Part 3: Overwhelmed
Growing up, I watched a lot of birthing scenes in movies and TV shows where a pregnant woman in distress gets wheeled into a hospital room, breathing hard, and then a minute later her baby is born. My own experience of labor was more like thirty hours of spiritual and physical pain, experienced privately with only one or two people, while others waited anxiously for the news. We who don’t know much about deportation might imagine it as quick, almost like a teleportation. On May 26, Dy learned that Vietnam issued a travel document, and that that Dy would be deported the following week. He would be transferred first to another facility, leaving his loved ones only three days to say goodbye. I was flying to California for work and could not change my plans. I treated the news of Dy’s deportation as though I was waiting outside a delivery room, minus the anticipatory joy.
Dy and Tammy’s fourth child was born earlier in May, while Dy was in Stewart Detention Center. A friend took the two oldest girls, Chari and Eirene, to say goodbye to their father through the plexiglass window of the detention center’s visiting room. Newborn baby Paul and two-year-old Titus stayed home with Tammy. Dy’s report to Tammy about the visit was that it was good. Emotional. Chari cried so much. Made him cry. Everyone cried. I think they flooded the facility, Tammy said. Even in her grief, Tammy got jokes.
I haven’t spoken with Dy on the phone yet. The man needs a moment to recuperate. We messaged on Facebook, and he gave me permission to share this post that he wrote to update friends and family of his arrival in Vietnam:
BY DY NGUYEN
HO CHI MINH CITY, June 6, 2026
Today I have made it back to a country I left nearly three decades ago. This is an overwhelming story, so buckle up.
After living in the United States for 27 years, I was detained for almost 8 months before being deported back to Vietnam. The experience was overwhelming in every sense of the word. I was overwhelmed by the reality of leaving behind the life I had built, my loved ones—including a newborn whom I never had the chance to physically hold—and my church family, as well as the familiarity of a place I had called home for so many years.
I was overwhelmed by what felt like the unfairness of the current immigration system. There were moments when I wrestled with questions, confusion, and disappointment. The deportation process itself was exhausting—the long journey (35 hours of flights with both hands and feet shackled), followed by another 30 hours of bus travel from north to south Vietnam. The uncertainty, emotional strain, and difficult procedures after landing all added layer upon layer of burden to an already heavy heart.
Yet in the midst of all this, I discovered something greater than my hardships.
I rediscovered the overwhelming love and faithfulness of my Savior.
Throughout this journey, I witnessed God’s grace in countless ways. He gave me strength when I had none left. He gave me peace when anxiety threatened to overwhelm me. He surrounded me with the prayers, encouragement, and support of brothers and sisters in Christ. Time and time again, He reminded me that my identity is not found in a country, a legal status, or a place of residence—it is found in being a child of God.
Looking back, I realize that while I was overwhelmed by hardship, God’s grace was even more overwhelming. His love proved deeper than my pain. His faithfulness proved stronger than my uncertainty. His promises remained true despite the storms around me.
While circumstances seemed out of control, God never lost control. While people and systems failed me, God remained faithful. The same God who walked with me in America now walks with me in Vietnam. The same God who cared for me yesterday continues to care for me today.
Today, my testimony is not about deportation. It is not about loss, disappointment, or injustice. My testimony is about a faithful Savior who met me in the middle of it all.
I was overwhelmed by hardship, but I am even more overwhelmed by the love, faithfulness, and goodness of Jesus Christ. I share the same thoughts as the psalmist in Psalm 8:3–4:
“When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place, what is mankind that You are mindful of them, human beings that You care for them?”
And because of His faithfulness in the past, I can trust Him with my future.
Be overwhelmed—not by the world, but by the love of Christ.
To everyone who has been part of this journey, thank you. Thank you for being instruments of God’s love, grace, and provision for our family. Through your prayers, encouragement, generosity, and support, you have reflected Christ to us in tangible ways.
From the bottom of our hearts, we are deeply grateful. We will never forget the kindness you have shown us, and we thank God for each one of you.
