Dearest Matonie,
It’s funny how you can meet someone and immediately feel the deepest connection of your souls. That’s how it was with you and your family. Little Acaressa, goofy Ganza, and patient Heru, watching over the others as any older brother would
do. I so desperately wish I spoke your language so that I could know more of your story and tell you mine. So that I could know what happened to your husband, what caused you to have to live in that one room concrete house with your sister’s family. I wish people where I am from could know what it looks like to have 8 people living in a one room concrete hut. No plumbing, no electricity. I think it would make us more grateful, way more grateful. Our friendship was short lived but by no means an accident. I know it was no coincidence that the week my parents were visiting Rwanda, I ended up sitting on your front porch while the team was digging the road in your village. Although we couldn’t say much to each other I knew from your smile and the kindness in your eyes that we would be friends. After I left the village on the day that we met I couldn’t shake the memories of laughing with your children for hours as you stood aside glowing with joy. I couldn’t stop seeing the huge hernia bulging out of 10-year old Heru’s stomach from malnutrition, or the dirt caking 3-year old Acaressa’s hands and feet. A piece of me broke when Heru gave my own dad a hug and called him Papa. I knew that you were doing the best you could for them but I couldn’t handle seeing you again the next day empty handed, not when I have been given so so much. So that’s why I got you that grocery bag of snacks, and treats and toys for the kids. As soon as I Ieft the supermarket, I must admit I felt so dumb. How could I show up with this small bag and think that it would make any difference. Really it’s laughable, you need a house, Heru most likely needs surgery, all your children’s clothes are tattered, the needs I saw were overwhelming. And that was only at your house. There were at least 30 houses on just your street with people living the same story. The same story of poverty and struggle for generations. Sometimes I think this journey I’m on might break me. I’m not kidding when I say that every single day for the past 8 months I’ve come across someone with unimaginable needs. Someone that I could help, but how do I help everyone? That’s why our friendship means so much to me. Because your reaction toward this small bag of groceries changed everything. Many nights when I close my eyes I still find myself looking out the bus window as you clutch that brown paper bag to your chest, weeping. You couldn’t stop crying as you shook your head back and forth in utter disbelief that you were worthy of this gift. As the bus pulled out of your street you were still crying, one hand over your mouth, one on the brown paper bag. Now that I think about it, your reaction made it seem like this could have been the only time in your life that you ever received a gift. Not of the necessary rice or grain to survive, but of something special, meant just for you. When you found me the next day, and with tears in your eyes gave me that photo of your family, dressed in your best outfits, what I am sure is one of the few, if not only photos that you owned; I knew that this small gift meant so much more to you than I could have ever imagined. I was reminded of a conversation I had with a taxi driver on the way from Kigali back to our small village neighborhood. He was in disbelief that my team and I left America and came to Africa all because of Jesus. He couldn’t believe people in America even needed Jesus. He told us, it makes sense in Africa to need Jesus because you pray every time you are hungry, or sick and ask for a miracle. But he couldn’t understand why people in America would need Jesus. Not when we have everything we could ever ask for. And that’s when we got to share the true beauty of the Gospel. The Gospel that says we can have everything in the world and that still won’t be enough. The Gospel that says until your soul is filled with perfect love, the kind of love only a perfect God can give, you will never feel satisfied. Matonie, you reminded me that while I may not be capable of physically saving the world, it’s okay. It’s okay because I have within me the perfect love that is meant to be shared. That is not mine to keep. Maybe you don’t have much, but you have the hope and joy of our Heavenly Father and that is more than some people, even people from my side of the world. That’s the beauty of the gospel. That each one of us are worthy of being chosen to receive the most special a gift. A gift the world tells us to never think to ask for. You reminded me that of course physically, we do need many things on this earth, but that doesn’t override the things our souls need. To feel seen, known, chosen, and loved. I will forever remember you and your family and I pray so often that you will indeed see many miracles in your lives, miracles that will meet each one of your family’s needs. I so look forward to the day we get to dance at the gates of heaven, speaking the same language, having all the things we never even knew to ask for.
Much Love,
MC
