Where the Wind Leads: A Refugee Family's Miraculous Story of Loss, Rescue, and Redemption

Prejudice begins with ignorance, and whenever one culture first meets another, there is ignorance.

There is no greater love than to give one's life for a friend, but giving one's life does not always mean dying-sometimes it means living.

I was born in Vietnam, but I was not Vietnamese; I was raised in America, but I was not American. I grew up Asian in character but American in culture, a citizen but always refugee. I had no lessons from the past to guide me, no right way to do things in the present, and no path to follow me in the future.

Compassion fatigue is understandable--when hearts grow tired and cold after repeated attempts to offer help. What I find impossible to understand is how fatigue can descend into assault, abduction, and brutal murder.

Whatever you do on behalf of the world’s forgotten, it can make a difference for generations.

The winds of heaven change suddenly so do human fortunes.

I would rather you go for the best and lose than try for second best and win

Why me? Why am I family and not theirs? Our boats were all set adrift exactly the same location; why did the same wind take our boat in one direction and there’s in another? We were blessed – there’s no other way to say it – but why weren’t they? Were we more worthy in someway? Or are we more deserving of rescue? I don’t see how; my family’s entire contribution to our rescue was up to lie there waiting to die. The only answer to the question “why?” is “God only knows.” so rather than philosophize about a question I cannot answer I prefer to ask two other questions that are much more practical. “Who do you think sent that the boat?” And “What does he expect me to do now?” My Christian faith has always played a central role in my life and its supplies answers to those questions: “who do you think sent the boat?” Answer: God sent the boat. “What does he expect me to do now?”Answer: now that I am safely ashore, He expects me to send the boat back for someone else.

My Christian faith has always put a central role of my life and it’s supplies answers to those questions: “who do you think sent the boat?” Answer: God sent the boat. “ what does he expect me to do now?” Answer: now that I am safely ashore, he expects me to send the boat back for someone else.

It is good to reach for things, even if they are impossible because the higher you reach, the higher you’ll go. Don’t let your fear of failure hold you back but let it be the reason that you would try so hard . . . so that you never have to face that failure.

There is a very wise Chinese proverb that says, “Never strike a flea on a tiger’s head,” and I think my father sensed that this was not the time to challenge his wife’s wishes.

In September the new socialist government made its ultimate intentions clear: there would be no more inventories. Instead, my family was informed its rice mills were being permanently “borrowed” by the government and the government’s own employees would be brought in to work them. My family was left with no alternative but to walk away and leave behind everything they had worked for.

For Han it was like standing on an ice floe that was melting all around him and wishing he knew how to swim.

I have eaten more salt than you have eaten rice.

There is nothing more difficult to understand than someone else's irrational fear because understanding requires reason, and there is nothing reasonable about the irrational.

Many people spend their lives seeking to be served, instead of seeking to serve others. The more we receive, the less we seem to have.

There are times when an apparent coincidence is so incredible and so perfectly coordinated that it forces us to wonder whether there must have been purpose behind it.

Do not believe that you will reach your destination without leaving the shore.

He had been doing for all my life: sitting in the stands because he couldn't play the game himself, cheering me on while no one cheered for him, then heading back to work after everyone else went home.

The one-way bus ticket was symbolic of what my parents had been saying to me all my life: All we can do is get you there; after that it's up to you

i had a path in mind but only a vague idea of where I wanted to end up.

I did it. For the first time, I KISSED. It wasn't as bad as i had expected. I enjoyed it. The sensation was far more appealing than the thought.

My mother was avery loving woman, but she didn't express it in words-- my family just wasn't like that. My mother and father never hugged me or told me they loved me. They loved me by providing for me and keeping me safe, and I always knew that I was loved