It Is Never Too Small

The House of Gratitude, if literally translated from the Chinese name, would mean a small and cozy home—in the small vestibule, the air was still calm, unperturbed by our entrance. We talked under our breaths, afraid to ripple the stillness that had been so carefully and gently arranged. We could make out the contours of a humming vintage CD player, bookshelves, a large dining table, a sofa to the gathering room, and a narrow staircase spiraling upwards… Under the dim-lit interior, the little world seemed to be frozen. The house itself was like a monochrome photograph where every detail fell into place, cradled in a moment of serenity, like a sleeping child. We carefully entered the recreation room, peeked into the storage room, returned to the main room, and started walking up the stairs tentatively with each step. We were convinced there was a pulse to the house, that the ‘House of Gratitude’ seemed to have a life all on its own.

Decorations and books next to the staircase

“Hello, we’re here for interviews.” The house, though small, didn’t feel empty at all. The lights flickered on, the air shifted, quickening with the presence of the parents of children resting upstairs. The tired faces of the adults and initial hesitancy to speak to us were telltale to the weight they carried since their children’s diagnosis. Yet, as they began to share, slowly, nevertheless calmy. It was evident their stories were not one single to darkness and despair, but always to the omnipresent hope and gratitude like the very name of their home. The light always shone through.

“This way,” One of the parents led us. Though we had already toured  the recreation room, when the lights flickered on, the burst of color amazed us. Artworks were everywhere—Disney princesses, sunrises, whimsical creations with some clearly drawn by children’s hands and others perhaps under guidance from volunteers—pulsating a sense of creativity and naivety to the air. Brightly-covered storybooks stuffed the shelves, their spines worn from countless readings, and a huge banner of the house’s title circled by signatures of children and their parents hung like a collective prayer. Needless to say, there was not a single corner neglected nor desolated, a living testament to the love and care poured into the smallest details.

The third family we interviewed living in the House of Gratitude was from Hefei, Anhui Province, and the little one is currently receiving treatment in Shanghai Xinhua Hospital due to tumor disease.

“What is your impression  of the House of Gratitude?” We asked during the online interview.

“We came here through the introduction of fellow patients, and since then, received a lot of help at this little home. I feel the warmth of a real home here… in this place we call home, and from my eyes and heart, the little home is a sanctuary granted to me by God.”

Out of all the families we interviewed, she was the first to compare the home to a divine sanctuary. Through her words, we got a glimpse into her mental world — her belief in a higher power watching over them. We, too, touched by her devotion, sincerely hoped her feelings were reciprocated. 

“What activities are there weekly organized by the volunteers?”

“Yes, yes. Every week there are volunteers here who lead the children to do all kinds of activities, drawing and doing crafts! That kind of thing…” These activities were her daughter’s favorite pastimes. When asked about the little one’s dream, the parent replied simply, “She’s too young to have a dream.” One step at a time was the prevalent mindset: tomorrow is a new start and dreaming too far was almost becoming a privilege.

“What motivated you to stay optimistic and persevere through these dark times?”

Across the internet line, we could not see her reactions, but we were certain that there was a blend of pain and hope as her story unfolded.

“Originally, my heart was painful after the diagnosis of my child, but coming to the small home, where many loving volunteers and children help each other, my heart has reignited with hope and dream of a bright road. I believe we will be able to walk out of the darkness to see the light again…”

We. The word resonated with quiet power, making the small house an unlimited expanse of hope. It spoke of solidarity—of children enduring medical treatments, families laughing and crying together, and volunteers who brought light and care of the external world within. It was a collective prayer, open palms silently and determined, waiting for hope.

The House of Gratitude, though called “small,” was anything but insignificant. Why must the home be called “small” when they were everything to the residents within? Within that smallness, there was an immense strength blooming—a strength born of unity, compassion, and the relentless pursuit of hope.

As interviewers, we had come from a place of privilege, yet we were humbled by the resilience of those we met. The “small” home, the same smallness that humans feel against forces of nature and the inevitable passing of life and death; it is in the struggles of humanity when we see our own insignificance, and knit ourselves together doing the best to seek warmth. To survive. We as interviewers, along with the residents, have converged from all walks of life and united in a common purpose that day, sharing the same prayer under the same roof.