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! ;)