beach at Da Nang, Vietnam

Early one morning, while I was staying at a hotel in Da Nang, Vietnam, I took a walk along the beach. It was probably six o’clock when I stepped out of my hotel room and made my way down to Da Nang Bay along the Pacific Ocean. When I arrived at the water’s edge, I looked down the beach and saw hundreds of local Vietnamese people all dressed in long black pants and black shirts. Almost like an uncoordinated flash-mob, they were all doing stretches and yoga-type movements.  The whole scene took me by surprise and seemed very surreal.  My first thought was that I had happened upon a kung fu camp being hosted by the hotel, except for the fact that each person was acting independent of the others with no sign of a leader calling out instructions or orders. As I walked down the beach in my blue sweatpants and white t-shirt and extraordinarily white skin, I stood out like a sore thumb. People were nonchalantly staring at me, though they did not break the concentration of their exercise routine. I continued to be amazed at the sheer numbers of people and the commonality of their actions.

After my short walk observed by hundreds of eyes, I returned to the hotel to get ready for the day. Before leaving for my meetings, I decided to return to the beach for one more look at the ocean.  Once at the beach, there was not a single person anywhere in sight.  It was as if earlier, the entire city decided to go to the beach at one set time to exercise, and now 45 minutes later, they had departed, as a community, for the next event on their collective daily agenda. I did notice in all my travels through Vietnam that there was a commonality of schedule that created a real sense of community.

I am reminded of the story in the Gospel of Luke in which ten men suffering from leprosy were healed by Jesus.  The story has a number of powerful messages, but one is the fact that each of these men were now able to be integrated back into their communities.  Previous to their healing, the law excluded them from community with others due to their disease. But after being healed, they could now socialize freely, conduct business, and reconnect with family. Similarly, so many of the conditions that are treated at CURE hospitals exclude the inflicted child from being a part of the community, especially playing with other children and going to school.  After receiving treatment at a CURE hospital, the patient and their care-giver can now return to their villages, healed,  but also with the additional gift and blessing of community.