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.