Looking Forward

A few weeks ago, during a conversation in which comments were made on how quickly the year has gone by, someone remarked that I must be glad the year is almost over. The comment caught me off-guard…why would I want this year to be over? Sure, 2012 was rough, and I was certainly ready to see that year go. But 2013?

And then it occurred to me why someone might think I’d want this year to be over. I was broken up with twice and spent months working through the worst heartache I’ve ever experienced; I haven’t been able to find a job in my field despite a nine-month search and several interviews; and there have been so many changes at work that my stress level has been through the roof for the better part of the year as far as work is concerned.

That’s not how I see this past year though. For me, this has been the best year of my life so far, and for so many reasons…

I’ve learned what love really looks like and how to fight for it. I’ve also learned when and how to just let go.

I’ve let myself dream and explore those things that stir at the core of who I am.

I’ve learned what it means to really sit with emotion and simply own how I feel in the moment.

I have wept bitterly, but it’s only let me enjoy that much more the moments of laughing so much your stomach hurts.

I have come to learn who my closest friends are, and that despite the fact that friendships are changed as we move to different parts of the country and grow into adulthood, there are friends who will just simply be there. I’ve also learned that God brings new friends along in those seasons when we need them most.

I’ve finally figured out how to negotiate the different “homes” in my life, and I can fully appreciate both  living on my own and the time I travel home to be with family.

I traveled back Rwanda to do “vocation” work, and in the process have had friends who have become family there.

I have witnessed my family grow, as we welcomed my sister-in-law and got news of more grandkids in the extended family.

I have witnessed the faithfulness of God in some pretty huge ways in so many small, everyday, almost unnoticeable ways, and it has helped me move into a space of trusting God in ways I never thought I would.

Sure, it may have been a rollercoaster year in many respects, but I wouldn’t give a moment of it back. As I think back to the person I was on January 1 of this year, I can honestly say that it is a very different young woman who will be walking into 2014. I feel more confident, more sure of where I’m going in life, and more sure of who I am. I am so excited to continue wrestling with the “tough stuff” and discovering the authentic me in this new year.

With the holidays coming up and lots of visiting with family and friends over the next week or so, I’m not sure I’ll get to post again this year. So I’d like to leave you with this song I heard last week that, to me, is such a perfect song to end 2013 with. It is my hope that at the end of each year, and at the end of each day, you can say “I lived” to the absolute fullest.

Peace

Hectic. Busy. Uncertain. Excited. Worried. 

And those are only a few of the words I would use to describe the past week and how I've been feeling. Heck, that’s how I’d describe much of the past year or so. Not all bad, but not all good, and a whole lot of highs and lows in a short amount of time. (Needless to say, it does a number on one’s nerves and emotions, haha.)

There’s a lot happening this week, and a lot of it is things that should completely stress me out and cause me to question everything. Don’t get me wrong – my adrenaline has been pumping, I’ve been a bit stressed, and I’m just plain worn out already. Despite this, though, I haven’t been shaken to my core. It’s as if there’s a ton of crazy happening around me, and the space I’m in is quiet and peaceful. It’s difficult to describe, but this is the best explanation I’ve been able to come up with:

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)

It’s a verse I heard frequently growing up in the church, but I never quite understood it. Perhaps it was because I didn’t know what peace really felt like, or perhaps it’s because I didn’t have such big worries, or maybe my faith just wasn’t mature enough to comprehend it at that point. But at this stage in life, it’s the very thing I cling to. I can assure you, it’s a strange feeling – feeling like I should be over-the-top stressed or anxious or worried and yet my spirit is quiet and resting. And while this deep peace doesn’t negate emotions, it makes the day-in and day-out so much more enjoyable knowing that God has the “big picture” under control and that everything – positive or negative – happens for a reason and is used for his glory.

I know there’s a lot of people who might disagree with me or think it’s just the “Christian crutch” thing. And that’s okay with me. I don’t even have any type of intellectual or logical argument for why this isn’t just a bunch of cockamamey crap – but that’s the point. This is peace that surpasses my limited understanding. What I can tell you though is that this peace is real and it is deep and it is the most remarkable thing I have ever felt. As you’re reading this, I pray that you would know this peace that “transcends all understanding,” however it manifests in your life today.

Authentic Living: Finding my Voice

Ask anyone who has known me since childhood, and they’ll likely tell you I’m the shy, quiet one. To some extent, this hasn’t changed – I’m still on the quiet side, as listening tends to be my default position, and I usually think for a while before I speak. In a way, I find it ironic that as such a quiet person, I place such a high value on people sharing their stories, particularly when I’ve been so hesitant for so long to open up and share my own perspective.

This year, however, I’ve really started to learn how and when to speak up. Although I’ve previously tried to challenge myself to speak up, there was a point in the spring when I sort of “snapped” and just started using my voice. There had been a few weeks in which there were a number of situations in which I felt like I had no agency or autonomy. It’s almost difficult to explain the absolute frustration I felt. Shortly after these events, I came across a post on social media that was so disrespectful and hateful towards an entire group of people, and I just couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. Though I don’t usually engage in charged exchanges over social media, I had come to a point where I knew I had to say something – even though it was completely unrelated to the personal events of the previous weeks, I felt the frustration of voicelessness in the deepest way and had to speak in defense of those to whom this post was directed. I can’t say the exchange went too well, but I felt a sense of agency I had never felt before, and it encouraged me to speak out more frequently.

As this year has progressed, I’ve worked hard to discover those values and issues that are most important to me – the ones that, for me, are worth stepping out of my comfort zone a little. I’m not going to lie – it’s a little scary to do when that hasn’t been the norm for 25 years of one’s life. But there is something that is incredibly refreshing in discovering your voice and claiming agency. I believe there comes a point in everyone’s life, or at least there should be, when you recognize that not everything is done to you, that you have a role in situations and can impact the outcome…or at the very least, that you can add a different perspective to the conversation.

That’s part of why I love this new song – this song resonates with me and reminds me to be “brave” and use my voice when necessary. To some extent, the purpose of this blog is to provide the space for me to do this, and it’s been a challenge for me to write a lot of these posts and put it all out there. But I believe there are some things that are just too important to keep quiet about.

Authentic Living: Love and Relationships

The thing with the quest for an authentic life is that you can’t be authentic in just one area…if you’re gonna do it, you just gotta do it. Dive in head first and tackle everything as it comes up. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to me then, that love and relationships would be one of the first battles I’d fight in my search for authenticity.

Just a few short months after I first set out on this journey, my three-year relationship with my college boyfriend ended. I can’t say it was completely out of left field, so to speak, but I did think that we were really fighting for our relationship and learning to work through differences. Needless to say, I was utterly heartbroken. And while there is really no “good” time for a breakup, ten days from my Masters thesis due date proved to be more than challenging. Yet strangely enough, I’m also thankful for that timing…it gave me something else to focus on and work toward rather than be completely consumed by sadness day in and day out.

In these first few weeks after our split, I learned (and even relearned) a lot about coping and the value of a support system. One thing my mediation professors had taught me was about emotional intelligence and how to center oneself. As I processed the breakup, I was careful to let myself feel whatever emotion I was feeling at the time: if I was sad and felt like crying, I’d cry; if I was happy and wanted to laugh, I’d heartily laugh. I’ll be honest, it’s probably the most unstable I’ve felt in my entire life – you’d be amazed at how quickly emotions can change when you let yourself really feel them, and how quickly you find yourself curled up on the living room floor sobbing like a baby. But in letting myself really truly feel, I came to a place where I felt very honest with myself, which let me work through things that much faster. In addition, I had an amazing support system of friends and family members who patiently walked beside me and beared witness to the emotions (whatever they happened to be) each day.

After my degree was done and I no longer had school work to occupy my mind, I really had to confront some of the hardest parts of processing the breakup. In the first place, I had to recognize and own that I had ultimately let myself stay in what was turning into a very unhealthy relationship. Although some of those closest to me had seen it and warned me, I had not been in a place to hear it and had continued on in the relationship. In the end, I can’t say that I regret it – I was able to walk away from our relationship with a deep peace knowing that I had done everything I could and fought until the end to make it work – but in the process I only hurt myself. Don’t get me wrong, there were a lot of good things about the relationship too. But when unhealthy habits take hold, it takes a heck of lot to turn them around.

In addition, processing our breakup brought up a whole lot of ugly in me that I didn’t know (or hadn’t wanted to acknowledge) was buried deep within me. It’s no secret that along with “happy” and “sad” days, there are also days of seething anger and nothing short of a desire for vengeance. From a place of feeling so betrayed and so heartbroken, there were days when my anger would boil over and I’d spend hours venting to my ever-so-patient friends. It was a bit shocking at how quickly anger and hate can rise to the surface unchecked, and I had to confront this as well. It was a rather difficult lesson that when seeking a life that falls in line with my values and the core of who I am, I also need to work through the ugly, fleshy parts of human life that sit within my heart.

There was a moment about two months ago when I finally allowed myself to let it all go. It was a conscious choice, and it doesn’t mean there aren’t still days when I feel a little pain at being left by someone I had loved so deeply. But as I looked around at my friends who were present in the room that night, I felt the strangest sensation – in a split second I felt every crazy fun night in college, every day we spent crying on one another’s shoulders, every difficult life decision, every well-earned accomplishment, all at once. I realized in that moment that despite all those highs and lows we had experienced together, my friends and I were all okay. And no matter what came next, I’d be okay too. That night I let myself weep one last time – they were the most healing tears I have ever cried.

Despite the heartache, I can’t say that I regret my last relationship. If anything, I’m thankful for it…and I’m thankful for the breakup. Through it, I have come to see more clearly who I am. I’ve learned both how to respect myself and that I am worthy of respect from others. I have learned to speak up, voice my thoughts and needs, and be more mindful of the needs of others. I have learned how to have the difficult conversations, both with others and with myself. And while I realize I still have a lot to learn about love and relationships, I now know that relationships don’t define who I am, but rather help me and the other person grow into the people we are each called to be.  

Authentic Living: Starting the Journey

I’m not really one for New Year’s resolutions…they tend to be a little too stress-inducing for me and just remind me of my fear of failure, especially since every resolution has typically been broken by January 5^th anyways. What I do like though, are New Year’s goals. Reframing them as goals reminds me that it is an ongoing process – not something to be maintained and achieved within the next 365 days, but rather a process, and a non-linear one at that, toward a more ideal way of living.

Early in January this year, I was contemplating recent events and realized that in the rush of life and while I was in grad school/survival mode, I had come to a place where I didn’t recognize myself or the person I had become. It was at that point that I asked God to show me what an authentic life looked like. I was tired of living in a space in which I felt so disconnected from myself and what was important to me.

Surprise, surprise…praying for an authentic life is like praying for patience. It seems like a harmless prayer, but what we forget is that God doesn’t just give us patience…he teaches it to us. In the same way, God just didn’t show up one day and say, “Here you go, Cait…here’s an authentic life.” (Which, by the way, could have been nice, haha.) Instead, every day this year has been a challenge to me to dig deep, ask the difficult questions of myself, and be willing to be wholly vulnerable at times. As painful as this process has been though, I can say that, even before this year is over, I have, without a doubt, become a more authentic version of myself in every area of my life. Whether in my faith, my relationships, or my work, God has been rooting out the old, the toxic, and the life-draining and has been filling it with the new, the healing, and the life-giving.

As painful as this year has been at times, I wouldn’t trade it for anything…I am so thankful for this journey, for what I’ve learned, and for who I’ve become. This search for authenticity is, in part, how this blog started, and I’m looking forward to sharing more about this journey toward authentic living in the next few blog posts.

“We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that 

self may prove to be.”   ~ May Sarton

Revisiting Rwanda

There is a lot I’ve been processing the past few days – a lot of good blog material, I just haven’t found a way to put it into words yet. So until I have the words, I thought I’d share this with you all since I wasn’t able to post much from Rwanda in terms of pictures and videos (though the images here are from both trips). For me, there’s always been something powerful about images of a place and its people – it has always made me feel more connected and more aware, even if I’ve never traveled to that place myself, and I hope that by the end of this you can say the same about Rwanda. :) 

Until next time… 

Staying Put

While any Saturday that’s dedicated to rest feels special, this particular quiet Saturday is very special for me. It was a year ago today that I signed the lease on my current apartment and began moving in here after what had been a more-than-eventful few months. This is also the first time that I have renewed my lease for the first time – not moving again, and not a renewed lease on a month-to-month basis in preparation for moving. That’s right…I’m staying put right now.

As I sit here in my kitchen this morning, it’s so hard to believe it’s been a full year since I moved here, and yet at the same time last fall seems like it was another lifetime ago. So much has happened in the past year, but I clearly remember the feeling of thinking I’d never feel settled anywhere. What a blessing it is to be in this same space today, feeling more settled and content than I ever have in my adult life thus far.  

The day I returned from Rwanda last year, I received an email that set a spiral of events in motion. My new roommate situation fell through, leaving me with an apartment I couldn’t afford and too few weeks before the start of school to find a new roommate. I was also in the process of applying for a service position about an hour away from school, which would mean I’d be moving anyways and further complicating the roommate deal. When the service position didn’t pan out, I had three weeks to find a new place to live. I started packing my things and apartment searching…with one week before the move-out deadline and countless apartments looked at and ruled out, I still had nothing lined up. Worst case scenario, an apartment was going to be available the next month, and one of my dear friends was kind enough to open her home to me and let me crash with her for the month. Panic was setting in, but I was desperately trying to trust God – while I was in Rwanda my friends had told me story after story of God’s provision in his timing, and I was clinging to that promise.

I began to move my things out of my place and into my boyfriend’s garage, and with a car full of boxes, I was in a car accident on my way to internship, just days before my lease was up. When the gentleman asked for my address, I burst into tears…it was the first time I fully realized that I didn’t even have a home address to give him. I was at an absolute low and more stressed than I had ever been – I was exhausted and didn’t know how much more I could do, and I was honestly getting tired of trusting God. The very next day though, I received a call while at the store for more boxes from one of the apartment complexes I had looked at – they were running a special which made the rent affordable for me. The best part? It was available in one week! I crouched in the store aisle and cried in relief…God had provided just in time. :)

The next week, I signed my lease and moved into my beautiful new place. I hadn’t even brought a box upstairs before I laid in the middle of the living room floor, just staring at the ceiling and thanking God for the blessing of the apartment. The sense of relief I had is absolutely indescribable.

Lots of people are surprised to find out that I commute at least an hour to work one way – many ask why I don’t move out of New Jersey and closer to the office. But it’s this very piece of my life that prevents me from moving. Given the events of last fall, I know that God has ordained this physical space for this season of my life, and this apartment has been one of the greatest testimonies to God’s faithfulness and provision in my life. It has been a place of healing, a place of comfort, a place in which I have entered into this stage of life called adulthood. It’s also a reminder that God can do the things that we say we’ll never do….like live in New Jersey. ;) For the first time since I left for college, I will live in the same space, full-time, for more than 14 months, and God is teaching me to slow down, stay put, and be content and present right where he has placed me.

And what a beautiful lesson that is to learn.

Confessions

I hadn’t planned on being away from my blog for so long. Really, I hadn’t…I’ve missed sharing life with you all through this blog. But between my return from Rwanda, my best friend’s wedding, a trip home to visit family, and my full-time job, this blog just kind of fell to the bottom of the priority list. And to be completely honest, the post I’ve been needing and wanting to write is the one with which I have struggled the most.

On the plane home from Rwanda, I had started a blog post with a list of “confessions” – things I had to express but just didn’t quite know how to express them. If I may take the liberty of plagiarizing myself here, I’ve simply cut and pasted my first two confessions:

      1.     I cried when the plane left the ground in Rwanda. I had this immense sadness all morning that I tried to ignore, but as much as I was ready to be home, I just wasn’t ready to leave Rwanda. I can’t even explain what it is, but there’s something in my heart that just loves Rwanda and the people there…I’m usually pretty good at identifying why I feel a certain way, but this is just something that evades me and I don’t know why. All I know is that it broke my heart to leave. 

      2.     I learned the hard way this week that no matter how many thousands of miles away you are, you can’t escape your own life…both the happiness and the heartache of life follow you regardless of which continent you’re on. There were so many things I thought I was done working through, but being in a new space just dug up so many emotions of an old heartache and I just didn’t know what to do about it.

While those feelings are still very real to me, there’s a third confession that I’ve had trouble dealing with, which is why this post is so many weeks late…

3.  I’ve been mad at God.

Yes, that’s right…mad at God. A little bit of angry/bitter kind of mad, a little bit of kid-pouting-in-the-corner kind of mad. I was so horribly sad to leave Rwanda, but I clung to the hope that I just might get that job and be back in a few short months. I had no sooner landed in the States, however, when I saw an email from the organization stating that they wouldn’t be “pursuing my application.” And partly out of jet lag, and mostly out of heartbreak, I fought back tired tears as I walked through the airport. After feeling like my trip had been largely unproductive, I was frustrated with God and so unsure of why he had called me back there this year and opened so many doors to even make the trip possible if I wouldn’t at least be returning there for work.

Beyond not being able to return to Rwanda as soon as I had hoped, I was angry with God because I knew this closed door was, very likely, his way of telling me to stay put where I’m at, be present in this season of life, and just wait on him. And honestly, I didn’t like it. For anyone who knows me, patience and contentment aren’t my strengths – I’ve become so accustomed to moving frequently and always being on the go that I’m constantly looking forward to the next thing instead of just being present where I’m at.

I’ll be honest – it’s been a month and some fighting with God (and maybe some pouting…okay…lots of pouting), and I still don’t understand exactly why I was in Rwanda this summer. And maybe I’ll never know. What I do know is that I’ve seen him do some pretty cool things in the past month, and it’s helping me to see how wonderful life is exactly where he has me in this moment. I have a lot to learn in this space in life, and I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world. 

Laying it Down

It’s taken me two days to ponder this and pray about it, and even then, I wasn’t sure about whether or not I should write a post on this. However, I figured it this blog is supposed to be a space in which I process what it means to “trust without borders” and to discover what an authentic life is for me, then this post needed to be written.

Yesterday’s message at church included a reading from John 15, in which Jesus is talking about remaining in the vine and bearing good fruit. Now, if you’ve been in church for longer than 10 minutes, you’ve probably (like me) started to brush over this passage because it’s quoted all the time. And just as I found myself falling into that space again yesterday, verse 13 jumped out and nearly smacked me in the face: “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

I’ve often read this verse and assumed it referred to laying down your physical life for another, just as Jesus gave up his physical life for us on the cross. But as I read it yesterday, it was like a layer was peeled back and the verse took on an entirely new meaning for me. Not only did Jesus give up his physical life for us, but he gave up the “life” that he had with his Father to come to earth as a human and show us love. It occurred to me that God also calls us to give up our lives – whatever that may look like for each of us – to love others more fully.

I have recently applied for a job in Kigali, and since I hit the “submit” button I’ve had so many mixed emotions about it. The job is certainly an incredible opportunity for a recent grad in my field, and the field experience and living overseas would be amazing. But as I’ve spent the last 10 days here, I have been faced with the reality that this move would require giving up a lot – the creature comforts of home (not the least of which includes consistent running water), close proximity to family and friends, and the life I’ve built for myself in the Philly area. As much as I joke about how “terrible” it is to live in New Jersey, I really do love where I live and the life I have right now. The very selfish, human side of me doesn’t want to give that up, because I like it. And there’s a life there that I can picture for myself.

But what if God is calling me to “lay down my life” (the life that I imagine for myself) so that I can better love others? What would I miss by holding on to what’s comfortable and not sacrificing those things that, eternally speaking, aren’t important? Who would miss hearing about the hope and love of Jesus because of my selfishness? I mean, let’s face it: I can be pretty easy going, but several months without a hot shower could make me pretty cranky, haha. And yet the thought of missing out on witnessing God do some incredible things because of my selfishness is a horribly painful thought.

It’s been a long few days as I’ve processed these things and tried to make sense of why God has called me here for this current trip. There’s a lot that I don’t understand, and God and I are still talking through all of this, but I am learning to just enjoy this journey as he leads. 

When Ordinary Becomes Amazing

Just this morning, I read my friend’s most recent blog post called “Mundane isn’t so Dull.” In it she talks about the importance of each day, and how the “regular days” that don’t seem so fantastic can turn out to be the incredible stories that we tell years down the road.  She closes by saying “…every story is exciting to someone. Every moment matters. Every encounter with yourself and others means something. Don't rule anything out.” The best friend in my was a little disappointed that it took me nearly a week to see this post, and yet I now realize that today was the best day to read it.

Today started out as one of those “regular days.” Breakfast, checking email, church, lunch…nothing too exciting. The group had been planning to have a quiet afternoon at the center full of naps and laundry, so I figured it would be a good afternoon to take an hour or two to find my way through the city to meet a friend’s brother to gather some items to take back to the States with me. However, I forgot to shut my “American brain” off before setting foot in Kigali, which meant I was off on more of an adventure than I had anticipated.

What American Caitlin expected was to take an hour and a half – two hours at the most – to find the place to meet my friend’s brother, pick up the items, and make my way home. What American Caitlin forgot was that she is in Rwanda now. Which means my “I’ll be right back” to another group member as I rushed out the door was actually a seven hour adventure in which I ventured into a new part of town, was filled with delicious juice, banana beer, and traditional Rwandan food, and visited with the family in their beautiful new home. The American part of me felt a little anxious and was worried that the rest of my group would wonder where I got to, but the part of me that is embracing Rwandan culture knew to just sit back and enjoy. Once I realized that, I enjoyed each and every moment for what it was – a regular day and an adventure. What a blessing it was to be welcomed into the family, to share a meal with them, and to love on their two year old son!

And as I left their home and his sister wrapped my head so it wouldn’t get wet, and as I whizzed home on the back of a moto with a jug of water on my lap, I looked out over the city and realized that, yet again, I was falling in love with Kigali. I knew in that moment that today – which had started as so normal and so “mundane” – had become one of those very special days with an amazing story to tell.

Hope

What a wonderful (and much-needed) break today was. After three long days of training, it was so nice to sleep in a little and spend the day running errands around Kigali. There was even a thunderstorm that rolled through, so we ducked into Bourbon coffee shop as we waited out the storm. The strong cup of coffee and cool air was very welcomed.

Once the sun reemerged, we made our way to Inema Art Center to watch the children dance, sing, and drum. It’s always a high point of my trips here to spend some time with the children…they just bring so much joy to anyone who is in the same space. As I watched them dance, I was overcome with how much joy and happiness these children seem to have despite how broken and traumatized the country is that they will inherit. Seeing their joy though gives me so much hope for the future of Rwanda and what these young people will be able to accomplish. 

Photo Friday!

I'm a little too tired to put together a coherent blog post, so I'm going to close out this week with some photos of what we've been up to in Byumba...I promise a more thoughtful post will follow. Enjoy!

Diving In

Right now I’m sitting on the front porch of our guesthouse at the top of the hill, a cool breeze across my face, and the sound of children singing and drumming drifting down from the nearby school. We’ve had a very full, very long day of training, and it’s nice to relax a bit. As I think back over the day though, my heart and mind are full.

While I worked toward the completion of my masters degree, I remember the strong desire to just be out of the classroom and putting into practice what I was learning. Although I was so excited to be back in school, that many years of education was getting tiring, and I just wanted to start my career. And today, as I dove into facilitation like this for the first time, I was overwhelmed by the realization that I am currently doing what I had been craving to do for so long.

The feeling was so overwhelming that it was nearly paralyzing. No longer was this a role play or a simulation in class or an exercise in a textbook – this was real life, with real people, who have real conflicts in their daily lives. The introvert in me was already nervous about leading, regardless of culture or language, so this added realization was enough to freeze me for a bit. But after I had a few precious moments to process it with my supervisor and with some wonderful words of encouragement from her, I knew I just needed to dive in. As intimidating as it was, I had to start somewhere and learn to work from my heart and not my head on the spot. I can’t lie – despite all the classroom training, there’s a lot that the hours of work and the diploma cannot prepare you for. But as I opened myself up to the opportunity and focused my attention on what the women needed, it became slightly less daunting.

If there is one thing I have learned, it’s that there is a lot of conflict and a lot of pain in this world, and there is a lot that I cannot do. But it’s critical that I do the little that I can. I honestly don’t know what this training will mean for these twenty women after we all part ways tomorrow afternoon. But I can’t help but hold hope that these women will leave feeling even a little more empowered – empowered to manage conflict in their communities, empowered to help others, empowered to support one another, and empowered to take a stand for themselves. 

Water, water…not so everywhere

Within an hour of landing in Kigali, I learned there was a water restriction because this dry season has been so incredibly dry. Because of the shortage, we only get water late at night or very early in the morning.

I’m not going to lie, the overindulged American in me was sorely disappointed that I wasn’t going to get a shower after more than 24 hours of travel. I felt absolutely disgusting from the “travel grime,” and I so desperately wanted to just wash it off. I freshened up as best I could and set off with the group for some lunch, figuring I’d shower the next day. I slept too late though and missed my window of opportunity to shower again…definitely a bit discouraging.

As I used the giant bucket of water collected the day before to bathe though, I was quickly reminded of how blessed I was to have any clean water at all, let alone a whole bucket of it. It took a few weeks last year, but I came to realize that these things I think are necessities – a strong cup of coffee, a hot shower, running water – are truly just luxuries. It’s so easy to take for granted the amount of clean, running water we have access to every minute of every day at home in the U.S., and whenever I’m here I’m overwhelmed by the extravagance of it and how much we truly waste. And with this check in perspective, I had never been happier to simply have soap and clean water to bathe with.

One thing is for sure though, I didn’t forget to fill up my water bucket last night! ;)

Warakoze Yesu!

Warakoze Yesu! (Thank you Jesus!) What an appropriate chorus to sing on my first full day back in Rwanda. There was a lot that I didn’t understand in church today, but this was one of the few phrases I did recognize, and yes, there is much to be thankful for. Worshipping with other believers has always been one of my favorite things about traveling to new places…I may not understand exactly what is being said, but there is a unity that comes in knowing that you are still in the presence of the Lord with your brothers and sisters in Christ regardless of language or culture.

The message today was about praise and worship, and the speaker talked a bit about Hebrews 13:15:

Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise – the fruit of the lips that confess his name.

Where are our hearts when we come to worship and give praise to our God? Do we make it about us? Or do we humble our hearts and truly worship God? This verse and message have been a great source for meditation today, particularly in a setting where I don’t speak the language and generally have little idea of what’s going on. I find it easy to get distracted while at church back home because I know what to expect – I take the general experience of church for granted so it’s easy to get hung up on details that don’t really matter, and it takes extra effort some days to get my heart in a place of true worship. But today, when I didn’t know the songs or what was going to happen next, I found myself looking inward more frequently and worshipping from a very different place…a place that made me much more aware of God’s presence in the church body this morning.

I was hoping to post a video of one of the choirs at church today, but I'm not having luck with the internet connection. Just know that we were worshipping with you and praying for you all!

Warakoze Yesu!

Thankful

As I write this, I’m sitting in the nearly empty airport terminal at an absolutely ungodly hour, even for a morning person like me. I’m running on two hours of sleep, nearly locked myself out of my apartment, forgot my coffee in the car, and the humidity is making me feel like I never actually showered. Needless to say – not the morning I was anticipating. (But when does any traveler get what’s expected? haha)

The blessing of a hectic morning and being at the airport so early though is that I now have time to sit and think. Time to slow down and rest, be reflective, and ponder how I got here. And while it is a bit of miracle that I made it here to the airport this morning, I’m more amazed that I made it here – here to this new space in my life. Here to the place where I’m returning to Rwanda, and I’m thankful for all those things in life that have pointed me to this very place.

I’m thankful for the petrifying moment in my senior year of college when I chose to cross any graduate program in a history-related field off my list and the subsequent decision to go home after graduation.

I’m thankful for the rejection letter from the graduate program I had my heart set on.

I’m thankful for the countless unreturned calls and emails and dead ends for different study abroad and overseas internship opportunities.

I’m thankful for constant changes at work for so many months and the uncertainty that comes with it.

I’m thankful that I was turned down for the “perfect” job in my field after graduation.

You see, as I walked through each of these moments and seasons of life, they were definitely not pleasant. Even as I recall them now, I can still feel the twinges of panic, rejection, confusion, hurt, and discouragement that have come with each one. And yet, each of these seemingly “negative” experiences has directly impacted my ability to be sitting right here in the airport at this ungodly hour after a hectic morning. These experiences have brought me to the right places at the right moments in life in which I have met people who have walked beside me and have introduced me to things I would have never dreamed of for my life as that senior in college sitting in my dorm room with a list of grad programs.

And so I am thankful. I am thankful not only for the good and positive things in life, but also for the things that seemed to be working against me. Every one of these moments and situations has brought me to this absolutely beautiful and exciting new place in life. One of my favorite verses is in Isaiah 55: “’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.’” What peace there is in knowing that the God I serve has a much bigger plan and much greater thoughts than I could ever think or imagine. 

Headed out to change a few things...

"She packed up her potential and all she had learned, grabbed a cute pair of shoes and headed out to change a few things. Her heart glowed with a degree of happy assurance."

...some days those refrigerator magnets just get it right. :)

Prisca

Despite the fact that I finished a Masters program in May, I’ve still struggled with what my niche is in the conflict resolution field and how to put it into words. As a history major in undergrad, I loved oral history and hearing people’s stories. As a Resident Assistant and within my friend group, I was always there to simply listen. As a grad student, I honed my listening skills and learned about mediation, conflict coaching, and the importance of narrative in conflict resolution. And even though all these threads are related, I still can’t figure out what all that means for me for a career and a vision for my life’s work. It’s been something I can feel in my heart, but articulating it has been an entirely different issue.

That is, until a few weeks ago.

A friend had come to visit for the afternoon, and she shared this song with me. As soon as I heard it, I knew that it expressed the deepest desire of my heart – the call to bear witness to what I have seen and those I have met. Carrying the stories of those who otherwise wouldn’t be heard to those they will never meet face to face. To stand in the gap, to serve as a bridge, to humanize the “other” and the “different.”

In her song, Brooke Fraser tells about a life-changing encounter with an orphan from the genocide named Albertine. (For more about the background of the song, check out this video.) As I listened to the song, I thought back to my own life-changing encounter in Rwanda. And although I can’t bear witness to what I’ve seen by writing a song, I can do so in writing. There’s not a whole lot that I don’t journal about…this is what I wrote just hours after I met Prisca:

As it was getting dark we caught the bus to Gisenyi. I ended up sitting next to a young girl my age…She was so eager to talk to me and insisted we continue speaking, even as she forced numerous pieces of gum upon me. Prisca, who is 25, studied accounting at university in Goma and lives now in Gisenyi. As we were driving through one village (I can’t remember what it’s called now, though I know it begins with an “M”), she leaned over and told me the name of the town and said her mom died there. Then she leaned over, and with a flat hand made a slashing/chopping motion across my neck. This awful shudder went right down my spine…I then asked how old she was when it happened, and she said 7 years old. The genocide. I had no idea what to say…even if we could have easily communicated in the same language I wouldn’t have had any words, so all I could come up with was “I’m sorry.” I was so overwhelmed in that moment…here I was, face to face with a woman my age who had lost her parents – her entire immediate family – in the most brutal, unfathomable way possible. And yet right after she said, “It’s okay – God,” and pointed up. What faith! I don’t know if I’d still be able to believe after that. It was such a brief meeting on the bus, but I don’t think I could ever forget her.

I have never seen Prisca again, nor do I think I ever will. Honestly, even if I passed her in the street next week, I’m not sure that I would know her. But our brief meeting on the bus has changed my life in ways she will never know. Our exchange made the genocide horrifyingly real to me…at the time when I was first learning what death meant as my grandparents fell ill and passed away peacefully, a girl my age on the other side of the world lost her parents in mass slaughter.

As Brooke Fraser’s song says, I believe that because I have seen, I am responsible. And so here, through this blog, I bear witness for her experience to anyone who might read this blog. While this may not reach many, it is imperative to me that people know. Genocide isn’t just a legal definition or a theory or a political issue – for so many, like Prisca, it is a lived experience that impacts them to this day. 

Simply Beginning

I’ll be honest – I never quite know where to start with a new blog. There always seems to be a great idea on what to write about, but actually sitting down and picking somewhere to start just seems like a monumental task for me. Perhaps it’s because every good narrative needs a beginning, and as I’m in the middle of living mine, I just don’t know how to bring you all up to speed.

But as I spent the better part of today packing for my upcoming return trip to Rwanda, I realized that this story is one that needs to be told, for so many reasons that I will share with you on this journey. It certainly won’t be a linear one, and it might take quite a while to unfold and fill in the gaps. I can promise, however, that this will be real and possibly even raw at times. And while beginning still feels like a monumental task, I think that, perhaps, the best place to start is simply where I am right now.

What is this story – this blog – about, you ask?

As I’ll share throughout this blog, the past year of life has been absolutely crazy, to put it mildly. Although each year brings its fair share of change, I would have never pictured myself where I am right now one year ago today. There have been some wonderfully happy and fulfilling days; there have been some utterly low and heart-breaking days. And yet the one thing I have learned, and internalized, through it all is to trust wholeheartedly in my God and step out in complete faith as he calls me to. A few weeks ago, during a particularly discouraging time, I was introduced to a wonderful new worship song. The lyrics of the bridge stirred something in my spirit:

            Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders;

            let me walk upon the waters wherever you have called me.

            Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander,

            and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.

I realized that this is part of what God has been doing in my life this year – teaching me to go where I have to have faith in him beyond any faith I’ve had before, to have “trust without borders.” Whether it’s a not-so-exciting job outside of Philly or a short trip to Rwanda, I need to step out in faith and go wherever it is he calls me. And it’s in that space of complete obedience and vulnerability that God can do some pretty amazing things.