A Heartfelt Reflection from a Volunteer of Dharma Protector 

Mother, you know that in the past I didn’t really like temples. To me, they felt quiet, serious, and even a little dull. I thought they were only for people who enjoyed praying and living a calm, peaceful life, not for someone energetic like me.

To my beloved mother,

I am sitting here writing this letter to you. You may feel surprised, because this is the first letter I have ever written to you. Please understand that this is the only way I can express myself right now. I am not writing to persuade you to buy me something, nor to ask for forgiveness for a mistake. I am writing with just one wish: that you can understand me better and understand what I have been doing during this time, even though it has unintentionally caused misunderstandings between us. You are not only my mother, but also my friend, the person I want to share both my happiness and my sadness with. Yet there are many things I find difficult to say to you directly. I have many friends, but it is hard to find someone who truly understands me. There is only one place, and one presence, where I feel completely at peace and honest with myself. When I stand there, I know I cannot deceive myself or hide my true thoughts. That presence is the Buddha, and that place is the temple.

Mother, you know that in the past I did not really like temples. I thought they were simple and boring places, suitable only for quiet people who wanted to pray, not for someone energetic like me. On weekends, I preferred spending time with friends at cafés rather than going to the temple to pray or volunteer. I enjoyed delicious food more than simple vegetarian meals of pickles and vegetables. I preferred listening to music and watching movies over sitting and listening to monks chant sutras. Most of all, I loved wearing colourful clothes rather than plain grey Buddhist robes.

One of my close friends loved going to temples. Every time she invited me, I reluctantly agreed so she would not feel disappointed. While she happily walked around lighting incense and listening to teachings, my eyes would sting from the thick smoke, and I felt little interest in the Dharma talks. To be honest, I could not understand them at all. In short, I did not share the same enthusiasm for temples as she did.

But life has its own way of teaching us what we do not yet understand, doesn’t it, Mother?

On the second day of Lunar New Year last year, my aunties took me to visit seven temples and then to Long Hai beach. The only reason I agreed to go was because I wanted to swim in the sea. On the way back, our group stopped at a very special temple. It was smaller than the others we had visited, but what stood out immediately was the presence of many children. All of them had shaved heads, wore grey robes, and simple sandals. This temple was their home.The children chatted and laughed together, yet few people knew that behind their bright faces, innocent eyes, and gentle smiles were lives marked by hardship.

From birth, many of them had never experienced parental love. Most were orphans, and some had been abandoned at the temple gate. The nuns took them in and raised them with care, nurturing them into the children they are today. After offering incense and sharing a meal, we were guided into a special room where the children were being cared for. The temple had recently received several newborns, including pairs of twins. Seeing their tiny bodies and tightly closed eyes, knowing they had been abandoned just after birth, made my eyes fill with tears. Suddenly, I could not hold back my emotions and burst into tears.

Everyone in the room was moved to tears. They gently kissed the babies’ cheeks and expressed their gratitude to the nuns, who loved and cared for these children as if they were their own. Before leaving, everyone offered what little material support they could to help the temple. I did not have much to give. The only thing I could do was gently adjust the blankets to keep the babies warm and kiss each of them on the forehead before saying goodbye. I silently hoped that one day I would return to visit them again.

 After returning from that temple, I kept thinking about the compassion the nuns showed to those children. I realized how fortunate I am to have both a mother and a father. I deeply regretted my past misunderstandings about temples. Temples are as meaningless or boring as I once thought. They are filled with love, compassion, forgiveness, and perhaps more kindness than anywhere else in this world. Then conflicts between you and me began. No matter how much I tried to explain myself, you still misunderstood me, and that made me very sad. I shared my feelings with no one. I turned instead to music, especially songs from the temple.

 

 Listening to those gentle, peaceful melodies calmed my heart. I felt as if I merged with the music and forgot my sorrows. These life experiences and those songs gradually brought me closer to the temple and to the Buddha. I began to like Buddhist music, wearing gray robes, and eating vegetarian food. From then on, I saw the temple as a friend, a place where I could open my heart. I realized how careless I had been with my life, and now I wanted to do something meaningful, something to help the temple and make up for the time I had wasted.

 

 Now, whenever I have free time on weekends, I go to the temple with my friend. I do not only offer incense and pray, but also volunteer. The temple I am currently devoted to is Hoang Phap Temple. At first, I worked as a volunteer guard, standing watch, reminding visitors of temple rules, and guiding those who asked for directions. Later, I joined the Dharma Protector group, helping with meals for monks and visitors. There are many young people like me doing volunteer work here, some even coming from distant southern provinces. Sweat runs down their faces, yet they simply wipe it away and continue working with joy. Seeing this makes me admire them deeply and feel proud that I can contribute as well.

 

Mother, the temple is like any other place in that it also has learning and recreational activities, such as performances and plays. Most importantly, there are summer retreats for young people every year. I have learned so many precious lessons. Even when I do not fully understand the sutras, listening to the teachings makes my heart feel pure, like a clean white page untouched by worldly dust. I learn how to walk and stand with a calm mind, how to remain steady in the face of life’s temptations.

I learned to cherish every grain of rice by carefully picking up leftover grains after meals. I learned patience by reciting “Namo Amitabha Buddha” before eating, reminding myself that food, like many things in life, can be a temptation if one lacks mindfulness. I also joined group activities, learned to sing, and was fortunate to take refuge in the Three Jewels, becoming a member of the Buddhist path.

 I regret having been absorbed only in personal pleasures, forgetting that one must also give back to life. Only at the temple do I work with enthusiasm, without noticing the passage of time. I can truly be myself, doing what I love, and feeling genuine joy. Every lesson I learn at the temple becomes valuable luggage for my future journey. The temple has rekindled my life and helped me realize that I, too, can be useful to this world.

 

I thought you would understand and support what I do, but instead, you became unhappy and opposed my going to the temple. That made me very sad. No matter how much I explained, it seemed meaningless. I do not know when you stopped trusting me so much. I like to explore, to learn, and to do what I believe is right. That does not mean I do anything to shame you or make you worry. I do not like feeling confined within four walls, wrapped in overprotection. It makes me feel small and weak.

 Wherever I go and whatever I do, I always think of my family and want to remain in your loving arms. But I also need my own space and freedom. I know you worry about my safety, which is why you want me to stay home. But Mother, I truly feel constrained and unable to find joy in such a quiet life. Only by going out, experiencing, and facing challenges can we grow and learn, just as the saying goes, “Travel one day, gain one basket of wisdom.”

I know you have sacrificed so much for our family, giving up your own joy to keep our home warm. I am deeply grateful. But please understand me. I want to go to the temple, volunteer, and pray for our family’s happiness. That is truly what I wish for. I often see you worship at home, but rarely see you go to the temple. Perhaps you lack time, or perhaps the conditions are not yet right. Meeting the Buddha is a matter of karmic connection, and I have found mine.

I love you deeply, even though I have never dared to say it directly. Please trust me as you once did, because I am still your child, unchanged. I believe that somewhere in your heart, you also turn toward the Dharma, even if you have not had the chance to express it. If one day you feel tired from life’s worries and need a place to confide, please come to me. Take a little time from your busy days and come to the temple with me. I will bring you to the place where I found peace, serenity, and joy, so that you may feel lighter and more at ease. I believe you will come to love the temple as I do.

 

I have realized that life is very short. Some people are here one moment and gone the next. We are born to leave a mark on this world, not to disappear meaninglessly, are we not, Mother? Many people ignore the Buddha until hardship arises, and then the temple becomes the place they turn to. I used to be like that, so I understand. I wasted time indulging in personal pleasures and forgot my responsibility to give back. As someone once said, if you were a bird, you must sing; if you were a leaf, you must be green. How can we only receive without giving? Since walking the path of the Buddha, I have found faith and love for life. I cherish these values deeply and do not want my life to pass without leaving any trace.

 

It is time for me to contribute, even in small ways, by doing as much volunteer work as I can. You may worry that it is tiring or that it will affect my future, but Mother, this is what I truly want to do, and it brings me peace and happiness. I have poured all my thoughts into this letter, hoping that after reading it, you will understand and allow me to continue on this path. I also hope that our relationship will return to the warmth it once had, and that one day, you and I will go to the temple together, pray, and do volunteer work side by side. I sincerely hope for that day, because I have never experienced what it feels like to go to the temple with you. That day will come, will it not, Mother?

With all my love,

 

Le Thi Ngoc Hoa
B6/12, Ap 2, Vinh Loc A Commune, Binh Chanh District, Ho Chi Minh City 

Translated into English by Thai Nhuoc Don