My heart is so sad for the conflict on the Congolese-Rwandan border. Please keep yourself informed. Please pray for God's mercy and grace so that another genocide doesn't happen... Hopefully with all the recent press coverage, the rebels will know that the world is watching. During the violence in 1994 though, a lot of the world was watching; and yet nearly 1 million people were still killed. Do we care enough to do our part to stop it? Or would we watch on, be sad, and then continue eating our dinners in our warm houses unaffected by the horrific news of our brothers and sisters?

http://edition.cnn.com/SPECIALS/2007/impact/

Every morning lately, the first thought that floats through my mind as it slowly awakens and as my eyes open, are of the mayibobo (street boys). I dream about them a few times a week. It takes me about an hour to fall asleep each night, as I lay awake contemplating and reflecting. 

I imagine seeing them again, rushing towards them, holding them, and walking with their little dirt-caked hands in mine, and everytime without fail, I begin laughing outloud. I become physically giddy as the scene plays in front of me.

The other morning after this scene occurred again, I read a line from one of my favorite books, "Disappointment with God" by Phillip Yancy. He says, "...the deepest longings we feel on earth, as parents, as lovers, are mere flickers of the hungering desire God feels for us" (234). My desires are put into a new light and this has carried me through my yearning for Rwanda and my friends. My aching, the twinges of my heart, are but a small and minimal reflection of God's own heart.. for me, for the boys, for the displaced of Congo, for America, for all...

how cool. I am not alone in my pain, in the desires of my heart etc. In fact, they're not even "mine" to begin with...

lessons outside of the classroom

it's time to start asking myself what have I learned from three months abroad this summer. there's simply too much to describe in one shot so here's the first few lessons.

number one.

perhaps the biggest thing I learned about was theodicy (a justification of God's goodness and existence in the face of evil and suffering) . It's so common for people to ask the "Why God?" question in the face of suffering, and I find myself leaning this direction when hardship hits my life as well. However, I felt like I got a new glimpse into this question this summer. 

When bad things happen, we tend to think it's God's fault and argue that if He really is all powerful and in control of everything, then bad things shouldn't happen. However, I don't think that when bad things happen that it's God who has disappointed or failed; it's humans. Let me explain.

Back in the days of the Old Testament, God chose to dwell in the temple and only a priest could even think about entering his holy presence. Then, God came to us personally in the man of Jesus and was before our very eyes. When he ascended into heaven, the Holy Spirit was given and God chose us, the ordinary Joe's of the world, to represent him. Jesus no longer physically roams the earth, but Christians do in his place. 

Thus, as we ask, "Is God silent? Is he hidden? Is he unjust?" I answer these questions with another: is the church silent, hidden and unjust?

Author Philip Yancey says in his book Disappointment with God, "We who live now are not disadvantaged but wonderfully privileged, for God has chosen to rely primarily on us to carry out his will on earth" (172).

That being said, it's up to us to "be God" here and now. He chose us to go for him and to act like him, revealing him through seemingly ordinary actions to the rest of the watching world. Do you see? Do you start to glimpse the enormity of it all? do you feel fear rising in your throat because of it? do you hear the call of urgency to arise? I know that I certainly did this summer..

I was forced to ask myself the hard questions: will I play my part in this world? will I arise to the challenge and look the reality of the world straight in the face? I believe that God has been calling me to arise the past few years as I've grown as a person, and in my faith, saying, "Go and love so radically that the world will never be the same." As we love, I believe that Satan falls like lightning. As we throw off selfishness, complacency, ignorance and pride, the world transforms little by little for the glory of God. People, communities, and entire nations will be drawn to the light of God as he is lived out in word and in action. Ideally, the world would stop asking "Why God?" and "Where are You?" in the face of moral evil and start seeing God here once more. 

Will you arise? Will I arise? Will the church of the 21st century arise? Our God offers such mercy and power. We are never alone so let's throw off the past and come be a part of a revolution of radical love through action that will shape history to come. God calls us to be his "stand-in" and what an honor and a duty that requires utmost humility. The seemingly "ordinary" actions of kindness  and love shatter the forces of the unseen world. We have a great role to play in the cosmos!

"...Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you... nations will come to your light and kings to the  brightness of your dawn..." (Isaiah 61)

Let's dare to want more from life than the 9-to-5, than happiness from a bottle, than beauty only being seen in the physical, than living in ignorance and selfishness as AIDS, generational poverty, child homelessness and oppression rule the world. For I've tried all these things and each time, I come up wanting and suffocating for a breath of fresh air. And as I do so, the world around me continues to wonder out-loud where the heck God has disappeared to. 

In short, this summer I have been forced to ask myself the tough questions. And as I am given the courage to do so, I come away longing to love those around me more radically, to dream big for God, to hope for more than what meets the eye, to want to shake complacency and mediocrity from their cozy hide and to play my role in the cosmos. 

number two.

there are different kinds of poverty. The people of Rwanda are horribly poor physically, but perhaps richer than the West in the things that count. They understand hope and love more fully than I think the majority of Americans do and always find reason to rejoice simply because they know there's more to life than what meets the eye.

well, I think that's enough to process for the next week until I have internet access again as I'm off for a long drive to Italy tomorrow morning. talk to you again in a week! thanks for walking through me as I start to process all this stuff.. i'd love to hear feedback etc.

au revoir mes amis! Je-t-aime et je parle "merci" pour votre amitie.

(ps. i'm trying to learn french)

goodbye Kigali... at least for now

my time in Rwanda is officially over.. at least for now. I know without a doubt that I will be back there one day. I am now in France for two weeks before finishing up my time in Europe with my family in Italy. What a summer full of memories.. I have been having a hard time comprehending all that has happened yet alone finding the words to adequately express it.

My heart has been aching since being away from Rwanda and if I could, I would go back this very instant. I find myself staying up into the early morning hours of the night everyday looking at pictures and wishing more than anything that I could hold the street children in my arms once again. Yet I know that my time for now has come to an end and that God has other things for me. I must finish up my time at school, and I do so with a renewed focus wanting to learn as much as I can so that it might somehow benefit the kingdom of God, and hopefully the people of East Africa.

Update on the street boys: For my last month in Rwanda, I was pushed to pray for the boys knowing that I was going to be leaving soon. What would happen to them and who would care for them when I left? During my last week, my friend Josiane who has one of the most beautiful and caring hearts I’ve ever seen, approached me. She said that she had been touched by the boys after seeing them in church the previous Sunday and that she wants to help take care of them!! Words can’t describe how jubilant I was and I had a hard time hiding the smile on my face for the rest of the day.

We set up a small program between us where I am going to send her money and she will take care of the boys as if they were her own children. Already she has sent me reports and they have warmly accepted her and were overjoyed to find out that she was coming in my place and that we could remain in contact through her. She plans to take them to her home weekly to feed them and let them sleep in her living room. She wants to teach them how to pray and plans to continue taking them to Patmos on Sundays. The most exciting thing is that Josiane offered to find schools that would take the boys if I could find sponsors. When she told them the news, she said that they were absolutely thrilled. I can just imagine their smiling faces and see them jumping up and down with delight in their eyes.

Habimana

That being said, Josiane is in the midst of figuring out the schooling process and I must find sponsors for these 9 very vulnerable boys. I am currently unsure how much school fees are but I am positive the cost is small compared to the significance of how much this will change the future of these 9 lives. I am trying to figure out a way to send the money through an NGO so that if you sponsored a child, it would be more reliable. Josiane, however, has a degree in accounting and experience as she was in charge of a large church’s finances before. I don’t trust anyone more than her in all of Kigali. Before I left, I talked with countless NGO’s such as World Vision and Compassion International, but they were all unable to take the children into their programs because of many restrictions they’re organizations have. Thus, God answered through Josiane.. Oh, how He is faithful! I am still trying to find an organization to partner with though and will keep you updated..

Other than that, my time saying goodbye to my new Rwandan family was pretty difficult. On the night before I left, all the youth came to Pastor’s house to say goodbye. Because there was no money for electricity, we sat there in the shadows of the dark and took turns encouraging one another. It was a beautiful time. After lavishing me with kind words, they gave me so many gifts that I had a very difficult time bringing them all home. It meant a lot because I know that each one of them must have sacrificed hugely to buy me such nice things. They then surrounded me and prayed and the room was filled with many tears. After this, we moved all the furniture from the living room and danced together singing of how we are all going to be together in heaven someday.

Aline, the director of the youth, and I the night before leaving

On my last day, I gave Auntie the money that we raised for her to start a salon. She teared up many times while we talked and signed the papers and then she finally broke down speaking of how she no longer alone J

After a tearful goodbye at the airport, I spent the majority of the plane ride writing. I was filled with such ups and downs, so sad to be leaving yet at the same time knowing that I have other things to do this year. I got the opportunity to see my long time friend Pastor John in Kenya. His family spent hours getting to the airport just to see me for about 45 minutes. His family was beautiful and it was great to be able to see him after nearly 2 years apart.

After getting to Paris, it seemed that all hell had broke lose. Because my flight had been so delayed from Kenya, I had missed my flight to Southern France and had to buy a new one. I soon discovered that my credit card had been locked and I didn’t have enough cash on me to buy my ticket. It was awful and I broke down in tears at the ticket counter. After frantically searching through my bag, I amazingly found more money that I forgot I had… thank God! I then waited for 8 hours in the airport where my wandering eyes met many homeless people sleeping in empty chairs. From one airport to another, from each country to the next, there is suffering and poverty of many kinds.  As I sat there people watching, my mind and heart raced, switching back and forth, to and fro between emotions and thoughts. The thought of the huge financial disparity that’s between the people in the world made me ache and want to scream and break down crying all at the same time. When I finally arrived in Southern France, I found out that my car was broken in America, and that my cell phone had been stolen from my room in Kigali two months earlier, and that my phone bill was $8,500. It was a very discouraging few days, especially coming from a place where that much money could literally save hundreds of lives. A door has finally opened up though (thank you SO much Steiner!!!) and there only needs to be one more word of approval from the cell phone company before they waive the charges.. wow, I hope it works!

Last night I spent an hour and a half on Fritz’s farm laying in an open field watching the stars come out, reflecting on what I’ve seen, smelled, heard, tasted, experienced and learned this summer..

..but that shall come tomorrow.

rwanda in pictures.. words to come later

Claude, orphan and street child.

Kristine, Pastor Bea's mom. we have quite a few funny stories about her..

visiting our friends Veterine, Daniel, Rachelle and Janet at their small home. The four of them live alone in a tiny 2-house room with young 12 year old Veterine as the only one making money by begging to provide for 9 people

our adventure in Uganda

Hilliary with the former prostitutes. These are their first necklaces and they were thrilled! If you want to buy some, we bought them all to bring home and sell. We are in the process of helping these women start an association/organization in which they can learn how to make crafts and sell them

Daniel- 8 years old.

he is unable to go to school because he must carry his crippled brother Veterine to the Kigali taxi park everyday. Thus, he spends his days sitting on the curb counting the change this his brother collects from begging in the dirt. He has a shy smile and he loves to drink orange Fanta.

Daniel's brother Veterine- 12 years old, disabled. He is the sole financial supporter for 9 people. lives with his 3 siblings all under the age of 14.

he rarely gets the opportunity to be a child but when given the opportunity to be taken away from begging at the taxi park, he shines with laughter and makes many jokes. He got pastor's number and never failed to call at least 4 times a day thereafter :)

Ugandan countryside

Nsabiri- 5 years old, street child.

whenever I think of Nsabiri, I smile. He is a curious bundle of energy who hasn't yet become hardened by the streets because of his young age. He loves to show affection and to sprint towards us whenever he saw us coming. He is very vulnerable and you can see in his eyes that he is aching for love. Despite this, he loves to run around playing soccer with empty bottles and chasing after cars, his bare feet kicking up the red African dirt. His stomach pertrudes through his shabby clothes from malnutrition and his head bears a very large scab where his hair has stopped growing from not getting enough to eat.

her mom is HIV positive. what will happen to her in a few years when her mom is gone?

the colors of kampala

the street children of Kimironko who have stolen my heart. from left to right, Pascal an orphan with cigarette burns up and down his arms, Claude, Pacifique, Eve (down below), Dakundimana (whos name means 'God loves us'), and Dahabimana (whos name means 'God is with us')

my english class receiving their certificates of completion

our sponsor child Adison (in the red jersey) with his family. He lives in Entebbe, Uganda in a small fishing village. His grandma is seated in the chair and the man on the ground is his uncle Dan. After giving him his gifts, all the children of the village were calling him "rich boy." There couldn't have been a prouder expression on his face.

Nsabiri, Pacifique and I playing volleyball and washing their clothes

this crazy monkey and her baby tried to attack hilliary. we thought it would be really sweet but then it ran after hill biting her foot! moral: monkeys are not friendly.

the street boys get new shirts!

my favorite english students eva and eric. eva lives in the church because he has nowhere to go. eric lives with one of the pastors as just 6 months ago he was on the streets. God has radically changed both of their lives and they have crazy testimonies

hill, Pastor Bagaza, me & Antoine after church

Hilliary and Chantal, our interpreter

former prostitutes learning how to make crafts inside Patmos Church

my beginners english class

joseane, chantal and I at our goodbye picnic by the lake

a hard day

yesterday I watched as a boy not more than 16 years old died.

he died of malaria and diarrhea--the two most common killers in africa and two of the most preventable illnesses. apparently, he had gone to the clinic the day before but was unable to buy medicine due to poverty.

as a result, his young life was taken from him. his life could have been spared for less than $10.

i couldn't stop crying all day..

slumber party, street boys, and getting ready to leave..

(Nsabiri and I during our "slumber party")

A few nights ago, I was walking away from hanging out with my street boys when Nsabiri, the smallest one at 5 years old (although they’re unsure because they don’t know his birthday), called out to me from behind. He continued to follow me in the dark repeating over and over again that he was hungry. He had looked sad that whole day with big tears ready to flow from his little eyes. While we sat and shared a tortilla together in a nearby market, his deep eyes welled up again and he kept begging me to take him home with me because he didn’t want to sleep in the sewer gutter. I had no idea what to do as I obviously don’t have a home of my own here so we just sat down on the curb together. With him in my lap and with my arms wrapped tightly around him, I whispered to him that I loved him and he began to cry. At first it was ever so soft, but within a couple minutes, he was sobbing. It’s unusual for people in this culture to cry in front of others and it was the first that I have really seen someone bawling in public and it broke my heart. There we sat on the curb under the dark sky crying together with his tiny body shaking under my arms. I couldn’t walk away from my beloved friend so I found myself, to my surprise, calling pastor to ask if Nsabiri could come home with me. She surprisingly agreed and I took him home to his absolute delight. We washed his clothes and his dirty body, including his round belly that sticks out from poverty and malnourishment. After a meal together, in which it was obvious he didn’t know how to eat at a table or use utensils, we went to bed. He was so excited that he had a hard time going to sleep so we stayed up coloring for a while and taking pictures and soon he began to doze off. Seeing him in my bed was absolutely beautiful. It’s ironic because I’ve always said that I don’t really like children but they have absolutely stolen my heart here.

Some of the people around town have started calling me mom and recognize me all over the place as the one who is always surrounded by the street boys. The other day two of them fell asleep in my arms and I sat there with their heads leaning against me, wondering how in the world I’m going to leave them behind later this week.  I would give almost anything to take them home with me.

One of the boys has marks all down his arms that look like cigarette burns. With my limited language skills, I asked him what they were and he replied, “mama and papa.” It’s difficult to understand how such injustice can occur in our world, especially to innocent children. It’s a reality hard to swallow and I want to do all I can to be with these children who are in desperate need for love.

I also got the chance to hear my student and friend Eric’s testimony recently. He has one of the craziest stories I’ve ever heard. Like I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs, he is the eldest of ten siblings. His parents both left them when he was young and after the genocide, he was forced to come alone to Kigali from their village to try and find work at the young age of 11. After moving around from house to house doing odd jobs, he found himself living on the street and began drinking and doing drugs. He didn’t become a Christian until a year ago but before he knew God, God saved him many times. During the genocide, a man ran after him with a knife and cut his head open, spilling part of his brain onto the ground. His head still bears the scars of this incident today but he survived. He also fell into a 100-meter hole and was rescued miraculously by a man with a rope that was just long enough to reach him. Lastly, he was fishing a few years ago and ended up getting swept away by the river, where he drowned. His body was carried all the way to Burundi by the current where local fishermen found him. They were preparing to cremate him after 3 days of him being dead when he suddenly woke up laughing, asking for a fire because he was cold. He said he remembers being separated from life by a river that kept him on the side of the dead. Then the most handsome man he’s ever seen pushed him up onto the side of life and that’s when he woke up from the dead. He says that he now spends his life working for God and that even though his mother and father have forsaken their family, that God is his parent.

THANK YOU to all of you who have been emailing me about sponsoring children. I went to see Veterine and his family a few days ago and began telling him that there are people in America that want to sponsor him. He sadly explained that he couldn’t go to school because he’s the head of the household at the age of 12 years old and that he needs to provide for his family. After explaining that I was finding people to sponsor all of his brothers and sisters, his face lit up immediately at the thought of him being able to go to school!! I am waiting to hear back from Compassion International and will let all of those interested know as soon as I hear anything. Pray, pray, pray for this door to open. Also, if this works, we will still need 2-3 more sponsors.

My students are getting sad that I’m leaving. We sat hanging out on Monday after class and they were telling me how much they’re going to miss me.. especially now because they no longer see me as a “muzungu” (white person), but as a fellow Rwandan, and as their friend. While I am so sad at the thought of leaving, I have a very strong feeling that I am going to be back here some day and will see them again soon.

Lastly, I have been sick the past week or so. I went to the doctor yesterday after two sleepless nights of the most pain I’ve ever felt in my stomach. I went to the doctor yesterday though and after taking the first round of medication for parasites, I feel much better.. Amen!

That’s all for now. I’m not sure I’ll have time to come to the internet again while in Africa so I’ll update again from France! Bon Voyage

Megan

disclaimer: this is a bit long...

All I feel I can really say is WOW. I have not blogged in such a long time and I literally have countless stories to tell. I have no idea where to start so most of the stories will have to wait to be told in person another time.

Since the last update, we have been hanging out with many different street boys doing our own little ministry project with them, we’re trying to help organize an association with some local women from the church for women in prostitution, and we had a 3 day adventure in Uganda where we got to visit Hudson, the little boy my dad and I sponsor. I don’t think I have ever been so busy in my life and I apologize for the lack of updates…

First, the street boys, since they are my favorite J

We have made some very dear friends with the street boys in our area of Kigali. There are 9 of them total (although we find more each day) who we met randomly one afternoon a few weeks ago. We rounded the corner in our neighborhood to approach a crowd of very dirty young boys who were playing on large mounds of red African dirt. They immediately began holding out their hands to beg. I didn’t want to give them anything at first but Hilliary began pulling out a bag of bread from our purse, breaking off a small piece for each of the boys. They gulfed down the hot dog buns so quickly that I began to pay more attention to them, noticing they had no shoes, many holes in their filthy clothes, and scabs and cuts all over them and I immediately felt compassion growing in my heart. Ever since, we have hung out with them almost daily, getting to know each one of them individually, caring for their needs, playing and praying together and beginning to form a very strong relationship with them. One of my very favorite things here is to go to the top of our hill and when they spot us, their faces light up and they sprint towards us as quickly as their little legs can carry them and bombard us with hugs. Everywhere we go together, they rush to place their little hands, which are layered with hardened dirt caked onto their dry skin, into ours. Sharing life with them over the past few weeks has been one of the most rewarding and joyful things of my life and I am perhaps going to be the most sad to leave them behind in 2 short weeks.

When we first met them, they were all sleeping under bushes in our neighborhood and in sewer gutters, begging during the days and never finding time to be the children that they actually are beneath their hardened street faces. We have been praying over the course of our friendship for local community members to begin caring for them and it is actually coming to be! Last week, we found 7 of them and rented a bus (to their absolute delight!) and took them to a local street ministry organization in town. That day, we found out that one of our favorite boys, who loves to pray, was in a very bad mood. I thought at first that he was just tired or crabby, but as the long day wore on, it became obvious that he was suffering from some kind of pain. Hilliary was at home feeling sick with malaria so I took the young 12 year old to the hospital. He looked the most sad I have ever seen him, the usual smile and joy gone from his face due to pain. It turns out he has an infection on his head from getting in a street fight with other boys. After this, we waited with him for nearly 3 hours for his friends who then took us to a lady named Grace’s house. It turns out, she started feeding them last week 2 meals a day from the leftovers of her small restaurant! Praise God for this answered prayer.

I have been wanting to spend all my time with the street children, who are so hardened from life’s difficult circumstances. Most of them say that they have at least a mother or a father, which means the situation at home must be pretty bad for them to prefer living on the street. Homelessness here is not like it is in America, as it’s much more difficult and seemingly dangerous. There are virtually no girls on the street because of this. It is truly beautiful though to get glimpses of the child that hides beneath the façade of the street. I think that this ministry to these children might be my forte. I have absolutely fallen in love with them and I could VERY easily see myself returning after graduating to work among them. Society has seemed to give up on them and no longer deems them of any value. It breaks my heart that no one loves them…

We have also continued forming relationships with our friends from town, Janet, Daniel and beloved Veterine. Much to our surprise and immense delight, we were invited to their house last week. After a bus ride full of smiling glances and many rounds of giggling with excitement, we all reached their village, which looked over downtown Kigali. It was stunningly beautiful. Despite the beauty of the hillside, trash, naked babies and poverty that seemed to touch all who lived there, surrounded their neighborhood. After a long walk down many steep hills and through much trash (especially with a crippled boy on your back) we finally reached their house, which consisted of a very small and dark 2 room house. Four brothers and sisters live there, the oldest of which is only a mere 14 years old. We took many pictures together and played many rounds of bingo, which they really enjoyed. Usually we only see these children in the context of the taxi park when they are working to earn a few coins. It was really great getting to see them smile so much when we were together, as they finally got the chance to play and act their age.

We also found out that there are 4 other children who live with their mom a pretty far ways away. She, however, has no money and no way of making money either. Thus, it leaves 12 year old crippled Veterine as the sole financial provider for 9 people. I don’t understand how this could be.. Hilliary and I have been talking about wanting to sponsor Veterine, but he said it wouldn’t be possible unless all of the other children were also sponsored. While this is unfair as it seems his family is using him slightly, I also wonder what other choice they have because if Veterine were to go to school, their only way of earning money would be gone.

I have an appointment with World Vision today to try and find out how much sponsorship is for a family. If you are interested in helping this very vulnerable family, please let me know and I will give you more details.

We also had the opportunity to go to Kampala, Uganda while my dad was here. After a ten hour bus ride and many unexpected events, we finally arrived to be a bit overwhelmed by the immensity of the people, pollution and activity. Although we were only in the city for about a day, it seemed to be a city reeking with the consequences of poverty, sin and corruption. Little children literally lined the streets begging for money relentlessly. On our first night, we were walking to dinner when we passed a baby less than a year old completely alone on the dark, night sidewalk with it’s tiny and helpless hands molded into the begging position. It made us all want to be sick as obviously the parent was somewhere close by and had trained her innocent child to beg. Talk about child exploitation. I wanted on instinct to run very quickly from that city, yet I can’t help but think that if there is so much evil and hopelessness there, isn’t that exactly where Christians need to be?

While in Kampala, we also took a day to visit the child my dad and I sponsor in his small fishing village. Hudson is now ten years old and is adorable. We enjoyed about four hours together, talking, playing, eating and visiting his home. He was immensely shy at first, but after getting his new soccer ball, he opened up a lot more. While visiting his grandma who he lives with, we shared donuts and fantas before exchanging gifts. His grandma, hand made me a beautiful woven basket and Hudson drew me a big poster, which still makes me smile every time I look at it. Overall, it was a very special experience and I shall cherish it for a very long time.

Also, Hilliary has left as of yesterday morning. I teared up in the airport and then silently cried all the way home. It was wonderful to have her here and I’m so grateful for all the memories we now have together. Since then, it has been a bit eery being alone but I’ve also enjoyed the time to ponder and I am hoping that being more independent will force me to grow a lot more in the next few weeks.

Prayer requests:

-praise because Patmos has found a church to rent out for the next few months!

-street boys: a few of them don't know God and I have no idea what their hope in life is without Him. Please pray for all of them that they will begin to think that they are worthy of love, for protection and for God to help them.

-Sponsorship for Veterine, Janet and Daniel as they desperately need help. The handicapped here, much like the street children, are deemed unworthy and are therefore among the most vulnerable of society.

-safe journeys for Hilliary and for her debriefing process

Love,

Megan