Spanish Post: Rwanda

  *Click here to read the story behind my Spanish Blog

I listen to certain songs and I am there again.  Pushed against the side of the bus, wedged snugly in the back corner on a row with more people than seats.  The trees outside the window rush past me as I gaze at the gorgeous African sunrise beyond them.  The music playing through my earbuds, Tears of the Saints by Leeland, speaks for my heart of the complete brokenness I had just witnessed in the previous couple of weeks. 

 

 

I hadn’t talked very much about it.  None of us had.  We had all encountered a deep desolation unlike anything we even knew how to describe.  Some had been able to respond with tears – tears of complete bewilderment at the pain displayed around us in the eyes and hearts of the people, the children of God, we had come to minister to.  But not I.  I would not be able to release any emotion about it for another week or so after being back in my own country for a few days.  And yet it was in my heart.  It was in all of our hearts; for despite the beauty of the sunrise around us, the excitement over the safari we were about to embark on, and the incredible relief and exhilaration over finally being together again after several days of emersion in the culture away from each other, pain was all around us.  We had come to see the countryside in a new way in the past couple of weeks.  Now when we saw the little hillside communities, the kinds we had only before seen in photos, we envisioned the evil that had taken place there only 13 years before – the mass extermination of nearly an entire ethnicity of people. 

 

 

During my final year of college I took a missions class that was structured around a 2-week missions trip to Rwanda in the middle of the semester.  I felt God direct me to go on this missions trip in a very different way than I had my previous trip to Paraguay.  Other people were quite influential in nudging me towards considering this trip – including those who were leading the trip.  After much thought and prayer, as well as consultation with my parents, I decided that this was something God would have me do, and I signed up to take the class.  I knew I would be challenged in my thinking about world missions as well as be given an opportunity to see how God is at work in a very different part of the world and join Him in that work for a short time. 

 

 

The missions class was set up so that each student would be able to serve in Rwanda through a venue that they specifically felt a calling or passion for.  I would be interning with an elementary school for a week while living with a Rwandan family along with one other girl from my class.  For the second week in Rwanda we expected to travel to several memorials from the country’s genocide in 1994 as well as visit the country’s university and finish up the trip by going on a safari at a national wildlife park.  I had no idea how drastically those two weeks would change my concept of the world, of human kind, and of my God.

 

 

Why Rwanda?  During the country’s genocide in 1994, which was a mass extermination of primarily one ethnic group present in Rwanda, 78% of the country’s children experienced a death in the family due to war, and 36% lost both parents.  80% of children were forced to hide to protect themselves, as they were specifically targeted for death.  This tragedy left the Rwandan people traumatized physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  God was at work in Rwanda, however, through the work of missionaries and local pastors such as Emmanuel Gatera, who our team would be working with. 

 

 

With the knowledge of these statistics and a strong sense of our own inadequacy yet a deep desire to help and encourage, we set off on a plane headed towards Africa.  The flight was long and we were all quite anxious about what we would find when we reached our destination, yet this apprehensive time of travel bonded us tighter as a team – a process that would only persist during the next two weeks.  For while in Rwanda, we would become like a tight-knit family – saddened at the thought of leaving each other for a few days, and rejoicing at each other’s return.  We would care for each other in sickness, hug each other in sadness, laugh together, cry together, and constantly pray for each other. 

 

 

Upon finally arriving in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital city, our first impression was of the overwhelming hospitality with which we were greeted.  The people from Emanuel’s church had looked forward to our coming as though we were long lost children finally coming home.  I will never forget the looks on the Rwandese families’ faces as they greeted their new “son” or “daughter” who would be staying with them for a week.   It was quite a joyous occasion; I had never felt so instantly loved and wanted by anyone, much less someone of another culture and language.  The people of Rwanda knew how to love on their family in Christ, and they showed us that from the first day.

        

 

It did not take very much time in Rwanda, however, for us to observe another incredible depth the people possessed, and that was a depth created through great pain.  On our third day in the country, we visited a genocide memorial and museum in which we saw lists of names, mass graves, rooms covered with photographs of people who were killed, pictures of manslaughter, and video clips of family members recounting the death of their loved ones.  Later, during a visit to another memorial, we would walk past the remains of thousands of people – people still rendering the twisted positions in which they had died at the hand of machetes, clubs, rifles, etc.  We would hold our breath to keep from getting sick at the smell of death around us as we listened to our tour guide, a survivor who himself bore a bullet hole in his head, tell us of how five thousand weak and starving women and children had been murdered there.

 

 

The next day, however, the tone of our trip changed a little as we each moved in with our host families for the coming week and began our own internships in different locations around Kigali.  I spent 3 days at Kigali Parent’s School, the local elementary school, visiting different classrooms, talking with teachers and students, and teaching in classrooms.  It was so fun to take part in these small classrooms in which 50 to 65 African children were eagerly learning all they could.  The children acted so excited to learn from a “mzungu” (white person) and give her a high five! 

 

 

During this time I, along with my classmate, Jessie, stayed with a Rwandese lady we came to know as Mama Sheila.  She had a nice (but very humble) home in Kigali that she shared with her son, daughter, mother, and uncle.  Her husband had been killed during the genocide. Mama Sheila’s kindness and hospitality were no different than that of everyone else we met in Rwanda.  She immediately made us feel very at home and like part of the family.  She referred to us as her daughters, prayed with us, shared her heart with us, and took very good care of us while we were with her.

        

 

Mama Sheila’s testimony was, and continues to be an incredible inspiration to me.  She spent hours in prayer every day, both as she went about her daily chores, and also in quiet meditation in the middle of the night.  She told us that she liked to pray at 3:00 a.m. because it was completely quiet and peaceful then, and also because it corresponded to the time at which her savior died for her.  So she would rise at that time each morning and talk with God for an hour.  In reality, though, to Mama Sheila every occasion was an opportunity for prayer – before a meal, before bed, before leaving for work, at the coming and the going of guests, and often in between.  The togetherness of brothers and sisters in Christ called for approaching and praising our heavenly Father.

        

 

Probably the most impactful experience for me in Rwanda took place alongside a group of teenagers orphaned and left in absolute poverty by the genocide.  During our second week in Rwanda, four other girls from our team and I got to assist with a seminar for these genocide orphans led by our professors.  There were about 70 orphans, all thirteen to twenty-three years old, and most of them had lost everything when the genocide occurred. 

        

 

The seminar was structured around three main topics related to the struggles of teenagers in general and more specifically the struggles of these teenage orphans in Rwanda.  Following each talk, the teens would divide into five discussion groups – each overseen and “enhanced” by one of the five of us visiting college students.  The orphans would raise questions, discuss them as a group (in their native tongue which we did not understand other than through the help of a translator), and then direct the toughest questions to us. 

 

 

I will never forget some of the questions they asked me.   “Why,” they wanted to know, “would a God who loves them allow them to lose their parents, their homes, their livelihood, and all means of comfort and security.”  “What would you do,” they asked me, “if you were dying of aids, the mother of a small child, and with no family, home, or income?”  “How do people in America get through things like this?”  Time froze in my mind each time I was asked one of these questions, and I felt almost sick to my stomach because of the responsibility resting on my shoulders due to this opportunity – the opportunity to offer hope and encouragement to people who felt complete despair. 

 

 

It was overwhelming - stretching, and yet a blessing, to sit and talk with these orphans as they told us about the things they struggle with.  I felt very inadequate to encourage or offer help to these young people, but one thing I could offer them was the love of Christ, and that seemed to be an encouragement to them.  They were so appreciative of our being there.  I learned a lot from them as well, for despite their dire circumstances, many of them loved the Lord and praised Him for His goodness.

        

 

One girl I met at this seminar was named Claudine.  When she was six years old, her family moved from Uganda to Rwanda.  The day following their move, the genocide began; and she lost her entire family.  She was forced to run for her life several times.  She had been fending for herself ever since.  Claudine had been physically abused and raped countless times, and her emotional scarring was just as deep as her physical scars.  After the first day of the seminar, she spent some time in counseling with one of my professors, who told me afterwards that that was the first time she had ever been able to share her story with anyone.  Merely recounting all that she had been through was so traumatic for her that she had to be taken to a clinic afterwards. 

        

 

The next day, however, she requested to see me, so I went to visit her at the clinic.  It was such a blessing to hold her in my arms and pray with her.  At one point while I was there, she saw some kids playing and she told me that the Muslim family she has been serving did not allow her to play.  I thought about this, and decided to teach her how to thumb wrestle.  So sitting there on her bed, I became the first person to play with her in thirteen years.  What a blessing!

 

 

Claudine was so grateful to me for coming all the way from America to show her and her people that they are loved.  This, I discovered, was one of the greatest needs that the countless orphans in Rwanda had.  They had many physical needs, but they also needed a reason to keep on living.  They needed hope, and they needed to know that they were worth something.  Not only were my team and I able to show this to people in Rwanda, but they showed us that God can work through us even if we don’t feel adequate or worthy.

 

 

During my time in Rwanda I saw all kinds of pain and hurt, and heard stories of a hatred and evil that I cannot fathom.  I talked to people who lived through things that I cannot begin to understand and yet who love God anyway because He is all they have.  I heard stories of forgiveness that these destitute people extend every day to those who tortured and killed their family members mercilessly.  This forgiveness was hard to take in, but an even greater mystery that beset my mind was the realization that God – a pure and completely holy Being who gave these individuals their very breath of life, extended forgiveness to the killers through suffering agony on a cross long, long ago for them. 

 

 

As I worked through these thoughts in my head upon returning to the United States, the realization occurred to me that if these fellow human beings in Rwanda, a country home to the most friendly and kind-hearted people I had ever come across, were capable of such brutality and violence, then surely I myself would be capable of the same thing, were it not for God’s grace to turn my heart towards Him.  And so it was, that my heavenly Father taught me to understand just a little bit better, the depravity of man’s own heart, the magnitude of the grace He extends towards us, and His miraculous power to work through nervous and incapable beings such as myself.

 

 

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which He has called you, the riches of His glorious inheritance in His holy people,  and His incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength  He exerted when He raised Christ from the dead and seated Him at his right hand in the heavenly realms,  far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. Ephesians 1:18-21

If It Dies, It Bears Much Fruit

 "Now my soul is deeply troubled.  Should I pray, 'Father, save me from this hour'? But this is the very reason I came!  Father, bring glory to your name."  John 12:27

Could we not all say those very things at every troublesome moment of our life.  We long, with Christ, to be spared the agony that sin has visited upon us and this world.  But those, too, are the key moments for which we were sent.

Two Spirits, One Life

I was thinking about the indwelling Spirit, as A B Simpson so often referred to Him, and what that really means.  And I imagined myself in the place of the Spirit of God, going to inhabit another spirited being like God’s Spirit inhabits His children. 

 

I imagine the essence of who I am—my mind, personality, desires, memories, experiences, and feelings transferring into another person’s life and physical body.  Yet instead of replacing my new host’s consciousness, I make my home alongside it.  And while I certainly have the power to supersede my host’s will, I choose not to.  Instead, I settle for influencing their sense of ought.

 

 

My host’s awareness of reality, life experience, and powers of thought are significantly inferior to my own, yet I am committed to gently prodding them toward gradual growth.  My host recognizes this on some level, and is at least outwardly amenable to my presence and influence, yet quite often opts to completely ignore my all-sufficient offer of help.

 

 

This imagined scenario may seem odd, but it led me to think about the privileged position I find myself in, as host to the Spirit of God.  And I wonder about the interaction between our two spirits—the lesser holding veto power regarding word and deed, and the greater regularly ignored all together. 

 

 

Scotty Smith says “we’re all abide’ers.”  We all dwell on impressions and ideas in our own minds, letting those things influence our lives and surroundings significantly.  Yet so often we choose to dwell on messages we receive from without instead of within.  How can this be?  How can the very consciousness of God living beside own be so completely lost on us?

 

 

“It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.” John 6:63

 

“For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit.  For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.  For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot.  Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you.” Romans 8:5-9a

 

“Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we are indeed his offspring.’ Being then God's offspring, we ought not to think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of man.”  Acts 17:27b-29

 

“His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.”   Peter 1:3-4

 

 

“The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.” Revelation 22:17

 

 

I find I always have an inner conversation between my own thoughts and my imagined sense of reality.  I dwell on experiences of the past, replaying them in my mind, and also on experiences I expect will happen in the future.  I don’t know if all people do that or if it’s more of an introvert thing.  But I’m seeking to invite the Holy Spirit within me into those conversations.  To let my inner conversation be with Him, and leave space for His contributions to them. 

 

 

My imagined scenario above feels similar to science fiction narratives that many of us have heard.  But I’ve never heard one in which the host’s consciousness also had sovereign influence over nature and all life circumstances surrounding the host.  The Holy Spirit’s potential for communication and loving provision for me is unlimited.  The only limiting factor is my own receptivity. 

Spanish Blog: Running In The Fog

 *Click here to read the story behind my Spanish Blog 

This morning it was quite foggy up on the mountain where I went for my run with the Lord.  My mind was also foggy.  I feel so childish and unsure about so many things these days.  When I was a child at least the path before me felt clear.  Obey the parents, get good grades in school, be helpful with my siblings, and enjoy free time with friends.  The minutia of daily life activities was either handled by my parents or open to my own whims.  I miss the simplicity and confidence I enjoyed then. 

 

So I cried out to my Father, “Speak to me God!  I need to hear Your guiding and reassuring voice.” 

 

And as I ran into the mist, He flooded my mind with an authoritative, peace-generating impression—characteristics that I have come to associate with His voice.  “Everyone in the world runs in the fog like you do, Laura.  I am the only One who sees clearly into the future.  Let Me be the One who guides us.”

 

 

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” Proverbs 16:9

 

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle, or it will not stay near you.  Many are the sorrows of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the Lord.” Psalm 32:8-10

West Side Story and Adam and Eve

Derek and I went to see the new West Side Story movie recently.  It made me think deeply about life and love and purpose and meaning.  It’s such a tragic story and betrays so well the way the human heart responds to extreme stimuli such as great love and great loss.  *Spoilers alert in case you don't know the story.

 

 

“Either make the tree good and its fruit good, or make the tree bad and its fruit bad, for the tree is known by its fruit.” Matthew 12:33

 

 

The story seems to imply, in a subtle, below the surface type of way, that love and relationship is the chief fuel for life—the compelling reason to live.  When Tony thinks that Maria is dead, he no longer wants to live himself (I won’t get into the ridiculousness that he had only just met her the day before…. Elsa would have a thing or two to say).  And then the same thing happens to Maria after Tony dies in her arms.  In anger she lashes out against those who she sees as the culprits to His death, and she expresses a desire to also kill herself. 

 

 

This message springs not only from these two main characters, but also from the gang members.  These boys are presented as street urchins whose primary fuel for life is their participation in their group.  They do what they do for the sake of the group and demonstrate their loyalty to their group at great cost, seemingly considering morality, comfort, and life itself as less important than commitment to the group. 

 

 

It's interesting to me to think about this message, and how true it rings in my own human heart, because, of course, God DID create us for relationship, commitment, and loyalty.   We were created with a predisposition for all-consuming passion toward one compelling and completely worthy Entity.  And I think God created man, in the beginning, with not only the instinct for that, but also with full knowledge and experience of it in every sense possible.  Adam and Eve knew nothing of life fueled by anything other than passionate relationship with God.  Until the serpent subtly suggested that perhaps God was not worthy of that blind faith and affection.

 

 

Now, life MUST have purpose and meaning, and if that which provides these is removed (or rather, considered unworthy) a vacuum is created and something else springs forward to take its place.  Finding oneself in that vacuum is quite jarring and uncomfortable and, indeed, one cannot remain there for very long as life without purpose is in itself a contradiction.  (This transition period is what we call an existential crisis).

 

 

That simple suggestion put forward by the serpent must have rocked Adam and Eve to the core, as their conception of life shifted from one that made total sense and offered full security to one in which all bets were off and all of their previous assumptions about reality demanded re-examination. 

 

 

“If my fuel for life is potentially not worthy, then what am I doing here?  What am I for, if not Him?  Does life apart from Him exist?  If so, what makes it up?  If my own worth is not found in Him, then where?

 

 

When life makes no sense it’s hard to function at all.  The sudden need to run and hide and, were it possible, to STOP the succession of time comes over us, because existence without purpose and security is agony. 

 

 

So there was life as it was intended to be, life with perfect purpose and security—abundant life.  But the life of a human spirit, as Adam and Eve discovered, is a sacred thing which persists even when it is shifted into this inferior plane of existence--life fueled by something else.  And, of course, when one arrives at a place like Maria and Tony, even that inferior plane of reality no longer serves.  Having lost that fuel for life and finding no other, the desire to exist departs.  Life without purpose and security cannot be and we suddenly prefer death to the prospect of unending existence in that vacuum of purposelessness. 

 

 

Once humanity became aware of existence in that inferior plane, we could not un-know it.  And so even though we may give intellectual ascent to the original way of life—abundant life for and in God—our hearts cannot, as finite beings, get back to a 100% embrace of that reality.  In our guts we will always be aware of, tempted by, and sometimes enticed by other entities which sprang onto the alters of our hearts when that worship vacuum was created by the suggestion of God’s potential unworthiness.  Always, that is, until ultimate consummation when everything wrong becomes untrue.

 

 

And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”  And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.  The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son.  Revelation 21:5-7

 

 

And so the Christian life is a soul’s pursuit of God, and pursuit of that original plane of existence fueled entirely by Him.  It begins with intellectual ascent that there is such a plane of existence—that He IS the ultimate fuel for life and perfect security.  And, even though the heart cannot yet fully embrace this reality, it proceeds in day to day choosing to live as though that it really does.  And ever so slowly, through immersion in truth and rejection of lies, we come to experience more and more of life as it was meant to be, and we feel less and less the allure of inferior ways of life—inferior objects of our affection.

 

 

 

Sing with me, 

 

 

Behold our God, seated on his throne
Come, let us adore him
Behold our king, nothing can compare
Come, let us adore him...

 

 

 and, 

 

 

Hallelujah! All I have is Christ
Hallelujah! Jesus is my life

 

Now, Lord, I would be Yours alone
And live so all might see
The strength to follow Your commands
Could never come from me
O Father, use my ransomed life
In any way You choose (O Father, use)
O Father, use my ransomed life
In any way You choose
And let my song forever be
My only boast is You

 

Hallelujah! All I have is Christ
Hallelujah! Jesus is my life 

 

 

Spanish Blog: Letting Go of a Friend

 *Click here to read the story behind my Spanish Blog

You have taken from me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them.  I am confined and cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief.  I call to you, O LORD, every day;  I spread out my hands to you. - Psalm 88:8-9

 Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart.  The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away.  May the name of the LORD be praised.  - Job 1:21

During my summer in Paraguay, one of the things besides prolonged periods in the word and prayer that kept me encouraged and motivated to persevere, was the ability to pour my heart out in letters to a few very dear friends back home.  These letters would stay tucked in my suitcase until the end of the summer, at which point I could hand them to their recipients in person.  However anticipation of that day kept me writing them.  I wrote in detail about my struggles, joys, and the things I was learning about both God and myself.  I put a little of myself into each of these letters, for in reality, they were a big part of my emotional sustenance during those 9 weeks away from home.

 

One such friend, who I disclosed a bigger portion of my heart to in letters, was *Evy.  Evy had become my very best friend during my previous year at college.  She, more than anyone in my life, had taught me the importance of willing vulnerability in friendship.  As a result I had shared more of my heart with her than with anyone else ever.  So during my time in Paraguay, not only did I unleash my deepest thoughts to her in letters, but I thought about her often, wondering what God was doing in her life at the moment, and praying for her faithfully.  As often as I had opportunity I would send e-mails to her either with excerpts from the lengthy hand-written letters I was composing to her, or just conveying words of encouragement as well as inquiring about how she was and how I could more specifically pray for her.

 

Now I knew that Evy was not the best at correspondence, so it did not surprise me when I did not hear back from her right away.  I did not mind.  As encouraging as a letter or e-mail in response would have been, I was content to trust that she had received mine, and would respond in time.  I continued to write to her just as devotedly as ever. 

 

I did not hear a single thing from Evy, however, until when, during my final week in Paraguay, I received a short e-mail that she had written to both another friend and myself, apologizing for not having written earlier, but explaining what a busy summer it had been for her.  She assured us that she was doing well and glad to hear how great our summers had been thus far.  And that was it - no attempt at a response to anything I had told her, or even a hint that she would give one.  I did not let it get me down, though.  I was determined to love her unconditionally and continue to be the best friend I could be despite her lack of reciprocation in communicating with me.

 

I returned to the states, and shortly thereafter called Evy on her cell phone.  I got her voicemail, so I left a message, saying that I was back in the states and anxious to catch up with her and hear about her summer.  Over the course of the next week or two I tried calling again once or twice, and finally one day I got a hold of her.  We talked briefly, and she told me about some things she’d spent her summer doing.  She also asked how my summer had been.  I don’t know how I answered that question, for I could tell she was looking for a one or maybe two-minute response.  In the back of my mind I wondered why she didn’t already have some sense of how my summer was (because of all the e-mails I had sent) or at least pretend to have a clue.  But she didn’t, and so I told her that it was both good and very hard and way too big of an experience to sum up in less than 10 hours.  She chuckled at that and then said that she would look forward to hearing more about it, and I assured her I couldn’t wait to tell her.  Then the conversation ended. 

 

I was somewhat perplexed at the shallowness of the conversation.  Now I was beginning to wonder how our friendship would look in the coming semester.  I was still optimistic, though – and very determined to remain a true and unconditional friend, no matter what happened.

 

Within a couple weeks after that conversation it was time for me to move back to college.  I arrived alone in my car, and as I was making trips from my car to my dorm room on the 3^rd floor, carrying all of my belongings for the coming school year, I ran into Evy.  She smiled kindly and said it was good to see me, and that she was happy I was there but she had to run.  So I said hi and bye and watched her continue down the hall only to run into another friend of hers who she promptly embraced eagerly expressing great excitement at seeing her again.  With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach I told myself not to compare, not to question why I had not received an equally warm welcome.  This girl had likely been here for Evy all summer while I was out of the country.  Changes in friendship was inevitable, and that was a price I needed to be willing to pay for the life changing experience I had had in Paraguay. 

 

Over the next semester I often sought Evy out, expressing a deep interest in her, how her summer had been, and how she was currently.  I did a lot of listening, and only then volunteered information about my time in Paraguay, longing for an understanding look, a word of encouragement or interest, but I received this only on a very shallow scale.  I sought repeatedly to be a friend to her by going to her room and hanging out, taking her out to dinner, offering back massages, and anything else I could think of to show her how much I wanted to be her friend like before.  

 

However not once did she seek me out.  Never did she come by my room except when her job as residence assistant on the hall required that she check the tidiness of each room.  During one of these mandatory visits she mentioned to me that she was going to make a point of getting together with me in the coming week.  I was thrilled at the thought of this, however careful not to get my hopes up, for indeed my reserve turned out to be well merited.  The semester finished out and I never saw evidence of an attempt to follow through with the proposed date.  

 

This was, in effect, the last straw.  I was hurt.  Towards the end of the semester I had cried often, wondering what I had done to deserve such a cold shoulder. Still determined to love unconditionally, I could not bring myself to be mad at her.  I still wanted the best for her, however after a semester of hurt and confusion, I decided that for my own sanity and well-being, I needed to stop trying.  I would always be there for her should she seek me out, but to continue seeking her out would only cause me to hurt more.   

 

Evy had been an amazing friend, and God had used her mightily in my life, but now He was using her to teach me how to let go.  He was also giving me a very small understanding of the love He extends to mankind.  How, I wondered, could He ever express such a boundless and unconditional love to creatures so unfailingly unreceptive and even rebellious?  Love as great as this was certainly worth any measure that would make it more clearly seen.  God was yet again exercising His infinite knowledge of who I am to show me more of whom He is and thereby causing me to fall deeper in love with Him.

 

*Evy's name has been changed for confidentiality 

MOVING: Part 1

Our move back to the US from Peru is feeling really real now.  I’ve been selling off a lot of our things for the past month via a private facebook group that I created.  It has worked really well.  It’s been nice and controlled and I’ve just listed items as I’ve had the time and felt ready to part with them, and then people have come to pick up their purchases at my house.

 

 

 

The movers were supposed to come today to pack up a couple furniture pieces and a bunch of boxes of stuff.  But they surprised us yesterday by showing up a day early!  I think we could have told them that we weren’t ready and needed to stick with the date we had prearranged…. But we actually were basically ready and decided to go ahead and do it.  So as the movers wrapped cardboard around our things most of the day, we cleaned, packed, did homeschool (our last day before an extra long Christmas break!), sold more stuff, and did a little online black Friday shopping! We finished out the day sitting on a mattress on the floor in Skye’s room singing Christmas carols along with youtube videos on my laptop (TV and couches were gone), and talking about the things we’re thankful for.

 

 

 

 

Today was probably our craziest day yet move-wise.  We had people coming at different points all throughout the day to pick up purchases including several big appliances so we were scurrying to make sure those things were clean and ready to go.  We also moved out of our apartment to an Airbnb where we will be until we leave on the 6^th.  So in between people stopping by to pick up stuff we were squeezing all of the things into our suitcases and preparing for the first move of our move (there will be at least 3 moves: Airbnb - grandparent’s house - our house).

 

 

 

Some teammates were kind to keep our children for us during the part of the afternoon when we were actually moving from our apartment to the Airbnb.  Transporting all our bags and suitcases was a bit of an ordeal without a vehicle.  We were able to hail a station wagon taxi and have him make several trips back and forth with us, though, and then we walked to the grocery store to stock up on food for the next week before picking up the children.

 

 

 

Finn and Skye have been super excited about moving into this Airbnb.  The concept of a new house is so exciting to them, and they’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.  When they finally arrived in the new place, I already had their toys laid out in their rooms, and they were thrilled to explore and discover every nook and cranny of the house.  There was lots of bouncing up and down, crawling under furniture, and running from one room to the next. 

 

 

 

After an extra long bedtime routine (still lots of excitement pulsing through these little bodies!) we’ve finally got the kids to sleep and settled in for the night in our Airbnb.  I’ve been praying a lot for calm and peace and a smooth, restful night’s sleep in this new place.  I’m always wary of new locations in Cusco spiritually speaking. 

 

 

 

Derek is finally getting to watch the iron bowl on his laptop.  He’s been careful to avoid hearing the outcome from friends and family (though I had no qualms with checking the final score myself—just to get a gauge on what he’s about to go through. Sigh.)  As he does that I’m processing the craziness of the last couple of days through writing.

 

 

 

It has definitely an exhausting couple of days, but it’s so nice to have made it this far.  It feels like we’ve gotten past some major hurtles getting our container shipped off and having moved ourselves and most of our stuff to the Airbnb.  The next couple of days we’ll be going back and forth to the other apartment to clean, hand off more stuff to people, and close up shop there.  Thankfully we’re only about a 10-minute walk away.