After a year of working together, the core group of patients - The Working Group at Trong Duc Centre's Male Campus finally had the chance to embark on a special journey - enjoying the summer.
This year’s trip took them to many new and exciting destinations! Over two full days, the group visited Our Lady of Nui Cui, swam in the waves of Lagi Beach, explored and shared experiences at Tan Ha Social Protection Center in Binh Thuan province, and rested at Chau Thuy Monastery Citeaux. The next day, before heading home, they enjoyed another swim at the beach and stopped at Our Lady of Ta Pao.
Throughout the journey, laughter and conversation filled the air. They admired the beauty of nature, savoured delicious food, sipped coffee together, and shared prayers before the Virgin Mary. Every moment felt precious, and every new sight was a treasure.
Yet, what struck me the most was the clarity and mindfulness of everyone on this trip, especially the patients As we travelled between destinations, I noticed something remarkable. Many patients never closed their eyes, not out of sleeplessness, but out of an eagerness to take in every detail. They gazed out the window, absorbing the world around them as if trying to capture every image in their memory. Some voices broke through the hum of the journey:
... "We’re almost at my house."
... "This is the road to my home."
... "That’s the company I used to work for."
... and amidst the lively chatter, someone joked, “Then let’s get off and go home!” but those who had spoken fell silent, lost in thought. Because for them, going home is the deepest longing of all, yet still just out of reach! The journey across their homeland stirred old memories of childhood, of family, of a life before illness. Even if they could only pass by their hometowns, for a brief moment, it felt like they had visited their loved ones once again!
We often say, “The eyes are the windows to the soul.” It captures emotions, stores memories, and reflects the world we experience. But what happens when someone is unable to see the world, not because they are blind, but because life has confined them within invisible walls? During the trip, one patient, Tung, made a heartbreaking remark: "When you go out, you become blind.” At first, we thought we had misheard. But when we asked him again, he explained: He had spent so many years inside the centre that stepping outside now felt like seeing the world for the first time, everything was unfamiliar, overwhelming, almost as if he had lost his sight. For most of us, the freedom to explore the world is something we take for granted. But for those who have spent years in isolation, stepping outside can feel like entering an entirely new universe. Hearing the word “blind,” we often think of those who cannot see. But there is another kind of blindness one that is just as painful: having eyes that work perfectly but being unable to truly see the world, trapped in a reality, not of one’s choosing. So many of these people could have lived, worked, and experienced the beauty of life freely of God's works, but illness and circumstances have placed barriers in their path.
Outside the walls of the centre, many of them continue to be shunned, feared, or forgotten by society. Yet no one chooses to be sick. No one wants to feel weak, lost, or left behind. We may not be able to change their past, in their situation but we can change how we see them in the present. Respecting them, listening to their stories, and simply acknowledging their humanity, these small acts of kindness make a difference. It reminded us to appreciate the simple beauty of life, to cherish the world with fresh eyes, and to love more deeply. If we all extend just a little more compassion, the world can become a gentler, kinder place for them.
Thank you, Caritas staff and patients at Trong Duc Centre, for a trip filled with meaning, connection, and hope. May this world embrace the less fortunate with more warmth, understanding, and love.
K Diem