THUỘC VỀ

In the bustling heart of Vientiane, Laos, where the Mekong River sparkled like a ribbon of gold under the morning sun, lived a happy family named the Souks. Papa Souk was a kind fisherman who mended nets at dawn, Mama Souk wove colorful silk scarves that told stories of their Lao heritage, to their two children: 10-year-old Noi with her quick laugh and 7-year-old Boun with his endless curiosity. Noi and Boun loved to help keep their riverside home alive with joy.

A typical day began before the roosters crowed. Papa rowed his narrow boat onto the misty Mekong, casting nets for silvery fish while humming old folk tunes. Mama fired up the clay stove, stirring sticky rice and fresh morning glory greens over a gentle flame, the smoky scent waking the kids. Noi and Boun scampered out barefoot, feeding the chickens and splashing in shallow puddles before school. Mama was busy tying their hair with jasmine flowers and hurrying them out the door.

After bowls of rice porridge, the children pedaled rusty bikes to the local school, waving to neighbors. Lessons filled the day with Lao script, math, and songs about the river spirits. Home by noon, they helped Mama sell scarves at the morning market, bargaining with smiles amid the chatter of vendors and the sizzle of grilled meats. Afternoons meant chores: Noi swept the bamboo house while Boun fetched water from the pump, then playtime chasing dragonflies or kicking a woven ball. Evenings brought family time, Papa grilling fish, everyone sharing stories under strings of fairy lights, ending with Mama’s lullabies as fireflies danced outside.

But the Souks were different. Years ago, a traveling trader had whispered about Jesus to Papa, sharing a tattered New Testament. Quietly, the family followed Christ, their home a secret haven of faith amid Laos’s Buddhist ways. No temples, alms for Buddhist monks, or prayer flags for them, but whispered prayers before meals and Bible stories by lantern light.

At festivals like Pi Mai (Lao New Year), they splashed water with friends but skipped spirit offerings, drawing curious glances. Neighbors whispered, “Why no merit-making?” School friends teased Noi gently, and once officials visited after rumors of “foreign religion,” warning them to stay quiet.

Open churches were rare and watched, evangelism risky under laws favoring Buddhism. Yet the Souks shone with kindness. They shared extra fish with the poor, forgiving bullies - which puzzled and softened hearts around them.

Being Christian meant joy wrapped in caution, like a lotus blooming in hidden waters. Just like Jesus had warned, that people persecuted Him and they would persecute us, too.

Colour Noi and Boon’s family by their riverside home with palm trees and baskets.

Today’s language is Lao. Practice saying hello, thank you, and how are you.

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