Bringing It Home

       I know I haven't posted in awhile and part of that was due to the fact that I didn't really know what to write about, or how to put what I felt down on paper, the other part was due to me not wanting to. I don't really know what I feel or how to process being home and getting back into the flow of the American lifestyle. My mind and emotions seem somewhat scrambled and more than likely that is how this blog will be so if you are looking for a nice fluent read then I apologize because you won't find it here, but if you are looking for a read that is raw and real and allows you to see the situation I now face and my new reality that I must adapt to then keep reading.

     I have been home a week and have seen and talked to a lot of people, both family and friends. I find myself telling the same stories over and over and as I have told them I have started to notice something happening mentally and emotionally. I do not notice a sensation to cry at the fact that I have left Rwanda, although there have been tears shed, nor do I have a desire to laugh and play with my friends that I have not seen in 5 months. I don't really feel anything. I am emotionless. If anything I feel withdrawn, disconnected, absent. I feel like an empty shell, lost of meaning and placed in an environment that isn't my own. I look at my pictures and have even watched a few movies about Rwanda, and I see places I have been almost as if I had been there in a dream once. When I speak of the events of Rwanda, I speak as if I am telling not my story, but the story of a friend, or a story out of a book I once read. Mentally, I cannot comprehend the change and seem to be hitting a wall. I would say that is the best way to describe what has happened to me. My mental subconscious has built a wall around my emotions to keep the pain and loss of coming home take hold. It is what has happened in the past and it is my go-to defense mechanism.

     I do find myself at times stopping and looking at my surroundings, wondering where the woman in brightly clad dresses are, where are the little ones running around yelling "muzungu, Muzungu" alerting the entire village to the arrival of white people? Where are the lush green forests and rolling hills and mountains that I have so come to love? Where are the moto taxies that come to whisk me away into town? Where is my home? It's in these moments of clarification when tears start to fall and memories rush to fill my heart and mind. It's in these moments when loss becomes reality. I look outside and I am reminded of my heart and the condition it seems to be in. Cold, gray, bitter, dead. The weather seems fitting, just like the day I left Rwanda. Rain was falling as I boarded the plane. The clouds had rolled in, covering the blue sky and shinning sun with a gray and black, rain promised storm. The land around seemed to mirror what was taking place in my own heart. As I walked to the plane, taking the same path I had when I had arrived, I was thankful for the rain, because it covered up the tears that were had joined in. Then, like now, the weather was a indicator of where I was emotionally. I find myself in a bitter cold, having just come from a warm and life-giving summer, waiting for the Spring that will come with life bringing warmth. I know it will come and I wait for it, knowing that even in the midst of my winter, He is still with me, strengthening me, and preparing me for what is to come.

Face-to-Face with Genocide

                How do you put into words something you do not fully understand or comprehend yourself? What I am about to write is an experience that I don’t know if I will be able to ever fully grasp and therefore the words that I use will never be able to fully capture the reality and emotional stirring that this experience caused. I write this partially for you to read but also in an attempt to unravel the many thoughts and feelings that are swimming inside my soul. I pray that through reading this you come to catch a glimpse of the evil that is within every human heart and the capacity and capability we have for violence as well as our desperate need for a transformative power to work in our hearts to subdue and rid us of said darkness. I ask that you read this with an open heart and allow the words and pictures to move you and pierce you and allow God to open your eyes to the truth of what really happened in Rwanda in 1994.

                Very early in my time here I have had the opportunity to go to the memorial in Kigali, Rwanda that memorialized and discussed the Genocide of 94. It was a beautiful building and the memorial was very informative but it was nothing compared to what I was to see in a place called Nyamaba. I had heard about a memorial that housed the skulls of the victims and had heard my mentor Pastor Bohanon talk about taking people there quite frequently. I called him up this morning and asked him if He would take me and he agreed. So we start heading out of the city. We drive for about 40 minutes through a beautiful country and as we drive he tells me some of the things that happened in the village where we were headed. We come to a huge opening in between the hills that cover Rwanda. It’s a swamp but not like the swamp’s we think of, rather it is just wetlands with tall grass and a few trees scattered throughout. Pastor Bohanon tells me that during the Genocide the Tutsi population would hide out within the swamp as Hutu soldiers would shoot down on them from the hills surrounding. He also told me that the village we were going to had been a somewhat of a banishment zone for the Tutsi population during the 1960’s. This land was supposed to be the worst land covered with flies and venomous snakes and the Hutu government concluded that if the Tutsis were sent there the environment would kill them. The opposite happened. The Tutsis thrived and made the ground fertile. When the genocide began Hutu’s immediately started heading for Nyamaba knowing the vast number of Tutsis they would find.

                As we continue driving Pastor Bohanon turns off onto a small dirt road and up to a church. From the outside there would be nothing to really identify this building as different from those surrounding it. It was a beautiful building with a nicely kept landscape around it but as we walked the path up to the entrance a different site started to emerge. The iron gate door that was used as to keep thieves out at night had a hole blown into it and as soon as we walked into the church horror and reality sank in. The church seemed to be just one big sanctuary and filling it were stacks upon stacks of clothes. Clothes of the deceased, those who had been killed by their fellow countrymen. Thousands and thousands of clothes placed upon benches. It is something that must be seen to truly believe. Knowing that every piece of clothing belonged to a son, daughter, mother, brother, father, sister, people whose only crime was being Tutsi. People who were shot, hacked, stabbed, clubbed, mutilated, raped, tortured, and ultimately killed. The walls and pillars were riddled with holes from the machine guns. The tin roof has speckled light coming through it from where grenade shrapnel and bullet fragment had gone through. And there in the middle of the room sat a casket housing the bones of three people. One 15, one 12, and the third 2. Underneath the church was a glass case with around 50 skulls and femur bones and another casket. The story behind the woman lying under my feet was brutal. She was a Tutsi woman who had rejected the advances of a Hutu man and instead married a Tutsi. They had 3 children, one of which was a newborn at the time of the genocide. The mass killing started and the rejected Hutu found this woman and drove a stake through her vagina and exiting through her mouth, impaling her. He then took the woman’s baby, placed it on her chest and drove a spear through them both, forever joining the two together.

                At this point tears are already rolling down my face and I am having to conjure up everything within me to stay composed. We exit the building and I think that the tour is done but there was an even greater horror waiting for me in the back. Pastor Bohanon leads me to the back area and there, beneath a tin overhand sit two mass grave sites. Now Kigali had mass graves as well but the difference between Kigali and this one was that in Nyamaba, one is able to go down into them. Pastor Bohanon instructed me to go down into them while he waited outside (he has been there many times already, leading groups that come to Rwanda). I slowly and hesitantly walked down the concrete steps. Already I could see a few caskets on shelves directly in front of me but that was just the beginning. As my foot touched the final step I had a choice to either go left or right but it did not matter which way I chose for on both sides of me were walkways that extended 15-20 feet and were only about 3 foot wide with a ceiling height of about 10 feet. On both sides of the walkway were shelves, not filled with caskets as the ones that had greeted me, but rather skulls and femur bones. There were three compartments, one every 5-7 feet down the walkway and each compartment had 5 shelves, one for every two feet and they were FILLED. The shelves extended so far back that it took a flashlight to see the end. I counted one shelf and found that the skulls went 10 deep and 12 across…..120 skulls per shelf and over half of the 60 shelves were skulls. An estimated 3600 skulls of the dead and they were not behind glass cases but rather right there, no barrier, nothing between the skull and me. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room as I fought to keep it together… That is until I saw the small one. Right there in front of my face was a skull no bigger than my fist, smaller than the size of my 2 ½ year old nephews head. Tears started falling as reality set in. These were no longer statistics, no longer just numerical figures in a book, they were real human beings, people. People who had hopes, dreams, aspirations. People who had loved and lost, who had emotions and experienced life. People who had for years prior walked and lived beside their would-be killers. Now that I think about it I realize that what I saw was only 3600, 3600 of 800,000. So many in fact that people are still uncovering mass graves 19 years later. The number cannot be fathomed nor imagined and for good reason. I suspect that if the mind could bring that many skulls together in one thought, the magnitude would be over-bearing and would break the sub-conscious by mere horror alone.

                I sit here now, a mere 3 hours removed from seeing something that will have forever changed my life. Many of my blogs have meanings, morals to the story, but this one is different. I do not find myself resolved, having finally answered one of life’s big questions, having learned some life-lesson, but instead find myself with more questions. How could human beings commit such crimes? What would cause a man to go out and kill his neighbor, someone he would have lived next to for as long as he could remember, someone who he very likely played with as a boy? How could the world community sit by and watch for THREE MONTHS, 100 days as a country descended into the very depths of hell and chaos and destroy itself? There is a quote that says “the only thing necessary for the perpetration of evil is for good men to sit back and do nothing.” I believe that the U.S. is just at fault for the atrocities committed in Rwanda between April and July 1994, as is the international community at large. The theme here in Rwanda ever since the genocide has been Never Again, and I think it is time for the International community to echo that sentiment. We failed in Rwanda, we failed in Darfur, and now we are again failing in Syria. I do not have the answer but I do know that the killing must end. So I honestly am at a loss about how to end this so in the words of Forrest Gump “I guess that’s all I got to say about that”.

PS most of the pictures are not from me but rather off google images. I was not able to take pictures within the grounds.  

The Swamp

 

 The Mass Graves

 

This one was no bigger than my fist



Funny Moments in Rwanda

                So I know it has been awhile since my last blog but I thought that I would do one telling the funniest stories of this trip…. Or at least stories I thought were funny. SO first up is the story of the cockroach

The Cockroach

                It was my first night here and Mrs. Bohanon had shown me the house earlier in the day. She had seen a roach in the bathroom but said it was dead and I could just get it later. That night all the lights are out and I go into the bathroom barefoot and all of a sudden I start to feel something move under my foot. I jump and scream...shout cuz scream sounds like a high pitched girl so we will say shout....grunt I grunted. Anyway, I move my foot and the roach that was supposed to be dead crawls away and needless to say I was very disturbed. Great first night in Kigali

The Crashed Moto

                During my time here I have seen some really bad wreaks and have at times been a little worried about riding on motos, especially after nearly smashing into the side of a car one night. Anyway I go outside and hail a moto driver to stop. He stops and we discuss price and where he is taking me. He hands me the helmet and I notice that the back portion of it is missing a triangler shaped chunk. I put it on and notice the visor has been cracked as if it hit full force onto pavement. Fear starts to creep in. I take a harder look at the guys moto and notice that where the gauges and console should be there is a hole that I can see the wheel and ground through. The head light is gone and his mirrors are cracked and shattered. The dude had wrecked and by the look of it, it had happened pretty recently. I had already told the guy where I was going and how much I would pay, I had the helmet on. I couldn’t just take it off and say no. So I got on and the whole way was bracing myself for impact, praying to God that my insurance would hold up. Luckily nothing happened and we made it safe but needless to say I have been a little more selective and observant when it comes to motos I use.

The Bird in a Box

                So while I am living in Gisenyi with Tina and the African girls that stay with her we all decide to go out and eat. Tina, Katie, and I were going to go and the girls would catch up in a bit. So we leave and at the dinner table the girls join us and one of them looks at us and says “Doreen caught a bat!! Its in the House!!!” Now we all thought she was joking and laughed it off but no sooner had we arrived home and I sat down on the couch I notice the dogs barking and looking up at a ledge. I look up and there in the box of a remote control car, is a bird. I lost it. I laughed so hard that tears were coming out. I could not believe that she had actually caught a bird and put it in a box. We let the bird go after we all were done laughing. The best part was that Doreen could not understand what was so funny.

Moto racing

                One day while I was riding on a moto we stopped at a stoplight. Now what you should now about Rwandan stoplights is that all the motos creep to the front and the light actually counts down till it turns green. We were waiting there with probably about 7 or 8 other motos watching the light time down. 20 secs, 15 secs, 10, and all of a sudden at 8 secs all the moto drivers start looking at each other and revving their bikes. Not just one or two, no all 8 of them. The look back and forth at each other and my thought was “Their really gonna race….this is awesome” and sure enough the light hits green and they take off. Needless to say the one without a passenger one but we did manage to beat a bike with a big dude on it so we weren’t last.

The Chicken That Crossed the Wrong Road

                One day while I was in Gisenyi I sat in my room when all of a sudden I hear all the girls screaming and yelling at the dogs. Now one of the girls yelling at the dogs is not unusual but all three of them plus Tina is something that does not often happen. So I get up to see what the commotion is all about and as I walk out the front door I see this big pile of feathers lying in the yard and Tina standing there somewhat in shock. I asked what had happened and she said “Jiffy (her dog) got a hold of the neighbors chicken and killed it.” Now I thought this somewhat humorous but she was distressed so I held in my laughter… that is until one of the girls went to pick it up and it jumped 2 feet into the air scaring the girl have to death and causing her to scream and run. Apparently the chicken wasn’t dead after all. So I did what any person from Missouri would do. I grabbed my machete and performed a mercy killing by cutting off the head. Gotta say it was a good clean chop too. Anyway I put gloves on and go and recover the remains to throw away when I notice the chicken’s eyes. The thing was blind in not just one but both eyes. Somehow a blind chicken had gotten over our 8 foot high walls and into our yard. There is an old saying that “they never saw it coming” and when it came to this chicken and Jiffy, It literally never saw him coming.  

The Church Without Walls

The Church Without Walls

                The road weaved and wound alongside the side and tops of the mountains. Surrounded on all sides by beauty unfathomable unless experienced. On one side the hills rose and dipped across the green landscape as the valley snaked its way between the mighty hills majestically emulating splendid colors of vibrant greens that clashed and harmonized with the rich blue sky. The other side seemed to give off a reflection of the other but yet different patterns. The car bounced along the dirt road, bobbing up and down with each bump and pothole that filled this long forgotten and neglected path. Red dirt blew in through the windows, air so ripe and thick with it, it could be smelled and tasted. The sun hung low, having only broke skyline a mere 2 hours prior, sending streams of light pouring into the dense brush that rolled with the hills and casting long shadows upon the ground. Pastor Bohanon, his wife, our interpreter John, John’s friend Rose, and myself were on our way to a small AG church in a small village within Byumbia District. It rested at the top of a mountain, far above the valley that made its way below us. After an hour in the car, half of which was along the old beaten path, we arrived at a piece of property that was without building. We step out of the car and at first glance I notice that there are pillars of brick and mortar rising up in a rectangular pattern and within these pillars danced and sang the 70 or so church members, only 30 of which were adults. No roof, no building, just chairs, pillars, benches, and the children of God gratefully and passionately worshiping His name. We went and joined the people, being greeted by a throng of smiling, worshiping, little ones clapping their hands and singing at the top of their tiny lungs. We take our place at the chairs they have set out for us and I look behind me to see the continuation of the beautiful landscape that had so captivated me on our way in. As I watch the church worship and sing their songs beneath a shining sun and in the midst of a gentle breeze I am reminded that the church is not a building, nor is it any physical or material thing. The church is the coming together of the people of God in faith and worship, giving testimony of the great works of His hand. I was so blessed to witness this in action. Once bible study started I noticed that up on the hill sat a few kids in tattered clothes and skin splattered and speckled with the dirt that they had been playing in. I got the opportunity to go and sit on the hill with them. I figured that if I was just to sit with them, they might stay longer and here more and I would be able to encourage those walking the street to join in and listen. This is exactly what happened, especially since it was a white man that was preaching. My one kid turned into around 10 or 11 with a few adults scattered about, captivated by the passion and power of the white preacher speaking about the Holy Spirit. I was then given a great revelation. The church was never meant to be confined to a building but exposed for all the world to see. This church without walls was able to draw in the passerbys who normally wouldn’t have stepped into a church building. They were able to hear the message, and participate in the worship and observe the power and blessing of God due to the lack of walls. I think about some of the great revivals and how many of them were tent revivals. Why is it that tent revivals have so much effectiveness? I believe it is because the church is open and people walking by are able to see in and feel the presence of God and once that Presence is felt it captivates and intrigues the soul, drawing them into an encounter with The One who can save them and who loves them more than any mind can imagine or comprehend. How humbled I was and how honored I felt to be able to witness and be a part of what God is doing here in Rwanda, to see how God took what looked like a bad thing (the church had been blown down by a storm) and turned it into something that He could use for His glory and purpose. This experience has just jumped to the top of my experience list of this trip. A church without walls…..maybe it’s time…

 

 

The Church Without Walls

 

 

Journey there

 

 

Our Interpretor John

Desiring and Walking With Him

               I often find myself what will be my take-away from this journey? After all that He has shown me, taught me, brought me through, what will be the defining factor that will make the biggest impact on my life back home? He has broken shackles of self-worth, pride, a desire to be accepted, and past. He has taught me to praise him in the storm, taught me what the wilderness is all about but those are not what will define me or my time here. No, what will define me and what every lesson has been about is a dependence on Him and His word and desiring all that He is.

                When I say dependence most conjure up an image of someone who is weak and needy and while I am weak and do need Him, this is not the dependence that He has taught me. The dependence I am referring to is not that of needing, but of wanting. I am dependent and addicted to His presence and the love, peace, joy, and strength that it brings. I am dependent on the Spirit’s moving in my life, wrapping me in His arms, telling me He loves me, reminding me that He holds my life in His nail scarred hands. He allows me to be dependent on Him, I get to have Him available when I am in the best times of my life as well as in the worst times. I have a desire for Him that was not there before, a hunger for the Bread of Life and a Thirst for the Everlasting water that is Christ Jesus. I don’t just need these things, I want them, desire them, crave them. I will say though that this craving and desire was not one that came to me easily or pain-free. It took everything I was and broke it. It took more pain and lonely nights than I will ever care to recollect. It took weeping and screaming out in pain and distress. I went through a fire, was thrown in the wilderness, tossed on a stormy sea, and placed in a droughted desert. I have come out burned, bruised, scarred, and broken. There were times I felt as if I was not going to make it, times I wanted to quit, give up, pack up and go home, turning my back on a calling that has been on my life since before time began, but it was in those times I learned how dependent on Him I really am. At first I was hesitant because I still held on to a superman mentality where I could do it and I didn’t need His help. Slowly though He wore me down, allowing me to be hit by wave after wave and struggle with the darkness that resides in the Wilderness, the darkness that resided in my own soul. He watched and all along just stood and held out His hand, waiting for me to take hold. Slowly I started to allow Him to pull me along, carrying me, dragging me through the mud and the muck of my own filth and pride. I would at times believe I was strong enough and would try standing on my own and again proceed but the procession would not last long before I was again struggling and again He was there with His arm out stretched. So again I would place my hand in His and allow Him to help me, giving in to dependency on Him. It was during these times of Him carrying me that He would speak to me and I would listen to Him speak, getting a clearer understanding of who He was and building a relationship with Him, and not just a relationship but a friendship. Many times I would try to walk on my own but with each time and each carrying, the time with Him grew longer for I would found myself wanting to be carried longer. A time came where I found myself no longer being carried but rather walking beside Him, step-by-step we walked, discussing life and the reality of it. It is amazing how we were able to have a conversation amidst the turmoil that surrounded us. At times I would look around and become cautious of the storm but He would always bring me back to Him and eventually I found myself so enchanted and so mesmerized by Him that before I knew it He paused, looked at me and smiled. It was at this pause that I look around and find myself standing on the water with Him. I look around and I see the mountains off in the distance, with their green and emerald colors vibrantly bursting forth. I see a rich blue sky clear of clouds or any signs of storms. Then I see Him, smiling, a smile that penetrates me to the very deepest part of my being and causes an emotion I can’t quite put my finger on. A mixture of relief, joy, and peace, mixed with a few tears. Even when surrounded by all this beauty the one thing that exceeds them all is the one I am standing across from. He looks back and I follow His gaze into the distance and then and there see the storm clouds that seem to rise into the sky like towers of depravity and desolation.  The roll and flash with the thunder and lightning and I see the swells that roar and crash underneath. I see the island of treacherous jungle residing underneath it, being pounded by the wind and rain. Without a word I know that what He just pulled me through, what I find myself looking at was the turmoil, pain, and pride that has been locked up inside my heart for such a long time. I understood that I had become so use to the turmoil and pain that I had built myself an Island in the middle of it and had never realized it. There were times in my past where He came and we started to come out but I would grow fearful and the pain would become too much as I looked at the waves surrounding me and I would frantically let go of his hand and go sit back on my island in the little hut of protection that I built for myself. It was only when I stopped looking at the waves and started looking at Him that I was finally to be free of it all. How beautiful this place is, and I know that there is yet more to come, more beauty on lands that I have yet to explore. With Him the exploring is never over, the walking is never done. If I allow Him, He will take me to new and beautiful places within His presence that I never knew existed. The journeys may not always be fun or easy, and we may have to go through more storms to get there and I know that He will pull me through and carry me when I get too weak but through the storms and carryings I get to be with Him and speak to Him and hear Him speak to me along the way. I even find myself looking forward to the carrying because you can’t be closer to someone than when they carry you and my desire is just to be close to Him J

Blessing and Thanks

                First off let me say that last time I wrote I was sitting in candlelight. Well this time I find myself sitting on my porch listening to the crickets chirp and the noises of the city going to sleep. A combo of sounds that in America really wouldn’t go together, but here they seem to harmonize in a perfect unison that one must hear to believe. There is an old saying that I would like to put into practice in this new blog. It’s the saying of “Count your blessings” so this blog is going to do just that J

                First off comes the obvious. I am sitting in Rwanda…..I LIVE in another country….not just visiting, no LIVING. How awesome is that? I get to see the beauty of God’s creation in a new light and I get to experience a new and amazing culture on a day-to-day basis. This is truly a blessing. While I have been here I have had the privilege of meeting some amazing people. There is Amy Willis who has taught orphans all over the globe and is now teaching at an orphanage in Gisenyi, on top of running a business that employs woman in the area and gives them a means of income. Then there is Robin. Robin is from India but now manages a tea company in Gisenyi. The thing that makes Robin so awesome is his generous spirit. The man will do anything for anybody. It may be a part of his culture but I see a heart that loves helping people. He has been a major benefit during my time here. I was able to meet two girls named Tara and Allison who started the business that Amy now runs. They saw a need and met the need. Tara saw the girls at the orphanage and followed a dream that was laid on her heart to start a bag making business and employ the woman there. That dream became a reality and has blessed woman all over the area. I met a woman named Tash who has traveled the world and seen some of the most amazing sights. Her photos and videos are breathtaking. I met a girl named Elise who did what Tara did except with guys and it is because of her that I was able to come to Rwanda in the first place. She has been a major blessing. There have also been teams who have come through and I have met two gentlemen who have amazing stories and testimonies. Frank Pass, who is now a leader at VO (visiting orphans) started out as a youth pastor but through a series of events and the divine plan of God, he now travels the world leading missions trips. Another man I met who I connected to instantly was a man by the name of Terry Ford. Now Terry has a story and I don’t wanna tell it without his approval so I won’t but I just wanna say that he has been an encourager during my time here and I truly appreciate his encouragement. There are my new mentors and spiritual parents Gary and Sherry (I think I spelled that wrong) who have taken me under their wing and who are teaching me and helping me how to be the bets man of God I can be. The wisdom that has come from them has already impacted me and I know more is to come.

                Among the white people I have met there has been a variety of Rwandans that I have gotten to know. There is Bosco who just graduated from university and he is such an awesome man of God. He loves big and I see the lord moving in him in such a powerful way. I met Babtistie…(that’s not how you spell that lol) He helped out in the house in Gisenyi washing clothes, doing yard work, ect. He was always at the house at 7am (if not earlier) and worked his heart out every day. His laugh is contagious and fills the house. He is such a carefree man and I consider it an honor to have met him. I met Israel who lived at Noel but is now attending university in Kigali. He is an AMAZING basketball player. The dude could easily have played D1 given the chance. Talks with him were never lacking. The three girls living in the Gisenyi house, Elise, Doreen, Janette, cooked and goofed off. They were a beacon of joy and could always be counted on for a good laugh. Faustin was my right hand man and has helped me through the transition. He is such a hard worker and truly cares for his family. These are just to name a few of my new friends J

                Now when I got to Rwanda I was to live in a small house with no gate and it was tucked away in an alley like thing. I was honestly freaked out but God provided someone who I cannot say enough about and who has been a MAJOR asset and friend during my time here. Tina is a woman with a story to tell and has been through so much. She honestly should not be where she is but by the grace of God she is a loving mother, a caring caretaker, and so full of wisdom. There is another girl in the Gisenyi house that this list would be incomplete without and that is Katie. She is 19 and is living in Africa, giving her life to serve the lord. We have had awesome talks and she has become a major friend.

                Now on to my home friends. There is a couple in Nashville, TN who I actually met here and who I had the privilege of living with for three weeks. Ben and Kassie Wilson are musicians who came here to visit the little girl they sponsor and I knew immediately that a friendship was forged. Many a nights we laughed so hard that tears would start to roll down out faces. There is Zac Williams who has always been someone I could vent to and lean on. Tressa who has never ceased to pray for me and be there for me when I was upset. Jordan Freeman is someone I loved to talk to about the military situation going on and laugh at the reactions he would reply with. Amanda Briggs has been an encourager and Anthony Johnson has made sure to pray for me and I have felt every one. I also have a home prayer team that work with my mother in Lana and Paula and I know that there prayers have helped me find joy. I have a second set of parents back home named Jerry and Susan who have been a major support not just in this journey but since I was 15. They have encouraged and loved on me and seen me at my worst and now at my best.

I would now like to go all the way home and talk about my family. I have a family that has supported me every step of the way. I have a father who has given me encouragement and let me know that he is proud of what I do. I have a mother who I can always go to and who has probably heard me cry more these past few months then in the past few years lol. I have two brothers who have got to be the best in the world. I have a brother who is married and he and his wife have pushed me to be better and go at this with all I have. I have a younger brother who I am so proud of and I wouldn’t trade him for anything. He is one of my best friends. I also have grandparents who have supported me and who have poured wisdom into me since birth.

                Now for the small things. I have a grill which is AMAZING!!!! I nearly cried when I heard that I would have one. I get a hot shower every night. I have a church that has supported me financially in a major way. I have my own house….. I HAVE A HOUSE…..IN AFRICA!!!!! I get to listen to the sounds of Rwandans worshiping almost every night and these are just to name a few. And last but not least I have the blessing of a God and Savior who have taken the time to change me and pour into me. It is because of Him that I am here and it is because of Him that my life has been so radically change and I know that I have merely broke the surface of this deep ocean that is His love and presence.

                So that’s it and I know its not hugely spiritual or deep but after being here three months I wanted to give thanks where it is due J

Emotional Crosstext (context but with Cross....read and you will understand)

                First off gotta say that I am writing this in candlelight…how awesome is that? Anyway, if you have read my last blog you know that the past three weeks have been an emotional three weeks. One’s of hurt, turmoil, pain, and the like. You know the usual. Yesterday I wrote a blog about going in to the wilderness and how God uses the wilderness to teach us His truths and to help us grow stronger in Him. Well today a little tid-bit of golden nugget truth came to me. I was reading a biography about Rees Howells, who was an amazing man of God during The Welsh Revival and WW2. In his biography there is a section that talks about a man he knew who was put in a mental hospital after his conversion to Christianity from Judaism. He was a new convert and was struggling with why God would place him in a mental hospital. He found himself complaining to God about the situation and it was in that moment that God gave him a vision. He said that he saw Calvary and was taken through every stage of the crucifixion and saw Christ hanging on the cross. It was at that moment that Jesus looked at him and spoke “must I bear this cross alone, and all the world go free?” to which the man replied “No. There’s a cross for everyone and there is a cross for me.” From that moment on he ceased to complain about his situation but instead started to pray for the other people in the hospital with him. What an amazing transformation and heart. To understand the true significance of the cross and to see what it truly cost is more than one could ever ask for and is something every Christian should strive to achieve.

                After reading this little segment I sat back and thought of how selfish I have been during this entire journey. What did I expect? That everything was going to go super smooth just because I was doing the work that He set before me? When I look at the gospels and the life of Christ, the ultimate example of following God’s call, I notice that His life was filled with turmoil and anguish. He had to deal with thick headed disciples who were constantly fighting amongst themselves about who was the most important and who never truly seemed to understand what Christ was trying to say. Talk about managerial frustration. He dealt with people coming to Him at all hours of the day and night asking for His help and to hear Him speak. The dude could barely find time for rest and I know from experience from both my life and the life of my friends that when people lack sleep they turn into a completely different monster. Its like those snicker commercials where they are a completely different person when they don’t eat except its when they don’t sleep, and yet he was still loving on people and taking time to help them in a loving manner. Can you say tough? And do I even have to mention the Pharisees (which by the way when I spelt that wrong the first suggestion was parasite which I found humorous). Above all that was the fact that the cross still loomed so heavily over Him. I mean all this time of ministering and loving on people, He KNEW He was going to die a painful, horrible death and yet never ran from it…. WHAT? Was Jesus crazy? Maybe crazy in love with you and me…lol ok sorry I know that was super cheesy but I couldn’t resist.
                So I am sitting here thinking about all this, all that He went through, and I realize that I have absolutely NO room to complain or whine to Him. He will allow me to because He is there for us, but when I place my problems and sacrifices up next to His they are petty in comparison. I realize that in order for me to be all that He has called me to be I must begin to place my problems (or so called problems) in context with His. Yes I may feel tired or sad or angry but so did Jesus. He was human and dealt with Human emotions. The dude wept so He got sad, He threw tables over so He most definitely got mad, and He felt betrayal by someone that was super close to Him for THREE years… can you say OUCH. And yet He still went through everything He went through with a willing and loving heart. We never hear a word of complaining (although He does ask that the cup pass from Him but come on who wouldn’t). My emotions have been was to much of a factor in this journey and after praying and reading and seeing this whole thing in context I must say that I will no longer be driven by emotion…Unless that emotion is love in which case it does drive me J. Emotions are temporary but our actions are eternal. Don’t let an eternal decision and action be determined by a temporary emotion….not a good idea…trust me I know. I think this is a major point that God has been trying to drill home these past few weeks and I have finally got it….only took 22 years…I blame my father for my stubbornness (btw dad if your reading this I LOVE YOU and your AWESOME and a Great dad…. J ) SO yea I guess that’s all I got for this one…. Wow three blogs in less than a week… this is a new record for me lol. Hope this has encouraged you to view your problems in relation to His and to understand that while life is hard, He never promised it would be easy, only that He would walk through it with us. Love ya’ll and God bless J