I spent a bit of time this morning reading back through my journal and it made me proud. Proud of the way I prayed my way through Africa. Proud that I chose to fix my eyes on Him repeatedly. Proud that my heart really was focused on the One who was doing work IN ME and had called me to Rwanda before I ever stepped foot back on that beloved continent. I continually asked Him to be my strength and to give me endurance to run the race for Him alone. Even still I have the opportunity to live out of that prayer. Lord - let it be You I sing of and You I praise.
Rwanda is undoubtedly my favorite place on earth. As soon as our plane landed and I walked out of the airport, it was as if my spirit lifted. We drove toward the World Relief Guesthouse and I kept having to remind myself that it wasn’t merely replaying in my memory - I was REALLY ACTUALLY THERE. I had finally returned to Rwanda. After a year of praying and anticipating, I was “home”. Prayers of gratitude poured from my heart as my eyes welled up with tears. It was overwhelming to say the least. Upon arrival, I took a picture of the most familiar view - the city in the midst of the night lights and stood in amazement at the goodness of my Father for allowing me to return to this place I hold so very dear. My heart felt as if it was bursting with joy and adventure and yet a sense of heaviness all the while. I had this burning desire to hold it all well and to carry it all for His glory. I had done all I could to prepare - it was time to dance for Jesus.
The return to Rwanda was every bit as good as I could have hoped. I danced with William and took his cheeks in my hands, I wiped his tears - and let a few of my own fall, both in our reunion and our goodbye. I met new campers who have horrific stories of trauma and heartbreak and yet they rejoice in their salvation and reminded me repeatedly that no gift is as valuable as the one we have already received. I listened to the glorious sound of Rwandan children with their voices raised in harmony to praise their Father. I pounded my feet alongside so many friends, both old and new, and sang words in a tongue I didn’t know in praise to Jehovah. I watched in awe as my team served tirelessly and shared their hearts boldly. I played balloon games in complete and utter delight and watched simple crafts like heart pillows and a painted banner bring wonder and creativity to life in children who may never again use something as ordinary as a glue stick. I served meals and praised God for providing abundantly beyond all I could ever ask when it comes to food for my belly and allowed me to be part of feeding these beloved children for one week. I held more hands and gave more hugs in one week than I am likely to give throughout the next year. At the special needs orphanage I was able to hold Monica - the sweet girl I sang over last year and watched her light up and smile and laugh once again. I was also able to hold the hand of a little boy who was undoubtedly in great physical pain - and though I couldn’t fix it or make it any better, for one morning, I was able to sit with him and be present in the midst of it - praying over him and begging the God of comfort to be near.
I don’t really have words to describe how my heart feels at this particular moment other than to say I think I could spontaneously burst into tears without any warning or advance notice. I look at pictures and I yearn to return - to see their faces once again - to walk those dusty roads - to spend all my time serving and utilizing my moments in a way that feels so entirely valuable and worthy. I yearn to have my thoughts consumed with things that matter and find myself wandering out to our patio to gaze upon the city and have conversations with the Lord. I don’t know what any of this really means for me - but I plan to continue wrestling with it and trusting my good and faithful Father to guide and direct me. He has a plan and a purpose and will continue to ordain each and every day of my life. If I have learned anything in Rwanda it is this - Imana ni nziza: God is so good.
No comments:
Post a Comment