so much more to life than we've been told

These lyrics so well reflect all my thoughts and feelings on my time in Rwanda.

“Farther along, we’ll know all about it.

Farther along, we’ll understand why.

So cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine!

We’ll understand this all, by and by.

Tempted and tried, I wondered why the good man died the bad man thrives

And Jesus cries because he loves them both

We’re all cast always in need of rope, hanging on by the last threads of our hope

In a house of mirrors full of smoke

Confusions and illusions I have seen.

But, where did I go wrong? I sang along to every chorus of the song that the Devil wrote like the Piper at the gates leading mice and men down to their fate, some will courageously escape the seductive voice with a heart of faith, while walking that line back home

There’s so much more to life than we’ve been told

Its full of beauty that will unfold and shine like you struck gold my wayward son

That deadweight burden weighs a ton.

Go down to the river and let it run, wash away all the things you’ve done.

Forgiveness alright

Farther along, we’ll know all about it.

Father along, we’ll understand why.

Still I get hard pressed on every side

Between the rock and a compromise

Like the truth and pack of lies fightin’ for my soul

And I’ve got no place left to go cause I got changed by what I’ve been shown

More glory than the world has known

Keeps me ramblin’ on

Skipping like a calf loosed from its stall I’m free to love once and for all

And even when I fall I’ll get back up for the joy that overflows my cup

Heaven filled me with more than enough

Broke down my levee and my bluff

And one day when the sky rolls back on us

Some rejoice and the others fuss cause every knee must bow and tongue confess that the son of God is forever blessed

His is the kingdom, we’re the guests

So put your voice up to the test. Sing Lord, come soon!

Farther along we’ll know all about it.

Farther along we’ll understand why."

-Josh Garrells, Farther Along

I came to Rwanda full of energy and enthusiasm and miraculously I am coming home with even more. I am coming home truly at a loss for words for how I will adequately capture my summer in just a few quick sentences in response to “How was Rwanda?!” or “How was your summer?” When you ask me what I learned this summer or what my favorite thing was. I am not a fool and this is not my first time coming home from being away. I know that many things have changed and many things have stayed exactly as I left them. I know that people do not want to hear me say “In Rwanda….” 100 times nor do people want a five hour long version of what I have experienced. I’ve tried to update my blog and to upload photos, I know that it is insufficient. That is not to say that questions about my experience are not genuine, it’s just that an answer is not easy to spit back.

This is something I’ve really been wrestling with. I will miss the work, the clients, the people I met dearly. It hasn’t yet hit me that I have to go back to learning inside of a classroom instead of learning on the frontlines, learning by being tossed into the deep end and forced to swim. Surely this has been the slowest summer of my life and I have so many things to share.

My quick response could be strictly about the challenges of living in Africa. No water pressure, intermittent hot water, bouts of hours without electricity from time to time. The language barrier or the cultural differences. The 100% starches diet. It could be about the poverty, the aftermath of 1994, the ongoing struggle of life for a Rwandan. I could scratch the surface on explaining about the work that I contributed to or the great faith of those I was inspired by daily. I could also gloat about my three day safari and proudly show my pictures that look like spreads from National Geographic magazine.

This summer wasn’t really actually about any one of the above things, but it was about all of them at the exact same time. I grew a lot this summer. Like an elementary school student wearing new shoes one-size up for the first time, I am proud of that growth but I am also still a little uncertain in it.

I’ve wondered many things this summer and tossed around a lot of questions that are still left unanswered. I wonder why I was in Rwanda instead of somewhere else. I wonder if I would ever step foot in a church again if my entire family had been murdered in one but I was spared. How has my perspective on justice been changed? What professional experience have I gained? What and who will I miss the most? How have I grown spirtually? What was God trying to teach me this summer? Perhaps more importantly, did I actually learn whatever He was trying to teach me?

All I know is that this song’s lyrics are the most eloquent thing I can offer. I know that this life is full of beauty that will continue to unfold. And farther along, maybe I’ll know the answers to each of those questions. In the coming days, I can only ask that you be patient with me as I struggle to answer yours. 

printer paper

The last few weeks the office has been in a complete frenzy over the process of re-registering IJM as a non-profit in Rwanda. This is an incredibly complex process as it involves reviewing IJM's Memorada of Understanding (MoU for short) with all of our partners - other nonprofits and governmental organizations. IJM staff meets with each of these partners to discuss and negotiate the "annual report" and "5 year strategic action plan." In addition to ensuring our annual report documenting the previous year, forecasted activities, and expected outcomes are in line with our MoUs, and our directives from IJM Headquarters in DC, each word on this 100-page-registration document must be approved by each of the three districts of Kigali City. All of our clients and casework must be divided into each district and described in detail to show what we did in Kigali this last year and what we are planning to do in the upcoming year. It has been a laborious process to say the least, and it may take up to six months to complete. I've only attempted to contribute minute details to these documents, and I've become overwhelmed by the challenges that the office faces to make each of the reported words successful.

Laws are vague and poorly written. Prosecutors and judges are overloaded, lacking the capacity to give time and attention to detail to each of the 30 cases on their docket for any one given day. There is no such thing as "grounds for appeal;" if you're unhappy with the verdict, you can just appeal. This substantially delays justice for our clients and the victories that we can report when in fact the cases are looming on appeal for many years. Children under the age of fourteen must have their testimony corroborated by extrinsic evidence. When evidence is rare in a rape case to begin with, asking that the victim's testimony be corroborated is a substantial hurdle to justice for these victims. Funding is limited. DNA testing is expensive. Medical reports are poorly written. Birth certificates are incredibly difficult to track down. Sentences are not given according to the Code. There is no safehouse to care for our clients if it is not in their best interest to live at home.

Trying to wage war on all these fronts, its astounding to see the incredible success that IJM has had. Every conviction is a victory of epic proportions. Yet, it's in our nature as Americans to constantly push towards improvement. We had X convictions last year, this upcoming year, we want to see X +10! This is how our minds process improvement. We like to measure results by raw numbers, statistics, names and short descriptions of the successes we achieved for our clients. And we like things to be clear- on paper in black and white. But the reality is that IJM's work is not best described on paper. Or in words.
It is best OBSERVED.
Certainly there is always room for improvement, but along the way, let's not get too distracted with the idea of "growing" that we forget how personal each step of that growth is.
I was sitting in the home of one of our clients, Louise, a humble six foot by eight foot concrete rectangle. Ignorant to the irony of her offer, she kindly asked if she could bring me a Fanta (a soda is an entire day's worth of wages for most Rwandese). In response to the question of what impact IJM has had on her life, she said, "I thought I would never again be happy for the rest of my life. But IJM intervened and gave me so much support to overcome my trauma and to finish my studies. IJM gave me a smile when I thought I never would again."

When her mother spoke about how tremendously IJM had impacted their lives, she said, "I don't have words to express my gratitude for what IJM has done for me and my family. I thank God everyday for IJM and IJM staff."

So, I get it Rwanda government. I understand your need for numbers and targets. But I just want to vent that it's unfair. IJM's work is too raw and real to be translatable onto printer paper, even 100 pages of it. The change that IJM incites in these victims is too amorphous and abstract to be filtered into targets and "progress measurements."
IJM gives smiles back to people.
IJM brings hope to these victims lives just when they thought it was lost forever.
And I have been so blessed to be a very small part of it.

I told the counselor who took us into the field that day that she had clearly changed Louise's life. She bashfully replied, "Only by the grace of the Lord."And it will be only by the grace of the Lord when IJM gets re-registered and gets to continue doing this amazing life-changing work.

until God sends us somewhere else

One of the most popular posts on this blog from when I was living in Madrid, Spain was a series I did on my favorite people. And so, a few snippets of the amazing people that I have met in my six weeks in Rwanda. Meeting people is absolutely one of my top three favorite things about traveling. And this summer a few people I've had limited interactions with have had a BIG impact on me.

• Akagera Couple - a woman who developed curriculum for USAID and her husband, who have been living in Rwanda for one year but have been living in Africa or the Middle East for 27 years. When I asked them if when they got married they had any idea they would live overseas for most of their marriage, he responded, "We didn't know at the altar, but God made it pretty clear shortly after." And I just love that. When asked how much longer they would be in Rwanda, he chirped immediately, "Well, we'll be here until God sends us somewhere else." I just loved that. Aren't we all just somewhere until God sends us somewhere else?
• Mimi - Mimi lived in the DRC as a missionary kid for the first 15 years of her life. Then she went to boarding school in the US and didn't see her parents for many years. It could take a year for a letter to get to DRC from the US in the 50's, if it even got there at all. She told us some incredible stories and I could have listened to her talk for hours. I said to a friend of hers how impressed I was and that she should write a book! She responded plainly, "She has!" Click here for her story and devotional books. Her husband, a doctor and professor of medicine for the University of Colorado is in Rwanda working for the Clinton Foundation to help educate doctors in Rwanda to promote better family health practices. 
• Two high schoolers with such maturity and wisdom far beyond their years in Rwanda for several weeks to help Mimi with her projects and around the house. They have such bright futures ahead! 
• A girl who is here in Rwanda designing the sowing projects for a women's cooperative with her fashion design degree. SO COOL!!
• Missionary Family #1 - Gary has been here in Rwanda for 27 years. It goes without saying that he has an incredible story about coming here on a short term mission trip, and never leaving. Read on HERE.
• Missionary Family #2- A couple who have lived in Southern California and Oxford, UK and now have their two children in Rwanda. When they first met, they had no idea that he would chase a Masters in Divinity in Oxford, that would lead them to WorldVenture, that would lead them to Rwanda. These missionaries host a school for preachers. Since Rwanda's education system is built on memorization, the average Rwandan doesn't know how to use the critical thinking portion of his or her brain. This blows my mind, because as a law student, the ONLY part of your brain you use is critical thinking. So the preachers here start preaching to churches, only on what they have memorized or feel "called" to talk about, but have no formal biblical education. Very interesting the work they do, and how it can have such a huge impact on Rwandans whose faith is stronger than most faith, but whose biblical knowledge and spiritual foundation is lacking.
  Read MORE here. Really cool work, interesting people and this organization is the one who provided us a house to live in while in Rwanda.
• Devin - fluent in Kinyarwanda (I cannot overemphasize the impressive nature of this statement because this language is so impossible) from living in rural Rwanda for two years with the PeaceCorp. She is now in law school at Tulane, and is a delight to spend time with. 
• Mary Ann - a student working on her Masters in Counseling, in Rwanda for a few weeks to host a training session with our IJM counselors. Mary Ann is awesome. She came to Rwanda with open eyes, an open heart and dived right in. She asked some hard-hitting questions, and got us each thinking about God's plan and our futures as she was contemplating her own. Interested in using her gifts for counseling victims of trauma, I am confident that wherever God sends her, she will be a great asset to that community. We were so sad she wasn't here for the whole summer. She also boldly drank an entire glass of fermented milk. You may be thinking, "that's not so impressive," but I couldn't stand within 20 feet of the milk for more than 30 seconds until I got gagged and had to run out of the room. And she drank it! Then survived a three hour drive on bumpy, uneven, dirt roads in the back of the car. She is a champion. We miss you Mary Ann! 
• A girl who works for WorldVision, about my age. She is on a tour of East Africa, spending a few days in each country visiting WorldVision sites. After three sentences, I was green with envy for her job.

The people I have REALLY gotten to know this summer I will "teach you" (as you would say in Spanish) about in my next post.

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, 'The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field."
-Matthew 9:36-38

So, What Did I Miss at YOUR Church on Sunday?

A tale of Two Cities

Asking me to compare Kigali and Kampala is like asking if you prefer day or night. Kigali is quiet, still, clean and pristine. There is no trash anywhere; plastic bags are banned in the county. Military men with AK 47s are poised every hundred yards on major roads. The city is full of staffed security guards stationed at each home, most of which are concealed by a cumbersome gate and overgrown bushes. Selling on the streets is illegal, although it is customary to greet anyone who crosses your path, no one in Kigali does anything to draw attention to oneself. Although, interestingly, drawing great attention to a MUZUNGU is completely normal.

Kampala is alive with energy and excitement. It wasn't until I was there, I realized it had been almost a month since I heard the radio. In Kigali, people listen to talk radio on their phones. In Kampala, music of all kinds is blaring from the cars, restaurants and bars pouring out onto the street. The traffic is chaos, a constant rhythm of honking and brakes screeching. In Kampala, everyone speaks English, with English advertisements decorating each corner; interactions with people flow easily because there is no communication barrier.

I never realized the full extent to which your own personality contributes to whether or not you love a place until I came to Kigali. I have been in love with a lot of places I have been. I have not been in love with Kigali. It wasn't until I visited Kampala that I realized, perhaps its my personality that clashes with Kigali. I love the madness, the chaos, the noise, the pollution, the energy. I am loud, all over the place, full of expressions and full of energy. Rwandans are "buttoned up." Rwandans are reserved. 

But my perspective on Rwanda completely transformed at a traditional Rwandan church this morning.
There we found the energy, the life, the joy of the Rwandan people.

Scratch Sunday School, make it Sunday Morning Zumba with Jesus

Burning calories for Jesus? Tell me more, you say!
This is the scene. The choir is singing at the top of their lungs, shouting the words in joy, then church wide choreography commences. I'm not talking about our dinky little motions for "He came from Heaven to Earth to show the way" oh no, this is legitimate- three steps to the right, JUMP! three quick steps to the left, JUMP! Clapping for such long periods, that if I stopped clapping, my hands stung. And- you have no choice in participating in the cheoreography or you will get run over. The church, about the size of the average American kitchen was filled to the brim, teaming with children. Each bench was so full, cheeks were on top of cheeks. If you decided to stand still instead of moving around with the crowd, you would get knocked over and stepped on like a small animal that falls behind in a stampede.

Between each song, everyone prays out loud. Can you imagine this- if you witnessed 100 prayers all being declared, knowing that God hears and understands each and every word. But more importantly, that he LISTENS and responds to all those prayers. Amazing!

The choir was accompanied by a drum machine, piano. At the end of one song, a huge mosh pit session broke out. One woman took off the sash of her robe and was swinging it in the air like a girl with her shirt on a girls gone wild video. 

The church was filled with children, like little monkeys, clapping and singing along. Two little girls befriended me and taught me the dances for the song. At age six, they blew my skills out of the water. There were about five choirs that each led the church- a women's choir, a boys choir, a children's choir and the choir that had robes. One song had a full-blown choreography routine that was basically the Cha-Cha, luckily it was quick to pick up or I'm sure I would been stampeded. While your body is trying to keep up, your hands aren't dead the whole time. Oh no, your hands have responsibilities too- to be raised above your head, clapping to a complicated rhythm, moving to the beat as your body moves. Every part of your body is worshipping at once. And let me tell you, after four hours of this... it was a better workout than any Zumba class could offer.

Should you feel moved by the sermon or a song, cat calls are welcomed and encouraged. Also, if you've never used your Bible as a drum or tambourine, then you have not used your Bible to its full potential. 

Now it all makes sense! No wonder Rwandans seem so reserved, they are exhausted Monday through Wednesday from Sunday's activity. Then Thursday through Saturday, they are storing up energy to release it all Sunday in a worship, I mean, work-out, I mean worship session. Incredible!!! 

all the little girls I shared a bench with this morning

from the field into THE field

There are some moments in your life that you look back on and think, “wow, that was a really defining moment in my life” and there are others that before they even occur you know they are going to be more impactful than you could ever describe. Last Friday was one of those days. On Thursday, one of the counselors in the office asked if the other legal intern (Carmen) and I wanted to go with her into the field for a counseling session with one of IJM's clients. Of course we wanted to go. Once it was cleared with our boss, we showed up on Friday morning eager but our hearts full of anxiety of the emotional roller coaster we were embarking on.

You cannot imagine what horrors this girl has experienced, and I will spare you the details of the abuse she suffered. Last week in one of our morning devotionals with the whole staff, the counselor assigned to this case told us, “I saw God today” when she described the transformation that had taken place in this girl's life because of IJM. Afterall, this exact sentiment is stated in Jeremiah 22:16, "He defended the cause of the poor and needy, and so all went well. 'Is that not what it means to KNOW me?' declares the Lord." To defend the cause of the poor and needy, is to KNOW Him. And surely, I also saw God that day.

We drove almost three hours to see her at a facility for disabled children, where they can live, attend school, with doctors are on site. There were about 4 warehouse-sized buildings with just beds in rows – like something you would see from a war. For almost two hours, I didn’t see a single child with all four functioning limbs. Wheelchairs with broken wheels, worn crutches, children without any control over their own bodies. It was so heartbreaking, I cannot begin to describe the pain my heart felt. But the most disturbing thing of all, was thinking about these children’s future, and how they would possibly thrive in a country where 90% of the population works directly on the land to earn pennies for a living. Multiple kids were just laying helpless in their bed screaming. Tears streaming down their faces, like their face didn’t know how to look without crying.

Please keep IJM's client's recovery in your prayers. For her health, healing, strength, and faith. IJM needs to raise enough money to keep her at this wonderful facility and for her medical treatments. I beg you to keep the IJM staff in your prayers from all aspects of IJM’s work. The investigation team is still looking for the second perpetrator in this case, as he is on the run, and his location is unknown. The legal team needs prayers as they work to prepare and build a strong case against the principle perpetrator to ensure a conviction. The IJM counseling team also needs your prayers for discernment in her trauma-focused therapy, courage, and strength in sharing love with her.

This is the “field.” This is the work that is to be done. The people to be loved. And there is so much out there. Of the thirty cases or so that I’ve read in my first two weeks of work, hers is certainly one of the most heartbreaking of all the stories, yet it is only the smallest fraction of the heartbreak that is in this world. But I refuse to end this heavy post on anything other than the BOLD courage that this girl has. Her radiating beauty, the huge smile cemented on her face that we had come to visit, her chattering away about how happy she was just to be in a better position than so many of her new roommates, how thankful she was that she was alive, and that IJM had intervened in her life.

As we drove away, it was well-past lunch time, the car was hot, I was in the far back trunk of the SUV on a very bumpy road as I was getting jerked around, one of the staff said, “so are you guys hungry? Tired? Ready to go home? What?” But as I sat in the back of that vehicle, reflecting on the last two hours, all I could manage to reply was, “I am… blessed.”