Names around the world, especially in Africa, have significant value. So when people ask what your name means it kind of this “I’m pretty sure my parents just liked the sound of it” funny conversation. My first time in Rwanda my host family decided to rename our team in order for us to officially become Rwandan. I never thought that this name would actually be prophetic. When I came back, my new Rwandan family renamed me and that too was prophetic. Here’s how:
The second time to Rwanda, I stayed with a different family and received a new name. I was pretty excited about this one too because of the fact I am not the same person I was last time I was in the country so I was excited to see what the family/the Lord was going to name me. This time my name Muhoza. Any guesses? It means comfort! I was a first like cool I guess. But with the recent events that have taken place I’m beginning to understand. Being a squad leader you have some extra responsibilities, one of them being if someone is hospitalized you need to be there in order that AIM has someone to be the connector and not to burden teammates so that they may still have their race. This month I had two squadlings contract cerebral malaria pretty severely. They were brought to the main city where I was staying and met them at the hospital. Not really knowing anything and walking into an E.R. room with two sick friends is not the best experience. To be honest, it freaked me out a little. Once they were admitted we started the correct medication and then only time and a whole lot of prayer was needed for full healing. We spent the night and the next day I started the endless phone calls to insurance, AIM, parents and our coaches and mentor for guidance on what to do. I was in and out of the room making sure that all was in working order that the girls were doing ok. I was becoming the comforter, the person who will get the water, monitor the IV’s, try and understand the test results, communicate with the doctors and not to their liking try and force them to eat or drink then grab the puke bucket. However, I don’t think I was emotionally prepared for what these couple days would include. Almost every time I left the room I cried. I would wash my face, get rid of red eyes and reenter the room trying to bring hope, love and a piece of comfort. I have spent a lot of time on the balcony at the end of our hallway, especially in the evening watching the sun set. It was during one of these moments as well as a conversation with a team leader when the name Muhoza took on a new meaning. I was fighting with God about why the heck would you let this happen to two people and on top of that when our other squad leader was in another country! The answer I got was a pretty big slap in the face. Megan, your good at trying to hold it together and provide comfort but you are not letting me or anyone else comfort you. How can you expect to keep giving something you are not receiving? Shoot… After, of course, more tears I came to the conclusion that I need to stop trying to comfort myself because I suck at it. Like really suck. I needed to let the Lord hold me during this incredibly exhausting and stressful situation because He is the one who fixes, not me. So here I sit. After a couple hours of sleep completely content taking on whatever hospital life throws at me. I will probably need reminding of this truth every so often but I’m working on making it a lifestyle. Also, let me tell you, letting someone comfort you is a whole lot easier than doing it yourself.
