Wondering how one celebrates New Year ’s Eve on the race? Check it out, my friends.
It’s tough being away from family and friends during the holidays. So in order to bring as much cheer as possible, we decided to try to meet up as a squad to celebrate New Year’s Eve with our WR family.
So us girls all got ready. Now I feel like New Year’s is one of those celebrations that everyone tries to look pretty for. On the race, that translates to taking a bath (rarity), putting on make-up (even greater rarity), and trying to pick out the outfit from your pack that has the best combination of not having been worn too much (it’s been 6 months, so that’s practically impossible), not smelling too bad (my clothes get washed on average once or twice a month, so again, practically impossible), and being somewhat girly (this ended up translating to knee-length jean shorts and a t-shirt that said LOVE – not exactly the girly outfit I would have worn at home). And although I make it sound unfortunate, in the moment it actually was pretty awesome because that has become my new norm for looking fancy and feeling good. Well, awesome until I realized it was raining. Due to rain and the dirt mud road we had to walk on to get to the main road, off went my cute purple flip flops and on went the dreaded Keens – shoes that, although highly functional in adventurous places, scream tourist/missionary and are probably the least attractive footwear I know. But eh, who was I trying to impress? So we hike off in the dark, our headlamps lighting the way, and finally make it to the road.
Immediately we were bombarded by all the guys on motorcycles. I was pretty sure they were trying to convince us to just hop on with them and they’d take us. Now earlier in the day I had rode my first ever motorcycle. Growing up, Dad made it plain that motorcycles were a big no, so I had felt guilty enough as it was. But at night with wet roads, my dad was practically screaming in my head, “JILL LAUREN! YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT!” And I wasn’t the only one a little nervous, so we opted out and let one of the guys help us find a “taxi.” Notice the quotation marks. Yes, that “taxi” ended up being a mini-bus/church van that these two guys agreed to take us to our destination in. We climb in, thinking we really didn’t have another option. The door guy proceeds to start pushing the van, because they can’t get it to start. We are going over bumps, headed toward the road, and at this point I know it is about to be an interesting night. The van finally got going, but it kept jerking back and forth and I really wasn’t sure the brakes were functional. Julie and I kept guesstimating our percentage of actually making it to our destination (mine stayed below 50% for most of the ride), and there were multiple points where I was just hoping to see 2012. (Okay, maybe I’m being slightly dramatic, but in the moment I really was a bit terrified).
Now the drivers didn’t know where our restaurant was, but said they would take us to the hotel that was really close to it. So after 45 minutes, they finally pull into this fancy looking hotel, but drive us to the side parking lot. We hand over the cash, wish them a happy new year, jump out, and walk into the lobby only to discover that indeed, not the hotel they were supposed to take us to. Thankfully the receptionist knew where our restaurant was and called two taxis to take us the rest of the way.
We all met up at a sweet little restaurant owned by Americans that was called Heaven (trust me, many good jokes were made about the name considering the difficulty it took to get there). The place was set up like a giant tiki hut with live music and delicious food. We all chatted and caught up with each other and listened to the band try and sing English songs. But then I started getting chilly, and I was so super tired. So I looked down at my watch only to discover that it was 10:30. Oh wow. I look at our table, and we look like the most pathetic group of twenty-something year olds out there. The girl across from me had her head down on the table and was falling asleep, and I myself was slumped down in my chair fighting the urge to close my eyes. Life as a traveling missionary isn’t easy people! And so little by little, we all decided that we were just too tired to stay until midnight.
And this is where I started getting a bit sad. I thought to myself, “This is what my life has come to. It is New Year’s Eve, and I’m wearing Keens, and I’m too exhausted to stay at this restaurant until midnight, and it should be one of the most memorable nights because I’m in Rwanda to celebrate, and yet I’ll be transferring over into 2012 while sitting in a cab on the way home with two of my teammates. What a let down.” So in a moment of self-pity, I let myself be bitter about it all.
And then there was a New Year’s miracle. I realized there was nothing I could do to change my circumstance. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t turn the situation around. So instead of quietly sulking the whole ride home, I decided to make some lemonade and get to know my new friend Pacific.
Pacific was our cab driver that night. On the way home, he and I talked as best as his limited English and my untrained ears could handle. He is a nice man that lives in Kigali now, though his village is only a short distance away. He has a wife and EIGHT kids (whew!) ranging in age from four to twenty. I asked him if he knew Jesus, and he said he did. We then talked about church and when he asked I told him about why it was that I was in Rwanda. We talked about music and work and things we liked to do. At one point he turned to me and said “It’s a new year.” And I was like, “Yeah, it’s good to start fresh.” And he was like, “No, it is a new year” while pointing to the clock on the dashboard that read 12:04. I think this was the first time I can remember ever missing the countdown, but I was surprised to find that I didn’t really mind. I wished him a happy new year. And as we finished up our drive, I asked him about what he wanted for 2012. He told me about how he really wanted to take English lessons and then to be able to move his family to South Africa. When we finally made it back to Kabuga, I asked Pacific if I could pray for him before I got out, and he happily accepted. It was such a sweet moment. One of those moments that was so small, and yet felt so big. A blessing from the Lord when I least expected it. A moment that made my heart smile. Those are the best, aren’t they? You see I couldn’t tell you the number of times that I have been disappointed by someone or something and let it ruin my mood or ruin my day/night. It’s so easy to get lost in ourselves and our feelings during those times. But if we are just willing to let go of that and search for the opportunities that await us, no matter how small, I truly believe we will be blessed by it, and maybe someone else will be blessed by it, too.
I have a lot of fun memories from New Year’s Eves past – eventful nights filled with friends, laughter, singing and dancing. But this New Year’s Eve was nothing like that – it could have been just another night (well, on the WR at least). But in a way, I’m so thankful for how it turned out. They say that how you spend your New Year’s is how you are going to spend your whole year. And if that means that this year I’m going to continue making friends out of strangers and sharing with them His love and turning potentially “sour” situations into times of caring conversations and joyful interactions, then I think this is going to be a good year. So here’s to a BLESSED 2012!
"So be careful how you live. Don't live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity…" -Ephesians 5:15-16
