tale of the tattoos---part one

The beginning of December marked two years since coming back from Rwanda. Some friends said, "Two years since you came back home! Yay!" Other friends said, "That was a good enough amount of time, glad you came back home!" And there were more of what people consider other joyful reasons to have come back to the US. I was and still am far from joyful reasons. My heart hates December 5th. My heart aches December 5th. My heart breaks December 5th. And it aches and breaks every day in between. That "good enough amount of time" I spent there was minuscule compared to what I had dreamed and envisioned. It was tiny compared to the fire that I had. It was nothing close to what I thought God had planned. 

It was just long enough to taste my dream, but then immediately be yanked away from it. Just long enough to be shown wonders, but then wasn't allowed to be a part of it. Just long enough to see everything fall apart and feel like the past four years had been a waste. Just as I had thought, "wow, God, You're making this happen, just like You said You would and could," is when it was taken away and it was as if God had said: "oh, nevermind." A holy dream and desire was held out before me, but then I was told, "you can't have it." "Here is everything you've ever wanted, you're close, so close, but just kidding, you won't be doing any of that."

It was bad enough to be wrecked by a shattered dream and left wondering why before a God whom I thought was allowing me to be a part of building His kingdom and allowing me to enter what I thought would be a deeper intimacy with Him. Left wondering if God is who He says He is. Left wondering why He would hurt me so. That was bad enough. 

Throw in important relationships in my life disintegrating. People that I trusted. People that I loved. People that changed my life. People that God used to help heal broken parts of me. Gone. A confusing sort of gone. A wondering-if-they-cared-to-begin-with sort of gone. An absolute heartbreaking sort of gone. They're gone in a way that it's like they're dead, but they're still alive. And I was left wondering, once again, why. Why would such people suddenly be against me? What happened that made them believe false things? Why would they be adversaries when all I did was obey and listen to God? How could other Christians not believe me when I said God was leading me in a certain direction? How could other Christians call me a quitter? How could other Christians tell me I don't have what it takes to be a missionary? 

So much emotional chaos and confusion. I knew God wanted me to go back home, but I fought with every ounce of my being to stay and finish what I started and finish what my supporters expected me to finish. However, my heart grew heavier and heavier and I knew that I had finished what God had wanted me to finish in the short time I was in Rwanda. So I went home, but it was definitely God dragging me home. 

And then I crashed and crashed hard. I crashed in my walk with the Lord in ways I never could have imagined. I began struggling with things that I thought could only happen in bad dreams. A new medical diagnosis added fuel to the fire and will for the rest of my life. Guilt and shame plagued my life, but I knew that God still remained unmoved. I knew He hadn't left, but I kept forgetting His infinite grace held me next to Him. So, my first tattoo came along:

"It is finished."

John 19:30. Jesus' last moments and last words. Words that will forever give hope to those trapped in darkness and those in a season of darkness. This was the moment where everything that condemned us all to everlasting torture was consumed by the hands and feet and soul of Jesus. Every sin and ounce of darkness was forgiven and paid for. Every sin past, present, and future. Every shortcoming that we ever committed or don't even know we will commit is washed away. And what's even more amazing? Jesus tells us that it is finished even though before we were even alive He knew how badly we would sin against God, and yet still chose to die or us anyway. He finished what we never could. 

This tattoo is on the inside of my bicep, easily seen every day. And I have needed to see it every day. No matter how I may have struggled the past couple years, no matter the level of darkness, I'm reminded it's already forgiven and forgotten. It's a reminder of the endless grace that I really shouldn't be given. It's a reminder and hope for that next day that God hasn't left and He never will.

Truth is is that I started this post this past December, however, I now see it rather fitting that I finished this post at Easter time.

the difference between tattooed people and non tattooed people

The next couple posts are going to be about the stories behind my two tattoos. They have a part in my story post-Rwanda. Before I post those, I would like to politely post a couple rants.

Tattoos tell stories. They could be stories about how the tattoo was intentional or not intentional. They could be stories about the most important things in a person's life or could be a mere description of something that a person really likes. They could be stories of scars, battles, heartbreak, or loss. They could be stories of celebration or promises. They could be stories of those gone or those born. They could be stories of beliefs that a person bases their life on. Stories, stories, stories. They're almost like a look into the soul.

Tattoos are also prone to judgmental questions and statements. Things like, "Did you think about what it will look like when you're old?" "It wont mean anything to you later." Yes, I thought about what it will look like when I'm old. Sure, wrinkles might effect mine, but, to be blunt, I'm going to look like one bad ass grandma. And, yes, they will mean something to me even in 50 years. My motto with getting tattoos is no ink without meaning. I chose my tattoos because they are things that will never grow old.

So, next time you see someone with tattoos, consider asking them about their stories rather than mumble under your breath how classless they look and how trashy that person must be.

"The difference between tattooed people and non tattooed people is that tattooed people don't care that non tattooed people aren't tattooed."

one year later---grace among ashes

***Forewarning---you're not about to read a lighthearted what-have-I-learned-in-the-past-year post. The following is raw and real and is only the tip of the iceburg.

It's been one year since I came back from across the world. About five months before that I had arrived there anticipating that those five months would be something other than what they had actually turned out to be. I had embarked on this one-year adventure lit up with vision, with great expectancy, and with my life jammed into four suitcases. I anticipated fulfillment of dream and of calling. I yearned to see fruit of obedience and God's mighty and faithful hand at work in the lives and hearts of 150 boys who go barefoot on dusty streets in the middle of Africa. I had this same anticipation, this same yearning, this same expectancy, this same vision for four years when my heart was given a passion that no one can give themselves. I had watched God do amazing things to get me there, such as providing $21,000 in a mere 6-8 weeks, so I had anticipated miraculous things were about to occur. So I boarded a plane, said yes to His go, and flew across the world to this teeny Maryland-sized country in the middle of Africa to go build a kingdom. I was alive.

Little did I know that after a mere two weeks of being on the ground I would be blindsided. I would have the rug pulled out from underneath me. The slander would begin. The betrayal would begin. It was as if my offensive line had not only let the defensive line through, but they had also turned and were trying to take me to the ground as well. I would start to question everything I had pursued and trusted for four years. I was wrecked so badly that I am questioning these same exact things to this very day. Relationships disappeared and shattered before my eyes. The way things had been presented to me turned out to not be the case and I was left to make things happen and do my mission almost without any sense of direction. I had to figure out the culture, the language, and how to go about day-to-day routines mostly on my own.

Next thing I know, after praying, seeking counsel, and many tears, God was leading me to go home after only five months. So as He had told me to go, I went home.

I was met at home by another wave of trials---I lost more relationships and a good chunk of my support system, more slander, and more accusations. Then came a devastating diagnosis. Everything changed and nothing else has been the same and I haven't been the same.

So I'll be honest---I've been wrecked. Wrecked by a diagnosis and the struggle that comes with it. Wrecked by hurt from unexpected places. Wrecked by shattered dreams. Wrecked by what seems like unnecessary pain and struggling. Wrecked by lack of faith, by doubt, by fear, and by stubbornness. Wrecked by past ghosts and current demons. Wrecked because of the fact that I've gone back into my shell and refuse to let anyone in and let anything get out. Wrecked because there have been quite a few days, weeks, and even months where I don't recognize myself. Wrecked because this is the first time I am truly wrestling with God and fighting to see how He can be good and loving and protective in the extremely ugly and painful things. I'm truly wrestling with God because I am angry at Him. I've yelled at Him. I've sworn at Him. I find verses about having joy in the Lord difficult to read. Trusting Him is just as difficult. I don't understand, I don't see, and I don't know why the hurt isn't budging. And it's been a year. I'm still asking the same questions I asked during the months I was in Rwanda. I'm still fighting. I'm still wrestling. It's all I can do to trek through every day. It's not pretty. It hasn't been pretty for a year and counting.

Overall summary is that I was clobbered to the ground over a year ago, and I'm still trying to get up from the ashes that were left behind. There are certain things I think about and am reminded of every...single...day. And I'll be honest: I hurt every single day.

And what have I seen among the rubble, among the dust and ashes, among the ugly? What have I seen among the things that don't seem redeemable?

God's unrelenting, intentional, never-ending, undeserving, unearned mercy and grace.

God's grace saved me, and it's His grace that keeps me. That's all.

Just like there is nothing so good I can do to earn His favor, there is nothing so bad
I can do to Him turn away from me.

He does not give up or run even when I have.

He's not done with me because I'm still alive, even though there have been many
times this past year where I shouldn't be.

I'm sure many of you wonder if I miss Rwanda or if I will ever go back. I do miss it. I miss what I did there. I miss the simplicity. I miss how so different my thinking was. I miss the perspective. Even more I miss the boys. And technically I never got a chance to say goodbye. I hope to go back, I will always have a heart for Africa. But going back won't be for a while.

You might think, ok just get over it. It's not that simple, I'll get over it and move on when God wants me to get over it and move on. Especially when almost every area of my life has taken a hit. I can't force anything myself. I can't will myself to be healed. I can't will myself to understand. I can't will myself to see. There is not a checklist to do, there is not enough Bible reading or praying or going to church or talking with friends that will take the blindfold off my eyes and pick me up from the ground. And I have tried and tried and tried. No matter how much I try, there is nothing I can do to get over the hump. In time and by God's hand. I just don't know how much time. At the same time I have to accept the fact that I will not know all the answers this side of heaven. I just don't know which answers I will be given.

I've held on to this one verse for the past year:

"But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter

formed it into another pot, shaping it as it seemed best to him."

Jeremiah 18:4

AS SEEMED BEST TO HIM. This is the verse I have seen hope and grace in among the ashes. It's His grace that makes me into something that seems best to Him, even if I have to be marred first. 

there and back again

I apologize for such a delay in writing a blog update, especially since I've already been back home for over three months. I will be honest with you...I haven't had the words. I haven't had the words to describe all that happened in a three and a half month time frame in Rwanda. I haven't had the words to tell you all that God has done in my life, heart, and in the lives of the boys on a daily basis and all that He continues to do. I haven't had the words to describe what it was like to make the decision to return home early. I haven't had the words to describe what being back in the US or what the transition back has been like. I haven't had the words to truly emphasize the difficulty of my current season and, to put it bluntly, how God has crushed me.

But I've come to realize that I don't have to have the words. I don't have to perfectly explain, especially the things that even I don't understand. God sees and knows my jumbled, confused thoughts, most of which would sound illogical and irrational to most people anyway.

But know these things:

- My decision to go to Rwanda was the right decision
- My decision to cut my year short was the right decision
- My time in Rwanda was not wasted and God moved in mighty ways
- I miss those boys terribly
- The transition back has not been an easy one
- I wrestle with questions every single day that I may never know the answer to until Heaven
- Struggles are very real and very fierce
- Without a doubt, this is the hardest season of my life thus far
- Only God can heal and make right, and He will
- A long, bumpy road lies ahead, but I ultimately know where it's leading to

I have been there and back again. Somewhere in between my world was rocked, but it's a good thing my Rock never shatters, even when my heart and life feel like they have been.

"It's a dangerous business going out of the door; you step onto the road and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." -Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

teacher! teacher! wqesfyuhugikjgf

Is the above a typo? Or maybe I fell asleep on my keyboard as I typed and forgot to delete it from the title? Nope. This is kinda what it sounds like when my boys start talking to me. They still don't quite get that I'm not fluent in kinyarwanda, let alone understand enough to know what they're saying. They'll just walk right up to me and start sayin' stuff in kinyarwanda and then point some and then wait for my response, which is more or less an awkward silence as I shrug my shoulders and say: "simbiyumva ikinyarwanda (I don't understand kinyarwanda)." But then they'll KEEP talking to me in kinyarwanda. Silly kids. It reminds me of Finding Nemo where Squirt is giving Marlin and Dory a rundown of their exit route--- "Look, you're really cute and all, but I don't understand anything you're saying!" Yeah, my boys are cute, but I don't understand anything they're saying. Praise the Lord for translators.

Buuut, you aren't reading this blog because of my language woes. You might be wondering what a typical day is like with these little guys. Well, lemme tell ya, days with them are a hoot; there's never a dull moment and I'm never quite sure what's coming at me every day. I go into the day with some sort of plan, but within a matter of minutes it's disintegrated.

They come in to where I work (there are a couple classrooms next to my office) in the mornings and we'll have class until noon. I've been working with the lower grades, so we've being going over things like letters, numbers, shapes, colors, etc. They'll eat lunch at noon and then come back to class until 2-3 in the afternoon. After lunch we'll normally work on English and play a game of sorts (they're rather fond of musical chairs and Simon Says haha). After lunch I'll also read a Bible story to them, talk them through it, and have them ask questions.

After class is over I take care of their medical issues i.e. their cuts, bruises, gaping wounds, and infections. I swear I'm going to leave Rwanda as a medical professional. You wouldn't BELIEVE some of the stuff that these kids come in with. I've been an athlete my whole life and have had my fair share of bruises and gaping wounds, but the stuff that these kids have make ME nauseous.

As I said before, every day is a different day and there is never a dull moment. I teach the lessons that we don't think twice about, such as the importance of not stealing, not lying, and not fighting. Then there are the classroom rules that I have to establish here that would never be a rule in a classroom in the US. For instance, this morning I walk into class where the boys are waiting for me. One runs up with a water bottle full of GRASSHOPPERS. Now, mind you, these things are bright green and are about as long as your finger. I had one fly into my face this past week when closing my curtains at home, so, naturally, when I saw a water bottle full of creepiness, I screamed and about ran out of the classroom. Of course, the boys thought it was hysterical, so everyone started pulling grasshoppers out of their POCKETS. I screamed again and tried to get the boys to throw them outside. That's when my translator explained to me that they had caught them so they could eat them later (no joke). It was quite the predicament; do I make the boys throw away their food or do I suck it up and let them keep them? It's Africa, so I made it a rule that the grasshoppers that are to be eaten later MUST be kept in their pockets, NOT in their hands during class, and AWAY from my face at all times. And water bottles full of grasshoppers must be kept on the opposite side of the room. Save it for snack time, boys.

heaven rejoices

Today is a good day because Heaven rejoices grandly today. The angels are going crazy and God is delighted. There is party going down along the streets of gold. Why?

At least 15 of my boys placed their trust in Jesus today.

I don't have a play-by-play account, no dramatic story...just the grace and miracle of God, which in itself is amazing. It's the same grace and the same miracle that drew me to Himself almost five years ago. It's the same grace and miracle that overcame many distractions from the Word in the past week (such as a bleeding child). It's the same grace and miracle that did something in these boys hearts that they couldn't help but be silent as they heard about the great love of Jesus. It was the love, grace, and work of God that led the boys to stand up, to come to the front of the classroom, and one-by-one explain to my translator and I the decision they were making and what it meant to them.

It was a gift of God to hear these boys say that they want to follow the Lord, love the Lord, be close to the Lord, and obey the Lord. It was a gift of God to be able to help the boys pray and hear 15ish voices at the same time (though, in a language I don't understand) ask Jesus to come into their lives. And it was a gift of God to pray with them and over them as their lives have changed forever.

Salvation isn't about big, dramatic voice-in-the-sky stories. It's about God's love and His grace. That's what's so amazing.

Pray for these boys. Pray they would grow up to be men of God who love Him and treasure Him.

october in pictures

My friend, Steph, and I riding a boda boda (Uganda's motorcycle taxis)

Visiting the nursery school that Steph worked at in Uganda. Yes, the kid is picking their nose and yes, they went crazy over my 5-toed shoes.

We finally finished the home visits that were necessary to getting the next group of boys started. This is  one of the new boys (little guy bottom right) and his family.

I discovered a good place to study for my upcoming final exam for the theology class I've been taking. Has a pretty awesome view of Rwanda AND WiFi! 

My youngest sister's birthday was this month. I had the boys sing her a little somethin' :)

My first home-made breakfast that did not involve eating my body weight in doughnuts. I made chapati (the tortilla-like thing that you see) from scratch and had eggs with tomatoes and onions with it. Also had mango and pineapple and yes, a Sprite. Breakfast of champions. Total cooking time (at least for the chapati anyway): 3 hours. Crazy.

We got shelves installed in our kitchen! So now everything doesn't have to be out on the counters! Our shelves were very exciting until we woke up the next morning to find mold all over them. They were cleaned and painted today, so hopefully we'll go back to our excitement :)

One of the boys, Fabrice, lost his first tooth! He was so excited. What a cutie :)

redefining normal

I was doing home visits last week for the next group of boys coming into the program and I realized, as I bounced all over the place in the back of a rugged van on a dirt road with six Rwandan boys, that my life right now has a whole new definition of normal. Yeah sure, normal now in my daily life means eating a ton of beans and rice, being in the house at 6pm because that's when the sun sets, learning the various handshakes and greetings, using jumbled bits of kinyarwanda to buy things at the market and to get around the city on a moto, making sure my mosquito net is tucked into my bed at night because spiders might get in otherwise (yes, I said spiders), and taking showers via bucket. These things are little things of my new normal. Then there are the bigger things that are forever changing my world view because now that I have seen these things, I can never go back to living and thinking the way I used to. I can no longer live in ignorance. Things like:

Going to visit a family and their house is made of mud and the whole thing is 9 feet by 9 feet at most. And 8 people live and sleep under that roof.

Watch a boy who's only as tall as my waist level search frantically for his bag to put his rain-drenched notebooks in because that little drawstring bag is one of the most valuable things he owns. He is also HIV positive. 

Listen to a single mom of seven children tell her story of how she had to leave her abusive husband and live with her mother because she doesn't have a job and can't pay rent for a house.

Watch an older sister struggle to remember where her mother is and who her father is. She and her 4 siblings all have different fathers too. 

Pray for a miracle with and for a family of 12 who are getting kicked out of their house because they haven't been able to pay rent in two months. 

Give praise to a 13 year-old boy because he finally learned how to correctly read and say "caterpillar."

Travel to homes that are located in places where the only possible way to get to them is to hike for 15 minutes literally up the side of a mountain after driving on a dirt road for what seems like forever. 

And there are more stories like these. Every day I interact with these kinds of families and these kinds of boys. And every day I am thankful that God has given me the chance to be a part of their lives and that they are a part of mine.

something so simple

As a Christian there are many things about God that I take for granted and brush over because I hear it so often. Things like:

God is good.

God is with me.

God is loving.

Sound familiar? I'm sure. Phrases like these are plastered on bumper stickers and key chains and said nonchalantly in passing conversations (and by no means am I downplaying those bumper stickers or key chains). We hear them so often that we forget how truly amazing each of these are, I know I definitely do. 

I forget until I'm plopped into a situation where these three truths are all I really have. Living in Africa as a missionary is one of those situations. Everything I have ever known or am familiar with is gone. Everything I have ever depended on is not here to hold my hand. Every familiar face is nowhere nearby.  Every daily routine has changed dramatically. Every comfort or distraction I used to run to has been stripped from my side. Every way I have ever communicated is useless. Every way I have ever built relationships no longer seems to work. So what is my go-to? What is my constant? God has to be or I won't make it through a day with sanity. What is my greatest comfort every day in a place and around people that are so unfamiliar? It is something so simple, the simple truth that we hear all the time and take for granted: God is with me. When everything else is unfamiliar, the one thing that is familiar is my God. And it is this familiar God that is with me, as He has promised. I've been listening to a lot of Charlie Hall since being here and one part of one of his songs has stuck with me daily. It's from his song "Constant:"

"God, You are here with us, constantly here with us.

You are our everything, Faithful and True."

I will often listen to this song in the morning while I'm waiting for water to boil so I can make my coffee in a french press (oh, how I miss coffee makers and Keurigs). I can look out the kitchen window and see a lot of the city of Kigali and mountain after mountain. As I begin my day with coffee and Charlie Hall, I remember that the great Maker of those mountains and of this city is the same God who is constantly here with me, never leaving even when everything else is unfamiliar.

Now I turn to some other circumstances, but also still immersed in the same living-in-Africa situation. I compare to it to being like a bug trapped under a cup. God has me in a season of isolation, a season where there is nowhere I can turn or escape, a season where I can't see the road two feet in front of me. But it is also a season of being surrounded by Him, where I am hemmed in on every side. Heavy heartedness has marked this season as I have lost friends and solid relationships have fallen out. God has been teaching me hard and difficult lessons. He has also been disintegrating every plan I've had and leading me in a direction I always thought I would run from. Seasons of isolation such as these aren't as unfamiliar; I have battled depression for the past eight years and the bug under a cup feeling is a common occurrence with that battle. Even when I just want to lie in the middle of the floor and say, "I'm throwing in the towel, I'm done," I look at the circumstances, know that God has ordained them, and know that God is doing a mighty mighty work for His glory and in my life that is beyond my comprehension. This is where the other truths that seem so simple and overused become incredible and a huge comfort. It's something so simple: God is good and God is loving. God is good despite what the circumstances might look like; He is good because His purposes through these circumstances are what's best. God is loving despite how difficult it is; He is loving because He never leaves me for one moment and it's through these circumstances that draws me closer to Himself.

It's something so simple that sustains me every day. Even when I saw none of this coming, it's something so simple that helps me get up in the morning and know without a doubt that He has me here in Rwanda at this very moment for a reason. It's something so simple and it's all I need, He's all I need. 

diaries of a mzungu: motos and mi casa

I don't know if I've mentioned the term "mzungu" before, but in case I haven't allow me to explain. "Mzungu" literally means "white person" in kinyarwanda (the common language here). It's not a derogatory term, it's just what they call white people, whether it be Americans or Europeans. Even though I might not understand the language most of the time, it's very easy to pick out the term "mzungu" in a sentence, therefore, very easy to know if people are talking about me as I'm walking down the street :) Being a mzungu has its disadvantages; you get stared at like you have arms growing out of your face, you get charged ridiculous prices for pretty much everything (but when I argue back with the little kinyarwanda I know, they tend to resort to the "Rwandan" price), people look at you, see your white skin, and think money money money (which I don't have much of), and did I mention you get stared at a lot? Most days I'm not a fan of being white, but it does have its advantages. If I were to walk across the street, I'm less likely to get hit by a car because the punishment for harming a mzungu is worse than for harming a Rwandan (kinda corrupt, I know, but it works out for me). And it's pretty easy to track down a moto because the moto drivers think that because I'm white I'm lost and need serious help getting to where I need to go.

ANYWAY...speaking of motos.

Motos are the common taxis here and they are motorcycles. Yes, I ride on the back of a motorcycle to get to my every day places. There are regular car taxis, but those are significantly more expensive; taking a moto is dirt cheap. Besides, car taxis aren't nearly as much...fun? It's always an adventure taking a moto.

Number one, the drivers speak zero to little English. Take a white girl like me, who speaks zero to little kinyarwanda, throw in the guy who speaks zero to little English and who's supposed to get me from point A to point B, and you've got quite a mess of sign language and directions. If I'm desperate I'll call a Rwandan friend and have them talk to the moto driver on the phone.

Number two, you think the initial part of telling the moto driver where to go is tricky? Just wait until he starts driving. Sometimes even he doesn't know where to go, so the new white girl in town (me) has to direct the non-English-speaking driver around a city where I'm still learning where everything is.

Number three, the actual driving. Some drivers are better than others, like in the US, except with fewer driving rules. They fly over speed bumps, they weave in and out of the lane against oncoming traffic, sometimes they stop at stop lights and sometimes they don't, and they squeeze in between two lanes of cars due to impatience (I swear I'm going to lose a kneecap due to hitting a car's side mirror one of these days). Oh, and sometimes as they're weaving in the lane or flying over speed bumps they'll talk on the phone. And cobblestone roads are not your friend.

Number four, the adventure calms down here, as paying the driver is probably the easiest part. I know what it costs to get to various places from home, so if they try to rip me off I at least know how to say "no, that's too much money" in kinyarwanda.

So there you have it. Moto adventures. I will admit, it does fulfill my adrenaline needs.

I'll leave you with a YouTube video tour of my apartment, since I know most of your are curious as to what it looks like and pictures are nowhere near adequate.

the little things

Culture shock paid me a visit last week. It wasn't pleasant. I've been here almost two weeks and already there have been a couple days where I've wondered, "What the heck am I doing?!" There have been times where I would certainly prefer curling up on my couch with my dog with a glass of wine in hand and fall asleep to a movie over battling stomach issues, being in a place where I can't understand the language being spoken, and sometimes having no running water. It's the little things that I miss. Yes, I miss being a phone call away from my family. I miss randomly showing up at friends' houses to watch Friends. I miss my church and the familiar faces inside it. I miss coaching softball. I miss being able to watch my Hokie football dominate on Saturday and my Dolphins more than likely lose on Sunday. I miss being a short drive away from Panera and ice cream. I will admit I miss getting back scratches. Yes, I do miss these things. I miss what's comfortable and familiar. Guess what? I'm human.

However, once the wave has rolled over...

I remember what God did to bring me to this exact place. I remember all the things that He has provided. I remember that's it's not my own strength that helps me through. I remember that it's not a passion that I gave to myself, it's God's passion for these kids that becomes my daily strength. It's the little things that remind me why I'm here. It might be one of the boys running into the office to give me a hug with a huge grin on his face. It might be the squeal of a little girl next door as she runs over wanting to give the mzungus (white people) a hug. It might be the "What did you learn in school today?" or "Be good and have a good day at school tomorrow!" that comes out of my mouth and I realize that I'm practicing to be a mom already. It might be seeing the dependency that the people here have on God and how it makes me re-examine my own dependency on Him. Most days it's knowing that the next 50 boys coming through the program will be changed throughout the next year.

Every day it's knowing that the work that I'm doing here for a year is worth SO MUCH MORE than enjoying what's comfortable for the rest of the time.

My little thing for today:

Seeing all the boys in their school uniforms on the first day of the term.

Keep praying. I'm in for a ride. And I yearn to keep my eyes on what is above throughout it all. 

just the beginning

Day three in Rwanda has come and gone and from the very minute that I stepped off the plane life has been different. Life is simple. It's a different routine than what I'm used to and I'm having to re-learn how and where to buy certain things, how to communicate, how to travel, how to get from work to home and from home to work, and even how to shower. But it's all simple. There aren't many distractions and I'm a huge fan of that. One thing I have noticed is that such a drastic change in lifestyle has really created a spirit of thankfulness and rejoicing. It's the littlest things that bring a smile to my face and it's by living here that I see how much of my daily life I have to be thankful about:

I rejoice because it rained today.
I rejoice because the baby that I can hear crying beneath my window has a roof over his head in the rain.
I rejoice because we have running water.
I rejoice that I was able to find wire and nails to hang a shower curtain. 
I rejoice because the radio that our neighbor likes to play at odd hours of the night beneath my window will play an occasional country song (it brings an even bigger smile to my face to hear Rwandans try to sing country music).
I rejoice because the boys at the Dream Center were able to put together their very own "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" book as a craft...and they just learned how to use scissors and glue.
I rejoice because the church in Rwanda is alive. 
I rejoice because God is the Great Provider every day for most of the people I see and meet.
I rejoice because God has allowed me to live in one of the greatest places on earth, despite what it might look like from the outside.

What I'm really excited about is the fact that this one year in Rwanda isn't just some short-term adventure that will come and fade away. This is just the beginning. God is just now moving into motion what He gave me a passion for four years ago: to make His name known and praised in Central Eastern Africa. I'm excited because He will work in ways I can't begin to imagine. I'm excited because I'm right where I'm supposed to be. My life isn't being put on pause for a year. For me, this is just the beginning of my life. This is but a taste of what is to come. Tonight, I go to bed with a smile on my face because I am living in Rwanda with the chance to love serve His people and those that have yet to know Him.

The view of Rwanda from my apartment

real life

I'll set the stage a little bit. As I'm thinking through and writing this post I've got the YouTube video of David After the Dentist running through my head. While it's not necessarily how I'm reacting, it's a good laugh. My friends and I reference this quite often.

So it's official. I will leave Washington DC on August 22nd at 5:49 in the evening and will land in Kigali on August 23rd at 6:45 in the evening. The ticket is bought, I have my seat, and my reservation shows up on the United Airlines website. I had sent an email a few weeks ago to the Africa New Life staff in Rwanda letting them know when I would arriving in Rwanda and after I hit the send button, it hit me all at once. I'm. Going. To. Rwanda. This is real life.

I've watched God bring everything together in ways that I didn't expect through the least likely of people. I've been humbled and reminded that none of this is in my own power. I've been put in so many circumstances that forces me remember that God is faithful and true and that not for one second does He ever leave me. I've learned that there is nothing that I can do to thwart God's sovereign plans and purposes. He will have His way whether I cooperate or not. Above all this, I've learned that He is all I need. Regardless of what else looks good or comfortable or even rational, He is all I need. I found a quote from John Bunyan that has been sticking with me:

"I was driven to such straits that I must of necessity go to Jesus; and if He

had met me with a drawn sword in His hand, I would sooner have thrown

myself on the edge of His sword than have gone away from Him; for I know

Him to be my last hope."

He is my last hope, depite whatever comes...and a lot is about to come. I'm excited, don't get me wrong, I can't wait to see how God will move and work. He has gone to such great lengths to get me here that I can only anticipate great and miraculous things. And I can anticipate that I will know Him in ways that I have never known Him before.

He is my last hope and He will do what He has promised. 

This is real life.

an unforgettable sound

The hymn "It is Well" has been playing over and over in my head since the beginning of June. At my CTEN orientation, we would start out mornings with worship. It was quite an experience and privilege to worship with 30 or so other missionaries. There is something so comforting and encouraging about being in fellowship with other missionaries; so many in the same place with the same core passion. Even though we are of all ages, going to serve in all the corners of the earth, come from different walks of life, and have various ministries, we have the same passion for God's name to be known across the world, in every tongue, tribe, and nation. And only God knows what lies ahead for each of us. Who knows, some of us might even die for our faith, but regardless the song on our hearts is this:

"When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll,

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well with my soul,

It is well with my soul."

I can't forget the sound of all of us singing this hymn. It's the sound of God's peace that surpasses any kind of understanding.

In the Garden

One of my favorite hymns. Dwell on it for a while and let it soak in.

In the Garden

I come to the garden alone

When the dew is still on the roses

And the voice I hear falling on my ear

The Son of God discloses

(Refrain)

And He walks with me and He talks with me,

And He tells me I'm His own;

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other has ever known.

He speaks and the sound of His voice,

Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,

And the melody that He gave to me

Within my heart is ringing

Refrain

I'd stay in the garden with Him

Thought the night around me be falling,

But He bids me go, through the voice of woe

His voice to me is calling.

Refrain

coram Deo

So you might have noticed the changes on/with my blog. The name change is probably most apparent, considering it changed languages. I've been wondering about changing it for a while, but could never settle on a new title. While "Chasing" was a great title to start my blog a couple years ago, it's time to move on along with all the other changes taking place in my life. "Coram Deo," a Latin term, has hit me in the face the past couple weeks and it has hit me so hard that I'm even considering getting it tattooed (kidding?).

"Coram Deo" means, in simple terms, before the face of God. It is to live one's entire life in the presence of God, under the authority of God, to the glory of God. It sounds like the essence of the Christian life to me. This blog post that I stumbled across does a wonderful job of explaining what living coram Deo might entail.

To many, the Christian life might seem complicated and governed by rules and do this and do that. It's not the case at all. The Christian life is a very simple life, but we make it complicated. When I hear coram Deo, I hear simple. All of life flows out of knowing Him and seeking Him. It's when our eyes are on Him that we live in His presence and find it to be our greatest joy. It's when our eyes are on Him that we sit at His feet and just watch Him carry out His plan in the ways that only He can do. It's when our eyes are on Him that our greatest concern is His glory and His universal praise. When our eyes are on Him, everything else is a mere trifle.

Our true lives flow out of His presence overflowing in us.

"But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of Him everywhere." -2 Corinthians 2:14

5 loaves and 2 fish

God makes something out of nothing, provides through the unknown, and is faithful through the unexpected. Kinda like when Jesus fed the 4,000 and the 5,000. And kinda like support-raising.

Support-raising has been an unexpectedly joyful journey for me. Not only has almost $10k come in in around three weeks, but also the majority of it has come from unexpected places and in unexpected ways. God has been turning pennies into dollars through my Amazon fundraiser and through selling the bracelets, necklaces, and bags. The majority of the support that has been raised has come from people that God has placed in my life in the past six months.

There have been people that I have met, they have supported me, and it's likely I won't see them ever again until Heaven.

There have been people that I have previously worked with who are contacting me and telling me they want to support me. I didn't even know they were believers.

There have been people that don't even know me on a personal level, they know me through someone who has been so helpful as to share my story, and have supported me. Then their relatives, whom I also don't know, also give something.

There have been people who I know probably aren't able to spare the finances, but do anyway.

There have been people I have met on the plane, perfect strangers, who have asked to be put on my support list.

Over and over and over again stories like these are happening, which means leaving for Rwanda the third week of August is slowly but surely becoming a reality. Day after day after day God is magnifying His faithfulness. Again and again God is displaying His ways and His plans that are so far beyond my imagination. And believe it or not, this support-raising process is probably the greatest comfort and encouragment in this season of my life, especially as I wrestle with some other difficult things. Through the five loaves and two fish, everything from the pennies to the faithful and unexpected people, God is paving the road to Rwanda and giving me a great light and hope in one of the more difficult seasons.

school supplies during the summer?!

 I know it's summer and all, but let me bring you back into school mode for a little bit. As I may have mentioned before, I am collecting ministry supplies to take over with me to Rwanda and the majority of these are school supplies! As you know, I will be working with a street boys tutoring program and unfortunately school supplies are not easy to come by in Rwanda. My soon-to-be partner in crime, Marie, has sent me a list of things that we'll need/are running low on that will help us to teach and better work with the boys. Supporting me through finances might be difficult for some of you, so this is another way you can help!

~Crayons

~Pens (these tend to get "lost" fairly easily and the ones in Rwanda leak)

~Pencil sharpeners

~Colored paper

~Band-aids (please please please)

~Spray-on bactine/antiseptic wipes

~White board markers and erasers

~Playing cards (used for math activities)

~Glue sticks

~Notebooks

~Red pens

~Highlighters

~Boys clothing

~Classroom decorations/posters (ex. parts of speech, time tables, etc.)

~Hard candy (good to use as incentives)

~Craft/art stuff (I'm not too artsy, so if anyone has any simple craft ideas let me know!)

~Kleenex packs

If you would like to help by donating any of these items please let me know! I will be sending a bag ahead of me to Rwanda on July 26th, so please have the item(s) to me by July 22nd. When you have an item ready, please let me know and I can pick it up from you. Thank you for your willingness to help! The boys are grateful for it as well!

sorry for the delay...

Sorry that it's been so long since an update, chaos has been the theme for the past month or so. So now that I have a breath of fresh air for a few days, I wanted to send along an update on what's been happening, what's currently going on, and what's soon to come.

As you might remember, I was the assistant softball coach at Hayfield High School this past spring season, which is where I played and graduated from. After starting the season a little concerned that we would get whooped, the girls worked hard, overcame expectations, and won the district! We won the first round of regional playoffs, but lost the second round to Oakton, which I may or may not be bitter about. Regardless, I'm very proud of all my girls and am blessed to have been a part of it! It may not have been an easy season (some other issues popped up halfway through the season), but I think it was very fruitful. Praise the Lord that He gave me energy and patience when I had absolutely none. I won't be back next season because I'll be in Rwanda, but I hope that whenever I'm in the US I'll be able to coach.

I was accepted with CTEN, which was a miracle on its own, and have started officially support-raising for Rwanda. For information on how to support me, click here. The support has already started coming in and I'm confident God will supply every last need. I can't buy my plane tickets until I have 75% of my ~$19,000 budget, so the sooner the better! If I had to put a date on it, I would probably like to buy my tickets no later than the third week of July. This is, of course, dependent on God's timing and provision. I've figured out that if 30 people give $25 a month, that will put me just under the 75% mark. Of course, I'm not saying I don't appreciate one-time gifts (I'm very grateful for ANY kind of support), I'm just putting the numbers in simple figures. And don't forget about the fundraisers and telling your friends about the fundraisers!

Speaking of CTEN, I have my orientation out in Texas NEXT WEEK! I'm trying to prepare to be blitzed with information. Please pray for the orientation and that it would better help me prepare for Rwanda and that I wouldn't be overwhelmed by the amount of information.

And speaking of Rwanda, it's coming up FAST! Two and a half months people! More and more details are starting to come together. I now know where I'll be living and that I'll be only working with the street boys tutoring program (there had been an earlier suggestion that I also teach English in the Bible college). Of course, things never really go as planned in Africa, so I'll just have to wait and see what lies ahead.

On a different note, I've been really wrestling with some personal matters, so prayer would be greatly appreciated. It's nothing alarming or drastic, so no worries, I just don't have the words or space to start to explain it.

I promise I'll try to do better with writing new posts and updates in a timely manner :)

fundraiser frenzy

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have (and will have) a couple of fundraisers going to help raise support for Rwanda. Here they are!

The Amazon fundraiser- this one has already been going and you probably already know about this one. If you forgot how it works or are just now learning about it, click here to go to a previous post that explains it. This is probably the easiest fundraiser to participate in and you can tell your friends as well! This fundraiser has been quite a success already and it has been amazing to watch God turn pennies into some significant funds. 

Yardsale- this one hasn't occurred yet, but it's in the planning. Stay tuned! 

Bracelets, Necklaces, and Bags, Oh My!- this fundraiser came about with the help of my wonderful friend Stephanie Frey, who is now currently in Uganda. She sold handmade Ugandan paper bead necklaces and bags and MudLove bracelets to raise support for Uganda and she had quite a bit leftover, so she gave them to me to sell to raise support for Rwanda. We will be splitting the proceeds, so if you buy a necklace, bracelet, or bag, you are supporting two missionaries to Africa with one purchase! What are these bracelets, necklaces, and bags you ask?

MudLove Bracelets

These bracelets are made of clay and every $5 spent buying these bracelets gave one African drinking water for an entire year! These bracelets are $7 each and there are three different messages you can choose from (seen above). There are also different bead colors to choose from. This is the inventory of what I have left:

7 "Grace"- 3 turquoise (beads), 3 light brown

6 "Fear Not"- 2 light brown, 1 black

All the "Courage" bracelets are sold!

Paper Bead Necklaces 

Handmade in Uganda, these necklaces are quite an eyecatcher. These necklaces are $10 each and there are a variety of colors to choose from. This is the inventory:

3 pink

2 green

1 yellow, black, brown, white, purple, blue, orange/white striped
1 pink/green striped
1 blues/white striped

Bags

These and bags/purses were also handmade in Uganda and have an "African feel" to them. The bags are $12 each and what you see in the pictures is what I have.

***The far left bag has been sold

So, if you would like to purchase any of the above either comment or email me and we can arrange a pick-up or a method of payment (if not local). Please let me know what item(s) and what color (if applicable). I am more than happy to ship your items to you as well.