“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the former things have passed away.” — Revelation 21:4
This afternoon, rain fell over Taipei. With a heavy paper bag in one hand and a weighty backpack slung over my shoulder, I huddled beneath a small yellow umbrella, struggling forward through the ceaseless flow of people in the city. It seemed to me that perhaps this rain was a prelude from heaven for the funeral that would take place tomorrow morning.
Last week, our church pastor informed me that Xiu-Ling, the daughter of A-Qiu, an undocumented migrant mother whom we had begun caring for during the Christmas season of last year, had stopped breathing at home.
Xiu-Ling was a child whose life was marked by hardship from the very beginning. Because of her mother's immigration status, she received no prenatal care before birth. After she was born, she was immediately admitted to the intensive care unit, where she remained for several months. During that time, doctors diagnosed her with severe underdevelopment of the brain. She frequently choked while feeding and suffered recurrent seizures. When she was finally discharged, the pediatrician told her mother that she could pass away at any moment.
Despite all the troubling news, we continued to hold on to a small measure of hope that she might grow up safely. Her mother shared that hope. In a tiny rented room within an old rural courtyard house, she cared for her daughter around the clock. Each feeding took two to three hours, and she had to feed her five or six times a day. Seizures often occurred in between.
Her father, A-Jun, faced a different burden. To afford the costly specialized formula that Xiu-Ling required, while also helping support the children from both his and his wife's families back in Vietnam, he rented farmland and grew vegetables to supplement the family's income. I still remember visiting them and seeing A-Jun arrive on his motorcycle, carrying a towering load of freshly harvested pumpkins, hurriedly unloading them into the back of the church's gospel van.
During this period, the Garden of Hope Foundation also began providing support and care. In addition to making regular visits, the church pastor accompanied the couple every month to report to the National Immigration Agency as required.
Now the child is gone, and the immigration authorities have initiated deportation proceedings. Because both parents are undocumented migrant workers, they have been placed in a detention facility while awaiting arrangements for their return. Tomorrow, accompanied by immigration officers and a court interpreter, A-Qiu will come to see Xiu-Ling one last time.
The Yi-Zhuang Culture and Charity Association has generously covered all funeral expenses, and our church will conduct the memorial service, accompanying both mother and daughter through the final mile of their earthly journey together.
May all this suffering and all these tears, though they may never provide an answer to the question of “why,” nevertheless fall like gentle rain upon the earth, nurturing within us the hope that one day the skies will clear.
And may that tender bud, whose life seemed to end too soon, not have ceased growing at all, but continue to blossom with eternal life in the embrace of the Heavenly Father.
David, June 4, 2026
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