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.