During our first few days in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, my squad and I stayed in the heart of the city as we prepared for a new month.
I felt profoundly the pulsating vibrance of this city, the immense and staggering hospitality, and the sense that adventure was to be had here, so I delighted in exploring my new spectacular backyard.
One day, I was wondering down this street, strolling past food vendors, bars, restaurants, and massage parlors, in search of a rooftop, a coffee, and some quiet time. I walked along Bui Vien Street for a few minutes, almost to the street’s end, and then noticed a rooftop restaurant on my right. I walked in, seated myself upstairs, and broke out my journal.
Before I could crack open my pen, my waitress greeted me.
What ensued felt like it occurred in slow motion. In our lives, there are those certain moments where things just feel different. Moments feel so special, that the concept of time seems to fade away. All that matters is this one moment.
I introduced myself and we began to chat, and subsequently hit it off. We went from discussing the menu to swapping stories in no time, and exchanged contact information.
In the next few nights, I would walk to her restaurant, pick her up after her shift, and we’d explore the town and get to know each other. We’d stroll down Bui Vien street and grab fries and ice cream at Burger King, or chat on a park bench. It was during these nights that she shared her story.
Anna is a single mother from a profoundly impoverished and rural area in the southern portion of the Philippines. She has two children who currently live with her parents. Anna, now 31, had them at a young age, and her ex-husband has been out of the picture since her children were infants.
She has worked in Vietnam for a number of years now, bouncing from restaurant to restaurant, and has found somewhat of a home in her new restaurant.
Her fellow employers are kind and hard working, but there is a drawback.
She lives at the restaurant. Literally. She is very rarely not in the building.
Her daily shift is 11-11, with an hour break, and just two off days a month. She works tirelessly, but joyfully. When her day is done, she trots up the stairs to the floor designated as a living quarters for the kitchen and wait staff. These consistently repetitive days take their toll on her, as well as her co-workers. She works excruciatingly long hours at an incredibly busy restaurant.
She’s tired. But you’d never know. She exudes this unmistakeable optimism and this persistent, pertinent light. Her smile ignites, her soul soothes, and it’s all so effortless. She’s meek and petite but as soon as you interact with her, it feels like you know her. Or at least like you want to. The peace that she carries is insurmountable, and although diminutive in stature, her work ethic intense and unparalleled.
And her mission?
To get home.
When Anna fled the Philippines, she did so with the intention of making money she couldn’t make at home, sending it back to her family, and then rejoining them shortly after. Other factors, such as a deteriorating relationship with some family members over conflict of religion, and the impending demise of a hurtful relationship with her then husband, pushed her further from home.
She’s also experienced her share of trials here in Ho Chi Minh City, as well. Anna has worked exceptionally long hours at previous places of employment for far underwhelming wages.
“I made enough to eat, to pay my rent, and to travel from my apartment to the restaurant,” she recalled.
Unfortunately, Anna didn’t have the luxury of saving an ever-increasing sum of cash to send back home. She sent back what she could and survived with the rest. Over time, that situation has improved, but the outlook still seems bleak.
I inquired, “What’s your time table? When do you think you’ll have enough money to head home and provide?”
Anna looked down, took a second, and then stated gloomily,
“2017, maybe. Probably 2018.”
I’ve yet to meet anyone who wanted anything more than Anna wants to come home.
“I want to stand as a mother,” she would tell me with tears in her eyes. “I’m ready to stand as a mother.”
“I’m ready to come home.”
Anna’s faith has sustained her through this difficult season. She stands steadfastly in her relationship with her Creator, and she has sought him in the difficulties.
Yet, she struggles with the inevitability of questions like “Am I alone in this?” “Will all this work be worth it?” Or, “Am I a bad mother?”
“My heart is coated with pain, and disappointment, and brokenness, and I want to break out of this coating. I want a fresh start,” she shared.
What I think is most beautiful about our interactions in Vietnam and new relationship is that it was all by divine appointment. It was all orchestrated by God. Telling Anna that the Lord heard her cry, that he saw her struggle and how hard she was working, and that he has never left her, even through the struggles of the last several years, was truly one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.
It is a tremendous honor to know Anna, and a humbling proposition to come alongside of her, and fight with her.
We want to help start a new chapter in her life.
We want to help her get home.
Simply, if she pays for a flight home now, she’ll arrive and be in the same situation she was when she left. The money she works so tirelessly to earn would not only provide for her children, but ensure financial stability for the foreseeable future; something Anna has only ever dreamt of.
She has been working to save up $1,000. Enough to fly home, provide for her children on a consistent basis, and catapult her into new job opportunities and possible business ventures.
Regardless of what happens in the coming months, the Lord has Anna firmly within his loving grip. He’s got her, and I’m immensely grateful for our terrific friendship, and for the role I’ve been fortunate enough to play in her story.
Last month I introduced my team to her and we all spent time growing closer collectively. We invited her to church and worshipped together. We laughed, cried, danced, and shared life in my month in Vietnam.
Her story is worth telling. Anna walks humbly, is a woman of class, honor, and integrity. She is an incredible mother who fights daily for her children, just as God fights daily for his.
God doesn’t leave us. He’s with us. He fights for us. His pursuit is relentless and beyond comprehension. Even in the midst of strife, uncertainty, and the most adverse of circumstances, he brings hope and he restores.
In Anna’s case, that hope could come through you.
Together, we can learn that God never leaves us. We can all play a part in reuniting a hard working woman with her children. Together, we can make this story redemptive, and beautiful. Together, we can help her reach home.
