No words

I don't have any words for the suffering Japan is enduring right now. I don't understand why these things have to happen. It seems so unfair, so ugly, watching what's happening to those people. There's no answers. This year, it seems like it's been one thing after the other. I'm in a unique place where someone, at least one family in our small community, has been directly affected by these disasters. Two of our students haven't heard from their family in Japan at all. Last month, the Martin family moved back to New Zealand, after being in Rwanda for 3 years and heading up the Salvation Army here. They moved back in time to watch houses of their loved ones crumble, and a relative die in the earthquake rubble. But they also were there to see friends who were rescued after three days. Kang Hee is my "special" little fellow in my class. He prays for Korea everyday now. At the beginning of the year, he didn't like his home country of Korea, because of the "bad dictator", and he refused to pray. Now, Kang-Hee understands that his country needs his prayers. He used to live directly on the border between the North and the South, and saw soldiers and shooting daily. His parents said he never could understand why he wasn't allowed to cross over the border. This explains the war games and "border crossing" games he plays at recess. (He has Asperger's too.) It's what he knows. It's what colors his world. Last fall, when there was a short, selective reunion between the two countries, the family met some of their relatives they hadn't seen in 60 years. How can you put something like that into words? I can't imagine. He prays for his uncles everyday now. He prays that he may see them again in heaven. Marijike lived in the Philippines before coming to Rwanda. Houses in her village were decimated in the typhoon in October. Families were broken, a neighbor lost her child. Every disaster, my children know someone by name who is suffering. Indonesia, fighting in Bahrain, they know someone. Eyoviel has relatives being evacuated in Libya right now who we are praying for. And my kids PRAY. They cry and cling, and pray. Sweet prayers.

It's different than being in the States where everything seems so far away from us...and while we grieve and pray and try to help, being so far away, we can rest easier. We are usually removed. Suffering is hard. Times like this where you see people waiting for answers, hoping for the best, trying to just breathe, and clinging to what they know and love. It's very different being in this international community where someone you know is hurting directly. My kids are angels. Only 9 years old and so sweet and precious. But they have already lived more than most of us will ever live in 5 times as many years. They have traveled, they know this vast world, they speak its many languages, and their worlds are being shaped by the things they are seeing and experiencing, and sometimes suffering too. I think about my friends who are genocide survivors, and try to understand what has colored their world, and why they are who they are today. Suffering is something I can't really explain; a mystery, so hard to watch others that you love go through. We all have suffered in our own ways, in our own families and communities. What we suffer through, someone else may see as miniscule. But nothing is trivial to God. Sometimes I think, it's when we are broken vessels that God is working and changing us, and others can see His glory shining brighter in our lives. Paul knew this. His suffering became his pulpit. His fiery trials became his reason for rejoicing. I don't get it though. It's hard to understand suffering like that. None of us have ever experienced what our brothers and sisters in Japan are suffering through. Let's remember them and intercede for them now.

Load

Are you carrying a load that's too heavy for you?

Think about someone with an even bigger load than you. Better yet, give your load and his load to the only One who can carry it. Give it up.

"Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." ~Matthew 11:28

Buj

I knew my Heels were gonna win the big game, when our dilapidated African bus pulled up into the breezy, balmy, lakeside town of Bujumbura, Burundi;  a country still in the throes of conflict, with its countless UN convoys and compounds, and the first put-together, decent building I saw was an old car dealership that had, “Old East” written in huge letters scribbled on it’s concrete slab of a sign. I thought of that beautiful campus, and the charming old dorm, and felt like James Taylor was singing in my mind. (Of course last month, when they played Duke for the first time, I was sure they would win, after seeing a guy wearing a UNC girls soccer camp T-shirt at the local market; but instead they blew a 17 point lead.) But I just told myself, basketball is not soccer, and there’s always next time, when it really counts. And they won! Go heels! I wore my blue bathing suit too, just in case.

We had a long weekend, Friday and Monday off of school…and I decided that I was actually not going to do a lot of work this weekend. Not school work, or any other work. I decided I needed to spend the weekend relaxing my body and my mind. I wanted to read and swim and eat. So on Friday, I traveled with a couple of friends on a 6 hour road trip down to the sweltering Bujumbura, Burundi, Rwanda’s neighbor to the south. I still delight in the fact that I can travel to another country for the weekend! Crazy! Life is always an adventure here, and I was blessed to have some time away for another one this weekend.

The guide book advertises Burundi as “beautiful, but tortured.” I would say that sums it up quite well. Burundi is simply gorgeous, I thought Rwanda was the prettiest place on earth, and what I had heard about Burundi, didn’t think it could match it. But Burundi is absolutely stunning. There are mountains and green, rolling hills dotted with coffee and tea. The different shades of green against the landscape are incredibly stunning. I only wished I didn’t have to travel it at Mach 10 speed in a bus. I want to return to Burundi. To the countryside, and visit with people. The first 4 hours we were weaving down and around and up and around hills, and the last 2 hours we were going down to the lakeside, and everything flattened out. You could feel the heat start to grab you, and it started to feel more like Mombasa in July.

And then we arrived in the not-so-bustling or brilliant capital city of Bujumbura. Buj, for short, looked more like a small village town, compared to Kigali. There were no buildings higher than three stories, as there hasn’t been any development in Buj since the early 80’s. All the ministry offices were more like run down apartment buildings in the ghetto. It had the wide colonial streets and elaborate roundabout displays, similar to Moshi, in Tanzania, but the city itself was practically a ghost town. There are UN soldiers standing guard everywhere, and their compound is the biggest deal in town. Coils of barbed wire run along the top of all the buildings, even small stores, and we found many people just hanging around, with nothing to do. Everywhere we went there were groups of soldiers running shirtless in a pack, shouting army chants and sweating it out. Every patch of grass serves as a makeshift soccer pitch, and boys are out there all hours of the day.

I am fascinated by history, and wanted to learn more about this small country that borders my own. Especially because Rwanda and Burundi are so similar. They are both small countries, first colonized by the Germans, and later by Belgiums, and they have both endured awful ethnic conflicts over the last few decades. However, now Rwanda has peace and is stable. International investors and NGOs are flocking to Rwanda to help with development, and the government is highly supportive. But in Burundi, there is no Kagame, no development; and while there is no war right now, the situation is still very unstable. Like Rwanda, the conflict goes back many, many years, and is too complicated to map out here, but things came to a head in 1993, when thousands were massacred in inter-tribal fighting between Hutus and Tutsis, and many refugees fled into Rwanda. The following year, the Hutu Burundi President died in the same plane crash that killed Rwanda’s Hutu President, and it triggered the genocide in Rwanda that lasted 100 days. In the next 3 years, hundreds of thousands of Burundians were also killed in tribal clashes, and the fighting continued during a successful coup in 96. In 2003, the largest rebel group, FDD, finally signed a peace treaty, the UN sent troops in 2004 to maintain peace, and elections were held in 2005. The former rebels, the FDD, were victorious and claimed the presidency.

Their President is a Hutu, and our President Kagame is a Tutsi. Even though both tribes are represented in both countries, each country deals with it in a totally different way. In Rwanda today, there are only Rwandans. There are no divisions. It’s even a crime to even speak of the separate tribes. When asked who are you, they all answer, I am Rwandan. We even have to have “code names” when speaking of the Hutus and Tutsi here. Most ex-pats refer to them as hamburgers and tater-tots. (I’m not joking.) But in Burundi, they really debate their divisions still, and talk about them openly. They say they are Hutu or Tutsi, they discuss them together. They drink together, work together, and since 2003, seem happy to live in peace together. These are two very different approaches to the same problem. I respect that Burundians can openly discuss the past and their conflicts, but at the same time, I think they really need to embrace a spirit of unity and stability so they can move forward and grow in many ways.

I enjoyed Buj. We stayed on the beach at Saga Plage, a lazy shamba on the beach that shared its home to a large caged crocodile and almost-as-large python, who was in the process of hugging a sweet, innocent guinea pig when we arrived. Not fun. We had to hassle more for uncorrupt prices from everyone in Burundi, but I had been warned about that. Buj sits right on the shores of Lake Tanganyika, and only 5k down the road from Buj is the legendary spot where Stanley uttered the famous line, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” Wow. I only thought I’d read about that place in history books! Life is good. Buj has reputedly the greatest inland beaches on the whole continent, and I would agree. Soft, yellow sand, and the waves of the lake crashing in. The menacing mountains of Congo are in plain view, a few miles away. It’s so crazy to be sitting in either Rwanda or Burundi, relaxing on the beach, and seeing Congo in the distant. It looks so bold, and menacing, almost like if you peered behind those mountains, who knows what you would see! I’ve gotta get there before I leave this continent. There’s an active volcano that a few of us have wanted to climb for sometime, but they have just recently jacked up the visa price to an unaffordable amount. And that doesn’t even include the bribes you will be asked for. The DRC is a different place. I still would like to visit someday. Anyway, the beaches in Buj were amazing. All that was missing was the salt smell.

We ate dinner at an old, carved out ship in the water, that looked like it might collapse any minute. And we spent the day swimming in the lake, and lounging at Bora Bora and the ex-pat hotel. Saturday night, we had a juicy burger at the old Havana club, and enjoyed the view of Buj at night. Not a lot going on though. We made it back in time to catch some live music on the beach. Get this! Literally 10 minutes after we got out of the lake, we looked and about 15-20 yards from where we had been swimming, a baby hippo comes up out of the water! We couldn’t believe it. Maybe we shouldn’t have been swimming there. An hour later, we saw the adult hippo pop up too! Crazy!

On Saturday, I met some retired U.S. Army personnel who were in Buj training their soldiers. These guys did short training contracts all over Africa. Had an awesome Spirit-filled conversation with one guy, from Kansas, who just left the Mormon church, and was doing a lot of searching. His sister was getting married soon and he wasn’t even allowed inside the Mormon temple. He seemed hurt by that, and he started asking me about the book I was reading called, ChristianAtheist, by Craig Groeschel. I listened and talked and shared. My plan for Saturday was to swim a lot of laps, do a lot of reading, not talk to anyone, have alone time, and sleep. I’m so glad God’s plans aren’t my plans. I did get my quiet time in, but I also was given the opportunity to share everything I believed with this new friend. Nothing was forced, and the conversation was just definitely put-together in a divine way. Really cool. Also was able to share with my lawyer friend from Kigali, who is not a Christian, but is open to hearing about my faith. The guys have invited him to their “man-group” Bible Study, and he went last week. He confessed to me this weekend a lot of things he had shame about in his life. And some things he was still doing and practicing that he had no shame about. He’s lived a very privileged life, but has encountered many demons and has tried all there is to try, looking for love and acceptance. We had a wonderful conversation, (after he had some drinks in him), and he was just asking, asking, asking so many questions about Jesus. It was awesome! I just continue to pray for opportunities like I had this weekend; even with strangers! And I pray that I may be prepared. He does the rest! I got some good sun this weekend,(a bit too much), had some awesome Spirit-flavored conversations with friends, and new folks too, still got in 2.5 books! (mostly on the 6 hour bus rides), and just relaxed. But now it’s good to be home! (my African home!) Gonna prolong the holiday, now, with Ramen noodles and sugar cookies tonight, and an early bedtime. Can’t wait!

Book Review

I finished a great book this weekend. I recommend it to everyone. A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, by Donald Miller. He's the same author who wrote Blue Like Jazz, Searching for God Knows What, and others. I read his adventure tale, Through Painted Deserts, last month, but nothing he has written compares to this latest book.

After writing his successful memoir, Miller's life was stalling; going by in slow motion. He got depressed, couldn't write, or even get out of bed, and his faith was taking a beating. But it all changed when two movie producers approached him about turning his memoir into a movie. He started living again. This book isn't even about the movie. It's about living and everything that comes with it. It's about relationships and community, and love that binds, and adventures.

He writes about telling his story, and realizing that for a while he didn't have a story to tell. Our stories must be difficult, sacrificial and epic, he writes. Jesus wants us to live epic lives with epic stories. And these stories and adventures are designed to transform us, from one person, into a new creation. The change occurs when we really know our Creator and love Him, and start living!

Miller tells tales about so many real-life characters he has met along the way that have inspired him to live a great story. And he got me thinking about all the characters I've met along the way that have inspired me to live a better story. And many of those probably don't even know it. I think I need to fix that.

Part of living a better story is taking risks. Embracing the open doors before us, without fear. Seeing the beauty that is everywhere. Create memorable scenes. A good movie has memorable scenes. So should a good life, he says. And invite other people into the story with you to create memorable scenes, so they can have a better story too.

He got me thinking about memorable scenes in my life, and also ones that I hope to create someday. On the bus to Buj, I started a list of memorable scenes, just spontaneously writing ones down that popped into my mind. I took up two pages in my journal, writing as we bumped along, before I stopped. Things came to my mind like spending the night on the floor of the Paris airport with Sarah and Jason, with our faces pressed up against the nasty tiles, and sitting in the field in the middle of Bamburi, crying with Stella at the orphanage. And dancing in the rain in the quad in Chapel Hill, and holding my nephew for the first time, and jumping in the swollen lake at camp with the whole gang. It was good to reflect back on scenes and stories and those memorable characters that have shaped my life. It's been a good story so far. I can't wait to live the rest of it.

This book will inspire you, and allow you to reflect and dream. I wanna read it again real soon. It reminded me that we all have a story to tell. Question is, what's our story gonna tell?

"If God is your partner, make your plans BIG." ~D.L. Moody

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,

we pray that our faith-experience of you keep pace

with our credal statements about you.

Grace us with the courage to pray.

Anoint us with the spirit of compassion that we

may be with you in the passion of our times;

that we may be poor with those who are poor,

mourn with those who mourn,

enter into the struggle of our generation for social

justice, treat others as we would like to be treated.

We pray for the courage to risk everything on you,

to be with you in your faithfulness

to your mission, our mission.

For this I have come into the world, to say,

“Here I am, Lord, I come to do your will.”

-Brennan Manning

Sooo cute!

4th grade was in charge of chapel last week. We performed skits that showed the power of the Holy Spirit.

Here we have (from L to R): Samson's mom, Samson's dad, Delilah, and Samson. Samson is wearing an authentic Rwandan male warrior wig made from cow hair that the traditional dancers wear. :) Love it!

More smiles! But my fav part of this pic is hiding in the back. Check out the top, right-hand corner. :-) This is my precious Kang-Hee. He makes us all laugh. I totally didn't realize what he was doing when I snapped this shot. He's attempting to throw Samson's spear!

open doors

I've been having fun lately walking through all kinds of open doors! I think God opens doors for us to walk through, and He has been answering prayer and opening many new doors for us at KICS. Relationships are most important to me. Building them, keeping them...meeting, connecting, sharing....learning and loving. There's people that God wants us to meet, and He's been making sure it happens! I know He chooses special people, relationships to bless us. Open doors can bring new blessings and new opportunities to serve and love.

It's been a prayer of mine for over a year now to help connect our students and teachers at KICS with the greater community in Kigali. We have 250 kids from 30 different countries, in such a unique setting. Many of our students of children of missionaries serving here in Rwanda, others are East African natives, and others are Rwandan. And our children are blessed. Our teachers are blessed. And where we are blessed, we have a responsibility to bless others. But it takes time to build relationships. And even more time, patience and effort to sustain them. I'm so excited that doors are finally opening for our kids to serve, and in doing so, eyes are being opened..hearts are being opened!

Our school sits atop a pretty sweet hill in a nice international negihborhood in Kigali. Gaculiro was a hill where over 20,000 died in the events of 1994, but now, we have one of the first Vision 2020 Estates in Kigali. We are blessed with nice homes, a church, a school, and even a field to play in; all situated on top a gorgeous hill.

 The view of the city at night is breathtaking. We really are a "city on a hill" that cannot be hidden! It's a good place. I feel safe here, and comfortable. But I don't long to stay here! I've really had to be intentional about getting off this hill, getting into the world, into the communities where maybe I don't feel so comfortable. Being stretched. And helping to stretch others. How can we be a city on a hill, when we are not shining our light? We can't. So I've been meeting, sharing, listening, and now doors are opening!



Last Friday, we had our first KICS Service day, where all of the elementary students...170 students, went out into Kigali to serve and share. It was awesome! Our kids benefited from being stretched beyond themselves and being the hands and feet of Jesus. We worked in the gardens, planting crops for our school workers. Kids painted murals in the lunchrooms, of a KICS Kite (our bird mascot) overlooking the school on top of the hill with a cross on top of it. We took a group to the Home of Hope orphanage where I volunteer, to feed and play with the babies. Others went out to a ropes course area that is being built by missionaries in coordination with the YMCA and Kids Across Africa Camp. The idea is to have a low ropes challenge course available to teach trust initiatives to counselors, soccer coaches, students and young leaders in Kigali. Our kids participated in the clean-up at the site, so the guys can continue building it.

Some more of our students went to John's preschool in Nyarutarama, and read and sang with the children. I was blessed to meet John last month and form a relationship with him. After the genocide in 1994, John was praying and seeking how he can help his beloved country rebuild, and he felt convicted to help the orphans and vulnerable children by building a preschool on a very small plot of land on the side of a hill. John started out with no walls at all. He just called the children to come, and they came. Eventually he was able to save and build a room. Then it became 2 rooms, and later a third. He keeps adding bit by bit to his property. Nyarutarama is a nice area in Kigali, and John's place is surrounded by the South African and Kenyan embassies. However, you'd never know his preschool was back there, at the end of the long, dirt road, tucked back on the side of a hill. He's the last local to be in this neighborhood, and we pray that he doesn't get pushed off this land because of the recent developing in this area.

Sidenote about development: Honestly, it's really cool to watch a country develop before your eyes. Even since I first arrived here in August 2009, I've seen sidewalks, street lights, sign posts, billboards, and countless buildings go up for the very first time in Kigali. BUT...like most everything else, there's a downside to all this development too. It's always gut-wrenching to see local houses and shacks and eateries get bulldozed down, and then you see the occupants the next day, walking aimlessly around with a baby on her back with no food and no place to go. Or like last year when they knocked down a whole rown of local houses to make room for the Vision2020 estates that we live in. Ugh. Makes me mad. But then, I live here, so I guess I'm an accomplice too. Even the locals who sell flowers and lush avocados and mangoes on the side of the road are being forced to leave. Over Christmas, they knocked down the last 2 local meat joints where you could get a great, cheap brochette in our neighborhood. The local bar was demolished last year. There's a huge wide open space and amazing view of the hills now....but it's sad to see what had to go, and who is now left homeless. The government does compensate, but it's still not enough. And according to the "Kigali Master Plan," they're gonna try to make this city like NYC in 10 years. Not cool. Everyone loves the smalltown feel that Kigali has now. I hope it stays that way, and doesn't seek to become Nairobi or Kampala. Yuck. Ok, back to John's preschool...

John doesn't get any support from the government, and he relies solely on donations to keep his school running. The walls are simple and concrete, and each classroom is about the size of a walk-in closet and fits like 50 kids in there. John serves roughly 100 children from the slum behind his preschool. These are children whose parents can't afford school fees. So they walk up the muddy side of a hill to his place. Currently John's preschool only has room for these 100 kids (it's already super crowded!), but in the afternoons when the kids go home, John walks down the valley to this big tree, where 300 more local children gather. These are kids that John doesn't have room for in his school, but each afternoon, he gathers his few teachers and splits the kids into "animal groups" and they have lessons for these children as well.

What stands out about John is his quiet, unassuming, humble character and spirit. He doesn't put on a show to get big donors and supporters and mzungus to come to his place, like some do. He is calm, and quiet, and loving, and so sweet with the children. He has really sacrificed his time, his social life, all to do the work of the Lord. He heard God calling him to this, and believes this is His calling; to provide schooling to all the children in the slum behind his hill. John represents Christ to these children, and delights in the sacrifices he makes for Jesus. It is a honor to call him my friend now, and to see what God has in store for this relationship between his school and our school...and even beyond.

Finally, I went with my students to visit a Catholic school and children's home in Kiyovu. This is where my friend, Mary Elise works. (I wrote about Mary Elise earlier. She used to work on the farm with the street boys, but her job changed in January, and now it's girls!) She's now the matron of over 100 young girls who live at the home because they are orphans or their parents cannot take care of them. Many of their parents who are still alive are strung out on drugs, or prostitutes. She wakes them up, bathes them, dresses them, and sends them to the adjoining school. Then she spends her day teaching nursery school in French, and then after school, she puts her "mom" hat back on. She helps her girls with homework, plays with them, cooks dinner, and gets them all to bed. I miss seeing her because now she only has 4 hours off per week on Friday afternoons, and of course she goes back to the farm to visit her boys! She is tired and weary, and I pray for her to be filled up each day with new strength. I try to take her some Coke and chips every week, because she can't leave the compound at all! She's the mom! Watching her in this role takes me back to Mombasa and to my dear Wema girls.  I took my kids to her place on Friday to read and do Math facts with a 4th grade class. There are also other students that school there who do not live at the home, so it's a weird mix in the classes. We did "introductions", sang This is the Day, and the Wake-up song, and then our students read with her students. Then we played Math relays and prayed with them. The Catholic Sisters were so thankful and wanted us to come every week. I spoke to the Head Sister, Mary, in Swahili, as she was from Kenya, and we found out she had also stayed at the Bendictine Monastery in Limuru where I spent a whole month back in 2006!

Mary Elise's girls have many needs too. We were able to take them clothing and underwear and stuffed animals. Many of her girls suffer from psychological disorders due to trauma when they were babies. Others have to deal with parents who are un-well now, and are abusive when they have homevisits. I was especially attracted to one young lady. She is about 13, and has the most beautiful skin I've ever seen. Her mom is Rwandan and her dad is American. This girl definitely looked different from the others; in her mannerisms, her hair, her skin, her voice. Mary Elise says she sometimes gets picked on and they call her mzungu because of her skin. No one knows for sure the whereabouts of her American father, but we are now trying to figure some things out, because this young girl has really piqued my curiosity, and I see a unique light in her. The Sisters think that her dad is an American businessman that comes here periodically and unfortunately visits prostitutes. They also think he may not even know about this child. It was just very odd for me to be in Rwanda, at a children's home, seeing this American child walking around. She's quiet, and a wonderful older sister to the other kids. But I wonder when I look at her...what will her future be? What opportunities will be available to her? What would she be doing right now if she were in an American school at age 13? It makes me sad and confused when I see her there. Hopefully, God willing, we can find some answers for her. We have to trust in His plan.

An open door is a beautiful thing, as it lets in light! I'm so thankful for open doors and new relationships. It's been a busy month, and I've been finally using my PR degree like no other! :-) But I delight in new opportunities to serve; to be His hands and feet. Please pray with me that these relationships can be sustained through prayer and visits and encouragement. Also please join me in praying for John and Mary Elise, and the needs of their children, and strength for their ministries. I'm excited to see how God develops these relationships and praying about how I can continue to support them.

"I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name." ~Revelation 3:8