COURAGE

In the golden rice fields on the outskirts of Mandalay, where ancient pagodas pierce the hazy sky and ox carts rumble along red dirt paths lined with betel nut groves, 10-year-old Aung stirred awake to the first cock’s crow and the distant lowing of water buffalo.

From their simple bamboo stilt house raised high against monsoon floods, his family, who are rice farmers with sun-weathered faces and calloused hands, gathered around a crackling wood fire for breakfast.

Mama ladled steaming mohinga noodle soup into bowls, fragrant with lemongrass, garlic, and fish paste, paired with sticky rice balls, sliced fresh mangoes from the backyard tree, and sweet tea brewed from palm leaves.

Aung quickly slipped into his colorful checkered longyi sarong wrapped neatly at the waist, topped with a faded T-shirt, and slung his woven school satchel over his shoulder.

Barefoot, he dashed down the creaky bamboo stairs, waving goodbye to little sister playing with a handmade doll from corn husks, and joined the stream of village kids heading to school under swaying palm fronds and clusters of purple bougainvillea.

Mornings buzzed with lessons in the thatched-roof classroom: tracing the flowing Burmese alphabet on a slate board with chalk, solving basic maths problems like adding up harvest yields, reciting multiplication tables, and practicing English phrases from a tattered textbook.

One vibrant evening, right in the midst of their play, Aung paused and squinted toward the riverbank. There, a joyful procession wound slowly from the shimmering waters, a group of adults from nearby villages, dressed in crisp white shirts and fresh longyis, their clothes dripping as they emerged newly baptized into faith in Jesus Christ. Arms raised high, they sang heartfelt songs of praise, their faces glowing with radiant smiles and tears of joy, hugging one another as villagers watched in quiet awe.

The sight stirred a deep curiosity in Aung’s young heart, so he ran over to see what was happening. They shared the love of Jesus with him, and he started meeting with them to hear more about Jesus and all He had done for them.

In time, he began his own personal relationship with Jesus and began to share His love and kindness with friends at school. He would pray for them to know Jesus’ love like He had come to know.

His typical day flowed on unchanged in its rhythms, mohinga breakfasts shared with family, chinlone kicks with friends under the palms, buffalo plowing across endless green fields, and sunset games by the banyan, but now laced with a secret wonder about this Jesus whose joy seemed to ripple outward like stones skipped across the Irrawaddy.

Colour Aung standing in a village with fields, trees, and houses behind him.

Today’s language is Burmese. Practice saying hello and thank you.

As you colour and learn new words, pray for children in Myanmar who do not know Jesus yet.