6.17.2005

I have spent the last week agonizing over the pronunciations over the most simple words in Kinyarwandan; “Maraho” or Hello. “Amakuru” or How are you? “Marabaho” or Goodbye. The list goes on. But the funniest thing is happening as we spend time with Vianney, Cpyrien and Ndugu; they insist on learning slang. You can’t imagine how hysterical it is to have Cyprien, who seems to be the most interested in all words American, say, “Oh Geez!” Kim was the one that started the whole thing. She has the habit of saying those two words each time we drive into the villages through the mountains. There are no guard rails and the drop is straight down about 6,000 feet! It really can be very scary. Kim’s response has been pretty ingenious; she just requests a seat on the opposite side of the edge on the trips. It has lessened the regularity of her slang comment. However, we have had the best laughs as Cyprien has picked up where she left off. He has now learned the following common phrases; Wow! Holy Cow (pronounced Horry Cow)! Oh my gosh! It just makes all of us crack up. He is actually using them with perfect timing and that even makes it funnier. It is pretty hilarious that he knows more phrases in slang than any other English words.

We have also spent a lot of time sitting in the truck discussing Vianney’s interest in being a “cowboy”. Honestly, we have had the best times watching him put on Ben’s safari hat and pretending to ride a horse and throw a lasso. He is just a kid at heart and it makes all of us roll in our seats as he says with a smile, “Muze Cowboy”. (Elder who is a cowboy!) One day Vianney saw a rodeo picture on “Jacque’s” (Jake’s) shirt. He said, “What is this?” And Jake said, “A cowboy”. Vianney then replied “I want to be!” How can you not love these guys? We have spent hours imagining how fun it would be to send Vianney boots and a hat. We picture him wearing them every day, just like a little boy who won’t take off his favorite lucky underwear!

Today we sat back and relaxed a bit. We started out with the best intentions. I certainly felt fine when I woke up. But after we made a trip to the American Embassy (to register our presence…better late than never!), I just began to feel really nauseous. We were headed over to an internet café when I decide it best to make a trip back home first. I spent a few hours sleeping this afternoon and I was SO glad I did. I had plans to meet with an AIDS doctor, but rest took priority today. It is strange how my body is taking the rigorous schedule. There are days when I have eaten little and been fully functioning. And then there are others when I have eaten well but still feel like I am lagging. I think my body clock is trying to reset itself.

On a different note, I also spent time today discussing our roles as part of the GFR team. It felt good to make sure we were all on the same wave length. Things here move so fast and it takes extra effort to maintain good communication and focus. We usually spend an hour or so reviewing pictures from the day and I absolutely love looking through them because there are so many things I have missed because I am focused in on a particular person and lost sight of the throng. When we visited the village yesterday, I was totally unaware of the hundreds of people that had gathered outside to meet with us. When I saw the pictures today, I was totally blown away by the amount of hungry faces present. At one point I was aware of the noise level outside of the home, but I was really zeroed in on the individuals that were sitting across from me during interviews.

That has also brought me to somewhat of a dilemma. I realize that this trip is going to have a totally different spin on it. For instance, it is my job to insure that the families are progressing and moving in a positive direction. In order to do that, interviewing them and finding out what changes have occurred in their lives personally is tremendously important. We are hearing so many wonderful things. For instance, certain families have told us that all of the children were ill (and not going to survive) and that since they received sponsorship they have visited the doctor and are doing very well. Also, most families have said that they were without clothes and some were literally “naked” before GFR. And now they are dressed and can rejoin society. That is what is going on here! It is so sad to know that there are families that are literally robbed of their humanity in this way. I am so happy for all of the wonderful changes. Ndugu, our director, was listening to me talk about the changes in the people sponsored. I was saying that I knew of many people who were receiving the benefits of GFR in the village. For instance, families give away their first born animals to someone needy. Or they hire someone to assist them in building their new homes or things of that nature, like domino’s falling. But Ndugu said it was more like an explosion! It is giving so many people the ability to do more, farm more, bargain more, purchase more, plan more….

But I get concerned when I see whole villages coming out to us seeking assistance because I know God has called us to 220 specific families first. That is the focus. And it is kind of strange to have a wall up inside. I don’t like feeling like I have to be removed from some of the need. The need is what called us to this ministry. But I am trying to remain aware that as I stick to God’s plan, He will see to helping others through us. But the need is so great and I feel impatient. I also feel some guilt for having to maintain this focus. I don’t know, I think I just feel a little more like an NGO President than a missionary. Relief work is just that, relief. But out there somewhere is someone making it run…an administrator. Again, I start to say to God, “Hey, I didn’t sign up for this.” But if you have a heart to bring help, I am finding you also must have a heart to do things you don’t really like to do sometimes.

Anyway, I feel better after the rest I had today. And Ben spent a lot of time training all the staff on computers, cameras, printer, etc. Please pray for our internet situation. It has become a huge obstacle for us. That is so vital for our ability to work with Rwanda. It needs to run smoothly. And I just feel like throwing this stupid phone cord out the window!

We had a chance to talk to all of our kids last night and today too. A total miracle! I just feel like a new person because I heard their voices. They are doing so well. Praise God.

Love

Melody, Ben and Team

6.16.2005

There are fingerprints all over our truck right now, even the back window. The red dust from the soil billows up as our 4 x 4 travels through the remote parts of Byumba. It is actually how the villagers determine when to start their one or two hour walk to meet us. The dirt rises over the mountains as a message of the visiting "Mazungu" (white men). I feel like I am in some epic movie discovering the ways of the ancient. Smoke signals, walking barefoot for miles, farming by hand, no running water or electricity, cooking with firewood, and I will also add the honor of the elder men and women.

It was today that it hit me…we are so distanced from the past. We have shoes, roads, cell phones, hot showers, ovens, machines for everything from cutting the grass to charging batteries and lastly no respect for the elderly. There are so many things I am learning from these people. They seem to be backward. To say it is a cultural shock to be in their presence is an understatement. And I have always realized that in our progress we have lost touch with certain aspects of "community". But truly…do we know what we are missing?? I can’t go into these homes and villages without studying their behaviors and interests in regards to one another. There is never a time that it is inappropriate to hold hands with your friends and relatives. Kisses and hugs flow freely. Even the men walk hand in hand for miles deeply connected in heart and soul. What have we lost?

At approximately 1:00 p.m. after I had already met with over 8 sponsored families for interviews, I had the pleasure of meeting with a precious Muze (Pronouned MUZAY - Elder man: Has gray hair and is generally over 45 years of age, most likely has grandchildren, etc.) His name is Laurent. He is actually 66 years old and you will be amazed to hear that he has 7 children and the youngest is 10. The Muze limped into the house we were borrowing for our meetings with four of his seven "abana". He carefully rested his cane against his leg. He often wiped his eyes with his right hand and would squeeze the bridge of his nose while closing his eyes before he would speak. In his interview, we asked him many questions about his family. How was he doing? What kind of changes have happened to him since he received sponsorship? Honestly, I can remember very few of his direct answers. I was too caught up in his unguarded reactions to our inquiry and presence. He was so deeply moved by the ongoing monthly care that he often had tears running down his face. During various questions he would answer them slowly doing little to regain emotional stability. After looking over the notes that Angela took, I can remember that he still cultivates his own land himself. He grows and harvests beans. He has one goat. He also rents the land that he is farming. His daughter Patrice just had a baby yesterday. But mostly I recall him telling us that the help that has come was "chanay-chanay" (too much, just too much). His dark skin is wrinkled around his neck and forehead and his eyes are yellow from years of hunger. He has few teeth and you can barely hear his cracking voice. But I hardly noticed any of those things when the Muze began to cry. He was more than grateful; it was like his life had started over. He was the real deal. What blew his mind was the fact the Burt and Edna Slater were his family’s sponsor. Burt is one of Ben’s dearest friends. As a gift to Laurent, Burt gave a photo album of some pictures of himself and his family. When Ben told Muze that Grandpa Burt was 80, he leaned over and covered his tear-filled eyes with his weathered hands while saying "It is just too much!."

There were so many amazing stories shared with us today but I was mostly moved by those with various handicaps from blindness, old age, maimed limbs and twisted feet. These people were looked after with care by the family and village that surrounded them. For instance, one blind woman was brought into the house by her oldest child (around 15). He had helped her walk through the forest for over 2 hours in order to meet with us. She was so excited to be there. She even pulled out a letter from her head dress that her sponsor had written with the picture they sent though she herself could not see it. I assumed that the young man would be annoyed with her needs (after all, he is the man of the house with all the responsibilities and can not attend school in order to care for the farm and cooking, etc). However, I found it to be quite the opposite. The boy was thrilled to bring her to us. He anticipated all of her moves by leading her up the stairs and into a chair. His smile and spirit were totally disarming. He was just an unexpected delight.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am seeing a way of life here that I find alluring. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t ever want to be without a nearby Jewel! Convenience (as well as chocolate) is far too important to me! But I love the way these people assume their roles without feeling robbed or disappointed in their life. They are who they are and they make more than just the best of it. They embrace their role of nurturing. It is a piece of my "culture" I feel is lost.

I have also been thoroughly enjoying the reaction of our team to the villagers. Jake spent hours outside with the children today playing soccer. There were so many kids that would just gather around him when he would sit on the ground. One boy sat right next to him and imitated the WAY he sat. Jake just looked at him with that "I know what you are doing" look and the little boy just turned his head as if he didn’t understand. But the whole group laughed. Jake has a fantastic way of communicating without words. Kids flock to him. Angela has spent a good amount of time hugging everyone she meets. She says smells don’t bother her anymore. And believe me, she has hugged enough people to get her fill! Her smile and warmth transcends all cultural bounds and she has a gift for loving everyone without judgment. It is inspirational. Kim has been the most famous of us all. People of all ages, but especially children, find her demeanor very safe (and usually they are very frightened of the first white person they meet!). She takes their pictures and then shows them the results on her digital camera. They usually scream in some way with their hands on their mouths. How did they get in that machine? They line up to see her and are full of smiles and laughter as they watch the others take a turn. And then there is Ben. Ben spends his time flitting from activity to activity trying to take in every possible detail. Even though Kim spends time doing the documenting part of the trip, Ben makes sure that everyone including Kim is photographed. He cares for all of us by insuring our safety and comfort. But mostly, he just likes to play DJ on the long trips into the villages.

None of my children had been in direct contact with me since Sunday and I must say that I was finding that difficult. The difficulties of the internet, our cell phone being out of range and the various changes in their schedules keep getting in the way. However, just as we had exhausted our internet attempts to reach the kids, we prayed, and as Ben picked up our cell phone, it rang...IT WAS AMBER, our oldest daughter!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PRAISE GOD!

Tomorrow we may be visiting the AIDS doctor from Chicago. I hope to find some help for the families directly affected. I hope I sleep better tonight. Last night I had nightmares about men with machete’s standing outside our window! Yikes.

Love and blessings,

Melody and Ben

6.15.2005

I feel drained and tired. Every sound is reverberating through my brain with uncommon clarity and volume. It is nearly 7:00 p.m. and I hear a cow mooing, cars beeping, children crying, someone banging on a piece of cement and a woman speaking in a language I am only slightly familiar with. I am on overload and this is my opportunity to try to make sense of the things I have seen today. But all I keep thinking about is the genocide. Every sound I hear I am relating to the war. The child crying outside my window now in my imagination has become the one about to be slaughtered with a machete. The cow mooing represents the animals that were left in the barns because their owners laid dead in the yard. And the banging on cement, well, I can not help but imagine the sound of all the people being cut down with dull farming instruments or being thrown into a latrine alive to then be stoned to death. It is a bloody nightmare. And one that every Rwandan person hears in their terror filled sleep. The sound of the woman I hear haunts me. The language cries out and echoes in my spirit, “This is what I know…they will find me and kill me.”

We visited the genocide memorial today. It has been “prettied up” quite well. I can’t even say that I sensed evil in the place. Nearly all of the skulls that I had an opportunity to see and record last year have been replaced with pictures, and television clips, etc. Maybe it was too harsh before. Who knows? I had trouble breathing the whole way through. I remember feeling that way last year. The memorial contained a very museum-like quality. Very western. But I will never be able to shut out the images and story of little Ariene. There is an entire area designated for the children lost. Ariene’s 3 x 4 foot picture hangs on a dusty yellow wall in the upstairs portion of the memorial. Ariene wears a white frilly dress and her eyes sparkle regardless of a rather casual photo. She has eyes that are so large you could get lost in them and beautiful curled lashes that frame them and draw you in. Her lips form a slight pucker that looks soft and warm as if she has just kissed her daddy. And her hair is shiney and black with loose curls framing her round healthy face. She is the perfect Rwandan child. Any mother would be proud to show that picture. On the bottom of her photo is a list of her favorite food, “cake” and her best friend which was “her daddy”. Then how she was killed in May of 1994: “Stabbed in the eyes and head”.

Those words introduced a story in the Chicago Tribune a few weeks ago except then I had not had the opportunity to see her picture. She was a nameless face. How could this happen? What would possess someone to take the life away from those gorgeous eyes? I know I can not wrap my brain around it. But I am still asking the question.

Two thirds of the population of 8 million people were displaced in Rwanda. Not to mention one million men, women, and children killed. Also 300,000 orphans left and 85,000 children were left to be heads of households. And they say 500,000 women were raped which has now brought about an AIDS epidemic in this country. I want to just be finished today. It is too much. I feel overwhelmed with the difficulties these people face. How can one person make a difference in this mess? And this is a MESS. No matter how hard the country tries to recover, my best friends here can barely speak of their pain. It has only been 10 years now. Ten years ago, I was pregnant with Michael and I can remember it like it was yesterday. His nine years have flown by. I can picture and remember the feel of his curly brown hair that I let grow two inches below his ears. I can even remember the house we lived in and all its details; from the blue carpet to the wallpapered hallway. I can remember the smell of the pancakes I cooked in an electric skillet. If I can recall the details of those rather insignificant things, how much more clearly would something so traumatic be etched into the minds of our families here? In Rwanda, the people have come up with a saying in regards to the genocide. They say, “It is over, is has been done. I must live now.”

This is depressing. I want to shake myself out of this troubled place. After all, it is done. People’s lives are going on. But part of me knows that my friends have seen things that no human being can endure without being traumatized. And now I feel angry that they have to constantly be reminded of the trauma by facing the reality of AIDS and dying a slow death. We found out this week that three of our families are infected for certain. Others are likely to be also and we need to deal with this. But I honestly feel just plain stunned again by this whole thing. I can’t think straight. I can’t plan or prepare. When I got home I began organizing things. Just putting things away and trying to do something mindless, but I am having a hard time shaking this feeling.

I want to sleep. I think I will. Angela had a hard time today too. She was shaken as I was. The men were also because we had Cyprien and Vianney with us who personally experienced murder and they were so sad. Cyprien cried and Vianney just put his hands on his shaking head. It brings up so many terrorizing memories for them. Of course, we told them that they could stay in the car, but they wanted to come with us.

The last thing I have to say is that while every one of those mass graves are full, I know that on a mountainside 60 miles from here there are almost two thousand people who have a reason to believe things can be better for them. Life is going on and I have to keep my focus on the truth that God has me here for His purpose and that I can make a difference even though I feel very weighed down.

It is with a heavy heart and a prayer that I close with.

God, give me the strength to trust You. Give me supernatural power to endure. I pray for the nation and people of Rwanda that you would heal them. That word seems so petty for the job that has to be done here. Bring Your will to fruition and help me to rest in You. Help Rwanda to find peace and freedom from their troubles. It is in Your name I pray. Amen.

6.14.2005

I don’t feel capable of expressing in words all of the emotions of one day. I feel like America is so far away and I am living a dream.

We woke up early and drove back to Bunyana. In order to get to Bunyana, we had to; drive 1 hour to O’Hare, fly 7 ½ hours to Brussels, fly another 8 ½ hours to Kigali, drive ½ hour to our house, drive another 3 hours to Byumba Province, and finally walk 1 hour over a mountain and into Bunyana Village. With all that said, I feel like my experiences here are lost in translation. Being where we were today was absolutely the most surreal feeling. I can’t even say I know the woman in the pictures I am sending. Who is that bending over and mixing water, grass and mud to make house bricks?? Who is that white person that kissed the hands of the diseased and crippled? I can’t possibly be the one that embraced men and women that smelled so strongly of sweat and hard labor. But it looks like me! It is obvious that God has strengthened all of us tremendously. He truly has given us all a heart of love for these people.

Today we helped in building a home for a widow with eight children. Her name is Constance. She is quiet and shy. She also broke her wrist severely almost a year ago. A goat she received from a widow’s organization pulled away from her and the wrist gave. She did not travel to the doctor or clinic because she had no means to do it. So, she suffered the break without medication, a cast or any medical care. She also was totally distressed because her employment was picking up rocks and transporting them on her head in order to support her family. She could no longer provide. And so, the biggest miracle occurred. She received a "sponsorship" from America. It was an amazing moment of breakthrough for her. When all appeared lost, God rescued her. And He used Ben and I to do it. We are her sponsors. She is the first sponsored family for GFR.

Although I would like to say that all is well with Constance and her family, that would be far from the truth. I am totally unsatisfied with a mud home (which is being constructed), only 2 goats, one set of good clothes, a pot, a table and two chairs, medical insurance, a small bee hive business, a latrine, etc. These items are absolutely unacceptable to a very spoiled American. She doesn’t even eat chocolate! I later despondently looked over to Ben and said, "the sponsorship isn’t enough".

OK, is this the moment I will say GFR is not working?? Well, as our team began walking over the mountain to other nearby families…I began reconsidering my initial opinion. It is difficult for you to know this without seeing it, but truly she is doing very well. Her children go to school, they eat and can afford to plan for a future. They have what they need to survive. And they have so much more than others in the area. But when I compare her life to mine, she is still impoverished. Again, I need to rebalance my thoughts as a westerner. This plan is not about making them into American’s. It is about giving them an opportunity to provide for themselves by putting our hands beneath their feet as they scale the wall of destitution and love them through it all. Today I felt love for Constance. I loved her enough to put aside my western ideas of need and meet her where she was, in the mud.

We met with several other families as we made it back to the truck. We met with wonderful happy families who were so grateful to God for our organization. It has given them hope for a new life. We laughed and played. Jake raced children up a hill (he won), Angela sifted beans and scooped mud (never loosing a smile), Kim snapped precious pictures over an over until her finger was sore (she is so famous with the kids), Ben smacked the bean pile until he pulled a hamstring muscle (he is still rubbing it tonight), and I sit and reflect on a day that I never expected Melody Atkinson Pahlow could endure (and actually love it).

Never give up. Believe in what God can do through you. He has empowered us beyond our wildest expectations and we can’t stop praising Him for it. This has been figuratively and literally a mountain top experience. God loves us TOO MUCH ("Chanay" as they say here in Rwanda).

OK, Ben here interupting Melody's diary...Today was one of the most incredible days of my ENTIRE life. Getting your hands dirty for Jesus...watching a community come together to help us help this beautiful widow, looking into eyes that had no hope, and seeing hope for the first time, seeing real joy, not fake plastic joy...Unbelievable! I had one moment that is hard for me to describe even the day after...We had to clear a few bananna trees to get to good dirt to make the mud bricks, and we used a Machette. The moment I placed it in my hand, I trembled. As many of you know, this was the main tool used to take the lives of over 1 million precious people, and I had quick flash of terrible images of the tradegy rush through my mind, pushing tears out my eyes, and splashing them on the mud we were mixing. God Please protect this country from ever having such devestation again.

With all our love and kisses,

Ben, Melody and TEAM

6.13.2005

It is 10:00 p.m. and I am sitting in my room underneath a mosquito net… I hear some kind of cricket chirping away outside my iron barred windows. The bars are in a sort of diamond shape. It is quiet, except for the sound of the others talking and laughing over the slide show of pictures from today and yesterday. I have asked for a few minutes to reflect over a day filled with wonderful people and activities. My fingers are racing over the keyboard trying to keep up with my thoughts.

First I must describe how I felt in the city today when two widows stood at the side of our truck and spoke in raspy voices begging and pointing to their stomachs. They had babies also. They are considered street people who are barely surviving except for the generosity of others. I can not tell you what they looked like. I could not even look into their eyes. But I can tell you that the one baby reached out his hand to touch the mirror of our car and I was stunned. I was completely spellbound as I watched his hand reach out weakly to flatten his fingers against the reflection. It was so terrifying. I have never seen a baby so thin. The fingers were like those of a newborn, tiny and frail and yet I know the child was over three years old. He spread his fingers out and I saw nothing but bone and a trace amount of skin. It looked white to me, even though he was clearly Rwandan. The most frustrating feeling is knowing that if you reach out to them with money, you risk being arrested. Rwanda is taking their clean city policy very seriously and it is dangerous to promote begging by succumbing to it. At the same time, it is also so difficult to give something and know that there will be a fight over it and you put the very person you are trying to help in danger. I know this first hand because yesterday one of us gave a bottle of water to a little girl and she had it ripped from her fingers. Though she punched, kicked and screamed (AGAIN… this is for WATER) the boy tore away. My heart breaks knowing that the baby and his mother are starving tonight. But I also feel guilty for not taking the chance to help.

What is worse? Believing I can’t do much and sit at home? Or come here and see it first hand and NOT help in every situation that arises? It is a dilemma.

Today was spent unlike any other day I have spent in Rwanda. We had staff meetings all day. These people are just astounding. You would not believe what passion they have for their people. They have lost jobs, lost position and status and faced persecution to do what they do. They have educated the families on building, farming, AIDS, business and Christ. Just today I looked at 50 pictures of the building projects we are doing (one we are completing tomorrow), other animals which were delivered to the families, an association of sponsored families who have come together to start a seed bed project to produce better quality seeds and more nutritional gardens, etc.

But I must tell you of the one moment I will never forget for as long as I live. After we sang praise songs and Jake led a devotion tonight, we all sat down and watched the DVD that we are showing in America to promote GFR. We had several visitors (a house helper, the wife of one staff member and a computer technician…thus the timely email!). It is one thing to show that DVD to American’s because it is a movie to us. But it is quite another to watch it with people who have seen the piled up bodies of their friends and family. Let me tell you what happened. We ran through the four minute DVD, and when it was finished, no one spoke a word. It was completely silent. Not one of the 7 Rwandans pulled their eyes off of the television. They didn’t even appear to blink. Ben finally asked, “What do you think?” The only response came from Ndugu, our director. “Can we watch it again?” His voice sounded choked and scratchy. No one moved for another four minutes as the DVD played on. All of the American’s were crying. Only one Rwandan had tears fall (that I could see). But again, the result was silence. Stunned by the feelings rushing through them, one visitor spoke up and said, “I feel hope. I feel like I know we can go on now.”

Go ON?? These people accelerate after devastation. Two of our staff have completely lost their families. No mother, father, brothers, sisters or even wife survived. And yet, who has gone out and started over not just building their own family but building hope into those around them?? While we toil at home with pushing papers and speaking pretty or not so pretty speeches, these men are putting their lives on the line for the widows and orphans around them WHEN THEY THEMSELVES ARE JUST THAT!

I am profoundly inspired. I am totally weak with admiration. I shared my heart and told them that I don’t know how they go on let alone thrive in such circumstances. Oh how I wish you knew the quality of these people. They are infinitely more perseverant than I will ever hope to be. True religion is this, to care for the orphans and widows… and how much more pure than you yourself being one??

We had a wonderful day. It was full of revelation, praise and respect for each other. I hope that I will always know these people as I do now.

On another note, we visited Des Milles Collines today (the hotel pictured in HOTEL RWANDA). It was quite unplanned! SN Brussels, the airline which had lost our luggage has an office in the hotel. What a powerful place to be. It in itself is a monument to the courage of Rwandans. But, besides that, SN Brussels has FOUND our luggage and all eight bags should be delivered tomorrow on the next flight into Kigali. Pray that it finds its way safely!

We love you and miss you all!

PS Ben and Jake met with each of our staff and had tremendous Spirit filled meetings! We played some volley ball bumping with the whole team.

Ben and Melody

6.12.2005

Hi everyone. It is a miracle that I am writing to you right now. If you knew the trouble we are going through… man!

We have had an amazing amount of “problems”. Some of them include, but are not limited to:

• O’Hare didn’t show our reservation to Kigali and it took an hour and a half to check in.
• Kim Kopeski (flying in from DC) could not get a boarding pass printed out at O’Hare because of a computer glitch.
• Our flight ran 1 ½ hours late into Belgium and our connecting flight was boarding when we landed in Brussels!
• In Kigali, we waited for our luggage…. THIS IS THE KICKER! And guess what? Not a single piece came! That is right… 8 bags were loaded at O’Hare and not one came through.
• We had to go into town at midnight last night and shop for some clothing to wear to church. And then the electricity went out!!! So we had to shop by candlelight.

I am literally writing to you in an internet café (because our internet is not working at the house). And of course, I am borrowing clothes from the smarter person who packed a few things in a carry on (ANGELA)! So! Needless to say, I am limited in what I can share with you because I am limited.

We had a great day today. We visited a church in Nybasiga. It was a great first time experience for our team and there were over 10 sponsored families in attendance. We were able to interview many of them. They are doing so well and they are so grateful for the help provided from the U.S. donors.

The Rwandan people are so welcoming. “Caribu” is the word for welcome and I have heard it more than 10 times just today. The people are so beautiful and they try so hard to please you. They give their very best.

Today we were at the church and asked to have an opportunity to meet with the families. The pastor opened his home to us and we used it as the meeting place. But before we got there, the family had prepared an entire meal for us. They had a brown hard boiled egg, two bread buns (that I saw had blue spots of mold) and two bananas each. They also served tea. Before we came in they poured warm water on our hands so that we could wash. It was a kindness that few American’s have experienced first hand. I am glad that our team had the opportunity.

The highlight of my day was listening to the stories of our families. Where there was starvation, there is fullness; where there was torn rags, there are colorful church clothes; and where there was discouragement, there is hope.

It is a huge difference from last year. So many smiles and hugs. There was one old woman dressed in red and white who stopped us as we walked into the crowded church. She stepped up in front of me, despite the whole pomp and circumstance and pulled me close with tears in her eyes. “Marakuze” which is thank you. “Thank you from Rwanda and thanks be to God for bringing you to us”.

We had a chance to speak at church. Ben, Jake and I. It was short but sweet. However, Ndugu our director had a chance to share the gospel and 7 people accepted Jesus as Savior. God has been so good to let us enjoy this despite our oppositions!

And with that I close. The adventure has just begun. Pray for us. We are hoping that all of the bags are found in Brussels perhaps. We have so many things for the families that are now lost. I cried deeply over that when we arrived. But I know that God is in control. Pray with us because many of you know how important it is to bring the life saving medicines, technology, family gifts, etc. that are now somewhere in the world other than here!

Much love,

Melody and Ben

2.3.05

Thursday, February 3, 2005

Sometimes, when no one is looking, refugee’s can do crazy things. Like squatting in a bathtub scrubbing your clothes on make-believe rocks, wearing a winter hat inside but not wearing socks, trying to wash dishes without soap, or even lying on the floor clutching at your heart only to be suffering from indigestion. These things seemed funny to me until this evening when I watched Ben download the pictures he took from our last day with them. Alas, I laughed as he captured footage of Father teaching Mama how to ride a bike. You can’t believe this; she was not wearing shoes and there is snow still on the ground, and she was wearing her new robe like a coat! Oh what our neighbors must think! Aren’t we supervising at all?? I think the best part is that Ben saw these errors in judgment, took the pictures and went right back into the house without saying a word.

Honestly, I spent little time with the family today. I was near a break down this morning. I felt incapable of doing anything. I slept for a good part of the morning and then briefly discussed the plan for leaving tomorrow. The family has packed most of their items and it has been stuffed into our garage for departure. Ben took the kids to the gym again today and they played with abandon. He also supervised dinner and we had a guest, John O’Keefe (17 yrs. old) who is a student from Bartlett High school. At the bottom of the diary I have included a thank you letter which he sent to us this evening. John is doing research for a report on educational differences in international settings. I am extremely impressed with this young man. He has courage and is unafraid of looking at reality abroad, something I struggle with. John interviewed Majeni (19 yr old) and asked him many questions about his experience. I don’t know any other person his age that has taken it upon himself personally to discover other cultures with such reckless abandon. I am honored to know him and we all expect huge things for him.

As for me, it was truly a day I would like to get past. Some of you know a little about my situation personally, and I will share that I was suffering greatly from flashbacks this afternoon. It took a great deal of prayer and focus to overcome. Ben was unbelievably helpful in praying for me and encouraging me that things would be alright. I am considerably better this evening, and now I only have the false-guilt of being “unavailable” to overcome. I am who I am. The things I have been through in my life have helped me become who I am, and who can argue that I would want to be anyone else? I love what CCC, Ben, me and my family has accomplished this week. I have no regrets and we have done what we set out to do. We have welcomed another family to America and met incredible people like Colleen, Kevin, Margaret, Rose, Sara, Julie, John, and countless others along the way.

Here is to the start of a new journey!

2.2.05

Wednesday, February 2, 2005

Wow, I am on my last leg. I lashed out at Ben sitting at the dinner table. We had an argument about the kids “eating healthy”. They had pizza tonight. Hey, they are lucky they ate at all! Of course, you can see how this argument developed! We both have relevant points. Neither of which I care to explore in depth at this time. I feel irritable and on edge. The little things; laundry piles, garbage heaps, rice bags, shoe mountain, unopened mail, finger printed mirrors, and the oily stove… I can’t look at another mess. All my furniture that was moved is shoved in various rooms. All of this didn’t really seem to be a big deal until 1 hour ago. It was as if I saw all of it at one time. Ugh.

I think tomorrow I will be taking all of our sheets, blankets and laundry to a laundry mat after I drop off my kids at school. I honestly can’t imagine spending 3 days to do it. And I want to start piling things for their move in the garage so it will be out of the way. Then I will have to make sure that all of the refugee’s clothes and blankets will be cleaned before they go. Of course, I will try to plan a trip to the gym so the kids can play tomorrow. OH! And maybe, if Lois Lane needs saving, I can slip into my red cape and do that too!

Yikes! Slow down…breathe…be in the moment…
Where the heck is my yoga mat!?
Well, let’s start with today. What great things happened today?
Oh yeah, I didn’t get run over by a truck!
No…be serious.
Ok, I only feel like I was run over by a truck

End of Inner Voice Monologue.

Majeni (19 yr old boy) asked me when their new house would be ready and I told him around Feb15th or so. He then said, “How far is it from here?” I thought he was trying to just get information for his Father and I said very specifically, “About 45 minutes away”. “Oh.” He replied quietly. I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his face. “Why Majeni”? I inquired with a sly smile. He caught my drift and said longingly, “Because I want to visit you often.” He appeared to me as a little lost boy. What an accomplishment, that he would feel safe here and desire to be with us. I wrapped my arms around him (and his puffy coat which he wears incessantly), and squeezed him while saying, “Oh Majeni, I am glad you will miss us like we will miss you.” Mama laughed while Majeni dropped his head in embarrassment. Fartuna (17 yr old girl) has been slouching her shoulders each time I talk to her about starting school next week. They are all scared and uncertain.

How I wish I could bare this burden for them somehow. Isn’t that the way it is with the people we care about? It makes me think about all of the times something tough was around the corner for me and God saw it coming. Sometimes it feels as though He leaves us and we can’t see His hand in it. We go through those times and our faith may falter. We cry out “Why”? We wonder what His purpose is for the suffering we are enduring. Or even more simply, how He can be the God of love when we are in so much pain? It seems an oxymoron. But, how many times have I found the greatest peace and experienced true revelations about God when I have turned towards Him in my times of crisis? And this is what I must remember for my new friends. Perhaps this time of upheaval and trial will bring them closer to the God that I love and cling to so dearly. Maybe something I did or said will come to mind. Oh God, I pray that you would draw this family to you! Help me be open to sharing your love during these last two days! Help me not loose sight of what is really important.

I again want to thank CCC and Community 4:12 for all of the help and support you have given our family during this time. We honestly wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. (Thank you Rose!) I am so glad this diary has been a blessing too. I had no idea what amazing inspiration has come out of them. Praise God that I was able to spend the energy and time to keep you all connected to this amazing adventure. Friday night will be the last diary for this adventure. (Please feel free to check out my diary from our February 2004 trip to Rwanda, Africa at www.globalfamilyrescue.org)

And by the way, the lack of pictures today is my fault. Ben is the family “picture taker”, I am the “picker upper”! He was teaching computers to kids all day.

2.1.05

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

One of my dogs came up to me an hour ago and licked my hand. Normally, that slimy expression of love repulses me. I know where that tongue has been! Yuck. But today, it was welcomed. I felt a sense of affection and realized that I was being picked out of 21 others to be cherished. My heart melted and two tears slipped down my cheek. How ironic that the things that used to irritate me now have this affect. Who knows, he probably was telling me he had to pee or something.

Anyway, it made me think about the needs that I have to be loved and touched. And may I dare say held. As I think every mother knows, the time comes when all of the touching and cuddling you have given becomes a duty that can drain you immensely. But if a mother stopped giving it, maybe the child would feel as I do today. Lonely? Maybe a little neglected? There is something so vital about receiving affection. Too little attention is paid to it. Even I, a grown up 35-year-old mom feels the need for it. I think a part of me has reverted back to age 6 or so. Everything feels so out of control and I need a hug to make me feel it will be all right. So what is going on that is bringing about this emotion in me?

They are leaving soon. The time is getting closer when I will say goodbye to my new friends. I feel that I am focusing so intently on the day-to-day activities and necessities that the long-term needs have gone somewhat untended to. I make sure that they are fed and dressed (of course the parents to the lions share of this – I just supervise). I make sure that they have clean blankets and towels. I make sure they take showers and use deodorant. And they have learned so quickly. I think perhaps that I am facing the “empty-nest” syndrome! What will happen to them when they leave? Of course, World Relief has assured me that they will be well cared for.

But I am also grieving. When I tried to lay down for a nap, I reflected on the thought that I would love to do this for our families in Global Family Rescue. I have hosted two Bantu families and cared for them. How I would love the opportunity to love on our 220 families the way I have loved on the Somali’s in my own home. I wish they all could have the opportunity that America can offer.

My greatest desire is that any hungry or broken person that crosses my path will find some sustenance. I don’t have the ability to do that, but I know God does. Maybe I will only be able to offer one meal or one kind word. But God is able to do exceedingly more than I can ask or think through me. I want to be full of His love until it is spilling out onto others who are thirsty or hungry.

But first, this means I must be fed myself. I told Ben I was feeling the need for some attention, he hugged me and I can say I felt better. But I need more than that. I need a hug from God. I need His arms to wrap around me, and I want to feel Him close. Today, I caught a glimpse of that when I held Medina (2 year old). She was crying and I picked her up. She wrapped her little arms around me, put her head on my shoulder and fell fast asleep. That is what I want. I want to fall asleep, because even now I am crying for the needs of this world and I want my daddy to tell me everything is going to be all right. I don’t understand why there is so much suffering sometimes and the task seems so daunting for me alone. But when I am in His arms, I know I am not alone and He cares. We are in this together. My arms are his arms and there is no difference between Him and me.

1.31.05

Monday, January 31, 2005

I feel scared. What if having these people in my house somehow jeopardizes my kids? It seems like an absurd thought to have now. But really, I don’t know anything about these people and I feel a little leery about them. I can’t believe I am even saying this. I think the episode I watched of “24” tonight is getting to my head. I mean, they are Islamic. I am a Christian. Our worlds are so different. And I have to say I feel a bit confused about the whole Muslim religion. I guess in a lot of ways they are like Christians. Many people who say they are Christian’s really don’t “practice” their faith. It is more like a tradition. I think it is similar with this family. They don’t wear traditional Muslim clothes (except Mama). They certainly have never prayed at all or even asked which way is East. Maybe I am reflecting on the tension in our country over the religious differences we have.

And yet, here I am taking this risk. I am risking my family for an “alien” (Biblical word for “foreigner”). Of all the people who would be the least likely to take this chance, it would be me. As a child, our house was a haven too. Convicts, witches, and the sexually promiscuous. I believe they would all say they were “recovering”. I can’t say that was completely true in every circumstance. Even being a blue eyed, Youth Pastor’s daughter in an inner city church was hazardous.

Something in me just went cold. My fingers don’t want to type and my heart has slowed. My past lingers in the deepest recesses of my mind, but it regularly reveals itself when fear comes to call. My biggest fear is that something will happen to my children. God forbid. Maybe this all seems highly paranoid. Actually, I fight the demons of false-reality each and every day. The “What if” question I began with says my emotions want to control my reality.

If I back track and close my eyes, I hear the laughter and giggles of children echoing off the gym walls at Highpoint Center. We played there today for an hour and a half. We rolled, spinned, jumped, cart-wheeled, kicked, and threw balls. Finally, we danced. The older children are teaching me traditional dances.

These are not my enemies. No. These are children who are learning to love a Christian. I am a Christian learning to love Muslims. In my mind, I see their eyes closing, mouths agape, rolling on the floor, and laughing hysterically at my ridiculous efforts to do the “marriage dance”. We are students of love and acceptance. We are learning the language of trust when it seems illogical. I can say it is illogical for me personally. But from their viewpoint, wouldn’t it be the same? What experience do they have of a white American family? Who am I to think that I am the only one needing to overcome these fears and paranoia? They are living in a land that used to enslave their kind. How much do they know of that? And the exposure that they have had to America, hasn’t it been about gangsters and criminals? I guess I had never thought about it from their perspective. They could be thinking we are about to steal their belongings or whatever. I don’t know their thoughts, but at least it is worth me considering.

I want to validate my own feelings of protectiveness of my family. That is a God-given feeling. However, I also need to look at this rationally. There has not been any situation in which I have felt threatened by these people. They have been kind and respectful of us, and we to them. The only one I don’t know very much about is Father because he is quiet and not conspicuous. Maybe it is our cultural differences that cause him to be so careful and discerning. However, my children are never alone with the family. This is my own personal boundary that we have enforced.

And so, the emotional energy that I have spent considering the risk is worthwhile but also I know our family has responded to the calling that God gave us all the while knowing He is Emmanuel, God with us. He will never leave us nor forsake us. So as Christians, we go deep to embrace those that we perceive as different either religiously or otherwise. I must look deeper than skin to see what God sees. I must look deeper than a religious category. What does God see when he looks at Abdullahi, Adharo, Majeni, Fartuna, Amina, Fatuma, Halima, Mohammed, Ali, Medina, or Mohammud? Maybe I am crossing the road that the Samaritan crossed to care for Jew that was robbed and beaten. I have considered a more traditional course and if I had chosen to stay on my side of the road, I would never have been able to smile tonight thinking of the new American’s sleeping in my home tonight – Muslim or not.