Repainting the Church Ceiling

(A Mark of Remembrance)

For a hundred years, eyes looked high,

Once white, the ceiling now fades, gold-dry.

Lofty and vast, the sheltering dome,

Gazing up, the heart turns stone.

Leaders dream, their hopes held tight,

Yet funds fall short, try as they might.

An American firm—oh, what a bind!

They’d charge a fortune, no doubt at all.

Thinking, debating, round and round,

Parishioners sigh—the cost is profound.

Life is hard, times are tough,

The crisis makes it even more rough.

The plan seems shaky, unsure at best,

Leaders gather, more meetings, no rest.

At last, a final vote rings loud,

Volunteers step up, hands outstretched proud.

A plan is drawn, detailed and clear,

Scaffolding built by those who are near.

Materials costly—but still we strive,

Buy what’s needed, just enough to thrive.

Transport? Oh, no worries there,

Our parish trucks are everywhere!

One wish remains—just one, indeed,

That safety guides each daring deed.

We pray to God with hands held high,

For blessings as we touch the sky.

Volunteers wait, their hearts aglow,

For work to start, let progress flow.

On February Seventh, we take our stand,

Twenty eight-foot scaffolds—steady and planned.

Careful measures, balanced wide,

Strong and firm, side by side.

A textured coat, as in days of old,

Four long days—paint bright and bold.

Step by step, we raise it higher,

A tiny perch, new lights inspire.

Now the ceiling gleams so bright,

More luminous than the moon at night.

The kitchen team, with loving care,

Prepares each meal, none left bare.

Morning coffee, fragrant and warm,

Lunch and dinner in varied form.

When painting’s done, no time to rest,

Together, we clean, giving our best.

Though aching hands and weary eyes,

Laughter and smiles still arise.

Three days more to clear the space,

God’s house now shines with holy grace.

Thanks to God, thanks to all,

Half the cost, yet we stood tall.

Blessings deep, effort grand,

United in faith, we built by hand.

Oh, dear friends, let’s not forget,

The toil and love of Vietnam’s spirit.

Mynh Hua

Tacoma, WA – February 16, 2025