I've been home for almost two weeks.
My weight-limited bags are unpacked, the exhausting jet-lag is finally diminishing, but my heart still feels engorged. If I start talking about my trip to Rwanda, my eyes tend to leak the overflow.
Just like words failed in the explanation of why I wanted to take the trip, simple letters strewn together here would fall miserably short of conveying all I saw, and what I learned about Hope and Strength when it's fueled by Him.
A nutshell of background if you're unaware: Rwanda is the country the rest of the world turned it's back on in 1994 while the most cruel, brutal and inhuman plan of genocide was carried out. The numbers vary depending on source, but about a million people were killed in 100 days. That wasn't a generation ago; this is not some long forgotten fact that's only become hackneyed words on paper. The victims and their families now live side by side with the perpetrators. As horrific as the events there were, the healing that's taking place is equally stunning and completely astonishing. Nothing short of miraculous.
The central point of our trip - St. John the Baptist Anglican Cathedral
1000 2500 kids at the Cathedral and attached school
My classroom empty and ready for the 120+ kids who willingly packed in to learn
My camera couldn't take a wide enough shot to show them all inside
My VBS translator, Donald with Barack
My incredibly kind and patient translator, Immanuel
Precious 3 year old girls who came together to VBS
Imana Irankundu = God loves you
Everybody said I would want to bring at least one child home. One of the boys I fell in love with: Parfait.
I happily remember him and my crowded classroom buzzing with the word "teacher" every time I look on my wrist.
Hoping and praying to see these smiles in person again.
Being close to this face-cracking joy is contagious...