Cảm Nghĩ Của Một Người Con-Eulogy

Cảm Nghĩ Của Một Người Con, Đặng Thị Kim Dung
...My mother would work laboriously through the week to make ends meet, but on Saturdays, she would take the time to prepare each of us for church services the next day. No matter how poor we were, she would make sure that we were in clean, well-pressed outfits for church. Another part of her Saturday routine was breaking a dollar bill into various coins. She would hand each of us a coin to contribute to the offering. This was our life -- impoverished, but peaceful in God's care.

And so the five of us grew under God's provision and my mother's watchful eyes. When my oldest brother was called to serve in the South Vietnamese Army during the Viet Nam War, a service that would almost certainly end in death, my mother did not cry, but said, "I'm ready to give my son to this country."

When my second oldest brother received a sponsorship to study abroad, my mother once again did not cry, but hand-sewed a warm, quilted vest for him and tucked a Bible into his hands, saying "When you are far from home, remember to read this, and never turn away from God."

Out of the five of us siblings, my younger sister Grace and younger brother Chris were the ones who did best in school, and they would bring home prizes and awards for their achievements. Those symbols of their accomplishments were also my mother's happiness and proudest achievements. "Grace is the smartest person in this family," she would say, "and Chris is my King Solomon -- so deep and wise in his thoughts and words."

And when I was pregnant with my first child, my mother gave me my first lesson in motherhood. She told me, "You must take a blanket and pleat it into a bandage. Wrap it around your baby's middle until the umbilical cord falls out. That way, your child will be sure to have a nice 'innie' belly button."

God has continued to provide for our family beyond our fragile childhood years. Though the circumstances of wartime tore us apart, forcing each of us into separate corners of the world for years, we have all been able to reunite and share our own families with our mother.

My mother loved to knit as a hobby, and would always make sweaters and scarves for her children and grandchildren. She also loved to garden. Above all however, my mother loved God, and prayed every morning. When she turned seventy, which was considered rare for Vietnamese women of her age, she began journaling letters to God. Every entry began with, "Praise and thanksgiving to God, who has blessed me with another day in my advanced age." And when I would sit and chat with her, she would say, "The more I think about the past and what we have been through, the more I fear God's righteousness and providence."

In recent years, my mother has been more and more at peace with going home to God, and, in sharing her thoughts about her funeral last year, told me, "When I die, please bury me with this Bible quote: 'Happy the man who follows not the council of wicked nor walks in the way of sinners, nor sits in the company of the insolent, but delights in the law of the Lord and meditates on His law day and night.' (Psalms 1:1)" In a final letter to her children, my mother told us to love one and another, keep the faith and follow God to the very end.

Mom, when you welcomed us into this world, you carefully wrapped our middles so that we would have the most perfect physical form you could give us. When our father died, you continued to swaddle with your sacrifice and love until we grew into adults. So when we say our final goodbye to you, Mom, we praise God and glorify His holy name for giving us this model of sacrifice and dedication. With the faith and hope that you have nurtured in us, we look forward to the day we will see you once again -- in heaven.

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