My Dad: Fortunate or Unfortunate?

By Thanh Vu

My dad was born in a small village in Northern Vietnam, surrounded by vast, lush green rice fields. It was the kind of village where everyone knew each other, and life followed the rhythms of the rice seasons. In this place, where simplicity and hardship coexisted, my dad's story began—a story that resonates with themes of God's protection and providence, much like the stories in the Bible.

My dad was the youngest child in a small Catholic family with two older sisters. His mother was the light of his life, bringing warmth and love to the whole family. Every evening, she would gather the children to pray the Rosary, their voices joining together in devotion. To my dad, these moments were sacred—times when he felt closest to God and to his mother, wrapped in her love and the gentle rhythm of prayer. But when he was only six years old, his life changed dramatically—his mother passed away, leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill. It was a grief akin to the loss and longing of the Israelites in the wilderness after they lost Moses' leadership.

After a while, his father struggled to raise his children alone and felt overwhelmed by the burden. In an attempt to bring stability to the family, his father remarried. Unfortunately, this new chapter brought even more suffering to my dad. His stepmother treated him cruelly; her heart was hardened towards him, much like Pharaoh's heart toward the Israelites. My dad felt abandoned and treated as a servant rather than a son. He was forced to work as a buffalo herder for wealthy families in the village, his childhood stolen by the burdens of adult responsibilities. During the day, he toiled under the hot sun, herding buffaloes through the fields. At night, his stepmother sent him to the riverbank to fish. His life was one of endless hardship, reminiscent of the harsh slavery endured by the Israelites in Egypt.

My dad had only one set of old, worn-out clothes that he wore for every task. When fishing, he would strip off his clothes to keep them dry, knowing that if he returned home with wet clothes, he would be beaten. Yet, even in these difficult times, God's protection was present. Like Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his brothers and then rose to power in Egypt, my dad held onto his faith, believing that God had not abandoned him.

One night, something miraculous happened. As my dad lay shivering on the riverbank, exhausted from the day's toil, he had a vivid dream. His birth mother appeared to him, her spirit seeming to transcend time and space, filled with love and justice. In the dream, she returned to the house, her face fierce and determined. She grabbed his stepmother by the hair and tied her to the bedpost, punishing her for all her cruelty. This dream gave my dad a sense of justice and reassurance that God saw his suffering and would ultimately protect him.

The Church teaches that the saints in heaven intercede for us. In Catholic tradition, my dad believed that his mother, though no longer with him on earth, was still watching over him. He felt her prayers and protection, as if she were a guardian angel guiding him through his trials. This belief became a source of strength, reminding him that he was never truly alone, even in the darkest moments.

Amid these personal hardships, the political landscape in Vietnam was also changing. The country was under French colonial rule, and rebellion was growing everywhere. Groups were rising up against the French, fighting for independence, and the atmosphere in the village became increasingly tense. One night, communist forces attacked the village, capturing my dad to use as a human shield in their fight against the French. He was just a young man, recently married with two small children, terrified and helpless, but somehow, he managed to escape. It was as if God had parted the sea of chaos before him, just as He had parted the Red Sea for Moses and the Israelites. My dad ran through the night, his heart pounding with fear, but he felt God's presence guiding him to safety.

Eventually, my dad made his way to Hai Phong, a small city in Northe Vietnam. There, he stayed for a few months, hiding from the dangers that threatened his village. During this time, he relied on the kindness of strangers—people who took him in, fed him, and gave him a place to sleep. These acts of charity reminded him of the Good Samaritan, who showed mercy to the injured man on the road. My dad knew that these people were instruments of God's providence, and he was deeply grateful for their generosity.

A peace agreement was eventually reached between the communist forces and the French, allowing people in the North to choose whether to stay or move to the South. My dad saw this as an opportunity—a glimmer of hope in the darkness. He sent a message to his wife and children, urging them to join him in Hai Phong. After days of walking, his family finally reunited with him. It was a moment like Jacob's reunion with his sons in Egypt—a moment of joy after so much pain. My dad embraced his children, tears streaming down his face, knowing that God had answered his prayers.

Together, they boarded a ship to South Vietnam, hoping for a fresh start. The journey had been carefully planned with international support, yet it was not without risks due to human limitation. My dad continued to trust in God's hand, knowing that He was with them, guiding them through life's storms. Although the journey was long, my dad trusted that God would lead them to safety, just as He had led Noah and his family through the great flood. They prayed together as a family, asking for God's protection and guidance. And God did not abandon them. They reached South Vietnam safely, and the southern government resettled them in a rural area called "Cái Sắn," where they were given a plot of land to cultivate.

For a time, they lived in peace, loving and supporting each other, while my dad worked tirelessly in the rice fields to provide for his family. He was no longer a child forced to work under harsh conditions; he was now a father striving to create a better future for his children. The local parish became the centre of their community, and every day, including Sundays, they would rise early, before dawn, to attend Mass, finding strength and solace in the sacraments. The Eucharist was a source of grace for my dad, reminding him that Christ was present with them, even in their struggles. He found comfort in the Church's teachings and the promise that God was always with them.

I n 1975, their lives were once again turned upside down. Communist forces from the North swept into the South, and the country fell under communist rule. The new regime was harsh and unforgiving. Those associated with the previous government were imprisoned, and people's movements were restricted. The authorities closely monitored those who had migrated from the North to the South. Armed soldiers were placed among the villagers, all of whom were northern migrants. This created an atmosphere of distrust—children didn't trust their parents, and neighbours suspected one another, a result of the regime's brainwashing. It was a time of fear and uncertainty, and my dad knew they couldn't stay. He had to make the difficult decision to leave Vietnam, escape the country, and seek freedom in another land.

This was the beginning of another dangerous journey—a journey that would take them across the sea in a small, overcrowded boat. They were part of what came to be known as the "boat people"—thousands of Vietnamese who fled the country in search of freedom. The journey was fraught with danger. The sea was vast and unpredictable, and they faced storms, high waves, and even pirates. Many did not survive; their boats were lost at sea. But my dad believed that God was with them, that He would protect them, just as He had protected Jonah in the belly of the whale.

One night, in particular, stood out—a night when the waves were so high that it seemed their boat would surely capsize. The wind howled, and the rain fell in torrents, soaking everyone on board. My dad held onto his children, praying the Rosary with all his heart. He remembered the story of Jesus calming the storm on the Sea of Galilee, how the disciples had cried out in fear, and Jesus had risen and commanded the wind and waves to be still. My dad prayed for that same miracle, for God to calm the storm and bring them safely through.

And God heard his prayers. The storm eventually passed, and the sea grew calm. They continued their journey, and after many days at sea, they finally reached the shores of Thailand. They were taken to a refugee camp, where they stayed for a year, waiting for an opportunity to start their lives anew. Life in the camp was difficult—crowded conditions and scarce food. But there was still hope. My dad knew that God had brought them this far and trusted that He would not abandon them now.

After a year in the refugee camp, my dad received the news he had been praying for—they were granted permission to go to Australia. It was a moment of profound joy, a moment when all the suffering and hardship seemed to fall away. Australia was a land of promise, a place where they could build a future free from fear and oppression. It was their Canaan, the land flowing with milk and honey, where they could finally find rest.

When they arrived in Australia, our family was reunited. My dad had been lost—lost to the sea, lost to the chaos of war—but now he was found. It was like the parable of the prodigal son, who had been lost but was found, who had been dead but was alive again. There were tears of joy, and there was a sense of peace, knowing that they were finally safe, that they were finally home.

My dad's story is one of both fortune and misfortune. He endured unimaginable hardships but also experienced the profound grace of God's protection. He was tested, like Job, but he never lost his faith. He believed that God had a plan for his life, even when he could not see it. He believed that God was with him, guiding him, protecting him, and ultimately leading him to a place of safety and hope.

Throughout his life, my dad experienced many facets of God's protection—the justice from his mother's spirit, the providence that led him to safety, the hope that brought him to Australia, and the love that reunited our family. His story is a testament to the truth that God's protection does not mean the absence of suffering—it means that even in suffering, we are never alone.

In the Catholic faith, we are taught that suffering is part of the human condition but not meaningless. Christ suffered on the cross, and in doing so, He transformed suffering into a means of redemption. My dad's life is a living testament to this truth. He endured great suffering, but he never gave up hope. He never stopped believing that God had a plan for his life, that He was leading him to something better.

The sacraments were a source of strength for my dad throughout his life. The Eucharist, in particular, was a sign of God's presence, a reminder that Christ was with him in his suffering. He found peace and consolation in the Mass, knowing that he was united with Christ in His sacrifice. The Rosary was another source of comfort—a way to call upon the Blessed Virgin Mary's intercession, asking for her protection and guidance. My dad prayed the Rosary every day, and in those moments of prayer, he felt his mother's presence, watching over him, interceding for him, and helping him endure.

When I think about my dad's life, I am reminded of the words of St. Paul in his letter to the Romans: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). My dad's life is a testament to this truth. He faced trials that would have broken many, but he held onto his faith through it all. He knew that God was with him, working for his good, even in the midst of suffering.

Ultimately, my dad's story is not just about survival but about the enduring power of faith. It is about believing in God's protection even when the night is darkest, trusting that He will lead us to the light. It is a story of hope, redemption, and the unbreakable bond between a father and his family—just as God is our Father, watching over us, guiding us, and protecting us through every storm.