Changing verb tenses — and lives
CAN THO, VIETNAM — A chance encounter resulted in her…
Crashing a funeral in Vietnam
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CAN THO, VIETNAM — Suppose you were expecting a visitor you’ve never met from a faraway country. And suppose that, just before this person showed up, a family member or close friend of yours passed away.
You’d probably scramble to find someone else to host your guest, right? You certainly wouldn’t invite them to the funeral — much less ask them to participate in the ceremony?
A memorial for Nguyen Chau Son stands before his casket in Can Tho, Vietnam.
Well, that’s not how we do things in Vietnam, I found out. A day after I met my contact, Hai Huynh, at the airport in Ho Chi Minh City, I was whisked away (on the back of a scooter, I might add) to the funeral of a man I’d never met.
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And I’m so glad I was.
His name was Nguyen Chau Son. His casket stood in a family room that opened onto a neighborhood street in Can Tho, a city of about 1.5 million souls in Vietnam’s Mekong Delta.
Above the casket hung a stock-ticker-type sign that scrolled digital messages of mourning. Elaborate floral arrangements filled the room. Next to Nguyen’s photo was a Bible verse in Vietnamese, Revelation 14:13, “I heard a voice from heaven saying, ‘Blessed are those who die in the Lord from now on! The Holy Spirit said, ‘Yes, for they rest from their labors, and their works follow them.’”
I met Nguyen’s stepdaughter, Ngan, more than a decade ago at my office in Oklahoma City. The legendary Tom Tune, a sailor and longtime missionary in the South Pacific, brought her by to introduce me as she started graduate school at Oklahoma Christian University. While working in Vietnam, Tom had started a program to help poor folks in Vietnam pay for their education. Tom’s efforts resulted in multiple baptisms, including Nguyen and his entire family.
Related: By land and sea, Tom Tune’s ministry spans globe
Ngan barely said a word during the visit. She seemed a bit shy and overwhelmed. Now, years later, she’s returned to Vietnam and launched an English school with multiple campuses and hundreds of students. Even in the midst of mourning for her stepfather, she greeted me like an old friend.
Hai Huynh serves vegetables from a steaming bowl during one of many memorial meals at the home of Nguyen Chau Son.
In Vietnam, funerals are multiday affairs. The family set up two tents and tables in the street and started cooking — and cooking and cooking. I returned to the home several times between whirlwind trips (again, on the back of a scooter) into the country to meet families served by the growing Church of Christ in Can Tho. Someone always was preparing a meal, it seemed, and someone else always was pulling me toward a table to share in the feast. Plate after plate of prawns (shrimp), beef, pork and chicken appeared before us — and, of course, great bowls of pho, the Vietnamese soup with rice noodles that’s all the rage in the States right now.
The food was amazing, but the fellowship was even better. I met members of Nguyen’s extended family and teachers from the English school. We shared stories and laughed. We often say that we want funerals to feel like celebrations. This one really did. I didn’t feel like a funeral crasher but a guest of honor.
@christianchronicle CAN THO, VIETNAM — Scenes from the funeral of Nguyen Chau Son. #vietnam #vietnamesefuneral #churchofchrist #holyholyholy ♬ original sound – The Christian Chronicle
At least once per day, we gathered in the room with the casket as Hai led hymns, including “I Need Thee Every Hour” and “There’s Sunshine in My Soul,” in Vietnamese. I followed along as best I could. Hai asked me to say a prayer for the family — in English, thankfully.
On the final morning of the memorial, men in red uniforms with yellow stripes arrived. They took down the scrolling sign and loaded the casket on an elaborately ornamented truck. Ngan, her mother (who goes by “Miss Eight”) and their immediate family wore white, a traditional color of mourning in Vietnam, and carried photos of brother Nguyen. I rode in a small bus with the extended family to a cemetery and crematorium about 20 minutes away. There, after more hymns and prayers, the family said their final goodbyes and shed a few tears. I might have, too, as I remembered the loved ones I’ve lost in the past decade — my mom, my grandmother, my good friends Bailey and Joyce McBride.
Funeral workers and family members load into the back of a xe tang (funeral hearse) for the journey from Nguyen Chau Son’s home in Can Tho, Vietnam, to a cemetery and crematorium.
I also thought about the countless lives lost in the decades-long conflict in Vietnam. The war changed and damaged so many of my countrymen who served here, including one of my uncles. I pray that the Vietnam veterans who are able will get the chance to come here and to experience the wonderful hospitality of these amazing people.
Steve Hawley, a longtime educator and church member in Houston, comes to Vietnam for a month each year to work with the school.
He messaged me recently and asked, “Did you know you are in the funeral picture of Miss Eight’s husband?” I told him all about it.
Steve wasn’t surprised. Over the years, he’s been a part of weddings and betrothal ceremonies in Vietnam. As Steve put it, “When you are there, you are family!” (Actually, I think Steve borrowed that line from Olive Garden.)
From left, Ngan Huynh, Erik Tryggestad and Huynh Hong Hue (“Miss Eight”) stand next to the casket and memorial for Nguyen Chau Son.
I’m so thankful to my Vietnamese family for including me in the remembrance and celebration ceremonies for our brother Nguyen. It’s an experience I’ll treasure forever.
Maybe we should invite fellow believers — even those we don’t know so well — to our memorial services. If indeed we’re to bear each other’s burdens and share each other’s lives, as Paul tells us in Galatians 6, shouldn’t we take part in each other’s mourning?
‘Memories of my stepfather’
As I prepared this column I asked Ngan if she’d like to add anything about her stepfather. Following are her reflections:
“Today I want to recall a few memories of my stepfather. I wish he had not died so that I could repay his kindness and take better care of him.
“He was a very kind and loving man. Even though I was not his biological child, he treated me very kindly and supported me through school. As each year began, he would take me on an old motorcycle (that one of the neighbors had lent him) to buy new schoolbooks, notebooks and a schoolbag.
An intricately decorated xe tang (funeral hearse) is parked outside the home of Nguyen Chau Son in Can Tho, Vietnam.
“He treated me fairly, just like his own biological child. Every week, he gave me 20,000 VND (50 cents) to put into my piggy bank so that when Vietnamese Tết (New Year) came around, I could use that money to buy new clothes.
“My stepfather married my mother and moved to the countryside where my grandma lived and worked as a farmer. They built a small thatched hut in the middle of the field to live in and grow fruit trees. They grew vegetables, papayas and oranges to sell to earn money for their living, but they still faced many difficulties and did not have enough money to live comfortably.
“They were very poor, and the neighbors looked down on them. There was a wedding near our home involving a family that was related to us, but they did not invite my stepfather and mother because they thought that my parents were very poor and that would affect their reputation.
“My mother was looked down upon and treated very badly by our neighbors and relatives. When she asked to borrow money and food, they told her to leave and cursed her. They would not let their children be friends with me because they said my mother was not a respectable woman because she had been married three times (before she came to know God). They did not let their children sit in the same class as me.
In a photo from the mid-1990s, Tran Thi Ket, center, and her family stand in front of the river where Ket’s husband was killed. Ket’s granddaughter, Ngan Huynh, is third from left.
“My stepfather and mother decided to move to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), hoping that life would be better. The house in Saigon belonged to my stepfather’s parents and had been left to their five children. There were four families — a total of 15 people — living together in one house with only one bathroom. My stepfather worked as a security guard and was paid very little. Even so, he tried his best to provide food for the family. A neighbor lent my mother a sewing machine so she could sew and mend clothes to earn a little money and help support the family.
“Although our family life was somewhat more stable than when we were in the countryside, we still faced great financial difficulties. My stepfather’s friends were other security guards, and my mother’s friends were lottery ticket sellers and recyclables collectors — people from the poorest classes of society. Our family was never invited to any parties either.
Tom Tune reads Scripture during a church service in Ho Chi Minh City in the late 2000s.
“Then we met Tom Tune in 2005. Tom came to my stepfather’s house to meet him, my mother and my half-sister. Tom invited us to eat at a buffet restaurant. It was the first time in our lives that we had eaten such delicious food and sat in such a luxurious place.
“From that point on, our family came to know God. Tom helped my sister and me get money for our education through his ministry, Tom’s Kids, and my parents’ financial burden became much lighter. Gradually, my family’s life improved. The people around us also treated us better.
Connor English School founder Ngan Huynh points to degrees she earned from Harding University and Oklahoma Christian University.
“When my stepfather’s siblings decided to sell the house, my family moved to Can Tho. My stepfather and mother looked for the people who previously had treated them badly and helped their children get money for school through Tom’s Kids. My stepfather drove my mother to meet the former neighbors, and they were very happy to welcome my parents.
“My mother said: ‘God has lifted my husband and me out of the mud, and I want everyone around us to see the beautiful change that comes from being in God.’ She invited many poor children and relatives from my hometown to our house to learn English and become familiar with God’s Word.
“God has lifted my husband and me out of the mud, and I want everyone around us to see the beautiful change that comes from being in God.”
“When my stepfather was alive, almost every day he drove her to visit poor families. My stepfather was happy to take my mother anywhere, even when the muddy rural roads were difficult to travel. He always supported her in visiting poor families. My mother would go to their homes and talk with the children’s parents and grandparents. She said that she wanted to seek out people who were in the most difficult circumstances because they would accept God’s Word more easily. My mother wanted their lives to change for the better, both spiritually and materially, when they became children of God.
Clouds gather over a cemetery and crematorium in Can Tho, Vietnam.
“Now my stepfather is no longer with us, but every day I remember everything he did for me. If he had been a selfish and unkind man, he would not have taken me in and let me live with his family in Saigon. And if I had not moved to Saigon, I would not have met Tom.
“I understand that everyone will eventually die, but death in Christ is life. His kindness and compassion gave me the opportunity to meet the person who changed my life. Tom is the one who brought me to Christ, and Christ brought glory to my family.
“We do not need to be rich to do God’s work. As long as we have a kind heart, we also can change someone’s life. And God gets the glory.”
ERIK TRYGGESTAD is President and CEO of The Christian Chronicle. Contact [email protected].
