Confession

I have a confession to make. I bought a luxury item today...a real box of sweetened American-like cereal. Cereal here is a true luxury, one that I've missed. And until now, I think I've done a pretty good job at resisting the lure of the good life. You can get almost all kinds of cereal here...well, not everything....but lots of Kellogg's brands. And whatever you can't get here, Kenya has the rest. But it will cost you. A box of cereal here costs anywhere from $12-$24! The healthy stuff like Fiber One or Raisin Bran is the high-dollar stuff, and the Frosted Flakes are the cheaper kind. Corn Flakes "aren't that bad", starting at around $9 a box. Yeah, as you can see, I've resisted this luxury...until now. Cereal fell into that category of things that I will wait to eat until I get back, like Sundrop and Cheerwine and Whatburger. Until now. No, I didn't pay $12 or $24 for a box, but I still paid too much. That's why I have to confess. I've had a reoccuring bout of a nasty amoeba, giardia, hanging around in my intestines this last week....and I've not really wanted to eat much of anything...except a big bowl of Cheerios (and you can't get those here.) So, I found the next best thing that still was within my budget (but not really, that's why I'm confessing.) I found a box of "Choco Bubbles" at the duka (shop) down the road. Choco Bubbles are a random South African cereal akin to Coco Puffs. The whole box was just shy of $7, but I justified the purchase because it was all I had wanted to eat for a few days. And those Choco Bubbles tasted delightful! But I should have thought about the unpasteurized milk....it doesn't mix well with amoebas!!! So in the end, my $7 box of cereal really wasn't worth it, because it doesn't taste good anymore. Cereal is one thing that you can't mess around with. I've learned my lesson. No more South African brands again. I'm holding out and counting down until I get real Cheerios....or even better, Honey Nut Cheerios!

Connected

I just came back from a wonderful Easter break in Kenya. And one of the neatest things about coming back this time, was that coming back to Kigali felt like coming home. I was back home. It's always a beautiful and yet, weird thing when you get that feeling....that another place feels like coming home. Of course, it's not my "real" home...we all know I was homegrown in K-nap with Dairy Queen and Sundrop and grits and the Wonders. But this time, when I reached my gate on Aracura Street in Gaculiro, I was home...after traveling for 2 weeks. It's a good feeling. What makes it feel like home now? I don't exactly know...I think the familiarity and the smells and my things being there. But also the connections I've made with folks. Seeing new, but already "connected" friends picking you up at the airport. Seeing Alphonse, our guard, and all the neighbors out and about. It looked the same as it did two weeks ago and I appreciated that. I think K-nap will probably look about the same too when I come home in a few short weeks...and I'll appreciate that as well.

Anyway, back to my break. It's advised that many foreigners leave Rwanda during the memorial of the genocide which began on April 7, 1994, as that week has been, in the past, one of hostility and tension. This year, the events of the 7th went smoothly, but last Friday we got word that there had been another 2 grenades thrown in town, near the bus station. Again, it's just scare tactics, we think, by the opposition party, as the elections are coming up in August. But, thankfully we were already out of the country. We were fortunate that our school board paid for the returning teachers for next year (yes, thats me!) to travel to Rift Valley Academy in Kenya for the ACSI teacher's conference for schools all over Africa. It was a wonderful time connecting with fellow teachers from national and international schools. It was almost surreal sitting there at RVA and discussing familiar things like Brain-Based Learning and Best Practices with teachers from Uganda, Tanzania, Egypt, Sudan, Chad, Ethiopia, Kenya, and many more. We really are all connected to one another in so many ways. And we are more alike than different. Those are the same things I would discuss with my colleagues at Northwest. I feel like I came away with a broader understanding of what works in different countries, cultures, and different curriculums like Cambridge. I also picked up some great ideas for teaching Science and Math, since those are my weak areas.

I was richly blessed by the speakers at the conference, and hearing what God is doing all over the continent. We heard from a principal from South Africa, who had suffered from the system of apartheid in his country for many years. He told the sobering story of his son's murder when two white farmers crushed his body with a tractor. He also told of his forgiveness of those farmers, and how he and his wife were able to receive healing from that forgiveness. He told of the time when he was shot in the chest late at night after the wrong person found out he was speaking out against apartheid. He said his goodbyes to his wife while lying on the floor, only to wake up days later in a hospital room in Johannesburg. Today, this man leads one of the top schools in South Africa and is a joy to be around. We also were blessed to hear from Dr. Wes Stafford, the President of Compassion International, and hear his story of being raised in a remote African village with no water or electricity, and realizing at a young age how he was different than the rest of his agemates because he was white and he had marks on his arms (vaccines) which allowed him to live when the rest of his friends died. I think it's so important to realize how we are different, how we are privileged in many ways and how we are blessed. But it's the similarities that connect us. He encouraged us to continue pressing onward and looking for ways, big and small, to invest in childrens' lives. The little ones are big in the kingdom of God.

Another complete joy of the conference was connecting with other teachers there. On the first day, I noticed Karina, a teacher in Ethiopia who was also in one of my Islam classes at CIU last January! I remember talking with her at CIU about her job in Ethiopia and her work with HIV+ women in Addis. I just get overwhelmed at how the Spirit connects us all. His hand is in all and I firmly believe that there is no coincidence in the life of a Christian. He is in all of us, weaving us together and he made us for each other! We were made to be connected to each other. And it's such a complete blessing when it happens so far away from home. Another one of those moments was in meeting Crystal, a young teacher in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. She sat down and we were instantly connected like we had known each other forever. We talked, laughed, shared stories and prayed. She's originally from Michigan, but had been teaching in Edgecombe County, NC the same time I was teaching in Lee County, and her brother is a student at Wake Forest. She teaches in TZ, I teach in Rwanda, and we meet in Kenya and are able to encourage one another. God is really cool!

One of the neatest moments of the conference where I felt very connected was during the registration. We arrived at RVA the same time that Pa's funeral was taking place back home. I wanted to be there, of course, or at least be able to talk to them. But that was not possible. But the Holy Spirit, that dwells in each of us, chose an even better way for me to be connected with my family at that time. During registration, what kind of candy does the lady hand me? A Werther's Original, the candy that makes me think of Pa. And they don't sell it here in Africa. It was brought over by an American missionary coming back from furlough. I hadn't seen it until then. Until I was connected. Then we go into the chapel and sing the hymn, A Mighty Fortress, the same one they were singing back home at that time. God knows all and is in all! I love how the Spirit moves in us and intertwines our lives so that we can be connected to one another. Because that is what life is about, right? Being connected to our Savior and through Him, connecting with the world.

(I'll write about the rest of my break very soon and post some pics!)

He is Risen!

"It was a perfect sacrifice by a perfect person to perfect some very imperfect people."

We sang this beautiful hymn this morning. I'm at the ACSI teacher's conference in Rift Valley, Kenya. So wonderful to hear many accents, languages from all over, singing about His grace and love this Easter. It's deeper than any of us can understand. I'm so thankful. None of us would be here from all over the world, had it not been for the cross over 2,000 years ago. He is Risen! Amen!

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

Heaven

I don't think it's any coincidence that the 4th grade Bible lesson I had to teach this week was about Heaven...what it's like, who's there, how wonderful it is..etc.. I got to only teach about Heaven and all it's brilliance, but my grandfather...(we just like to call him "Pa,") got to go there! Receiving an email in class on Monday saying he suffered a massive heart attack, was really hard. Again, it's not hard to be here, it's hard not being there. I just wanted to give Grandma and big hug and tell her I love her and Momma too. I wanted to be there with everyone else, in their house, with that old familiar smell of mothballs and fire and whatever Grandma is cooking. But I'm so thankful for friends here and amazing technology that allowed me to talk to home just like I was sitting beside them. Hearing Grandma's voice telling me that she still had my Christmas present wrapped up downstairs...and then, of course, she had to tell me what it was. My grandma is the strongest Christian I know....so filled with inner strength, peace and joy. I know she is ok. But I still would have given anything to just give her a hug. 8 weeks is too long. Sorry Grandma.

In class this week, we read in Scripture about the precious jewels in Heaven, it's light from the glory of God only, and it's beauty and radiance and brilliance. When I think about Pa, radiance and beauty just aren't words that come to my mind. I can't picture it. But I can picture him in Heaven in his only blue shirt, well-worn, with ink stains in the pockets, his hard-working hands wiping the sweat off his brow. Maybe one of Pa's treasures in Heaven will be a new, radiant blue shirt. No, he would probably refuse it. I'll miss seeing him sitting there on that same place on the couch...the poor old couch so worn down from his shape...seeing him in that blue shirt. For many years when I was younger, I really thought he only owned one shirt. But then one time when I was home from college, I was in his bedroom running on the treadmill and I felt better after seeing a couple of them draped over the chair.

I'll miss seeing all those old newspapers, receipts, and God knows what else piled up beside him on the couch. You know, all those important papers. I have so many great memories that I was thinking about this week. When I was younger, I remember reaching over him on the couch to his drawer where he hid his stash of Werther's Originals and orange slices. And asking him if I could have some. He usually carried some in that old ink stain pocket too. Then he would smile that sly grin, and give us grandkids whatever we wanted. :-) I'll miss calling from wherever in the world I was and heairng him say, "Nance, pick up the phone, it's Emily in Africa." Then he would try to get off real quick, and then I would have to tell him I wanna talk to you too Pa! Africa. Ok I think that's a place Pa would never want to travel to. I'm laughing cause I can hear him telling me now..."Why you wanna go back there? It's Africa." He used to tell me that. Haha. Gotta love Pa. I'll miss asking his advice about places. When I backpacked Europe, I brought him my map, and he helped me plan which countries to go see, and which ones are worth missing. I'll miss knocking on the front door, and seeing him in there on the couch, and having to knock a few more times before he stopped watching Nascar and came to let me in.

I have many fond memories of my grandpa....riding in the "Little Red car." (Yes, it's important enough to be a Proper noun.) He would take us down the road, all over the neighborhood. That little red car was the coolest thing ever. Not to mention his other fleet of cool old cars. I remember laughing at him when he tried to drown a snake in the well, then weeks later he found it still alive in there. I'll miss meals with him at Cracker Barrell, Arby's and especially K&W. Those chocolate pies he loved. I'll miss his mischevious smile that just made you laugh back at him. I'll miss Grandma getting tickled about something he would spout off about, and then me and grandma would have to go in another room and laugh quietly so he wouldn't hear us.

I'll miss arguing with him (or trying to) about important things, and not-so important things like whether purple carpet was a good idea for a rental house or who had the better biscuits...Golden Corral or Cracker Barrell. I'm pretty sure I get some (or all of) my stubborness and thriftiness from him. One of the neatest memories I will always smile about was last Christmas, he and "Nance" pulling mints on the side porch. He was a pro, and it made us all giggle. He tried to teach me, but I'm just not that coordinated. That was a fun night. I think one of the best images I have of Pa was poking with the fire on Christmas Eve. I can see him in his blue shirt, smell that smell of the basement, and the tree all lit up. Their basement is a magical place on Christmas Eve. The last Christmas I was home, we told Pa to put his arm around Grandma on the bench, and we all laughed. He did, and we got a great picture out of it. I'll miss watching Grandma open her Christmas present from Pa, and then Pa acting like he don't even know what it was. (He might not have!) :-)

I laugh when I think of him sitting through all our graduations from highschool. At least he sat through all the "G's" anyway. :-) But he would always complain about the people who would dance their way across the stage. He always could make us laugh. I have a great memory from 2 years ago when I was trying on two different bridesmaid dresses for a wedding. Grandma was gonna sew them up for me. And we decided to ask Pa which one looked better. I wore the one he pointed to from his blue couch. :-) Then, I tried on a black dress of Grandma's from the 50's, and Grandma whispered to me, "Go show Pa and ask him if he remembers this dress." So I stood in front of him and asked him if he remembered. And he just smiled that grin and said, "I don't think I remember that one." Then he looked at Nance and smiled. Grandma just giggled.

Ice cream. I have wonderful memories of climbing all over those big boxes in the back of the old Dairy Queen, and him telling us to get down before we hurt ourselves. It was a cardboard jungle gym. I miss that old wooden Dairy Queen, and its smells too. He used to give us the smooshed up Dilly Bars and Buster bars. (do they even still make those anymore?) We loved playing in the walk-in freezer, and I loved the banana ice cream. I remmeber him having to fix that machine like every week it seemed like. But there was nothing like that banana icecream. No one can make it like that anymore. I remember at one auction in Salisbury, Grandma told him I liked antique signs, so he bargained for a good half hour to get me an old RC Cola sign. Grandma said he was determined to win it. I remember all the things he used to do with his hands...make icecream cones, build baby cradles for us, bookshelves, work on cars, hold grandkids on his lap, grab us candy, fiddle with the toothpick in his mouth after K&W. His hands have really lived. And so did he! A great long life, full of love, happiness, and Nance for 62 years. He was a lucky man to have Nance.

When I was reading to my kids this week about Heaven...we read in Revelation about the river of the water of life flowing from the throne of God down the middle of the street. And the tree of life bearing 12 crops of fruit. I'd like to think that river flowed banana icecream this week, and the tree bore Dilly bars, and Buster bars. I think there's icecream in Heaven. There better be. But I know my Pa is there.

Coffee

I had the privilege this week of traveling across some of the most beautiful countryside in Rwanda, and learning about how coffee is grown, cultivated, cleaned and produced here. It was fascinating to see how the coffee we drink at Starbucks begins here in Rwanda as a cherry on a tree. From there, it grows, it is picked, washed, washed again and again, soaked, dried, picked open...and the process continues....Finally it reaches Kigali from the farms, and is packaged and shipped in containers to the U.S. and other places around the world. I have a friend who manages Rwanda Trading Company, and was nice enough to take me into the field and show me the ins and outs of the coffee business. The neatest thing to see was how much the community is involved at each washing station and on the farms. The community co-op raises the money to buy the land, and the materials to build the station. It takes the whole community to support a project like that. But they will reap the benefits together as well. RTC is new on the coffee scene in Rwanda, and they have already changed the way business is done, beginning with cutting out the middle men, and increasing the earnings of the farmers. I was blessed to meet these farmers who were so hard working and humble. To see the caring relationship that these company managers had with the farmers was a blessing. It's a new thing for them....to have people high up on the ladder come to the field and hear their needs. I'm proud of my friend, and all those working for RTC. The coffee is about ready for harvest....and soon, it will be at your local Starbucks!



A community building their own coffee washing station

Women farmers picking out the bad "cherries."

Talking to the farmers and listening to their needs

Washing the "cherries."

Laying the coffee out to dry

Trees

This is how they cut down trees in Rwanda...no axes, no chainsaws....only Mother nature!



Speaking of trees...on Friday, my kids wrote in their journals about trees. The topic was: "If you could be any kind of tree, and grow anywhere, what tree would you be, where would you grow, and what would your purpose be?"

They came up with some very beautiful, creative, and insightful responses. Some said they wanted to be the palm branches so they could praise Jesus and sing Hosanna this Sunday. One said she wanted to be an apple tree to provide luscious fruit to all God's children. One said he wanted to be the tallest tree ever so when people looked up at Him, they would be looking towards Heaven. One said he wanted to be chopped down and made into a boat that takes people out in the ocean so they can scuba dive and see the great and giant ocean that God created! One girl said she would be the cross that Jesus died on. Another said she would be a "fun" tree, where friends and lovers could have picnics underneath. They had fun with it, and I was blessed after reading all of them!

This journal made me stop and think about trees for a moment...and do a little research. Did you know that the Bible contains 525 references to trees or wood? More than any other type of living organism, except humans? There are 22 trees recognized in the Bible. (I won't name them all.) But it makes you think about what a wonderful symbol of life a tree is. I can sit and admire a tree's size, age, the beauty of it's branches, or the mystery of it's bareness. Trees have always impressed me, nature in general impresses me! I've seen some ancient, just remarkable old trees in Africa. Often times, the tree is the center of life for a village. The tree marks the spot where the Maasi trades his cattle, or takes a new wife. Where the women sit and weave here in Rwanda, and the baby lies patiently in the grass. Where the kids play with their "tire" car, and their mom sells bananas nearby. Baobab trees are my favorite. They are so exotic, and mystery, with their bizarre looking arms stretching out in all kinds of directions, and a huge trunk that you can live in! A tree can't get any cooler than that! Trees represent life...they give food, beauty, protection, and they are also used in many holy books to describe how we are to live.

"He is like a tree planted by a stream of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.
Psalms 1:3

"The righteous will flourish like a palm tree; they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon."
Psalms 92:12

I thought this verse in the Koran was interesting as well...

"Do you not see how God compares a good word to a good tree? Its root is firm and its branches are in the sky; it yields its fruit in every season by God’s leave. God speaks in parables to mankind so that they may take heed. But an evil word is like an evil tree torn out of the earth and shorn of all its roots."
Sura 14:24-25

I think about the tree of knowledge in the Garden of Eden, the Ark, Noah's ark, the tree that allowed Zaccheus to see Jesus, the tree of life in paradise in Revelation. Trees were important in the Bible, and they still are now! As my kids were writing, I was trying to answer the question as well. What kind of tree would you be? What would your purpose be? Would you be a tree that just stood there, doing nothing, but allowed a old tax collector the chance to see the face of Jesus? Whatever tree we would be, let us be one that bears many fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

I bummed this blog...

I bummed this quote from a friend's blog, and it has really spoken to me this weekend about friendships I've developed here and in the past, about relationships I've been in, about children I've lived with and worked with...

"If forming friendships with exploited people is important to us, we will be drawn into some complicated situations. We will probably get splashed with some of the ambiguity and uncertainty. Can we really be friends of war criminals and girls who abuse their unborn children? What does it mean—for us, for them, for mission?Ambiguities often cause us to pull away. The circumstances are too tainted, too unclear. We worry about becoming complicit in the evil, about facilitating the wrong or being personally corrupted. It’s not just these very dramatic circumstances that challenge us—anyone who has a family member or close friend who struggles with an addiction knows about some of these questions.We want to fix things and people. As Christians, we long to bring healing to broken circumstances and to be instruments of God’s reconciling and healing work. Americans tend to take that a step further and expect to be able to solve problems quickly, on our terms and with our tools. But that assumes a level of power and control that is sometimes unavailable and often inappropriate."—

“Friendship at the Margins: Discovering Mutuality in Service and Mission,” by Chris Heuertz and Christine Pohl (IVP, 2010): page 96

I've always desired to love those who are living on the "margins," the ones who are among the "least" of us. The ones others may say are unlovable. The broken. Or the people who I feel like I can "fix." These type of relationships have the ability to be very tricky, to say the least. Not to mention, we all are broken in so many ways. But I do feel a strong leading to live on the margins. To be available to all people. To be translucent and open, and not fearful of people and cirsumstances that are somehow different than how I was raised, or how I believe. But this is not always so simple...it's hard sometimes to trust, and hard not to place my desires for these people above what God desires for them. To surrender my efforts to fix something or change something, and instead realize that it's not by me, but only from the Holy Spirit that change can occur. Or love can flow. It's through the Holy Spirit, by God's grace. Not anything Emily can accomplish by befriending someone. But even though these relationships sometimes scare me, and sometimes I worry about what others may think, I know that I'm in the right place, and I pray to God that he continues to show me things and reveal things to me through these relationships and friendships. I need patience and strength and a deeper love than my own!