The other night, as I began to write my story down, I reminisced about Africa. And this is what came of that.
I went to Rwanda last summer in 2013 and joined a team of Racers already on the mission field. This was my very first (and only) international mission trip. It was also one of the most memorable experiences of my life.
And still, I can almost hear Jesus saying, “Just wait, there’s more to come.”
Oh Rwanda. How I miss you.
I miss your orange dirt that swirled into dust around my feet as I gingerly climbed up the small rocky hill from Pastor’s home. I miss saying “Muraho!” and “Murambse!” to the people we passed each morning, on their way to fill their yellow jugs with water, or with heads heavy-laden with palm fronds or bunches of bananas. I miss the beautifully joyful children with gorgeous smiles and humongous hugs. Especially the kind that came at me from 20 feet ahead and plowed into the front of my long skirt because that’s about the only height a four-year-old can reach. I miss the early morning sunrises and the crispness of the mornings there. I miss watching the day wear on into evening and wondering where the time went. I miss sitting outside the house drinking my tea and spending time with my sweet Jesus, watching as baby Joshua peeked around the corner and then ran away crying hysterically the moment he realized I saw him. I miss the school, my classroom with my wonderful kids who have so much potential, though I only taught them for a few weeks and I wonder if any of it stuck. I miss my sweet friend Carine who shared her life with me and asked me so many questions and invited us to lunch of rice and stew with “little fish.” I miss painting that school and watching as my teammate’s incredible artistry came to life and brought beauty to the place. I miss my team. I miss the times we walked down to the convenience stores and bought out their chocolate supply and sipped Coke from bottles that had to be returned once you were done. I miss walking all the way down to the market and remember the first time I tried to buy bananas and what a disaster that was. I remember watching the purchase of a gigantic Jackfruit and the leftovers that plagued the house for days. I miss the fresh avocados. I miss the bustle of the village and the taxi vans and the bicycles, so many bicycles. I miss riding in those vans to the capital city of Kigali and feeling the wind rush past us, adventure in the air, and attempting to capture in my memory every mountain and valley that rose and fell along the way. I miss the days of exploring the city, getting coffee and wifi and feeling more like we were just a few minutes from home. But even more, I miss the village, Victory Mission Church, and the friends I made who stayed back when I had to go on. I miss our contacts, each one of them. I miss Pastor and his warm hospitality and that early morning he had to say goodbye. I miss my teammates, Team Bold-er, and the boldness and strength they brought out in me. I miss the times when we were together, playing cards, talking about how we can better live this life for the one who called us there in the first place. I miss feedback. I miss the times spent laughing and joking and sharing life. I miss the transparency and the flexibility and the grace of my team. I miss learning and growing from each word, each piece of advice, each situation. I miss the love and joy and overwhelming feeling I can’t even describe that seems to say, “You must have left some of your heart someplace else.”
And although this place has stained my soul with its love and fullness of life, there is another adventure to begin. Can there be any more room in my heart for 11 more places like this? Surely, says the Lord. For his love is deeper than the ocean and somehow he finds a comfortable place for each of us. And if this God who lives in me can do that, he must be able to make some space for what’s to come.
