A once-sheltered child’s journey comes a full circle as she becomes a beacon of hope and love for other children

Yangyel Lhaden

At 29, she discovered the family she never knew existed—her mother and six siblings. It was a bitter-sweet moment. Until that day, her family had been the women and children she looked after in Gawailing Happy Home, where she lived and worked—a shelter for survivors of abuse, where she herself once sought refuge as a lost 13-year-old.

That day, an unexpected call came. A relative from her village rang with the news that her mother had passed away. Her family wanted her to come home—to claim whatever family property there was to divide among the siblings.

Shocked, she travelled to her village that she barely remembered. The face of her mother was forever lost to her. But in her siblings, she saw herself, in the familiar birthmark she had once thought was hers alone.

One of her elder siblings asked her to stay back with them and make a life in the village. She looked at her, calm but resolute. “When I needed family, when I was just a kid—no one was there for me,” she says. “Now, you are offering but what?”

She took a small share of the family’s land, and walked away, returning to her real home—Gawailing Happy Home.

Following a report by her teacher, Respect Educate Nurture and Empower Women (RENEW) rescued this woman from an unsafe home. She was 13 at that time, and the first girl to find refuge in RENEW’s emergency shelter in Thimphu, hidden in the Zangdopelri Complex.

She stayed at that shelter, shielded from the world that was once unsafe.

RENEW soon established Gawailing Happy Home, a dedicated shelter for survivors of gender-based violence and children in difficult circumstances.

Now 30, she has become a caregiver dedicating herself to nurturing the lives of over 60 women and children, just as someone had once cared for her.

“I thought I would only be here for a few years,” she says, “I could not leave, not after the bond I had built with the children.”

Many had grown up under her care, one of the oldest children even making it to Class XII.

Her days are filled with relentless service, from midnight knocks at her door to hospital visits and comforting children scarred by their pasts. “Sometimes, I feel like I am going to go mad,” she says, with a faint smile.

Despite that, she finds her role fulfilling. Even without formal training, she understands the rhythm of their needs—medicine runs, hospital visits, school supplies, and emotional reassurance for the traumas they still carry.

“The children today can ask for anything,” she says, marveling at the difference between their lives and her own. “Back then, resources were stretched thin. Even something like new pants seemed like a luxury.”

With no family to look for her, she grew up without the comfort of kin in boarding school. Her school years were spent as an outsider, often lonely and hesitant to make friends. Her classmates would go home on holidays, while she stayed at the shelter, yearning for the family she never had.

“Seeing others with their families, I used to wonder why I was not born in a family like that,” she shares, with the quiet strength of someone who has long since made peace with her story.

But now, she feels blessed that when her home was not safe, RENEW gave her another home with people who cared for her. “RENEW even enrolled me in a private school when I could not meet cut-off point for Class XI. I would not have such an opportunity even if I had stayed in an abusive home,” she said.

Her life after school has been a story of resilience and a deep sense of purpose. After high school, she became a Desuup, which took her all over the country, from water projects in Haa to Covid-19 duties during the pandemic.  She also did various training from spa and tailoring to baking—all thanks to RENEW.

“I am thankful to Her Majesty the Gyalyum Sangay Choden Wangchuck, the Royal Patron of RENEW, for visiting us, for giving us love and compassion, and for making us able beings today,” she says.

A few years ago, she met someone special. In him, she found a partner who accepted her, who did not judge the scars she bore or the challenges she carried. “If you don’t like my past, you can leave,” she had told him plainly.

But he stayed, and together, they dreamed of a life away from Thimphu.

Although she has agreed to the idea, she feels deeply conflicted. Her desire to give back to RENEW is unwavering, but continuing her work at Gawailing Happy Home means being separated from her husband.

“He understands and wants me to continue being here till I am satisfied,” she says. “He understands how much this place means to me.”

She has poured more love and dedication into others than she ever received, nurturing children who, like her, desperately needed the kindness and stability they had been denied. In becoming their caregiver, she has become the family she once longed for.

“If I can serve here, I don’t need much else,” she says softly.

She gazes thoughtfully at Gawailing Happy Home, her eyes filled with quiet resolve. “I will serve here a little longer before joining my husband,” she says. “This is home. I know I can always return, and they will welcome me just as I am, even if I leave to build a life of my own.”