A Sacred Encounter at Home of Hope 5
by Penny Taylor
The streets of Hanoi pulsed with their characteristic energy as our team navigated through the maze of businesses and the constant stream of motorcycles weaving between pedestrians. Our destination was a humble home tucked away in this bustling neighborhood—the residence of Thien and Hoa, the devoted parents who lead Home of Hope 5 in the Hope’s Promise Vietnam Orphan Care Program.
A Warm Vietnamese Welcome
From the moment we arrived, Hoa’s hospitality enveloped us. Her warm smile lit up her face as she quickly guided our group through the house to a gathering space in the back. True to Vietnamese tradition, she brought out beautifully arranged trays of fresh fruit and poured steaming coffee from a thermos—simple gestures that spoke volumes about her servant’s heart.
The atmosphere shifted as the children began leading us in worship, their small hands skillfully playing instruments with a joy that seemed to transcend their circumstances. In that moment, music became a universal language connecting all of us in the room.
Hearts Open, Stories Shared
As we settled in, Thien and Hoa began opening their hearts to us. They shared the story of God’s unmistakable calling on their lives—a calling to open their home and hearts to children who had nowhere else to go. With evident love, they spoke about each of their six children: two biological and four adopted. Each child has their own story, their own personality, their own place in this carefully woven family tapestry.
They also talked about their active ministry at their local church and painted an honest picture of daily life—the beautiful moments of breakthrough and connection, balanced against the very real challenges that come with raising six children, especially those who have experienced trauma and loss.
When the Room Quiets
After some time, most of our team left to work on a project with the children, their laughter and chatter fading as they moved to another part of the house. Beth and I remained behind with Thien and Hoa. Sometimes the most meaningful connections happen in smaller, quieter spaces where vulnerability feels safer.
We asked a simple but important question: “How can we be praying for your family?”
The Weight She Carries
What followed was deeply moving. Hoa began to speak—at length, in Vietnamese—without pausing for translation. We sat there, watching her face, trying to understand through expression what words couldn’t yet tell us.
First, she spoke about the weariness that had settled into her bones. Two of the children require extra attention—struggling with both schoolwork and behavioral challenges that demand constant patience, creativity, and energy. Any parent knows this exhaustion, but for Hoa, it was compounded by what she shared next.
As she continued speaking, her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. The pain etched on her face was palpable, and those of us who couldn’t understand Vietnamese felt the agonizing tension of knowing something deeply significant was being shared, yet not knowing what. We waited, holding space for her grief.
A Diagnosis, A Fear, A Faith
When Jennifer finally translated, the weight of Hoa’s words landed heavily on our hearts: Hoa had recently been diagnosed with Lupus.
But in a testament to her character, Hoa’s first concern wasn’t for herself. Her worry centered entirely on her children. What would happen to them if her health declined? Would she have enough time to raise them to independence? Could she see them through to adulthood, equipped and ready for life on their own?
When we asked how we could best support her during this challenging season, her answer was immediate and simple: “Prayer.”
The Ministry of Presence and Prayer
Before we left that back room, we had the profound honor of praying with Thien and Hoa. We laid hands on them and lifted their burdens before the throne of grace. In the grand scheme of things, it might not seem like much—just words spoken in faith, tears shed in solidarity, hands held in unity.
But prayer is never “just” anything. When we truly connect with the Heavenly Father and bring His children’s needs before Him, we’re participating in something eternal. We’re offering what might seem like a small cup of cold water, but to weary travelers on a long journey, that refreshment can mean everything.
Prayer is the lifeline. Prayer is the anchor. Prayer changes things—if not circumstances, then hearts. If not the timeline, then the strength to endure it.
A Word for the Journey
As I reflect on our time with Thien and Hoa, I’m reminded of Paul’s words from his prison cell, words that seem to speak directly to Hoa’s situation:
“For I know that through your prayers and God’s provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance. I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death.”
— Philippians 1:19-20
Paul understood what Hoa is learning: that our circumstances—even the difficult ones, even the frightening diagnoses, even the uncertain futures—can become platforms for Christ to be exalted. Through prayers and God’s provision, deliverance comes. Perhaps not always in the form we expect, but always in the form we need.
Join us in praying for Thien and Hoa:
- For wisdom and strength as they parent six beautiful children
- For healing and management of Hoa’s Lupus diagnosis
- For the children who struggle academically and behaviorally, that they would experience breakthroughs
- That Christ would be exalted in their home, whether in healing or in perseverance
- For daily grace, moment by moment, as they walk this journey of faith
Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is pray. Will you join us?
Related Posts
