"Cung di voi em" Project 2024 - 2025
I didn’t join Cung Di Voi Em to handle numbers. I joined to make sure the moments that matter could happen.
As Head of Finance, most of my work lived behind the scenes — spreadsheets, receipts, quiet checks and rechecks. But somewhere along the way, I realized that finance is just another word for trust. Every line item was a promise kept; every transparent report was a way of saying, your generosity arrived exactly where it was meant to go.
I remember the bus ride at dawn, the city still half-asleep, envelopes neatly labeled in my backpack. By the time we reached the center, any anxiety about budgets had dissolved into something simpler: a child tugging at my sleeve to show me a paper lantern, glue still drying at the edges. Later, during Mid-Autumn, a boy with mooncake crumbs on his cheeks looked up, held my gaze for a moment, and smiled — the kind of smile that asks for nothing and gives everything back.
That’s when it clicked for me: the math wasn’t the mission — the children were.
My job wasn’t to make money look good. It was to make goodness work.
I used to think impact was a headline or a total raised. Now I think it’s the quiet feeling of leaving a place better funded, better organized, and somehow softer around the edges — so the next person who shows up can focus on care, not chaos.
Cung Di Voi Em taught me that the most meaningful leadership is often invisible.
You don’t always carry the banner. Sometimes, you carry the ledger — and hold it with enough integrity that others can carry the light.