Early rises & Our Lady celebrations

We arise early in the morning, 4.20 is when my alarm kindly wakes me if the bells that sound out over the small creek that is known as a river, sounding off the buildings up through my window with the gentle breeze at four am. It is this morning call that I am starting to get use to, the feet go on the floor, fumble my way to the bathroom for a cold shower to wake up the senses and look half presentable. 

We walk down the airy streets, no house lights on, no gates open, the dog curled up near the door. The rain has dropped and continues to fall leaving the earth spongy, small pools collecting on the broken up ‘sidewalks’ which are known in this part of the world as roads. Wishing I had some gumboots as it would be prime time to splash about with joy in the puddles. I watch the clouds roll through the city, spotting the hues of grey swirling and dancing with the far off blue. 

The air is morning new, as we walk around a few bends, flow the creek to the intersection that one has to play follow the leader to get to the other side, praying the game will not turn into how did the chicken get to the other side! There is a sense of deep gratitude as we approach the church. People pop out of alley ways and jump off motorbikes as the driver continues on. There is a sense of community, deep connected community that are coming together to give thanks. 

As the sun starts to rise, the chanting echoes through the windowless building, sounding out far beyond the walls. The rhythmic tune makes your heart beat in time, hum along to what is becoming familiar tunes. The words are lost on me, yet the english so bedded into my heart that they come to mind instantly. At times I ponder if this is what Mass felt like pre-vatican, different language, watching instead of participating. For me though, there is a difference, I know what is happening through the actions, the familiar order, the timing, I know what is happening. 

After Mass we adventure to the house for morning prayer followed by a prompt departing of two of the workers ;o) Their day starts with little rest. 

I am reminded through what is becoming a familiar pattern of morning routine, that you can not expect to be ‘victorious’ for lack of a better word, if the day begins only in your own strength. Face the work of every day with the influence of a few thoughtful, quiet moments with your heart and God. Not meeting other people, on the street, even those in your own home, until you have first met the great Guest and honoured Companion of your life! 

A voice within me reminds me of the great depth of meeting Him alone. Meeting Him regularly. Meet Him with His open Book of counsel before me, and face the regular and the irregular duties of each day with the influence of His personality definitely controlling your every act…… 

This reminder comes with great heart joy at been reminder of my centre. Of how the journey has shaped in so many unexpected beautiful ways that is beyond my brain to be able to create. Even now as I type this below me hospitality is forming, with laugher, singing and language to the familiar ear waiting for my presences. 

Our Lady of La Vang

Yesterday too, another moment beyond imagination, beyond planning that was a delight to simply be present.  We attend afternoon Mass with the whole community, some of the girls coming home from work rushing out the door to walk together in anticipation of the evening before us. 

I can not explain the whole importance of the Mass yet my clues give me a little hint. It was a feast day, so the priest colours told me. It was in celebration of a lady, as her image display at the front of the altar. As  I looked at her, she looks like the lady that I was gifted a statue for my profession - Our Lady of La Vang. The girls were singing in the mothers (womens) choir. The church was full of women dress in their traditional outfit, all in white with a blue scarf. It was a joyous feast you could feel that in the air. 

Afterwards we adventured below the church to an open space that was hosting dinner. The girls all got up to sing a number. What a performance!! I’m sure the room stop to hear them sing. Their voices came together under great direction of Mary. All the hours practicing paid off with one harmonic number presented. I wish to post here yet thought best not as I have not got permission so will email to a few people. It was a wonderful evening, sitting around listening to many number of different performances. The food was….. tasty!! As the community in AU would say…. it was challenging with so much meat, where are the carrots people!!!! 

A little more about Our Lady of La Vang

It was during this time of vicious persecution of Catholics that Our Lady appeared to the Catholic faithful cowering in the dense forests. When the wave of persecutions began, Catholicism was firmly entrenched in the hearts of its faithful in Vietnam. As early as 1698, Catholics suffered for the Faith. During the back and forth years of the 1700’s and 1800’s, more than one hundred thousand Catholic Vietnamese were martyred. Even today, with a Communist government in charge, bishops and priests are harassed, and the status of the Church is not strong.

During the late 1700’s, persecution of Catholics was so severe that many of the people fled to a remote mountain area near the Imperial capital of Hue, province of Quang Tri, at one time the northernmost province of the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam). They fled to the area of Lavang to save their lives and to be free to practice their religion in peace. In the year 1798, as the community gathered to say the Rosary together, there appeared an apparition of a beautiful Lady holding a little child in her arms. Angels surrounded them. The Lady was in simple dress, but wore a gold crown. The beautiful Lady spoke to the people as a mother, giving them words of love and comfort. She did not issue any warnings as Our Lady of Fatima did to the three seers; she simply expressed her love for them as her persecuted children. Helping them with their problems and cares, she showed them how to make medicines from the plants and herbs that grew in the area. She appeared several more times, issuing the same message of love and comfort. Soon a small shrine of rice straw and leaves was built in her honor. More and more of the faithful flocked to the shrine over the years, miraculous cures were reported, and Lavang continued to be a sanctuary for oppressed Catholics.