Nuns’ shelter nurtures Christmas wishes and life dreams for disadvantaged children

In early December, while his friends at Hoa Binh Ethnic Boarding School were busy crafting wreaths and nativity scenes for the holiday, K’Ngol, 15, found himself reminiscing. On Christmas Day 2021, his father had promised to take him home when he reached seventh grade, which is this year.

As the festive season approached, K’Ngol had counted the days until Christmas Eve.

At nearly 11 p.m. on Dec. 24, the campus of the Hoa Binh Ethnic Boarding School was still alive with laughter and excitement. Normally, by this time, the children would be in bed, preparing for school the next day. But Christmas Eve was an exception—the one night they could stay up late.

“The chimney here is too small,” a booming voice declared, drawing the children’s attention. Suddenly, “Santa Claus” emerged from the side door of the common living room, clad in a red velvet suit.

The 120 children erupted into laughter and cheers, recognizing “Santa” as none other than Sister M. Elizabeth Vu Thi Bai, the 67-year-old manager of the boarding school. After a lively quiz show, “Santa Claus” called each child up to the stage to receive a gift.

While his friends eagerly awaited their turns, K’Ngol sat quietly in the back row. His face buried in his hands, his eyes red, he muttered, “I miss my family.”

A shelter for children in need

K’Ngol, like the other children at Hoa Binh Ethnic Boarding School, lives far from home. The school, established in 1994 by the Mary Queen of Peace congregation under the Buon Ma Thuot Diocese, serves as a sanctuary for underprivileged children from ethnic minority groups, including the Nong, Xtieng, and Hmong. Ranging in age from 6 to 18, the children are cared for by seven nuns.

For the students, Christmas is not just a season of joy filled with activities; it is also a time for reflection and hope for the coming year.

Until the age of 7, K’Ngol did not know his biological parents. His mother had died from complications after childbirth, unable to reach the hospital 30 km away. Left to cope with his loss, K’Ngol’s father sent him to live with an aunt in Dak Nong before moving to Dak Lak to work on a coffee plantation and remarry.

Raised as the youngest of six children in his aunt’s household, K’Ngol was taught to call his aunt’s husband “father.” His true parentage was hidden to protect him.

“We didn’t want to hide it forever, but we wanted to wait until he was older,” explained his cousin, H Than.

K’Ngol’s questions began in second grade when he asked why he hadn’t seen his mother. His cousin took him to a nearby cemetery and showed him his mother’s grave. From that moment, K’Ngol began to yearn for his father.

The first time K’Ngol saw his father again was on his birthday during the Lunar New Year in 2017. His father gave him VND3 million (US$118) as a gift and took him to buy an electric bicycle so he could ride to school. Four years later, on Christmas Eve, his father returned with two coats and a pair of jeans, promising that the family would reunite when K’Ngol reached seventh grade.

“Try to study until grade 7,” K’Ngol recalled his father saying. The next morning, before dawn, his father left while he was still asleep.

“He left without saying goodbye,” K’Ngol said.

Since that day, the boy has held on to one Christmas wish: to be reunited with his father.

This promise motivated K’Ngol to work hard at school. Although he had repeated the fourth grade three times, he studied diligently to pass and move to the next level.

But life wasn’t easy. By mid-2023, K’Ngol had picked up smoking and drinking, habits he admitted were influenced by peers. His aunt, worried about his future, sent him to Hoa Binh Ethnic Boarding School, hoping the disciplined environment would help him change.

Under the care of the nuns, K’Ngol began to adjust. He formed friendships, joined activities like football and marbles, and adhered to the school’s structured schedule, which included attending church on weekends.

However, old habits die hard. Three months after arriving, he was caught smoking again. When questioned, he admitted he had started in first grade out of curiosity and peer pressure. Sister Bai, aware of K’Ngol’s background, counseled him patiently.

“You need time to overcome this,” she told him, giving him gum as a substitute for cigarettes.

During the summer vacation after sixth grade, K’Ngol returned home and asked his aunt, whom he then called “mother,” to withdraw him from the boarding school. However, his family strongly disagreed with his decision. When it was time to return to school, three of his cousins accompanied him on motorbikes, traveling over 200 kilometers from Dak Nong to Binh Phuoc.

“It’s okay to walk if we run out of gas along the way, but you have to go to school,” H Than, his cousin, told him.

Moved by their love and determination, K’Ngol agreed to stay at the boarding school and continue his education in seventh grade. He also mustered the courage to apologize for his previous behavior.

“I’ll try to finish ninth grade,” he promised the nuns. “I’ll try to quit smoking too, but I can’t guarantee it entirely.”

Sister Bai said that every child who comes to the boarding school carries a mix of positive traits and challenges, often shaped by their circumstances. The nuns strive to create a nurturing environment to help fill the emotional and social gaps left by their families or society.

“If we are patient and loving, I believe we can inspire these children. One day, they will feel the love and change,” Bai said.

Reflections and dreams

Christmas at the boarding school is more than just a celebration; it’s a season of spiritual growth. Each child crafts a paper rose, symbolizing their efforts to live honestly and gratefully.

For 13-year-old H’ Ly Kim Phuong, this Christmas marked a significant change.

The Mnong girl had struggled with the boarding school’s rules in her first year. Her family, burdened by poverty and the need to care for younger siblings, sent her to the school hoping she would receive better guidance.

Initially withdrawn, Phuong soon opened up to her housemates. However, her past insecurities occasionally led to poor decisions, such as stealing from a friend. Sister Bai addressed the incident with understanding, uncovering Phuong’s feelings of deprivation and inferiority.

“Her actions stem from need, not greed,” explained Sister Bai.

Since then, Phuong has blossomed. This Christmas, she was chosen to lead by example, helping her peers practice gratitude and discipline. She proudly shared that she had gained 5 kilograms and grown 3 centimeters since joining the school—a testament to the care she received.

Sister Bai explained that the nuns rarely expel any child. Instead, they focus on giving each child opportunities to correct their mistakes. Only in cases where a child feels unable to continue their studies or adapt to the environment will the nuns involve their parents in discussions to find a suitable solution.

“When I was young, I made plenty of mistakes,” Sister Bai said. “But there were people who forgave me and gave me time to change. Why shouldn’t we extend the same chance to these children?”

The
nuns’ dedication and challenges

Over 30 years, the number of children at the boarding house has steadily increased, stretching its resources. The nuns cook 1.4 tons of rice each month and manage on an annual budget of just VND2 billion, largely funded by the congregation. Families are asked to contribute VND1 million per year, but only half can afford to pay.

To supplement their income, the nuns and children grow and sell cashews, earning VND150-400 million per season depending on the harvest.

The nuns have to spend thriftily to cover all basic expenses, and there are still many expenses that are still delayed due to lack of funding. For example, the kitchen has been degraded for several years. For the past two months, the electric ovens have been broken and the nuns have to cook with firewood.

In the school year 2024-2025, there were 50 families who contacted Bai to send their children over, but she only accepted 30 children due to lack of facilities. Most of them are poor families living far from public schools, unable to keep up with their children’s studies.

“Looking at the parents’ earnestness, I feel very sad”, said Bai.

In addition to difficult circumstances, the boarding house now prioritizes children who have a will to study, can go to high school without dropping out.

For K’Ngol, Christmas remains bittersweet. He clings to the hope that by staying on the right path, he will finally see his father again.

“Maybe if my dad were here, I wouldn’t mess around,” he said. “Christmas would be more fun.”

Meanwhile, the nuns continue to nurture dreams beyond Christmas. They hope to expand their reach, helping more children like K’Ngol and Phuong achieve a better future.

“Children need more than food and clothes,” Bai said. “They need love, guidance, and someone to believe in them.”

Story and photos: Phung Tien