To Know Him is to Know Peace

This is a posting I just wrote for our Karisimbi Partners blog. You can read more about our work with Karisimbi Business Partners.

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We were only there to deliver a gift. What we received in return was nothing like I expected.

All three Karisimbi Partner families have always believed in committing the ‘first fruits’ of our labor, which is why it did not seem strange to want to donate a portion of the first company paycheck. It was not a huge amount, but somehow it just felt right to give a tenth of our earnings to an organization that honors those trying to rebuild after the genocide. In particular, we wanted to support an organization that encourages entrepreneurship. We decided on Amani Ava Hejuru, an organization committed to helping marginalized women in Africa find peace with God and one another. They focus on relationship-building while giving the women sewing and marketing skills. Their products represent excellence.

We wanted to buy three beautiful baskets made from fabric scraps. It seemed symbolic –first fruits are gathered in a basket, and our first fruits would support the business of women making baskets. Our donation could buy three baskets with surplus funds for purchasing a quilting machine that would allow them to produce more products. I communicated with Grace, the Managing Director, and was invited to their workplace. Upon arrival, their workshop appeared to be a small garage converted into a space for eleven sewing machines. Greg and Kristen Urquhart came as well (we have all since decided that the next time we present such a gift, we must all be present). We said some brief remarks and went to leave. Beata, who manages the store, asked if she could sing us a song. The drumbeats started. Her beautiful voice rang out. The others joined in. Hands began to raise and bodies began to sway. Three of the women began to dance the traditional Ingonza dance. Translated from Kinyarwanda, the following words filled that small space with such joy it moved me to tears. “Your husband cannot give you peace, your neighbor cannot give you peace, your friends cannot give you peace, your job cannot give you peace....only Jesus can give you peace.” In a way, this is a Christmas message… one that they sing and feel all year long.

These are words sung by women who lost their husbands during the genocide in horrific ways – often at the hands of their neighbors. They know what can and cannot give you peace. Where we thought our gift was small, to them it was another way Jesus was showing his love to them. And they celebrated that recognition through song and dance, completely uninhibited. I felt I was standing on holy ground. My three-year-old daughter, Anna, was hugging my leg as she listened. I said a silent prayer that she would remember this and someday be able to receive the gifts in her life with the joy and peace these women embodied.

We have the privilege of access – access to education, resources, networks. With this privilege comes responsibility. These women have received the gift of life – a second chance. Rwanda has received the gift of a second chance. We have the privilege to serve with what we hold in our hands. We also have the privilege to receive what this country extends to us.

The Joy in Telling a Child His Mom and Dad are Coming

Kristin and I have decided to volunteer at Home for Hope orphanage on Wednesdays. After my first visit, I just couldn't go back. I told myself it was because of time, but if I was honest I know it was because it was just too difficult for me to know my son is there and I can't see him. Yet, over the past several weeks, I've felt my heart shift so that I am emotionally ready to engage with the other children who may never be adopted. I had made plans to go today. A few days ago, I received an email from some friends of friends who just received word that they have a son and he is two years old. I asked them if I could visit him on their behalf. Of course, they said yes.

So today, after spending a few minutes playing on the see-saws with a dozen or so little ones, I asked the helper if she knew Isaiah (just learned I am not allowed to post his Rwandan name). As soon as she pointed to him, I recognized him from the pictures. What a child of strength. It was such a joy for me to tell him in Kinyarwandan that I am friends with his forever mom and dad and that they are coming soon to get him. I was able to play with him, help feed him, and just watch and observe this precious boy.

He ate in a room I hadn't been in before. In the room were five handicapped little boys all in one crib. Their legs are crippled and for some they cannot even sit up. My heart broke for these little ones. There was a woman there from Burundi who was volunteering and so I joined her in feeding and holding these precious little ones. Angelo was the one with whom I spent the most time. Judging by his facial features and size, I would guess he may be as old as four years old, but he is still eating out of a bottle and cannot stand, nor can he speak. I asked if I could hold him and the helpers were so sweet to change him, put on nice clothes and then let me hold him. At first he was so animated and I tried to hold him up so he could at least move his legs. Then they gave me a bottle with which to feed him. I rocked him like a baby and just sang these words, "You are loved. You are loved. You are loved." to the tune of an old worship song called "You are Lord." I could feel his body relaxing in my arms. I kept looking into his eyes and telling him, "You are not forgotten. You are loved." I felt like I could stay there forever.

And then my friends were leaving, so I tried to put him back in the crib. He just screamed and cried. I told him I would be back. And I will.

Since I'm such a blog-slacker

I can't really explain it. Maybe it's that I have seen and experienced so much in the past few weeks that it is hard for me to know where to begin. Or maybe it's just the reality of having a very, very busy three year old who always wants to be a part of whatever I am doing, so sitting down to write a thoughtful blog posting just doesn't happen; or maybe it's because the night is so dark, the heat is so hot and I seem to fall asleep much earlier than I did in the States; or maybe it's just that I"m lazy. The bottomline is that I haven't blogged in weeks, but my friends and colleagues have. So if you're interested in general life and work here, and don't want to wait for me to get around to posting, please check out:

http://carolinejoan.blogspot.com/ - Caroline lives with us here in Kigali. I've known her since she was a baby and am super proud of the dance school she's launched called Ballet Rwanda.

http://www.urquharts.wordpress.com/ - Greg and Kristen are one third of our partnership with Karisimbi Business Partners.

http://www.karisimbipartners.blogspot.com/ - Our company's weekly blog.

A Megaphone of 1000 Voices

I serve on the board of Children's Hope Chest and want to share this letter from its CEO, Tom Davis.
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Dear Friends,

While I love Christmas more than any other time of year, I’m already thinking about 2010 and I want to share that vision with you. And, I want you to share it with everyone you know.

Our team set the goal of raising $500,000 to reach another 5,000 orphaned children in 2010. We’re raising these funds so that…

> Fewer young girls are forced to trade sex for food

> More orphans will have food to eat, and the protection and love of Christian mentors

> No girl will end up in the commercial sex trade

The enemy preys upon orphans like this day after day after day. I’ve seen our enemy; he goes by names like AIDS, extreme poverty, and sexual trafficking. He robs children of their parents, their dreams, and their dignity. Who will stop this? It must be us!

Today I am on a mission to raise $500,000 and I can’t do it without you. Will you help by visiting http://www.HopeChestPartners.org and sign up as a $25/month partner today?

Your donation will feed orphans in Africa and rescue them from extreme poverty. Your gifts will support lifechanging programs for girls in Russia that help prevent sex trafficking and forced prostitution.

These are CRITICAL gifts that form the foundation of our programs. Without that foundation, we could never have grown to reach 10,000, and sit poised to reach another 5,000 next year. It is those gifts, your gifts, that make the difference.

For the Fatherless,

Tom Davis

The Calling of Motherhood

So I am not going to write, but instead allow this essay to speak to the many thoughts I have about motherhood. I thought it was really well-written. And I love the quote by G.K. Chesterton from his book, What is Wrong with the World:

"How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No. A woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness."

For the full essay: http://www.washingtoninst.org/resources/articles/guest/motherhood-vocation.htm

Visiting my son's home

When we adopted Lian and Anna, their home seemed far away, their situation unknowable. Now I live in the same city as our son, his home is less than a ten-minute drive from my house. Yet, he is unknowable for now. Is he born yet? I don't know. Yet, what I do know now makes my heart long for him even more.

On Sunday, Kristin and I went to the Home of Hope orphanage, run by the Sisters of Charity in Kigali. We were not allowed to take pictures and I don't think I would anyway. Almost seems to trivialize the reality these children live in. So we went with some teachers from my daughter's school who volunteer there every Sunday. I have been to many orphanages before as a result of our adoptions and my work with Children's Hope Chest, but this was harder than what I've experienced before.

I need to preface my comments by saying that I know the Sisters there are prayerful, dedicated, hard-working and compassionate people. Yet, there are too few of them and too many children. One hundred and twenty children, ages 0-8 live in this home. Volunteers are not allowed in the baby room, unless you are a doctor, so as to keep the babies healthy. However, I could see them through the windows. Crib after crib lined the room - it was overwhelming to me. There had to be sixty cribs, at least. Outside the baby room were the 1-2 year olds, some of whom slept two to a crib in a very small crib. No furniture except the tables at which they all eat their meals. Outside in the courtyard, about forty 3-6 year olds, along with several special needs older children, were playing and getting ready to eat their dinner (a roll and some milk) and take a bath.

I thought I was prepared. I brought a Rwandan soccer ball as I thought that would be fun to play. Lesson learned, unless I had 40 soccer balls, I should not have brought it. The children stormed at us, wanting to be held, wanting to touch our hair and wanting to see what I had in my bag. They tried to grab it off of my arm. I finally got control and tried to play a game, but it was chaotic. They all began climbing on me and not in a fun way. I literally had to cry for help because the smaller children were getting trampled by the older. I just wanted to cry. This was not what I had imagined. And the caregivers (not the nuns) did not seem to know what to do. Finally, I put my bag in hiding, toys away, and just held a few small children, singing and blessing each one.

The smell of urine was everywhere - on the children, on my clothes, on my skin. It was overwhelming to me, yet I couldn't stop holding them. My son could be one of them in a few years. Lord, please hasten our process.

In the meantime, I will hold the children and support those who are coming alongside these children. I've met so many wonderful people who are providing medical care each week to the children, or working to provide material needs for the children. Specifically, another adoptive mom, Laurel Greer has started a non-profit to come alongside this orphanage. She is doing a "Crocs" shoe drive right now, which will be followed by a developmental toys drive. She sends the supplies from the States with other families who are adopting. To learn more, please visit http://four4-more.blogspot.com

My son, you are loved and longed for.

An Umuganda Day

The last Saturday of every month in Rwanda is called Umuganda Day. From 8 am -12 pm, no cars are supposed to be out in the street, no one is to be working, everyone is to be serving their community, rebuilding their neighborhoods, cleaning up their streets. We decided to participate as a family. There is a ton of trash on our street and the potholes do wonders for our cars. So we decided to pick up trash and try and fill the potholes. Here are a few pictures. We ended up with all the neighbor kids working with us. We gave them oranges afterwards for all their hard work and they devoured them. Afterwards we went to a Fall Festival at Lian's school, followed by another fun party at the Magruders. Lian wanted to be Mulan and Anna was a Hawaiian princess, thanks to Jen and Seng Thor who mailed us our first care package with holiday decorations.
There was a well or cistern of some form full of trash, so I hunkered down ( to the surprise of the children) and started pulling out trash until a cockroach scared me out.
Lian, the hard worker.
Dano and the boys trying to fill the huge ditch at the end of the tarmac.

Anna and her fellow trash picker-uppers.