WEEK 1

So I have been in country for a little under a week now and to say that it has been one of the most emotional weeks of my life would be an understatement. From Highs of excitement to lows of despair and being on the verge of depression, I have already realized that my emotions are not to be trusted here but rather I MUST look towards Him, the author of my faith and this journey. SOO lets start at the beginning of this week. I left Springfield on Sunday and took flights from Springfield to Chicago, to Brussels and then finally Kigali. Upon arriving in Kigali I stepped off the plane and the first thing I noticed wasn’t the smell like Ethiopia but in fact the absence of one….the absence of nearly any noise except the plane….complete silence and a peaceful serenity that seemed to be misplaced considering all the lights that seemed to roll on and on with the hills and mountains that Rwanda is famous for. So Amanda and I get through customs and we meet our contact, a man named Peter, a local pastor who hosts and leads mission teams when they come to do the work of the Kingdom. Later I would hear the story of Peters walk and life and the CRAZY Faith this man had. He left a church to build a new one without a home or job or any means of income AT ALL!!! He built a house without the permission of the government on land that had been bought years prior (the local leaders said he could but they didn’t get permission from the federal government). Peter had no money but God miraculously provided contractors and construction workers without Peter having to use much. The fed government was going to tear it down but Peter prayed for hours and the Lord worked, sparing Peters house….and I failed to mention that Peter has EIGHT KIDS. Anyway that’s a little of his story. So we arrive at Peter’s house where they hosted us and stayed with them for two days. The second day there Amanda and I visited the Genocide Memorial Museum (if you don’t know about the genocide, basically one ethnic group, the Hutus, slaughtered over a million of their countrymen, the Tutsis, in just 100 days before being stopped by the Rwanda rebel force the RPF.) The museum was a very sober ordeal and told the story of the genocide. It really is amazing how long it took the world to recognize that genocide was happening and the UN’s lack of action. (it was said that 5000 UN troops was all it would have taken to stop and prevent the genocide). The two major things that really hit me though was one room that had the skulls of victims in it. The skulls had cracks, holes, or major chunks taken out indicating the blunt force impact that was used to kill them or the bullet that passed through. Outside the museum was a grave site that had mass graves 20ftx10ft made of concrete. No telling how deep they were but there were around 18 of them and the approximate number of bodies was 250,000. To put that in perspective that is more than the population of Springfield Missouri or a little less I can’t remember. To put the genocide as a whole in perspective, Hitler took 5 or 6 years to kill 6 million people and the rate by which the Rwandans were killing each other,  that number would have been done in 18 months or a year and a half. The tales and stories were incredibly heavy and it was a solemn occasion to be there and one that will stay with me forever.

Enough of the sad stuff. On Wednesday Amanda and I headed towards Gesenyi and I was able to see the beautiful Rwandan countryside and the rolling hills. Rwanda really is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen and I have been to a lot of places. So we get to Gesenyi and this is where the despair set in. I was shown where I was going to live and remember that it is night and the power is out so the entire house looked worse. We go to a house without a gate that is made basically out of mud brick and cement floors. I walk in and honestly it looked like something that could be considered a jail in the states. My room had only a bed in it and was extremely dark, my toilet did not have a toilet seat, the shower did not work and there was no sink (the bathroom could not fit one in it anyway) and before you start judging me for complaining, I realize that I could have had it a lot worse. The biggest thing was that I was alone in the house….without power….in the dark. I sat on the bed and despair hit me. I started crying out to God and had my music going on my phone (I had to have some sound cuz it was too creepy not to lol) All of a sudden “it is well” came on and as I sat there singing it I felt God’s presence move and told God  I had no idea how I was going to do this but that I would stay. Luckily the next day my next door neighbor, who is an American, said that I could stay in her 5 bedroom house which had a gate and when it came together I was told that apparently machete wielding thieves were known to plague the house I was suppose to stay at so THANK GOD for his provision. There is one catch though…it cost $300 a month to live which brings my monthly expenses to about $500. I will only have enough to get through August….so Please pray about donating and you can do that through the “Rwanda Funding” tab at the top. Alright I am done asking for money. So on Thursday I officially meet the guys and I have to admit the language barrier is causing more of a problem than I thought but God is showing me ways to communicate regardless and relationships are being built. The past two days I have been sick, depressed, angry, happy, adrenaline laced, and a variety of other emotions. IT HAS BEEN NUTS!!! But I decided to take what time I had and really go after God and after doing so I definitely feel much better and feel his hand in this. I know that He has a plan and that He has brought me here for a reason and a purpose I just never expected it to be this stressful right off the bat. SO in your prayer time remember me and the men here in Rwanda and also remember Amanda Herdina and the journey God is taking her on as well. More will come later J Oh and I rode on the back or a Dirt Bike which was SUPER AWESOME and for $1000 I can buy my own….just a thought ;)

 

The Morning View in Kigali

 The Skulls at the Museum

 Stories and statements from the kids of the Genocide

 The Mass Grave and Yes those are bodies under that cloth

At Kigali

Rwanda

Lets Be Real

Time To Be Open....

So I am sitting here, one day out, one more day until everything around me changes, one day until my life gets turned upside down and honestly I don't feel how I expected. I expected to have waves of excitement and anticipation rolling over me filling me with ambition, drive, and, well, excitement but that's not what I feel. Rather I feel nervous, scared, overwhelmed. Now before you say the typical "God's got it", or "You just gotta trust in Him" or the ever popular "Oh Ye of Little Faith" know that I do trust God and I know that He has it all under control and I certainly would say I have faith or else I wouldn't be going but that doesn't change the fact that EVERYTHING around me is changing. Its not just a move like moving in grade school where you still have your family nor like the college move because (for the majority of us) we still move to a campus somewhere in the US and where the majority of the campus speaks English. This move is one where my family isn't coming, I will no longer be in the States, and if the people speak English its very broken and hard to understand. So your probably reading this and thinking "then why are you going?" and the answer to that is because God has asked me to go. I don't know how all this will turn out and the questions of "will they like me?" and "what am I doing?" are very prevalent in the inner chasms of my mind but I guess that is where faith comes in. I'm learning that faith isn't being without fear or uncertainty in how it all will work out, but faith seems to be what we do with that fear and uncertainty. Do we let the fear drive us away or do we continue on into the depths of change and unknown knowing that He is walking before us, guiding our every step, behind us, protecting our 6 from the enemy's attacks, and most of all beside us, lending that hand to hold and cling to in the times when the darkness of the unknown seems to be overwhelming. So that's where I am at right now and even in the uncertainty I will move forward because He has called me and every step I take in the forward motion leads me one step closer to Him and He is my ultimate desire.  

An African Love Story Part 2

   So I know I said that this was going to go up a day after the first one but as you can probably imagine I got caught up in all the preparations for the five month trip. SO this is a couple days late but come on, give me some leniency here, I mean there is a LOT still left to be done and I am only a few days out until the departure date. Now before I go any further let me clarify that this story is not a story about my dreams nor is it a story about my plans and goals because, you see, this story is actually not about me. This story is about the plans and dreams that God places in the hearts of His children and the resulting journey that will come upon such placement. This story is His story and He takes spotlight and center stage. Without Him this story is just that: a story. Thanks to Him this story is now a reality. So now that we have that cleared up let us continue with the Ethiopian trip.
    I last left you in the community of Korah on the first day of the African Missions trip. If you recall, I was in the middle of dozens of kids who had to be some of the most loving and joyful kids I had ever come into contact with. So as I stand in what can loosely be called an outdoor sitting area outside of the church, I see all these kids and they grab at me and pull and tug, desiring the physical contact and desiring to just play and have fun. Initially I was a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount, but once the initial shock subsided I decided it was time to play. I grabbed one of the little boys and plucked him from the crowd that swarmed around. Spinning him around and around, I couldn't help but smile and think of how amazing this whole experience was already becoming and how lucky I was to be in the midst of all these kids, just being able to play. I place him on the ground and immediately two more latch on to either of my biceps, wrapping their arms around like a claw gripping to a car in those junkyard scenes that seem to appear in nearly every 80's spy movie. As they gripped tightly around my arms I hoisted them up launching them in the air like human rockets. Praise the lord neither of them let go because that would not have been a situation I would have liked to explain to the people of the community: "Oh the blood gushing from the cut on his forehead? Oh that was because he let go as I picked him up and popped his head on the nearby rock" Yea don't think that would go over very well, although we were there on medical so my parents could have just patched him up ;) Anyway we play with the kids for about an hour or so and decide it's time to head back to the guest house for some much needed rest (jet lag and all).  Upon our return I go to take a shower and as I turn the shower knob, I am welcomed by the tingle and jolt of an electric shock.....in a shower......with water starting to fall on my head!!! Anyone who has seen The Green Mile knows that electricity and water do not end well for the conductor of said electricity. As you can imagine this was quite a shocking experience but taught me another African lesson: do not expect the appliances to work like you think they should and always be prepared for a result that may be downright shocking.
    The next few days came and went without much  incident; in essence those days were filled with hundreds of people coming into the makeshift clinic that had been set up in the church. We saw people who had leprosy and were missing limbs due to it. We saw people who had cysts and people who had HIV, people who had TB and people who seemingly had nothing wrong with them physically but just wanted to be around our team and to build some kind of relationship with us. Many of them were incredibly kind and all would wait for hours just to see the medical staff that had come from America to treat them. On Wednesday we headed up to a school where many of the sponsored kids from Korah were sen to receive education. Around 5 A.M. the team piled into the 2 vans and we headed out. The drive, which we were told was only going to last 3 hours, ended up lasting about 4 and half but it was through some beautiful countryside so there wasn't a lot of complaining. When we finally arrived at the school we unpacked and set up shop in what looked like a pavilion mixed with an outdoor amphitheater. It had the tin roofing overhead and it was all done by concrete so it had a pavilion feel but the way it was set up was like an amphitheater, what with the staircase  stadium seating and all. While we set the kids gathered round and sat eagerly in rows, waiting for the attention that they were about to receive. You could see the smaller ones twitching and fidgeting as excitement and anticipation built within them. The older ones, of course, tried to be cool and were gathered in the back together. They talked amongst themselves with the big man in the middle and the rest gathered round. I guess no matter where you go, whether in America or Ethiopia, some things remain the same. It really did remind me of Grease when all the greasers would sit huddled up around the main guy. It was quite comical.
   So the medical people start there check ups and mean while, myself and other non-medical people decided to play with the kids. A few of our members pulled out Arts and Crafts and as soon as they did the little ones eyes lit up. If they weren't squirming before, they were now. I am not the Arts and Crafts type so My little brother, his two friends, and I all went to sit with the older ones. It wasn't long after sitting down that the moment many of us had been expecting came. "Do you want to play football?" There was the question and while one of the group was actually on their High School Soccer team, the rest of us were pretty terrible, especially when compared to these kids, but we got up and grabbed a ball and joined in anyways. As we started playing, it became evident just how awful we really were. Even the one that played was having a hard time keeping up with these guys and the physicality of the game was quite surprising. They were running circles around us and within a matter of minutes something else became clear: I was out of shape. These kids were like energizer bunnies in how they could run and just wouldn't stop. I was out of breath after the first few minutes and here they were just going and going and going and after about 20 minutes of this I was done.
   I sat down and almost as soon as I did all the older ones seemed to huddle around me. They talked excitedly and laughed with such joy. They asked me questions about my life and about America and I asked them about their life and what home was like for them. Many of them, when asked "what do you want to be?" would reply "solider." Again there are some things that just don't change and boys dreaming of the excitement and adventurous lifestyle of the solider seems pretty much constant, at least where I have been. After a while one of them pulled out a phone and started playing Justin Beiber.... I was at once surprised and speechless. Apparently JB is huge over in Africa and its not with the girls....Its with the guys. I guess there are some things that remain the same and then there are somethings that are vastly different. So being quick on my feet I went and grabbed the iHome that my father and so cleverly thought to bring and my iPod which did in fact have JB on it (yes I know loss of Man points but in my defense it was only three songs and they were his good ones). Once the music started playing, they started singing and dancing, and man could they dance. They were so young and none of them had ever taken lessons or anything. When asked how they danced like that, they said it just came naturally....lucky kids. They pushed me into the circle and I looked like a fish out of water, but they still encouraged and clapped anyway. To look back on it now I realize how awesome it all was. They treated us like rock stars and to them we probably were. They wanted so badly to learn about America and for us to teach them our culture, but what they never realized was that they were the ones who were teaching us. Teaching us just how self-centered our culture is, teaching us how to smile and find joy in the midst of turmoil and discomfort, and teaching us that its not about us, but rather about the community. They really do have a community based mindset and it is this view and outlook on life that makes them so amazing. They live such simple lives and are much happier then we, who, as Americans have everything at our fingertips, could ever hope to be. What made them so happy amidst their trying circumstances? Community and relationship. One can have all the material possessions that their heart could ever desire, but without relationship, it all means and amounts to nothing. This was the biggest lesson that I would learn from them and it was the single most important quality that drew me to them and to the continent they called home.
   Once that day was over we again piled into the vans and stayed the night at a hotel about 30 minutes outside of the school. It was here that one of the funniest moments of the trip would take place. The following morning I awoke and low and behold there was a monkey sitting on my balcony. I go to the door and look out and they are everywhere. It was an interesting site to see and one that was a little unnerving given the reputation of monkeys and their aggressive behavior. I would come to find out that same morning that my parents had encountered the monkeys as well except they got up close and personal. It seems that my parents had ordered room service the night before and had food sitting on the table at the foot of the bed. One clever little monkey got it in his mind that he was hungry and decided that he was going to get that food. Now in our hotel rooms we had glass doors leading to the balcony and directly above those doors were windows that slide open. The monkey somehow managed to climb in through that window and get the food. My mom apparently woke up to a monkey sitting on the table eating their food. Needless to say she screamed and my dad, being dad, came rushing out of the bathroom to see what the commotion was all about. Maybe it was the sight of my father in boxers or perhaps it was the ear shattering scream from my mother but something scared the monkey as it dropped the food and bolted back out the window. Great way to start the morning.
  The rest of trip went well and pretty much went off without any problems, although we did have a few members get REALLY sick on the fourth or fifth day. We would spend another 5 days there and would even be able to attend an international church on Sunday before we flew out. It really was an amazing experience and it was one that would forever change my life and the path that I was headed down. On the flight home I sat there processing all that had taken place and made up my mind that no matter what needed to be done, I was bound and determined to get back to Africa and to be there for an extended period of time. Little did I know that the journey that God had started me on would be one of faith and trust in him and would be one that would bring me to the point of seriously doubting whether I was even to go. But that is a story that must wait for another time ;)

An African Love Story Part 1

        As I sit here writing this and preparing for the journey of a lifetime I cant help but look back on the steps that have been taken to get to this place in time. Steps that have seemed ordained and planned, steps that have led to anger, tears, stress, frustrations and above all else, a joy and peace that can only come from knowing that one is in the will of the Most High. I can see the culmination of two and a half years of God working and chipping away at the edges of my heart preparing me for the work He picked out for me in the time before time, a plan that is both exciting and somewhat nerve-racking, though the excitement greatly surpasses the nervousness in this instance. I cant help but think and see how it has all led to this, and how it all stirred within my heart a passion for a people, a place, a continent that holds extraordinary wonders and beauty; a passion that has driven me to giving five months of time to the people of Rwanda. A passion that came from God and was molded and shaped into a love, a love for Africa.

       It all began in the early months of 2011. It was in February of that year that my father would take his first trip to Africa and come back forever changed. Now before I can write any further there are some things that one needs to know about my father to understand the complete change that occurred and the magnificence of said change. Growing up my dad was a man of few words and even fewer emotions. He was a police officer in the city of Springfield Missouri as well as a Navy Reservist and anyone who knows anything about being in a Police Family knows that the experience can be a hardening one for the individual on the force. My father, having seen the fraud, theft, and underbelly of society and having heard all the lies that come from the people he interacted with, one could see how his heart would become a guarded one in which punishment was the solution to nearly every problem. Love was not an emotion shown and tears of any kind were frowned upon and given the look of disapproval from the man of the house. So you can imagine my shock when this same man who was once a hard hearted man of punishment and the bestower of fear in the people he came into contact with, all of a sudden comes home from Africa and cries. In my 20 years of life I had never seen my dad cry until he came back from Africa and told his tale. He told of a poverty stricken people within the community of Korah, Ethiopia. He told of a girl who had been bed-ridden for five months getting prayed for and getting out of bed and walking, of two little girls whose mother literally begged him to take the girls to America so they could have a better life, of a moment in time when he first heard the voice of God speak and saying "these are my people and I am in the midst of them." My dad came back forever changed and as a young man who idolized his father, one can get a sense of the intrigue that was sparked in my mind.

      Fast forward a few months from February to May of that same year and you would find me preparing for a summer internship in NYC. Right before I left, I was told that my dad would be returning to Africa in August and this time my younger brother would be joining him. Upon hearing this I sat there and thought to myself "hmm if only I wasnt going to NYC, I would be able to go to Africa with them. Hmm Oh well." Little did I know that "oh well" would turn into "oh drats" once the realization of what all was taking place on their two week expedition into both Uganda and Ethiopia actually hit me. At that time my plans were to actually go to NYC upon graduation and start or join a church there. The thought of missions rarely crossed my mind and if it did it was for Russia, never Africa.Besides Africa was hot, dry, and violent, at least that's what the ignorance inside me said. All those accusations and assumptions would be flipped on there head in May of 2012 when I visited Africa for the first time.

     After returning from NYC and starting school again, it was announced that both my parents would be leading a medical missions trip to Ethiopia in May of 2012 and that I was to go and help (although I had no medical experience whatsoever...unless you count the numerous visits to the hospital I have racked up over the years). To say I was excited would actually be an overstatement. I figured I would go over there and see what all the fuss was about and see the land that my dad had so fallen in love with, to the point of retiring from the police department and going back to medical school so he could be used in a greater capacity on the African missions field. Was I excited? not really, but I was intrigued and curious. It was in the spring of 2012, two months before going to Africa, that the Lord started hitting me hard and bestowing upon me the idea of doing missions work. First in a chapel service in which someone told me that the love for people God placed in my heart was going to change nations, then in a revival service where the pastor prayed for me and said he heard the Lord emphasis missions when it came to my calling, and then a third time in the all guys chapel. Needless to say I was starting to get the picture He was painting.

   So now with bags packed and  this calling in mind, it was time to depart for the land of Ethiopia. Seeing as this was my first overseas mission trip I was a little nervous about what all would happen and the course that the Lord had set me on and I had plenty of time to think about both on the 12 hour plane ride there. We landed in Addis Abba and after standing in the customs line for another 2 hours I finally took my first step upon the African soil that would come to be the passion of my life and the reference point to which all other mission experiences would be compared to. The first thing I noticed wasn't the beauty of the flowers, or was it the crisp, cool air (which did surprise me as seeing it was Africa and Africa was suppose to be HOT), nor was it the gentle breeze that so lightly blew through my hair. No the first thing I noticed was the smell...the weird foreign smell of trash and dirt and what I now think might have been body odor, whether from me or the people around me I cant say for sure. It was only after taking in the shock of the smell and taking a few minutes to recover that the other aspects were able to be appreciated for their true beauty and brilliance. Maybe it was the beauty of the mountains that lay before me, maybe it was the green of the grass that reside under me, or maybe it was the nauseous fumes that fumigated within my nostrils, but as I looked out over my first glimpse of the country and continent that would soon become my passion and drive, something inside me jumped and excitment slowly started bubbling and churning in the farthest crevices of my heart and I realized in that moment something that would come to define me from there on out: I was home.

    At that moment I was, in the words of Slim Shady, snapped back to reality. My father had come strolling out of the airport and looks around and then looks at the team, and then looks around and then looks at the team and a puzzling and somewhat worried look crosses his face....Where is out ride? The guy who was suppose to be there to pick us up was seeminly late and the funny thing was we were actually late getting out of the Airport which meant that he was double late. This is what I like to call my introduction to African Time. It seems that in Africa if they say five minutes you better expect fifteen and if they say they will be there at nine, you can probably get up at nine, have some coffee, enjoy morning devos and then hear them pull in to pick you up around 10:30 or 11. So my dad calls the guy and he shows up in these two little passenger vans. Now to say that there was not going to be enough room for both us and the bags would be a very accurate statment indeed. There were 18 members on our team and each had a carry on and two 50lb suitcases or dufflebags. I was perplexed at exaclty how we were all going to fit but I was about to get another lesson from Africa: what cant fit inside goes on the roof. They proceeded to take all our suitcases and bags and throw them, not place them or gently situate them, no THROW them onto the top of the car. I can honeslty say I was having a hard time deciding whether to be midly upset that they were throwing our bags or incredibly impressed seeing as they were throwing 50lb bags in the air. I decided to go with the latter seeing as they just hurled 50lbs in the air and me being upset would not have any effect except to possibly get my butt wooped. Once the bags are situated we all pile into the vans and head of to our livng quarters for the next week.   

     We arrive at the guest house (our living quarters) and start getting sitauted in our rooms and unpacking meds and making sure everything was ready to go for the week of clinic (which is basically small procedures and hospital check ups for you non-medical people). After everything was unpacked my dad asked a few of us to head to Korah with him. I of course jumped at the oppurtunity and after we got the few who decided to come we piled into vans and headed out. The drive to Korah was only a mere 15 minutes but remeber this is 15 minutes on a bumpy, dirty, pot-hole stricken road so that 15 minutes usually came out to be a mini adventure. 10 minutes into our mini adventure we turn off the paved road (and I use the word paved very lightly) onto an old dirt one bordered on both sides by metal siding one finds on outbuildings. The road was bumpy and the ditches next to them filled with a brown liquid that can hardly be considered water. The smell of earlier became stronger and more grotesque and it was all I could do to keep from gagging. The houses, if you could call them that, were made of mud and tin roofs and were situated one right next to the other. donkeys walked the street next to the van and made their usual loud noise as we drove by. Flies filled the air, like locusts, they seemed to decend upon the people, animals, and trash that seemed to be literally coming from the ground beneath our feet. It was the worst conditions I had ever seen and yet as I looked out the window I noticed something far greater: the faces of little kids as they ran alongside us and the smallest but most precious sight I had yet laid eyes upon, their smiles. They were surrounded by societys worst, by the trash and junk of their fellow man and yet they smiled. They smiled regardless of what they did or did not have. They smiled regardless of whether or not they had food, and many of them didnt. They even smiled regardless of the knowledge that many of them were infected with the aids virus and struggling to survive and hold on to the life that they knew. They smiled because regardless of all that, they had a community around them that loved them and they smiled because white men had come to their village and community to help them. It was breathtaking. My emotions seemed to swirl within me tugging at my heart and causing the tear ducts to well up. It was all I could do to keep from letting the water works turn on and turn into a babbling brook. I force myself to hold the tears down as we pull into the church building where we are going to be having clinic and as I step out of the van I am greeted by dozens of beautiful kids struggling and fighting to grab a hold of my hand and to have physical contact with me and the other members of our team. These kids dont care what our skin color is, they dont care where we hail from, they dont even care how much money we make or what our social status is. All they care about is just being close and having that phyiscal contact was enough for them. I knew from that moment that I would soon be returning to Africa and that I would be returning to stay. I was determined to get to Ethiopia the following summer for an Internship. It would come to pass though Ethiopia would not be my summer destination, rather Rwanda would come to be home. But the events leading up to that and the rest of the Ethiopian trip will have to wait until tomorrow with part two :) Have I left ya with the cliff hanger? I hope so :) tune in tomorrow for part two and see how the plans changed time and time again before finally stopping on the place God chose for me :)

 

My dad and the two girls that would change his life :)

 

 



  

 Korah

 

 

 

 

The Kids that first day there

 

 

 My view walking out the Airport

 

 

 Loading up the vans

 

 

 My fist view of Korah

 

 

The kids :)