is now blind and maimed.

This March of 2011, another movie version of Jane Eyre is coming out.
14 has already been made.
It is an intense love story.

Am I a Jane?
Plain, yes.
Are you a Jane?
Perhaps no.

Am I strong enough to refuse vice intertwined with joy?
I'm not a Jane.

I need not be.
"I will espouse you to me forever: I will espouse you in right and in justice, in love and in mercy; I will espouse you in fidelity, and you shall know the LORD." (Hosea 2:21-22)
These are God's words to the adulterous nation of Israel as they forget the awesome miracles He wrought in their midst during their Egyptian slavery and offered sacrifice to other gods.

These are God's words to us as we sense deeply as Jane, "______ stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol."

I'm looking forward to watching Jane Eyre this March.
So when desire tugs at my heart, I can run.

Photo credit: http://enchantedserenityperiodfilms.blogspot.com/2009/12/jane-eyre-2011.html

The Call

2011-01-09T22:32:00.005-06:00

The flakes came down fast.
Flashing red lights flared from the other side of the highway.
The rarity of snow in Dallas were making the roads dangerous.

Sunday school classes were canceled.
So was iSPY.
The youth didn't know to be excited or sad.

It has been almost a month since we had met.
Today was when we were to decide our T-shirt designs.
Today was when we were to do our Hội Chợ Tết game booth planning.

It was National Vocations Awareness Week.
We were going to talk about how each of us has a vocation.
The word "vocation" comes from the Latin vocare, a call.

Cindy & Thái was going to share how they met, heard their heart's call, and got married.
I was going to share how I was called to be a sister.

I made a phone call when I got back to the convent.
The stories were random.
The teasing was boisterous.

The snow was a "call" to curl up in an afghan.
To luxuriate in the voice of a friend.
To realize today may be the last day one is alive.

I still missed my iSPY kids.
I'm still irked that mine, Oanh's, and our adult volunteers' planning is knocked off-kilter.

God's call comes soft as snow.
Exquisitely gorgeous or stunningly dangerous.

Why else would many not dare to live fully as Christians?

Photo: A picture of my niece, Emma, on a glorious autumn day. This pix breaks with all my usual conventions of choosing a photo. Emma came into the world with a cleft palate. As a girl, it can be detrimental to her future. This picture exquisitely shows her spunk as she tries to tie her shoe laces. As her aunt, I am not going to be too worried that she will be "slowed" any by her physical appearance.

Being Saved

2011-01-05T21:38:00.004-06:00

"Did you get the last three?"
"No... they keep swimming away from me. They don't know I'm trying to save them!"

We peered into the fish tank anxiously. The seven adult guppies glided in-and-out of the "shipwreck island." I had managed to scoop out twelve fry (baby guppies) already. If they are left in the tank, the adult guppies would consider them gourmet fare.

However, the fry did not know what to make of my white fish net that continually ploughed the waters and made off with their comrades. They hid close to the gravel which meant I would crush them if I scooped the gravel up with them.

I put the twelve fry safely into a separate tank.
They didn't know I was going to save them.
Just like sometimes we don't know Jesus takes us out of comfortable waters to save us.

photo credit: vectorstock.dom

The Child and His Mother

2011-01-01T22:18:00.006-06:00

"Mom, why do you have to hurt when I was born?" the little blue eyes asked.
"Because you're precious," she said, stroking the soft blonde curls.

"Mom, why does daddy's muscles have to be sore when he works?" the deep brown eyes asked.
"Because he wants to bring home things for you," she said, smoothing the dainty cream collar.

"Mom, why does grandma have to get old and forget my name?" the bright black eyes asked.
"Because she's getting ready to see the things that are forever," she said, wiping the spilt milk off the floor.

"Mom, why does my pet fish have to die?" the luminous gray eyes asked.
"Because sometimes we need to be reminded that life is precious," she said, pushing the grocery cart.

"Mom, would I die one day?" Jesus ask his mom.
"Yes, dear. Because all humans die. And this is why we love as much as we can now...today," Mary answered.

In honor of the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God (January 1st) My new year blessings that you always love.

Photo credit: Yaqoob Al-Nakkas.Q8

Present

2010-12-31T21:55:00.003-06:00

"When you write From, write Jesus. These presents are from Jesus, through you."
Our youth listened attentively as Sr. Angelica finished giving directions on how we were to wrap almost 200 coats for the kids from around the neighborhood. These brand-new coats were donated to the sisters and our job was to sort, wrap, and gift tag them.

"Sơ Vân, I don't know if this is a small girls or medium girls... I don't have any kids!" one of the adult chaperones remarked. I laughed silently. Neither do I.
30 minutes later, our crew of twenty was spread into three rooms, noisily chatting, and playfully giving commands.

The youth had arrived silent and askance.
For many of them, it was their first service project away from the church.
For others, it was the broken cars and grayed laundry that lined the streets that led up to the Missionary of Charity convent on Harwood Avenue.

"I've never wrapped presents before!" Rachel exclaimed as she fought with the pretty Hello Kitty jacket and wrapping paper in her hands.
"These presents are from Jesus." Johnny said satisfactorily as the pile of presents grew.
"They're like a family," one of the parents remarked as he saw the youth teasing each other.

"Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me." (Matthew 25:20)
The new year of 2011 is a few minutes away.
You always have the choice to have Jesus near you.

Recapture

2010-12-26T09:31:00.005-06:00

"Which one of you is Sister Janine?"
One of the ushers looked intently at our pew.
I raised my hand slightly.
"Father said to meet him right after Mass."

"Here you go Sister!"
Fr. Clair handed me a huge hot pink gift bag.
I gasped at the weight.
Chocolate upon chocolate stared back at me.

"Now, Sister you must remember to put them into individual bags and place them at the head of each of the sister's bed." I smiled at the gleeful satisfaction written all over his face.

The evening before, Father had asked us to share our Christmas memories.
Among the many stories, Sr. Jacinta Ngân had remembered that after midnight mass in the convent, each person would find a small bag of sweets at their pillow. The sound of rustling would fill the air and each would "savor how good the Lord is" (Psalm 34:9).

In this country of abundance, sweets are commonplace.
Savoring is sometimes forgotten.

"Remember Sister, at the head of the bed. So everyone can recapture the small joys."

Chuño

2010-12-23T17:06:00.001-06:00

"As you know, my brother, who is a priest, was a missionary in Bolivia for 12 years." Bishop John's eyes twinkled more brightly than the logs in his fireplace. The sisters and I were enjoying dinner with him at his home.

"He enjoyed every moment of his time with the Aymara Indians... but there was a moment when he thought he was coming back here to the States. He had spent one whole year studying Spanish and where did they send him? To Bolivia highlands, where no one spoke a shred of Spanish. After 3 weeks, he went to chapel, knelt down and prayed. You know my brother is a very direct man..."

"Dear God, what am I suppose to do? What the hell do you want me to do?
....and he heard an answer: Go learn Aymara."

Bishop John waited for our laughter to subside and continued.
"Well, he went back to the university and ended up writing a catechism for them in their language. You know, he says one of the most amazing things he saw was how the women made the potatoes that would feed them for the winter. These people were poor, very poor. You see, they planted potatoes. When winter neared, they would make chuño.

Chuño-making begins when the temperature at night falls below freezing. Potatoes are left out to freeze, then thaw when the sun rises. Barefoot Indians tread out the moisture, leave the potatoes to freeze again, tread some more. After a fortnight they have chuño—a dehydrated potato that, with luck, will last all winter. (from http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,875309-1,00.html#ixzz19XxQw0NZ )

And as these women would walk over the potatoes, they would talk about things, their families, their dreams, just like what we are doing now."

Perhaps we may need potatoes in the rush of our Christmas preparation.

ps. Bishop John is in his third year of retirement as Bishop of our home diocese: Springfield-Cape Girardeau.
ps2. More about chuño http://www.best-potato-recipes.com/chuno.html

Precious Moment

2010-12-20T11:57:00.002-06:00

"Let's make a souvenir!" I told Theresa.
She was somewhat disappointed that I had forgotten the digital camera and the gift shop had run out of disposable cameras. She looked at the penny press machine slowly.

"What is it?"
"Oh... you've never seen one? Let me find some change. We need some quarters and a shiny penny. Go ahead and pick the image you want."

The Precious Moments Visitor Center was unusually quiet and empty for a Sunday evening.
Theresa and I was on our way up to Springfield, MO for our daycare's Christmas program and caroling to our two beloved Bishops. Carthage (where Precious Moments Park is located) was not too far away.

"Sorry, Theresa. This is the shiniest penny the cashier inside had."
Crank, crank, crank.
Theresa giggled at the penny's transformation.

A still figure slid next to us.
He placed two quarters and a very shiny penny on the machine.

We tried to return the money and tell him we were not in need.
He smiled serenely and returned silently to his seat in the lobby.

Crank, crank, crank.
Theresa could give the other coin to her sibling.

We headed for the exit.
The still figure came towards us and without any words, we realized he wanted us to extend our hands. He dropped a shiny $1 Abraham Lincoln coin into our palms.

Theresa bought two Precious Moments figurines that day.
However, the moment this stranger gave us could not be bought.

$2.51 isn't much.
And for that, it is precious.

ps. Side note: The coin has recently been launched on November 19, 2010; one month to when this event occurred. I had been suspicious of its value when it first landed in my hand. ps2.

Gold

2010-12-08T14:57:00.000-06:00

I woke up this morning
and realized
my favorite color is not only
lavender.

Thoughts of fuzzy yellow goslings
that my brother hatched in secret from my parents,
sunlight which makes golden bangles envious,
and your honey-rich voice
that day on the phone
makes me skip
and laugh.

I laugh
because I misplaced my planner
I laugh
because I worried silly over a co-worker's careless remark
I laugh
because "laugh at the devil and he will flee from you."

Kings adore gold
maidens are entrapped by gold
youth spend themselves over gold.

Cold gold
indifferent and merciless
is not my House of Gold
dwelling place of the King of Kings.

Hers is the smile
that won the heart of God

ps1. Quote on the devil is a paraphrase of Saint James and St. Anthony the Great's wisdom. ps2. Mary, House of Gold http://campus.udayton.edu/mary/prayers/domusaurea.html ps3. Photo credit: http://www.cacklehatchery.com/chinesegoosepage.html

Essentials

2010-12-06T06:58:00.000-06:00

"Mmmm.... some ice cream would be so good now!" I murmured.
Through the window, the trees appeared unearthly.

"It's freezing... how can you want ice cream?" Sr. Terry Thủy replied.
A cloak of grayness seem to hang on the trees' bare branches as our van continued northward on the highway to Springfield, Missouri last weekend.

"Those trees look funny," Ni Hà commented.
A shaft of light broke through the clouds and a wonderland of ice twinkled instantaneously.

We were on our annual trip to our community's regional headquarters and hoped to see snow.
A dazzling display of "crystals" lined our horizon.

"Do you know why ice cream is essential for you?" I continued.
My four companions smiled.

"Are you saying we should make a rest stop and get ice cream?" Sr. Terry Thủy teased.
"No... but I won't be against it! Did you know that air is an essential ingredient of making ice cream. Without air, ice cream would be plain solid. It won't have that smooth texture."

"So, ice cream is healthy then!" Sr. Leslie Thu piped up. She was also an ice cream aficionado.
"Yup! And there are even rules in most countries of the legal amount of air you can put into ice cream. It is 50% here in the US... but what I'm trying to say is that ice cream is essential to us because it contains air... and do we all not need air to live?!" I concluded mischievously.

"Vân, your arguments for ice cream stops are getting better and better each day!" Sr. Terry responded.
"Well... I only want to do what is good for us!" I laughed.

ps1. Photo of me at the "Ice" exhibit at the Gaylord Convention Center. ps2. Info about ingredients of ice cream. http://sci-toys.com/ingredients/ice_cream.html

Stains

2010-12-04T14:49:00.002-06:00

They sell stain
remover
down at the store
for grass stains,
grease spots,
and all sorts of spills.

Leave me my stains
on my collar
kiss my tears
so I will not turn my back on my Creator.

Photo credit: http://malteseboi.blogspot.com/

How Long

2010-12-02T11:14:00.006-06:00

"Joe, how long does it take before you get use to sleeping with someone?"
Jennifer and I busted into uncontrollable laughter.
David's eyes had lost some of its puffiness but he did not look like he was completely in newly-wed bliss.

"Well, I will take this question innocently. He could be asking how I bunk with my brother," Joe slowly replied. He had just celebrated his three-year wedding anniversary and had two kids of his own.
"Oh Joe! He asked you. He didn't ask me how I bunked with my sister!" I retorted playfully to Joe.

"I'm one of seven married siblings. Sometimes it's a few weeks, a year, and sometimes never before you get use to having a body next to you in bed."
At that point, Dr. Malloy, our substitute, walked in and class started.

I wondered what Dr. Lowery's comment would have been.
He had dubbed sexual intercourse "climbing a majestic mountain" in his moral theology handbook. Sometimes it is not wise to scale the mount because the weather is bad or one's health is not optimum. However, the mountain's grandeur and beauty can still be appreciated by being in its valleys and shadow. In the same way, one does not have to engage in sexual relations to express one's love.

Many persons forget that one has to carry a heavy backpack with needed supplies to get to the top of the mountain and enjoy the view. Many persons forget that one gives up the luxury of one's sleeping habits when one gets married.

Life (and love's) little quirks to lighten up a gray December evening.

Photo courtesy of David.

To Die

2010-11-30T12:03:00.001-06:00

After her husband was executed, Bùi Thị Xuân and her daughter was sentenced to death by elephant trampling. Both she and her husband were skilled generals, faithful to the Tây Sơn dynasty, and the rebels waited for this moment to exact their revenge. Before the herd of elephants stampeded her only daughter's 16-year-old body, she turned and cried out to her mother.

"I cannot help you in this moment. Die worthy of a general's daughter," Bùi Thị Xuân fearlessly counseled her daughter as she watched her daughter die before her eyes.

After Bùi Thị Xuân suffered the same death, the soldiers fought among themselves to eat a piece of her liver. They believed she was "gan lì" which meant unwavering intrepidity and eating her liver, or "gan" would make them just as dauntless.

Fr. Châu opened his homily for the Mass of the 117 Vietnamese Martyrs with this heroine story from our history books. He said anyone can die for a dream, an ideal, a vision. Yet, dying is not enough to become a saint. To be a saint is to live first.

All 117 Vietnamese Martyrs lived life fully and that is why they were able to face death calmly.

"You know, there is more to the story," Sơ Trang glanced at me as I was sipping my coffee.
"Oh? You know I was raised here in the States... so this is really my first time knowing of Bùi Thị Xuân... truly amazing woman!" I replied.

"When it was her turn, she walked straight towards the elephants and it threw her into the air, like all their other victims. Instead of stabbing her with their tusks as she descended, they caught her in-between them and she landed safely on their heads. This happened twice and the rebels were astounded and incensed. You know elephants are very strong creatures and their only vulnerable spot is their head. The executioners quickly whipped the elephants' heads and the elephants, in pain, finally pierced her through and trampled her. They were forced to hurt a person whom they saw as their equal."

Some say death is frightening.
Living life may be equally frightening.
So that those who have truly lived life are not afraid to die.

Photo credit http://www.baocamau.com.vn/newsdetails.aspx?newsid=10034

The First Turkey

2010-11-25T13:59:00.002-06:00

It took a long time before my parents were willing to bake a turkey for Thanksgiving.
They didn't understand the hullabaloo with meat that tended to be undercooked in some parts and dry at other spots. "The fault lies not with you, but with Mother Nature: Turkeys were clearly never designed to be roasted," Chris Kimball of America's Test Kitchen comments on PBS.

Asians have always known this intuitively and seafood is our family's usual winner. Our first turkey was a fantastic affair.
My mom had stuck the bird into the oven and left to do some errands.

Thắng, who was 10 then, saw the meat thermometer glowing. He thought it was a sign that the turkey was done and helpfully turned off the oven two hours into the roasting. My mom didn't get home until evening.

We had a good laugh at our little chef and proceeded to pan-fry the turkey.
Thắng began our family's honorable tradition of breaking the fowl into parts, then cooking it.

He would be proud to know that Julia Child, herself, did this.
And so does Chris Kimball.

The sisters this year won't have to worry about a turkey.
A friend dropped off a barbecued wild boar.
Not your typical Thanksgiving menu item.

Neither is pumpkin pie or cranberry sauce.
Or the celebration of Thanksgiving itself.
Contrary to what your third grade teachers told you, the 1621 Plymouth "Thanksgiving" was a harvest celebration. In the 17th century, a Thanksgiving day was a day of fasting.

In 1841, publisher Alexander Young printed Winslow's description of the Plymouth gathering and then added his own label, the "First Thanksgiving." Edward Winslow was the leader of the Plymouth colony.

Young's denotation became widely accepted. In 1863, Abraham Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a national holiday.

Sometimes a moment of thanks comes by accident.

ps1. Photo credit http://familyfun.go.com/crafts/turkey-candelabra-668070/
ps2. Cooking advice from NPR http://www.npr.org/2010/11/18/131418777/thanksgiving-makeover
ps3. Thanksgiving Facts and Myths http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2010/11/101124-thanksgiving-2010-dinner-recipes-pilgrims-day-parade-history-facts/

Kairos

2010-11-23T07:26:00.003-06:00

"What time is it?"
Five minutes left to brush the honey on the rolls, place the last pecan on the pie, and turn off the lights.

The kitchen clock said 6 1/2 minutes left but everyone knew we operated by chapel time. The little digital clock in the chapel announced the beginning of our Evening Prayer and Eucharistic Adoration. And time to pause.

Early civilizations kept track of months, seasons, and years for the sake of harvesting, hunting, and celebrations. Thousands of years later, humans began to invent ways of dividing the day up into increments for societal and bureaucratic needs. In 1878, Canadian Sanford Fleming divided the world into 24 time zones as we know it today.

Some of our sisters will be traveling up to Springfield early for meetings.
And so, it was time to celebrate Thanksgiving this past Sunday.
It was also November 21st, the Feast of the Presentation of Mary in the Temple.

Time to renew our vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience.
In the quiet stillness of an ordinary Sunday.
Unlike the day of our First Profession or Final Profession, with family and friends gathered, the chapel overflowing with flowers, and majestic music rising to the heavens, it is a hushed moment.

Time becomes stationary.
We remember the stirring of our hearts when the Beloved beckoned.
And we vow what the world considers nonsense: chastity, poverty, and obedience.

Why waste your time with what cannot be measured?

Time.
The ancient Greeks had two words for time.
Chronos denoted sequential time, as in chronology.
Kairos speaks of the opportune moment, the indeterminate period where something unimaginable happens.

Chronos can be scheduled with dinners, meetings, and prayers.
Kairos is God's beckoning.
And our RSVP.

Perhaps the most daunting RSVP accepted was by a young teen girl.
Beckoned to be with child without a husband (Luke 1:32).
A child promised to be a king without an army.

The eyes of her heart knew.
Kairos was upon her, not chronos.

She is known as Queen not because royal blood coursed through her veins.
Or that she was chosen by the King of Heaven and Earth.

Because she recognized time.
Time as gift, as unfolding, as nonsense to eternity.
And chose to live it as kairos.

Queen of Insight, pray for us.

ps. Sources about history of time-keeping.
http://www.nist.gov/pml/general/time/world.cfm
http://www.christianodyssey.com/gospel/time.htm

Billiards

2010-11-20T16:32:00.002-06:00

If Mom and Dad knew Mozart, Abraham Lincoln, and Charles Dickens played billiards, they would perhaps be more willing to let me try it. They painted the sport in cigarette smoke and questionable personalities. It was enough for me to wonder at its attraction.

Pool, as pocket billiards is commonly known today, took its name from the poolrooms gamblers used to "pool" and bet on horse races. This same place also had billiard tables. Slowly, the two terms became synonymous.

I had my chance the other day after two rounds of bowling at Irving's AMF lanes.
The green cloth gleamed vibrant in the empty lounge.
The aspirants and I had visited Calvary Hill Cemetery to pray for all souls in purgatory.

It might be an odd way to begin a recreational excursion.
"Vanity of vanities! All things are vanity!" (Ecclesiates 1:2)
Does not the words of Scripture help us to order all pleasure in its rightful place?

Pleasure is a means, not an end.
Pool can be an addiction or a place to laugh about missed shots and show off athletic prowess.

I definitely would not be a worthy opponent of Dickens.

ps. Photo source http://greenleafbilliards.info/contact-greenleaf-billiards.html

Enough

2010-11-18T11:01:00.002-06:00

Ding, ding.
The fuel gauge on the dashboard dropped to E.
I had just left the gas station.

Our car was going crazy again.
A year ago, the steering wheel was loose and wobbly.
$800 of car repairs later, it was still loose and wobbly.
I always made sure I said my prayers and left nothing unsaid before I drove that car.

Then I remembered one of our friend's offer.
"Sister, if you ever need anything. Talk to my husband. He's a car mechanic."
I met Chị Kiều through many youth activities in the DFW area.
She was an energetic and creative youth leader.

I had only glimpsed Anh Long whenever I attended Mass at the Holy Martyrs Church.
I've held Kevin, their rambunctious 2-year-old in my lap, in my lap many times.
I didn't want to burden them with the car's weird quirk.
However, it was getting frightening to drive it.

Three days after we dropped the car off at his shop, he got into an accident.
His shoulder blade was broken.
He knew we needed the car within a week.
Disregarding the doctor's orders, he managed to have the car fixed.

Five weeks later, Chevrolet sent out a recall notice.
Our Malibu had a defective steering column.
The company was willing to reimburse us of repair costs.
Anh Long had repeatedly called and questioned them about the malfunction.

Anh Long and Chị Kiều did not take a penny for the labor or the parts.
He helped us get the necessary paperwork to file our claim.
They plan to refuse the compensation check also.

I hope they will accept it.
The sisters and I have said, "Thank you."
How can this be enough?

Thanksgiving is approaching.
"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." (John F. Kennedy)

We just dropped off that Malibu at his shop this morning because the fuel gauge is going wacky.
We said, "Thank you."
Hopefully, our lives will be as beautiful as their hearts.

ps1. I have no photo of Anh Long and Chị Kiều.
ps2. Photo of Glory Window found in the Thanksgiving Square of Dallas
http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/travel/city-guides/dallas-photos-1/#/dallas-thanksgiving-square_1832_600x450.jpg

Witness

2010-11-16T16:38:00.004-06:00

Millions of dollars.
20 feet below and curing under a dark grey tarp.
The Bureau of Engraving and Printing was fascinating.

The Fort Worth facility, besides the one in Washington DC, prints all the paper currency for our country. Could anyone counterfeit this, the sisters and I thought, as we toured and observed the multiplex machinery. You would if you were a Nazi in the early 1940s.

Or if you were one of their prisoners.
Would you trade your skills as an engraver or printer for survival?
This is the background to the movie, Counterfeiters, a true-life account of how Hitler wanted to destroy the British and American economy by flooding it with counterfeit money.

Not a kind of film to end a magnificent autumn weekend.
However, reality is the surest way of preserving this peace.
These prisoners had limited choice.
Follow orders, which means the war can continue indefinitely.
Defy orders and they will die.

Their limit of choices reminds us that we always have a choice.

"Because I remember, I despair. Because I remember, I have the duty to reject despair."
Elie Wiesel was a survivor of the Holocaust.
He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986.

Elie Wiesel is a martyr.
Not because he died. (He's 82 this year.)
A martyr, in Greek, means witness.

He is a witness to hope.
Human dignity can triumph over human atrocity.
If one chooses.

ps1. Source of photo http://www.ok.gov/edge/EVENTS/index.html ps2. About Elie Wiesel http://www.eliewieselfoundation.org/ ps3. US BEP in Fort Worth http://www.moneyfactory.gov/tours/fortworthtxtours.html ps4. Movie Review http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1715518,00.html

Honor

2010-11-12T16:03:00.002-06:00

Turtle meat.
Goat steak.
Eel fillets.

The sisters are familiar with my father's adventurous eating habits.
I've brought some back to the convent and enjoyed watching the sisters squirmed reactions.

When the door salesman displayed trays of filet mignon, sirloin, and T-bone steaks, I was more intrigued with his utter disregard for my opinion.
He was a superb smooth talker.

Forty minutes later, he had clinched a deal.
He was young and I wonder if selling meat door-to-door was his aspiration.

No shame there, my dad would have commented.
Any time one of us hesitated from wearing a hand-me-down or taking advantage of a free offer at a store, he averred quietly, "You're not stealing from a bank."
He was not a smooth talker.

He raised seven kids in the old tradition.
If we spoke up, it was to agree.
Yet, he taught us to look beyond a person's appearance and livelihood.

The Trans are known for their sincerity.
He was a man of honor.

ps. Although rough in many ways, no plant ever failed to bloom in his care. Here a photo of the midnight queen. And every queen knows how to conduct herself with honor.
Courtesy of http://titania-threemonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/01/todays-flowers-queen-of-night.html

Adorable

2010-11-10T20:29:00.002-06:00

"No!"
"Uhm.. I think Dr. Lowery told us to read from #65-70."
"Ooops! I guess I did my homework wrong. I thought we could pick anywhere in the encyclical!"
"It's okay, Sister. You know, you're a nun!" Jennifer said, smilingly.
"I don't know... Anytime I make a comment in the class, he just looks at me blankly. I may be scandalizing him."
"Oh Sister! You are one of the most adorable nuns I know..."
My laughter inadvertently cut off her statement.

Adorable.
"My sisters, if people don't find you adorable. There is something wrong with you."
We giggled at Father Matthew Hy's observation.
"It is because your life, my life, as religious, we have made Jesus our focus. Or in actuality, we have been chosen to be near this Goodness, to contemplate this Beauty. If we do not become beautiful and adorable ourselves after years of gazing upon the Artist, there is something surely wrong with us!"

"So, don't be surprised if people fall in love with you!"
The older sisters chuckled knowingly.
"And yet, they must. For in you, they will fall in love with Jesus."

Father Hy's ponderings hearkened back to a title that many find enigmatic.
And problematic.
Bride of Christ.

Sisters are rarely known by this ideal anymore.
It borders too much upon the fear of softening the feminine mystique.
How many forget the influence of the bride upon her bridegroom?

For her sword is "the word of God...living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow, and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12).

The sword was given by her bridegroom.

ps. Tricky topic. More will come in the weeks and months ahead.

Tears from Heaven

2010-11-08T10:01:00.007-06:00

"I want to cry!"
Our iSPY group erupted into laughter.
We had just finished singing along with Michael W. Smith's "Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord."
The words Holy Holy Holy still reverberated in the air.

Phúc knew we weren't laughing at him.
Who could describe the Presence in that room, in that moment, our bodies slightly chilled from the lack of a heating system?

Tears from heaven.
Not the kind that mourned a loss.
Or bubbling over from anger.

Tears that came because we were sitting together, sharing stories, and trying to sing in key to an unfamiliar song. Not the usual combination for a heavenly experience.

We were caught off-guard.
By the Lord who "is your guard and your shade;
at your right side he stands.
By day the sun shall not smite you
nor the moon in the night." (Ps 121)

Just like Cha Tân, our pastor, who discovered part of the chapel in flames at midnight.
He is still alive as the "Lord will guard your going and coming
both now and forever." (Ps 121)

Just like the gardener who decides to gather the dandelions.
And the plant enhances a salad.
Guarding against kidney failure.

Tears.
We sometimes want to wipe them away.
Make sure they are not tears from heaven.

ps. Photo from http://bettinaharvey.blogspot.com/

Hippocampus

2010-11-06T15:49:00.006-05:00

I was lost.
The concrete walls loomed in the early gray dawn.
The court lay tucked amongst the Dominican priory's back garden.
Finally, a racquetball court.

I had almost forgotten that I was in Texas.
The roads were closed and I thought I could myself through the construction zone.
I did find the court. A rare one that is not enclosed in a gym.

"Sister, you play racquetball?"
Sheila looked at me, half-puzzled.
"Well, only if we can find a place. Do you?"
She murmured, "I play it... I just didn't know nuns played!"

"Oh yes, you probably thought we did card games or badminton or frisbee..."
She flushed red. "Something I picked up in my high school years... I always liked the violence!" I quickly continued as she began to notice I was teasing her.
"Violence?"
"It's the hippocampus, Sheila! You ever wonder why girls remember much more than guys? It's because we have a bigger hippocampus... it is a part of the brain! Emotion and memory are closely related. You always remember what made an emotional impact on you."
"Mmmm.... yes, I always remember when I went to school with a hole in my back pocket and didn't know it until the end of the day!"

Sheila had walked into church one day, alone.
She wanted to be there and yet, she didn't know where to sit.
She looked Vietnamese and she was Vietnamese.
She was adopted by American parents as a baby.

"You know, God plays too!"
"Where in the Bible?"
Although Sheila's adoptive parents did not bring her up in any Christian tradition, she knew her Bible very well. The Roman Catholic Church was the fifth church she has been looking into.

"Proverbs 8: 30 - 31.
Then was I beside him as his craftsman,
and I was his delight day by day,
Playing before him all the while,
playing on the surface of his earth."

"Sweet.... How come the King James Version is different?"
I laughed.
"Well, do you think when King James decided to break away from the Catholic Church that he had the best Bible translators in his court?"
She remained silent.
"Church history. It might be something you want to look into if you are serious about picking among the different Christian groups....now, let's be God-like now... you want to play?"
She laughed good-naturedly. "Sister, remember you like violence and I want to live! Let's rollerblade."

ps. Photo of a butterfly we saw along the way... from a God who set the rules of science and the music of poetry.
ps2. Photo on http://www.myhdwallpapers.net/

Chenille

2010-11-04T15:45:00.001-05:00

"Those look like breast cancer ribbons!"
Frank stared at us, completely unmiffed by our guessing.

Our iSPY adult staff team was gathered for a meeting.
And we were each given a set of pipe cleaners.
Or chenille stems, the official name of these pliable fuzzy craft sticks.

Rainbow, for patience and attainable goals.
A balance beam, for confidence and daring.
Lips. for words of encouragement.
Hands, for guidance and peace.

"Each of these persons," Frank pointed stressed this last word as he picked up his ribbons. "Each of these persons are the youth and if they are like sheep needing a shepherd, then if we do our work right, leading them to Jesus, the Shepherd, each of us will effect a connection with each other." We had taken turns, each of us sharing what it is that we hoped to share with our youth in the youth group.

He slowly wound the persons in an interlocking design.
"In the end, we are a circle, a community, connected..."
"That's deep... that is deep." A slow appreciative smile crossed Thái's face.
Thái had wanted to pass on kindness. "That's like all of us, what we want to do," Thái continued.

The chenille stems lay fragile in our hands.
Chenille, in French, means caterpillar.
These stems were originally dubbed chenille because it resembled a caterpillar's fuzzy look.
This night, these chenille was awaiting transformation that only can be set free if enough adults do care about our youth.

ps. In honor of our iSPY staff meeting last week. May we perseveringly be there for our youth.
ps2. Photo of Frank sharing his thoughts. Junior is in the background.

Her

2010-11-02T15:52:00.000-05:00

When I think about "her", it is her.
I've never met her and yet I know she is the closest one to me.
I imagine she has long black curls and a firm grip
for both Rose and I have a good handshake for being girls.

Rose is my only
and youngest sister
She would've been my older sister
I like to think
for I already have two older brothers

I will have to wait
when I get to the other side
to meet her

Always I know
she is the closest one to me
miscarriaged at three months

It's November, you see
when nature gets ready to go to sleep
and the Catholic Church
honors all the dead

For we believe
they are closer to us
watching over us
in timeless contact with Truth

I've given her a name
that she knows
and I know
for she is the closest one to me
three months after the miscarriage
was me.

In honor of my sibling I never got a chance to meet and whom I shall meet. I enjoy everything doubly more because I was given the gift of life!

ps. Photo of me at Thiếu Nhi Thánh Thể Camp for Hiệp Sĩ in Loyd Park, Grand Prairie the past weekend. Can you believe one of the youth made Egg Benedict with an iron skillet and charcoal fire?

Kiss

2010-10-28T08:45:00.003-05:00

Inbox (3).
Inspirational forward.
Perhaps.

Next email.
An acquaintance I just ran into the other day after several months of absence.
39 words.

The request was innocuous.
The timing was enigmatic.
Did I just get a Judas' kiss?

Today is the Feast of St. Simon and Judas.
Judas?
"Didn't he betray Jesus with a kiss?" I asked when I first found out my pastor back in Sacramento was Fr. Judas Nguyễn Ngọc Ban patron saint was Judas.

The other Judas.
Judas, the son of James (Lk 6:16).
So misunderstood was he that he is the patron saint of impossible causes.
So misconstrued was he that he is called Jude today.

Last unread email.
Sr. Janine, your name was drawn in the raffle at the recent UD Ministry Conference. We need a physical mailing address to send you your $25 gift card.

"Sister, can we build you a church?"
"If you will do it for $25," I replied when I saw the sign in front of their booth, "Piazza Construction Company." The three men laughed uproariously.

"Sister, where is your convent?" Chip Piazza continued.
"In Irving...and what kind of construction do you do?"
"All kinds... churches, educational, banking, recreational facilities... Would you like to enter the drawing?"
"Oh sure," I replied with a grin. Win? With thousands of others visiting this booth? I didn't want to disappoint these charming gentlemen and so I gave them my name. Trúc, our aspirant, who was with me, entered her name also.

Impossible.
Me win a drawing?
Then Trúc told me she had won too. Her gift card had already come in the mail.
Two winners who put their names in at the same time, from the same residence?
Impossible.

$25 is $25.
This news any other day would've been wonderful.
Today, in the midst of deciphering a Judas' kiss, it was wondrous.

$25 is a lot.
It can feed 500 starving children.

$25 is a miracle.
Because it rescued me from confusing sorrow.
Because it is the month of October, the month of the Rosary, the month of Mary.
Would Mary not kiss the tender heart of this daughter?

ps1. Photo of the sisters and Anh Linh Chị Hồng Chi from St. Peter's Vietnamese Catholic Parish at the UD Ministry Conference
ps2. $5 to feed 100 children.
Food for the Poor http://www.foodforthepoor.org/help/brownbag10/web.html
ps3. Piazza Construction Company
http://piazza-construction.com/

Glory

2010-10-26T11:25:00.000-05:00

"Look at me!"
Timmy Hamm pounded his chest as his mom tied the superman's cape around him.
His ribs protruded from beneath the costume.

I smothered my giggle as I said, "Yes, Timmy you are awesomely glorious as Superman!"
"No, Sr. Janine! I am Superman!" four-year-old Timmy proclaimed.
Last Saturday, Sr. Gwen Huyền went shopping for Halloween candy and I thought of Timmy Hamm. And his desire for glory.

I also thought of another acquaintance.

1. Ladies' man
2. POW
3. Environmentalist

Hardly the resume for a man admired by Hindus, atheists, Muslims, and Christians alike.
He was a dull student, attending school for only three years.
He liked to sing and his friends called him, "Dominus", King of the Party.

Francis sought glory in war and found himself in prison.
He did not give up his dream and tried to re-invent himself as a knight.
He fell sick on the first day and heard a voice pronounce,
"Serve the Master, not the man."

Francis realized glory was already given to man.
There was no need to flaunt it, thirst after it, or create it.
The glory of God is man fully alive. (St. Ireneus)
The man fully alive is already immersed in glory.

Along with all of creation.
He called death, his sister.
He called his body, Brother Ass, for it was a good servant but poor master.

He was not just a poetic romantic.
Or a monk who never became a priest.
He was a person who came across as a fellow human being.

He entered, unharmed, into enemy ranks (this is the age of the Crusades) and met the Sultan of Egypt. Eventually, the Sultan invited Francis to stay with him. Francis accepted on the condition that the Sultan and his people would accept the Word of God. Although the Sultan was moved by Francis, he did not accept Francis' request for fear of upsetting the people. Yet, in a short while, the Sultan sent Francis away because he was afraid that many of the Moslems would be converted.

The glory of autumn is upon us.
The glory of the golden mums is about to burst in my garden.
The glory is in us.

Do we dare to believe it like Tommy?
Do we care to live it like Francis of Assisi?
Is there any other way?

ps1. My mums about to bloom.
ps2. More on St. Francis of Assisi
From a spiritual, non-institutionalized group: http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Christianity/Catholic/2008/09/The-Real-St-Francis-14-Surprising-Facts.aspx
From a Hindu swami: http://www.dlshq.org/saints/francis.htm
From a Catholic religious sisters and media source: http://www.ewtn.com/library/mary/francis.htm

Shine

2010-10-25T13:25:00.000-05:00

"Wow, is this a game?"

A 4-foot white panel with varying prizes stood at an angle to the two young women. This was one of the many booths at the University of Dallas Ministry Conference this past weekend.

"It's a disc drop game. You get three discs. If two of your discs fall into the same category, you win that object. Sister, would you like to play?"

"Shine" exploded from behind her.
It was the name of their organization printed on the backpack.
They were a Catholic workcamp where youth get opportunities to serve for a registration fee of $300.

Shine blazed from Amy Florian as she asked us, "What is the death rate?"
"100%," a man answered.
Why deny the human condition? Why not embrace it as a doorway into the sacred?
She led the workshop on "End-of-Life Issues."

Shine flashed from Robert McCarty as he joked, "Do you know why Catholics don't sit in the front row? I am convinced that we still don't know when to sit and stand during Mass. (slight pause) Try it yourself sometime."
He proved to us that we can still offer God to youth because they still want God.
He spoke on "Adolescent Catechesis: Pain....and Promise."

Dozens of topics were offered to the three thousand persons who came to the conference.
It was to help them keep their shine as volunteering in churches can quench one's light.

I held my breath and let the first disc fall.
It landed in the "backpack" slot.
Second disc into the "visor" slot.
Last chance. "Water bottle."

"Oh! No luck! I wanted the backpack so much!"
"It's okay, you can have it."
"Are you sure?"

Shine.
I showed my backpack off to everyone I met later that day.
They marveled at its bright green-ness.

I marveled at how they shone when I shared my little joy.

ps1. Photo of some of the sisters who went to the conference. Center: Prayer with Bishop Seitz, Auxiliary Bishop of Dallas Bottom right hand corner: Dr. Robert McCarty http://www.nfcym.org/about/mccarty.htm
ps2. More on Amy Florian http://www.amyflorian.com/
ps3. More on Shine Catholic Work Camp http://www.shinecatholicworkcamp.com/home/ ps4. University of Dallas Ministry Conference http://www.udallas.edu/academics/ministry/udministryconferencepage

Humane Trap

2010-10-21T09:40:00.000-05:00

A patch of white stared back at me.
I drew in a sharp breath.
Already?

The flashlight revealed an adorable-looking raccoon.
The trap had worked.
We had placed fish and pork bones as bait.

I had refrained from using a trap because I wanted to share the garden with this night visitor.
Four mums lay crushed underneath the flattened purple heart plants.
Three-inch deep holes dotted the garden.

At first, it was just the purple heart plants that were bruised.
Then, it started gnawing on the melons.
It had a favorite one and every day, it took a distinct bite into the green-striped skin.

The mums were not of a rare exotic kind.
It died in the winter and grew back with a wild freedom.
Every year, in November, we gathered armfuls of blooms to bring to the cemetery and laid them at graves, known and unknown.

On the Irving City website, the animal control services described this trap as "humane."
It does not hurt or wound the animal.

Humane? Trap?
Is a trap ever "humane"?

Why is it possible to have an Animal Humane Society and not a Humane Human Society?
That respects unborn life.

Since 1973 in the United States, one out of three children have been aborted.

ps1. Photo of the mischievous raccoon still in its trap, waiting for Animal Control to pick it up.
ps2. If you want to do respect life, join "40 days for Life."
http://www.40daysforlife.com/DALLAS/
There are other locations throughout the United States.

Song

2010-10-20T12:12:00.002-05:00

"Sister, that was amazing!"
I looked at Chị Thảo quizzically.
I had just finished singing a classical piece in honor of Sr. Eileen Phượng's final profession of vows.

"I have to admire your courage!"
With that, we both broke into a burst of laughter.
I, in turn, admired her good-natured sincerity. She dared to voice what many outside my religious sisters would deem impolite: This nun can't sing.

Well, it didn't stop Sr. Eileen from requesting me to perform.
Who was I to deny her?
As I climbed the stage, my sisters were in a daze.
Sr. Eileen's family picked up the restlessness and smiled at me wonderingly.

As the notes of the piano trembled in the air, I began.
An enormous hurricane of laughter shook the room.
My sisters laughed whole-heartedly, slapping each others' knees as tears rolled down their cheeks. I later found out that they only heard the first three notes I sung. They were tickled at my audacity.

That was five years ago.
As I saw Mai Thiên Vân make her way to the banquet tables, I flashed a smile.
She turned hesitantly towards me.

The sisters and I were at the Redemptorist's blessing of their new multi-purpose facility.
Mass was celebrated in their beautiful chapel.
The reception was a full eight-course meal and the brothers had just sung a song.

I motioned firmly.
Mai Thiên Vân is a relatively well-known singer in the Vietnamese pop culture.
Her beautiful rich voice carries both religious hymns and love ballads well.

She neared our table and Cha Hùng, the Redemptorist priest emceeing the celebration, caught her mid-way. "Would you like to sit over there with our major superior?"
She shook her head lightly.
"Let me sit with the sisters."

She didn't speak much, fatigue peeking out from her eyes.
"This was an unexpected event," she whispered above the din of the band.
She was a good friend of the Redemptorists and made appearances to benefit their fund-raising.

Sr. Leslie Thu smiled at me from across the table.
"This is it, Thu! I'm sitting next to a famous singer! I think my fortune will now change," I said whimsically. "Now I need proof!"
A few minutes later, she had flagged one of the photographers.

I never did get a chance to tell Mai Thiên Vân how she brightened my day.
It was not because she was famous.
It was not because I sing better now.

It was because God used her to show me his great sense of humor.
If I couldn't sing, then he would bring the music to me.

ps1. Photo of me, Mai Thiên Vân, Sr. Terry Thủy, and Ni Hà.

Jello

2010-10-15T07:15:00.005-05:00

The bubbles slowly rose to the top.
"Perfect! Let's add the sugar then the flavoring."
"Isn't it cool that thạch is made from seaweed?" Ni Hà said triumphantly as we slowly poured the thick liquid into the mold.

"Seaweed?" Sr. Gwen Huyền's nose slightly wrinkled in distaste.
"Aaaah... you know what Jello is?" I questioned casually. Sr. Gwen has a fondness for Jello.
"Gelatin!"
"What is gelatin?" I pursued off-handedly, with a slow grin.
She looked at me warily.

90.1 KERA
In 1896, the best selling cookbook of the era was published, "The Boston Cooking School Cook-Book."
Interesting news for national public radio.

It was the Victorian period and Fannie Farmer, the author, included many recipes like mock turtle soup and jellies.
Or Jello as we call them today.
Jellies were made by boiling calves' feet for hours.

The method is much more efficient today to extract the collagen or gelatin.
The material (cow and pig bones and hooves) remains the same.
Fascinating bits of history on the Jello website.
But not this bit.

Gelatin is also used in marshmallows, pills (to make them easier to swallow), and cosmetics (face creams, shampoos, and bath bubbles).
The lowly feet of the pig is not to be despised.
Nor those that empty our trash or work in other countries to give us low costs at the mall.

"So, would you rather eat seaweed or pigs' feet?" I asked playfully.

ps1. Photo of Ni Hà and a bowl of dessert - green thạch (agar agar - type of seaweed), mung beans, and red beans.
ps2. What is Jello? http://recipes.howstuffworks.com/question557.htm
ps3. Jello website http://brands.kraftfoods.com/jello/
ps4. Complicated issue of sweatshop jobs http://wichitaliberty.org/economics/sweatshops-best-alternative-for-workers-in-many-countries/
ps5. Fannie Farmer story on NPR http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130536078

Crucis

2010-10-13T07:25:00.001-05:00

"Sister, the box is here."
I briefly looked up from knotting my friendship bracelet.
The cool air of Camp Crucis held me lightly.

Some of the Thiếu Nhi youth rushed into the building.
Ms. Mai continued her comments.
"That's a beautiful bracelet. I know it takes a lot of patience to do it."

A small smile crept across my face.
"Well... I saw the huynh trưởng fiddling with it and it brought me back to when I was a kid. We use to make these bracelets all the time for our friends. The huynh trưởng figured out they were doing it wrong because their threads keep getting twisted so I'm trying to complete this so they would have a good model."

"I can't do what you do Sister, but I use to do some crochet myself. And you know, I heard the other day that there is a famous football player that crochets. He does it all the time. He says it gives him patience."
"What's his name?"
"I can't remember... but I'm sure you can find it on Google somewhere."

A shrill whistle broke the twilight air.
"It's time to go."

Inside the building, our comrades had changed into a milieu of Old Testament Israelites.
The half empty box still had some colorful pieces of fabric for me to wrap around myself.
No one entered the "Mystical Fire" (Lửa Thiêng) without prior transformation.

It was Sa Mạc Hy Vọng XXIX (Camp Hope).
The youth from Đoàn Thiếu Nhi Thánh Thể Kitô Vua was on their annual camping trip.
We were embarking on the most sacred moment of the weekend.

The stars twinkled above us as we held hands and walked in silence.
Or try to.
We were not allowed to use flashlights and the darkness seem to engulf even the person in front of us.

A whisper.
A warning.
A curt command.

We fanned out in a circle.
Father Hóa, CMC read a short Gospel selection and shared about the meaning of light.
A ball of fire appeared in the air and slid down to the center.

The pile of dry wood erupted into light.
We drew close to the fire and to each other.
Our faces glowed.

This ritual is not new to the youth.
It is part of every camping trip and one that many of them look forward to as they get to sit around the campfire and re-enact stories of the patriarchs, our forefathers in faith.
The walking in darkness did not really scare them.

Crucis.
This was not Đoàn Kitô Vua's first choice of a camping ground.
It was quite a distance to drive. (1 1/2 hours for me).

Crucis.
Alpha Crucis is the brightest star in the Crux constellation.
This constellation forms a cross (crucis means cross in Latin) and many explorers of the sixteenth century used it as a clock.
Many nations have used it in their flags.

To make a friendship bracelet, one cross a thread over another and knot firmly.
Over and over.
A friendship will always have a crucis, a cross.

To keep a youth group going, its leaders learn to accept the crucis of each other's temperament and life situation.
It has been almost a year since I've seen Đoàn Kitô Vua.
It is good to see their leaders and their youth still together.

Crucis.
Alpha Crucis.
The cross of Jesus will always light our path.

ps1. Photo of Đoàn Thiếu Nhi Kitô Vua.
ps2. Links to more info about Crux constellation
http://www.dibonsmith.com/cru_con.htm
http://spaceyuga.com/crux-constellation-hindu-mythological-name-trishanku/
ps3. Youtube link to Ian Johnson, the football player that crochets.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4At3EUV97gQ

Pink

2010-10-11T09:44:00.002-05:00

"Shall it be the pink or the Brut?"
The edges of the two bottles peeped over the cooler.
An array of chocolates, cookies, and a cheesecake luxuriantly filled the plain gray tables.

Pink or Brut?
It was Joe's birthday and he decided to share the day with us, his Moral Theology classmates.

"Dr. Lowery, what would I tell my sisters that I learned in class today if we spend some time eating and drinking?" I wondered mischievously.
"Ah, that St. Thomas Aquinas would say that one should enjoy every good in its order. When it is taken out of its place, that we have problems. So, if one of us starts to not make sense, we will know that the good, wine, has been taken out of order!"

We laughed appreciatively at Dr. Lowery's elegant verbal flourish and his great Catholic sense of celebration. Many would claim that to be close to God, to the spiritual and supernatural, one had to say "no" to all earthly enjoyments. As lives of the saints and Jesus himself proves, God has given us the world to savor.

In a certain order.
Just as to make wine there is a certain order.
Although wine does cause a some dis-0rder in some.
And this dis-order comes from the free will of the one using it.

Pink.
We chose to open the pink bottle.
Perhaps because pink is like being Catholic.

Normally to make a champagne, red grapes are used. However the skin is taken away immediately so that none of the red color affects the color of the champagne. In order to make a Champagne pink, wineries have to let the skins sit with the liquid. The longer the liquid and the skins sit together, the pinker the liquid becomes.

People always wonder if God really exists.
To be Catholic is to be "God with skin on."
So people know God is real.

Pink.
We probably chose the pink champagne because Lisa have never had it before.
Or it's breast cancer awareness month.
Most likely, we wanted to wish Joe a great birthday and it's always nice to enjoy some wine.

ps1. Photo of Joseph Quinn and his wife Neesha.
ps2. More information about pink champagne making http://www.wineintro.com/champagne/pinkchampagne.html

Strength

2010-10-06T09:29:00.000-05:00

Quickly clambering up the table, he beamed down at me.
His broad frame belied his nimble movements.
A light bulb dangled from his fingers.

"See, Sister? Same light, less wattage, more savings."
Several months back, he had said Mass at our convent and noticed that our lights was the old kind. "Tsk, tsk, you are wasting money," he sternly remarked.

A huge boyish grin broke through.
"Do not worry, I will do something about this."

He had come back a week later with Jesse, the parish's maintenance man and they together replaced our kitchen lights. He was back again a few days ago with a boxful of brand-new energy saving light bulbs. A lighting company was willing to donate to the church several boxes and with a few words, they added another boxful for the convent.

I was not surprised at Father Claír's determination and resourcefulness.
He was the same man who gained for St. Luke parish full ownership of their church by paying off a $600,000 plus debt which had resulted from the construction of the new church building. The debt had accumulated for 20 years since the completion of the church. He helped the parish pay it off in two and a half years.

I was surprised he had noticed such a small detail of our convent.
After all, he is pastor to over 10,000 souls.

Graphene is 100 times tougher than steel and no thicker than an atom.
Geim and Novoselov, the two scientists who discovered this material, was recently awarded the Nobel Prize for physics. Graphene is being extolled as the thinnest and strongest material on earth. Surprisingly, simple scotch tape was used to extract the material from graphite, the stuff in lead pencils.

Simple method, extraordinary strength.
But not perhaps the greatest strength in the world.

A simpler method exists.
The method of seeing with the heart.
The greatest strength of the world already exists: the heart that acts.

ps1. Photo of Fr Clair leading the people in a procession in honor of St. Luke
ps2. News article http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20101005/ap_on_hi_te/eu_nobel_physics

Making a Chain

2010-10-04T12:04:00.003-05:00

Beep, beep.
Averted faces.
"Spirit fingers" going up. And down.

Thirty of us were lined on the corner of Garland and Buckner.
I wasn't quite sure how our iSPY youth would handle passing motorists' reactions to our signs.

"Abortion kills children."
"Adoption: the Loving Option."
"Jesus Forgives and Heals."

We were participating in Life Chain.
We were standing in honor of 50,000,000 lives ended during pregnancy.
We were remembering the loss of talent, gifts, and uniqueness each person possesses.

"The person who was suppose to find the cure for AIDS was probably aborted," Mother Teresa said.

I had shared this quote with the youth before we departed from the church.
We were silent.
Abortion is never an easy topic to discuss.

Perhaps this is why we stand in silent witness to persons (gals and guys) who had to make this difficult decision.
Perhaps this is why we were willing to brave the sun, the fatigue, and the uncertainty of how we will be treated as we stood at that busy traffic intersection.
Perhaps this is why Fr. Tan, our pastor and Chị Phượng, our pastoral council president came out with us.

As Phúc aptly puts it, "Save sex for marriage."
We softly smiled at his sincerity.
Easier said than done.

After 45 minutes of solidarity with thousands of other witnesses here in the United States and in Canada, we headed back to St. Peter's for cupcakes and reflection.
We were starving.
The doors were locked and Father had left to bring Eucharist to the homebound.

Another sacrifice to offer to God.
Some say our silent stand is for nothing.

Our faith says that God see his children.
He knows we truly care for each other and we will "conquer" each other with goodness.

ps1. Photo of iSPY youth group with our signs. ps2. More about life chain http://www.nationallifechain.org/ ps3. Spirit finger "going up" means "thumbs up" = yes! Spirit finger "going down" means "they are cursing you.".... I learned this terminology myself yesterday!
ps4. Lastly, but not leastly, iSPY youth is AWESOME!!!

Primate

2010-09-28T13:00:00.000-05:00

"What's a primate?"
"A monkey," I replied.

Silence.
I had a lurking hunch I had said something wrong.
The professor peered at me.

"When Pope John XXIII wanted to convoke a Vatican Council, many primates or bishops in the curia was opposed to the idea. They felt there was nothing wrong with the church and the idea of assembling bishops from all over the world was useless."

My classmates giggled quietly.
Ooops.
I couldn't help thinking about rodents and mischievousness since my garden is constantly pestered. Three inch holes and a trail of broken stems signaled the antics of an opossum.

I usually ignored these inteferences because I knew the animal was blind.
However, my dưa gang (melon fruit) was ripening beautifully.
Visitors told me I could only get rid of an opossum with a professional exterminator.

"His secretary said, "This is an important decision. One does not make it alone." The Pope replied, "You are right. The Holy Spirit and I have decided that the Church needs a council!" Well, thank God John XXIII stayed his course because the Second Vatican Council mark the Roman Catholic Church's recognition that we need to dialogue with the world if we are to give it the good news of Jesus. Any aspect of human life can be utilized for evangelization. This was the root of St. Therese's holiness. However, we are still slow in implementing its directives."

I didn't have to get rid of the opossum.
I planted orange flags (left over from some landscaping project) in my garden.
I bent it at a right angle of 90 degrees. Enough to send a "stay away" message.

This was 9 weeks ago.
My sisters thought I had gone crazy as they gazed on the mishmash of mums, melons, and orange flags. My opossum friend understood. It came through quarter-way yesterday and turned back.

"It was obvious to everyone in the Curia in 1962 that Pope John XXIII was crazy to expect thousands of primates to agree on such issues as scriptural interpretation and the role of the laity. The Pope was going to create more problems. In hindsight, John XXIII prepared the Church to grapple with the problem of relativism today. He did it by preventing a "closed door" atmosphere."

The class ended.
I was ready to go home and make my daily check-up of the dưa gang.

"Sister, that was a good one!"
Deacon Jose winked at me.

"Did you really think I meant to say that!?!" I exclaimed. "I would've preferred to share that since there were so many bishops, the only meeting room big enough was in St. Peter's Basilica. Eventually, two coffee bars set up behind the bishops. After a few days, they nicknamed it Bar-Jonah!"

ps1. Photo of the dưa gang with its orange flags.
ps2. In Hebrew, bar means "son of" . Jonah is John. Bar-Jonah refers to St. Peter, "son of John." (Jn 21:17)

Ninja

2010-09-27T11:43:00.000-05:00

"1-2-3 Ninja!"
Silent chops whistled through the air.
Faces were still and attentive.

Right lunge.
Backward slash.
Left step.

Maria bursted out laughing.
We joined in.
The game did make us look silly and the trickling crowd of persons coming to St. Peter's Tết Trung Thu Festival were puzzled by our frozen non-sensical postures.

Our iSPY youth group had moved chairs, inserted candles into the paper lanterns, and got the stage ready. We were waiting for the dragon dance which marked the beginning of the festivities. We were ahead of schedule.
It was time for "Ninja!"

Minutes sped by.
Nacho cheese and jalapenos were scooped into bowls.
Hot dogs in creamy white buns were placed into guests' welcoming hands as they got hungry from watching the show and breathing in the clear night air.

The moon shone in its golden glory as clouds drifted past its surface.
Tommy served everyone with a huge smile.
Hương and Magdalene stayed faithful to the beverages post.
Hùng Anh, Andy, and Luân devised plans to empty the trash more efficiently as the carnival slowed its pace.

It was amazing to be around teens with a huge joyful spirit.
It was humbling to be around adults who was there to help the kids help.
It was astonishing that Chị Hồng drove home to make brownies for the kids as a midnight snack.

The moon was gorgeous that night.
More gorgeous were the hearts that gathered under that moon.

ps1. Photo of our ninja game.
ps2. In honor of the iSPY youth group, their parents, and all adult staff (official and unofficial).

Fairy Dreams

2010-09-25T09:22:00.003-05:00

If I had to be a fairy,
I would be a tree fairy.

Would you let me watch over you
when you break forth into the dark earth?

Would you let me hang dew drops
on your tender green leaves?

Would you let me play with you
when your friends, the bee and the ladybug, visit your flowers?

Would you let me hug you
when the storms come and the bugs bite?

Would you let me sit near you
when your roots are firm and your branches reaches heavenward?

Would you let me kiss you goodbye
when your fruit is picked and your body chopped for firewood?

Would you let me welcome you back
as you fall back into the earth
to give forth new life?

Would you let me be a tree fairy
so I know how to be a real person?

There is an old proverb:
If you have vision for a year, plant wheat.
If you have vision for 10 years, plant a tree.
If you have vision for an eternity, plant a child.

This poem is dedicated to my nieces and nephews, to our aspirants in my religious community, and all the youth I work with, especially the iSPY youth!

ps. Photo of Emma, Angelo, and Xavier from left to right. They are 3 of my 7 nieces and nephews.

Pear

2010-09-23T10:35:00.000-05:00

"Here Sister, this is the prettiest one of all today!" She gently bit into the fruit, slowly sweetened by the sun's late summer rays.

A slight breeze broke through the twilight hours.
The pear tree stood majestic, despite half its body has been ripped by a lightning storm.

"Lord, hear our pear."
As Sr. Jacinta Ngân munched away and the sisters trailed behind me on our walk, I could hear the murmur of my dad's voice.

Every evening, summers ago, mom and dad packed all seven of us into a station wagon and we went to daily Mass. The Vietnamese church was too far away and so we attended St. Paul's Catholic Church, an eight-minute drive. We watched in silence as this was our first time attending a Mass in English.

"Lord, hear our pear."
Until the general intercessions.
My dad's voice reverberated deeply, its warm resonance lingering in the air.

Lord, hear our pear?
It didn't sound right but one does not question a Vietnamese patriarch.

It was many years later when missals became more plentiful that I figured it out.
Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear the whispers of our dreams.

The sisters laugh at my reminiscences.
I join in.
My gaze continued to linger upon the tree's enduring will to live.

ps. Photo is of Angelo, my nephew, at Lowes as the "carpenter." Kinda like my dad, a jack-of-all-trades.

Ruffles

2010-09-22T21:36:00.006-05:00

I wish
I had a skirt with long ruffles
to take you by the hand
into the dancing waters
of the ocean
so you feel the tug of the waters
and my heart.

ps1. In honor of the Harvest Moon, the most beautiful moon of the year and the occasion of a huge Vietnamese children's festival.
ps2. In honor of love that made me meet LOVE.
ps3. Photo from http://www.pettiskirtstyle.com/

Tank

2010-09-20T20:35:00.003-05:00

"What did one goldfish say to the other goldfish?"
"Who's gonna drive this tank?"

It was break time in our Moral Theology class at UD (University of Dallas) and it is a long-standing tradition of Dr. Mark Lowery to share jokes. The cornier the better.

I had met him five years ago when my superiors asked me to start a master's program.
He was the current chair of the theology department, a man distinguished in his demeanor, and piercing in his replies.

He is still the chair of the department and it takes him five minutes to lower his body into a chair.
I was shocked when I saw his bent limbs.

His words still pierce, as he lectures from memories and turns arguments upside down.
More piercing is the light that radiates from his eyes.

It gleams when he is refuting a philosophical error.
It twinkles when he tells jokes.
It blazes when he spoofs of his physical limitations.

And it is a blaze of gentle self-deprecation.
I was going to learn more than moral theology this semester.
I was in the presence of heroism.

ps1. My guppies and goldfish has a new home, courtesy of my cousin. It was a surprise Labor Day gift.

Voir Dire

2010-09-17T11:08:00.002-05:00

We were called by name.
We were asked to remain in position.
We were filed singly and marched up (by elevator) to the fifteenth floor.

"All stand. Jury entering."
We entered the courtroom.
Two lawyers, a special agent, and the defendant peered at us.

We were going to undergo "voir dire."
It is an Anglo-French term for "speaking the truth."

"Ms. X, you are a software engineer?... Numbers have to be exact in your profession, correct?... And yet, you know life is not that clear-cut?"

"Mr. Z, you are a manager?... For how long?.. When a dispute occurs, do you listen to both employees?.. Why?"

As the questions rolled, it was obvious that the lawyers were trying to get a feel of our personalities and principles through our occupations and family backgrounds.

This is voir dire's purpose Judge Reed O'Connor implied in the beginning explanation.
The beauty of the American justice system is every defendant gets a trial by jury.
And lawyers on both sides try to get a jury most sympathetic to their cause.

After the questioning, it was a grueling 2 1/2 hour wait in the corridor.
We all had worries, obligations, and plans weighing on our mind.
No access to newspapers, cell phone, or internet.

Voir dire.
To speak the truth.
To speak your truth.

And hopefully your truth (and eleven others - it was a criminal case and so 12 jurors were needed) will lead to the truth.

ps1. More about the jury system:
http://www.crfc.org/americanjury/voir_dire.html
http://dictionary.law.com/Default.aspx?selected=2229
ps2. I belong to Dallas County and so was under the Northern District of Texas. We met at the Earl Cabell Federal Building. Photo courtesy of http://dallasdiorama.blogspot.com/2007_03_01_archive.html

Spy

2010-09-15T14:30:00.003-05:00

"This is a table... where we sit down together to eat and share stories."
"This is a chair that goes with the table... and so it is like your friends can "sit" on you... and that is like joy."

I could've gotten the words wrong a bit.
However, the straw contraptions were unmistakable.

It was the first day of iSPY youth group at St. Peter's.
26 showed up.

The ultimate question at hand: What is joy?
Sunshine that gives warmth?
A hopping bunny that evokes a smile?
A cube that is open?
A table and chair?

Parents, who was invited to join our session, had an inkling this was why their kids do the things they do. Youth usually know this is the lurking force of why we do what we do.

The secret is out.
Joy is everywhere.
You can buy "it" for 99cents, find it on-line, or look for something that endures.

And sometimes it takes a little spying.
And that is our mission this year.
To spy God's care of us in every moment of every day.

ps. For more photos, search iSPY on Facebook.... especially of all the straw contraptions.

Gift

2010-09-10T16:08:00.002-05:00

"Sister, you're Vietnamese?"
"Oh yes! Vân means cloud."
"Well, I'm half-Vietnamese! I know, usually no one can tell... my mom is Vietnamese," Austin exclaimed.
"Wow! Who could've guessed?"

Who could've guessed Vietnamese blood coursed through his veins? Who could've guessed the gift of this encounter, turned extraordinary, as I was about to leave the retreat and he only meant to give me a brief word of thanks for my presence? Who could've guessed how much more closely we are bound to each other than meets the eye?

It has been a week since I joined TYM for their Ignite retreat.
When I came home, the mysterious vine that grew near my mums revealed its identity.
My sisters had told me to kill it and that its little yellow flowers will not bear fruit because we were not sure it would need another vine for cross pollination.

8 little dưa gang (type of cantaloupe) was coyly hidden among the leaves.
How it got there, no one knew.
It became a gift because its hiddenness was given respect.

ps. I couldn't resist asking for a photo to show off to the sisters a photo of Austin.