lights, lights, and more lights

This past Saturday brought me an entirely new experience: Tacky Lights Tour. I'm sure that this happens in North Carolina and probably New Orleans, but I have never in my whole life seen anything like these houses. The pictures in this post are from only the first house where we went. Let me set out the scene of this first house for you.

There are four of us in the car. We are coming from a fun Christmas concert that one of our fellow interns was in at her home church, so we are already feeling the holiday cheer. We are wary that this house we are headed towards could be a let down in the face of our incredibly high expectations. However, as we turn down the road on which this house resides, there are lit candy canes lining the whole road. We slowly creep forward approaching the cul-de-sac, but we still can't see anything more than ordinary lights on ordinary houses. Then, all of a sudden, We get to the final turn into the cul-de-sac, and there it is. It is the most glorious display of lights I have ever seen! More lights than I could ever imagine being on one house/lawn. I don't even have words to describe how many lights were happening on this house.

I think the best part of this is that, in the moment we turned the last corner and saw the full picture of what was happening at that house, the four of us were of one accord. We all erupted in shouts of awe and joy, busted open the car doors, and ran over to the house to admire the scene (leaving the car with the doors fully open in the middle of the cul-de-sac). It's rare that you are in a group of people who are so fully of one mind.

Not only did we run around the yard and look at all it had to offer, but we actual struck up a conversation with the house owner. Chuck has multiple sheds in his back yard as well as storage space at his daughter's house to keep all the things throughout the year. It takes him five to six weeks to set it all up, and he spends at least two or three days on the electrical side of things to make sure that it can all be powered without blowing a fuse or anything negative happening. He had to buy a second breaker box. His electric bill goes up by something like $450 dollars in the months before Christmas. He told us stories of being Santa for the kids who come to see the house and about how he got started with all this. Chuck is a really lovely man.

After saying our goodbyes to Chuck and his lovely abode, we drove around Mechanicsville and the West End taking in more houses with more lights. There was even a set-up where the parents and kid lived next to each other and did both houses up, which was absurd and wonderful and way too much to take in with your eyes. There was one house that you had to stay in your car and drive through their super long driveway and out the other side.

This night of festivities and merriment ended with River City Diner and the consumption of deliciously greasy breakfast food. Yum.

Thanksgiving CHATing

Apparently, CHAT has been doing Thanksgiving dinners since its beginning. I think it probably looked a little different when there were fewer kids, but CHAT has grown quite a bit in the past 12 years, and so has Thanksgiving Dinner.

In order for this to make the most sense, I'll have to explain a bit. I work at a tutoring site called The 20 Spot, aptly named for its being on 20th Street. It used to house kids from kindergarten through 8th grade, but has long since been split into two separate sites, so the 20 Spot Little Tykes (kindergarten to 2nd grade) now meet across the street at a local church. Many of our students at these two sites are siblings, so we have a number of families in common between the two of us.

Because family is so central to Thanksgiving, we combined our two sites and met at the church for one massive celebration. That meant that we were cooking and preparing for something like 80 or 85 people. See, it was all the staff/interns from the two sites, the students, the families that came, the tutors, and a host of volunteers who helped us put on this grand event.

All the 20 Spot staff and interns worked together all day making mac and cheese, collards, broccoli casserole, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, chocolate mousse and apple crumble. So many tutors and parents brought dishes to share as well. One family brought fried chicken, which was probably the most delicious thing on the table. I'm seriously considering asking the mom to teach me how that's done, because I could do with some more of that in my life.

It was incredible to see the people from all over Richmond coming together in Church Hill to give thanks and share a meal together. It wasn't perfect. It's wasn't the end point or a victory celebration for reconciliation. We aren't finished. But, when I think about what else was happening last night in this country, it's a small joy and peace in my heart to know that I was with my kids and their folks and my neighbors getting full of turkey and stuffing, saying grace and acknowledging the Lord's provision. It didn't fix anything, but it mattered.

I'm Martha

When I was a little nugget, I used to go over to my grandparents' house and get into all manner of shenanigans. I remember playing ping-pong and inevitably losing several balls in the process, building forts out of futon cushions, convincing my grandmother that my tummy hurt and the only solution was Jello. I was really, really cute when I was little, which is probably why I was able to get away with the Jello bit. One of my most vivid memories of those times involved modeling the various pretties in her jewelry box while she read me stories out of the children's Bible she had. For some reason, my favorite story was Mary and Martha. I know, it's not a classic child favorite like Adam & Eve or Noah or even Jonah for that matter, but it was the one I always wanted to hear.

It's super short, too, so I'll put it right here:

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her."

Luke 10: 38-42

This is so funny to me now because it's always been clear to me that Mary is the one who is doing what's right in the story. Jesus says that she has chosen something that can't be taken away from her. She chose Him. Martha on the other hand has gotten so caught up in the work that needs to be done that she is missing time with the Lord and time with others. What's more than that, Martha has grown resentful of Mary not doing anything to help her, so not only did she miss time with company, but she's also upset with her family.

I really want Jesus to reprimand Mary, though. I want Him to tell her to stop sitting around and get to work. I want Him to say that if we all just sat around forever then nothing would ever get done. The reason I want these things is because I am Martha. I probably was as a kid, too, which may be why I liked hearing a story I related to so often.

The story of Mary and Martha came up in a study I'm doing with my discipler, and it was a fresh reminder of my Martha-ness. There are a lot of beautiful things about living and working in community with people. but sometimes it really sucks. All the after-school interns work in the basement together. Just the one, open room. Sometimes, even our older students come down here to hang out and talk. I wanna tell people that that makes for an environment that is not conducive for work in any way. One the one hand, I'm right: you can't get work done and be in constant conversation with others. On the other hand, I'm missing part of what makes this job not-so-job like. We have students who want to come and be with us. I get to work alongside six of my closest friends. We get to be a community in here, and I don't want to miss that.

bees

Me at the tender age of 14 alongside Mr. Marty.

The Spring Break of my Sophmore year of high school was spent in Shepherdsville, Kentucky with my very favorite science teacher from middle school and her husband. They'd moved back to her family's farm and begun many farm related activities, including bee keeping.  I loved everything about my week at the farm from getting to sit in the tractor to seeing that a post-holer is a real yard tool (shout out to Firefly- "It's a post-holer. It makes holes for posts.").

Nothing about that week stands out to me as much as getting to don a bee suit and follow Mr. Marty down to the hives. I got to smoke the hives and look inside at the now somewhat sluggish bees try to get as much honey as possible outside their presumed burning hive. I'd seen a trailer for a made-for-TV movie about killer bees, so I was ready to be kinda scared as they flew around me and landed on my arms, but I wasn't. The suit keeps you fully protected, so there is no fear, only an inside look at their home and busy life.

One of the things I do in the course of my week is help to lead the Outdoor Adventuring class on Wednesday afternoons with a partner organization. We've been spending time paddling canoes around a lagoon out in the country and learning about whatever bugs, frogs, and plants we see. This past Wednesday was spent doing one of my most favorite and the most magical activities: bee keeping.

Me at the tender age of 23 alongside my students and our teachers.

Mr.  Joe has been bee keeping for ages and is impervious to anything negative from bees, so he doesn't even wear a full suit. Mr Tom is the one in the full suit like the rest of us. These are his bees. Some of the students had no desire to be anywhere near the bees, so they went off to paddle and frolic with another staff. Two brave, young souls and I decided to meet the bees.  We needed to give the bees a sugar/protein cake to help them get through the winter. Mr. Tom told us that we would be absolutely fine as long as we didn't do anything to make the bees angry, like sudden, quick movements or killing them. I was a little worried about one of my students because she only makes movements suddenly and she only makes loud sounds.

Once the lid came off the hive, she was captured in the beauty and intricacy of the hive. It was night and day. She was entranced. Nothing broke her focus in the fifteen minutes we were with the bees. Isn't that incredible? God knew what he was doing when he created such tiny creatures that have this incredible ability to capture our minds and attention.

Bees are so cool.

a beautiful day in the neighborhood

I can't believe it's been a month since I last wrote. Usually, Mom gets on me after a week. I've had a lot of trouble sorting through my thoughts, so maybe that's why I've been reluctant to write. I'm not sure what would come out if I tried or if it would make any sense. I'll get to work on some of those posts, but, for now, here's a snippet about what my early mornings look like.

In theory, Church Hill is laid out on a grid. The truth is, there are several spots on the map where you fall into an abyss from which there is no return. Ok, that was too dramatic, but there are places where the grid falls apart. Three summers ago, I got around this navigational conundrum by running. Unlike driving around, you can't get too far on foot, so you can't get that lost, and you are better able to take in where you are and how you got there.

Before even moving to Church Hill, I signed up for the Richmond Half Marathon in November. There are a number of reasons why I did this: 1. I like running half marathons, 2. I wanted to have something to hold me accountable to exercising and staying in shape, 3. I knew that I would need the personal space and time that running affords me.

One last reason why I did this was because I love running in Church Hill. I recognize corners and streets so that, when I'm driving a CHAT mini-bus full of kids, I know exactly where I am and where I'm going. I've learned that 35th simply ends right before it meets Broad, and 36th meets Broad, but then ends after a block and picks up again somewhere else. Everyone and anyone that I pass smiles and says hello to me as I run by. Some offer an encouraging, "Run Forrest!" but most just say good morning and ask me how I'm doing. It's a small, relatively low-effort way of getting to know my neighbors.

I have been feeling like I'm not doing enough to get involved with this neighborhood. Times when I do try feel so forced and odd. Mostly, I don't try for lack of time or not knowing how to get involved.

But I know that I'll keep running and smiling. Baby steps, you know?

The Gospel Tent

Growing up in New Orleans, Mom made sure that we never missed a year of Jazz Fest. It had then and it has now the best food that Nola could offer and some of the best music that the world could offer. I saw everyone from local bands to Ladysmith Black Mambazo to James Taylor to Juanes to anyone in between while stuffing my face with cheesy crawfish bread, oyster stuffed mushrooms, lemon sorbet with raspberry sauce, and any form of hydrating liquid. It was so hot that you could barely move. It only took a matter of minutes upon arrival before it felt that you had jumped in a pool with your clothes on. It seemed that there was no escape from the heat and humidity...

Or was there? Just when you felt convinced that you couldn't possibly stand another second out in the open heat, everyone's eyes would meet, and you all knew what needed to happen. The Gospel Tent. Oh yes. The Gospel Tent, perhaps as anointed by God, had massive fans. The shade and air circulation in there was clearly blessed by the Lord, and you would find respite within the massive sound of Gospel choirs from all over America and probably the World. The sound and the air would wash over you drying the sweat and preparing you to re-enter the outside world. It gave you the perfect amount of determination to get from the tent to the nearest incredibly large, incredibly iced tea.

Every time a month has a fifth Sunday, East End Fellowship (EEF, my home church here) doesn't hold a regular service, but rather encourages its people to go out into the community and visit another local church. On a walk, Rosy noticed a sign on a church front saying that this Sunday they would have an old fashioned, hand-clapping, foot-stomping service outside. You had me at old fashioned. I spent this morning with my house-mates at Fountain Baptist Church held in the sweet shade of their outdoor tent listening to the massive sound of their Gospel choir. We were greeted and spoken with by everyone we passed. The pastor made a special effort to come and greet us after the service. We were, thankfully, handed fans to try to swipe away the thick, hot air, and we were fed generously after the service. The service ended with the Amen song that I first heard from and will always associate with Sidney Poitier in the 1963 classic Lilies of the Field. This morning was wonderful and life-giving because I was able to connect with my community in a way I hadn't before.

I'm telling you, the Lord has a thing for Gospel Tents.

Chimbo Palace

I had no idea what to title this post, but then I just named it the nickname for my house. I live at Chimbo Palace, which happens to be on Chimborazo street, which is probably where it got its name.

A number of people asked me if I would continue blogging this year, and I do fully intend to. Then, I didn't know what to write for the past few weeks. The truth is that its been a lot of meetings and sessions and learning about the neighborhood and learning about CHAT (Church Hill Activities and Tutoring) and our roles within that. It's been a struggle between me feeling like I already know all the stuff and me realizing that the information is vital whether I've heard it before or not, and I certainly don't know everything and definitely need to pay attention.

The other thing people have been asking me is what I'll be doing. Great question. That's gonna be a moving target, but I also know a few things that I can share with you. I know that I will be working at the 20 Spot, which is the house of one of our staff where tutoring takes place. Monday and Tuesday afternoons, I'll be there initially doing literacy tests and eventually monitoring the volunteer tutors and their students as well as stepping in if there is a shortage of volunteers. Wednesdays, I will be helping out with an outdoors club we do with a partner organization called Blue Sky Fund as well as leading a cooking class. If anyone ever wonders what I'm going to do with my Anthropology major, I plan to make different food cultures and their respective meals. Boom. Anthropology. As my Friday elective with Church Hill Academy (CHAT's high school), I will be again partnering with Blue Sky Fund to do a rock climbing class. I'm pretty excited about that because I haven't been rock climbing since I was a kid, but I remember really loving it.

I'm also a point person for most food things CHAT related, so I will be prepping and cooking a heavy snack for tutoring days. There will be many hands involved, for which I am very thankful. I'm hoping that all the time spent at Holy Family (home church) will have sunk in, and I will be unafraid to cook for high volumes of people.

I'll have more thoughts and reflections later, but hopefully that clarifies some of what I'll be doing and what CHAT is about. Let me know if you have any questions!

SJ takes on the UK

I have to admit, I didn't leave my friend's apartment for the first 24 hours I was in Edinburgh. The great outdoors was just a little too daunting. I curled up on the couch with Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester (How can I never have read that one before?), and I blissfully ignored real life.

I feel very incoherent and confused a lot of the time. I'm not sure that the things I'm saying make much sense. Rosy wanted me to buy something to have change for the bus today, but I was so overwhelmed by the choices available, and I didn't understand what I was supposed to do. The fact that it's still light outside at 930 is so mind blowing. I've added "How was Rwanda?" to the list of questions I hate most. It joins "Where have you decided to go to university?" "How do you plan to use that Anthropology major?" and "Can you come kill this cockroach?" (The answer is No, I can't.) Everything from the Lebowski Pub to chocolate cake makes me miss my friends and family in Rwanda. How do you sum up eight months of experience that was actually across the boards in every respect? The truth is, I really don't know what to say. The truth in my answer would open up about another hour's worth of conversation, and, unless you've put a cup of coffee in my hands, I probably don't have the energy or emotional capacity to get me through that hour. I promise to answer eventually.

There are definitely positives that are very much helping with this transition. I can walk down the street and not a single person will look at me or talk to me. I ran for an hour along the water the other day and saw five people. Then I stepped in a massive pile of dog doody. You can't win 'em all. I've had chips and salsa as my snack the past few days. I can drink the water out of the tap and the internet is blazing fast. Buses involve lots of personal space. Bathroom are huge. I'm excited to be in my bed in a few more nights.

The past week, I've spent time in both Edinburgh, Scotland and Belfast, Northern Ireland. I've been soaking up great accents and so much information. Aside from that 24 hour layover I had in London one time, I've not been to the UK before. In Northern Ireland, I wandered around the Ulster Museum and learned so much about The Troubles and saw an awesome display of World War I posters. There was a really cool exhibit of art from and inspired by The Troubles. It's a solid reminder that prejudice and hate take so many forms and none are ok. That is a time and place in history that I never learned about. As a matter of fact, I don't think I realized that Northern Ireland was its own entity until I met someone from there. I got to see where the Titanic was built, I ate an Ulster Fry, I kissed the big fish, and so many other neat things.
 

NI staple. The Ulster Fry. Soda bread, potato bread, egg, sausage, "bacon", and tea.

Rosy said I had to kiss him for luck.

St. Anne's Cathedral downtown Belfast.

The approach to Stormont, NI's Parliament building.

This guy's name is Carson. I should really know why he is in front of the Parliament building, but my information retention is rather shot at the moment.

We caught the ferry and bus back to Edinburgh for a few more days of adventures. I saw the castle and the stone commemorating my mom's favorite author. I got to learn some Scottish history at the National Museum of Scotland, we went up on Calton Hill and up to Arthur's Seat. We spent today at the zoo, and I ate fish and chips for dinner. I tuck myself in every night with a hot water bottle because I am finding it very hard to deal with the fact that it's nearly June and still this cold.

From Carton Hill. Who knows what I'm pointing at...

The view from Arthur's Seat.

This place is so gorgeous.

Those craggy rocks were surprisingly difficult to scamper up.

I will join my pillow, mattress, and duvet in two more days.

Unmet Unexpectations

I think I got this title from a conversation with Ellie Poole, but it perfectly captures the way that I think about this past school year spent in Musanze, Rwanda.

I did my absolute best not to have expectations coming into this year. That way, I figured, I wouldn't be disappointed, and I could be more flexible and open to what was going to happen. It turns out that I, instead, had anti-expectations. For example, I didn't think I would have any friends (aside from Lyd and Moses, of course) and assumed that I would spend a great deal of time by myself.

This is one of those beautiful moments where God smiles down at me and says, "Just wait. You have no idea what I have in store for you." And man, was He right.


I have been blessed by friends the likes of which I can only pray everyone would be able to experience in his or her lifetime. We spent this past weekend in Kigali motoing around to various places, eating Chinese and Indian food (because, you know, what else are you going to eat?), bowling and dancing like no one was watching (only lots of people were watching considering there were white people moving around). I have spent time in church, Bible Study and prayer with these people. I don't know how I will ever be able to part with them. I've been corresponding with a family friend from home, and he wrote this in his last letter: "You will be amazed at the richness of memory and reaquaintance, so buck up when you leave. You will be back in person or in word. I sometimes wonder is God gives us this blessing in recompense for the pain of separation in His name." Had I even tried before getting here, I would not have been able to conceive of friendships like these that will stay with me for forever. The Lord shakes his head and grins, "Just wait. It's not over yet."

Moses and I spent countless hours learning really cool stuff, like what happens when you focus the sun through a magnifying glass and how an inclined plane affects the kinetic energy of an object. How to tell the difference between nouns and verbs and why it's important to get creative when you write. We laughed and we argued and we curled up on the couch to read. And still God knows that's just part of it.

I have lived the past 8 months in someone else's home. I carried my weight as best I could, but I have been provided for and cared for in ways that I didn't even realize were happening. I've picked up endless factoids that will serve me in conversations for the rest of my life. I've honed by badminton and foxtail skills. I was brought into the lives and homes of three families and fed amazing food and loved so well.

The beauty of this place overwhelmed me on so many occasions. Even my walk to work every morning was hills and graceful landscapes backed by huge mountains covered in sheets of green. I got to stand on top of those mountains and look out over so many tiny towns and roads.

The Lord pats me on the back as we walk together, "See, child? You don't want to be the one calling the shots. You never could have come up with all that." All I can do is shake my head and laugh. He's right.

breaking rocks

There is a woman that I see every day on my way to and from work. She has a large pile of rocks that she sits atop and one large base rock as her workspace. Her whole day is spent hammering mid-side rocks to break them apart into smaller rocks that will be distributed as gravel. She likely has more skill than I do and has long since ceased to smash her own fingers. So, she sits, every day, breaking rocks. It's rather unremarkable, and yet, it's a job.

I think that's the kind of job I would like to have. The gravel she makes is likely all over this city. It's at the gates of homes and businesses. It matters, even if only in a very small way, and she will never know all the places it's gone.

In August, I will move to the neighborhood of Church Hill in Richmond, VA to intern with a Christian non-profit called Church Hill Activities and Tutoring (CHAT). You may remember that I was a summer intern at CHAT about two years ago, so it is not entirely an unknown to me. CHAT serves the youth in a low income neighborhood building relationships and improving education and literacy.

I'm going to go to Church Hill and break rocks (figuratively). I'll likely have a small impact, and I won't know where all the things I've done and said will go. It's rather unremarkable, and yet, it will matter.

The Lord has provided for me in some pretty incredible ways throughout my life, and this upcoming year will be no different. I have never wanted for family, friends, shelter, food, or anything really (except maybe that Barbie car I cold drive around the lawn, but that one is on my parents, not the Lord). One way that I will really have to lean on God's provision this year is that I have to fundraise to cover the cost of CHAT employing me. I've done some fundraising before, but it's scary and weird every time. However, I have no reason to think that God will abandon my efforts now.

If you would like to partner with me and be a part of what I'm doing this coming year with CHAT in Richmond, feel free to contact me or my mother (who can then put you in touch with me). I'd love to share with you what I'll be doing and explain why I'm doing it.



Now, I just need to process leaving here and get ready for this big new adventure. I leave Rwanda on Saturday. That's less than a week away. This is gonna be real.

Muzungus in the Mist, Pt. 2

All of the photos in this post are thanks to Mary Clayton. She is an incredible woman and my resident photographer. Really, she planned and orchestrated the whole trip because she is that cool. So blessed to have such a wonderful friend!

We made it through the border and hopped on motos in Uganda. One of us is really excited about this, and I'll give you a hint: It's not me.

Words to live by from my moto.

Our beautiful little shack named Gorilla with bathrooms round back. Looks like home.

But really it looks like home. Anybody see those hydrangeas?

Sunset before the big hike.

Sabinyo. You beautiful bear of a volcano.

A map of the park where Sabinyo is located. Altitude: 3634m.

We're ready! And adorable!

It took about an hour to get to the base of the volcano.

Through a bamboo forest.

First snack rest: we already look haggard but still excited.

There were incredible views at every break in the trees.

There was this crazy moss growing on the trees. 

It looked like New Orleans home with Spanish moss.

Climbing ladders like a champ.

We hiked all along that ridge.

First peak. Roger's hat is really cool and Jesse's has a neck flap.

Apparently, I was thoroughly un-hat-prepared.

The boys are in the hole that marks the border between Uganda and Rwanda.

I wanna say that Mary is in Uganda, and I'm in Rwanda.

Unbelievable to be among the clouds on the volcano.

We made it to the second peak! 

Obligatory jumping photo.

You can see the ladders up to the third peak.

Then the ladders became stairs that were sometimes vertical.

Third peak Snickers. Life doesn't get any better than this.

We are all in the hole that marks the convergence of Uganda, Rwanda, and Congo. 

Technically, Roger is still in Uganda.

I happen to be in Congo.

Nailed it.

Muzungus in the mist, for real, climbing back down the stairs.

It was an incredible hike and an unreal experience. 

I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Muzungus in the Mist, Pt. 1

( I did not come up with that title, but I can't remember who did.)

After many delays and postponements, we finally made it over to Uganda to hike Mt. Sabinyo this weekend. This will be the story part of our adventure, and the next post will be the picture portion. Mom, I am warning you right now, there are parts of this story you do not want to read. Spoiler: We all survived.

Sunday afternoon, Louise graciously drove us to the border. After being swarmed by money changers and people hoping to transport us for the next leg of the journey, we made it through and caught motos to the place we were going to stay. (Mom, stop reading.) Because Uganda has far less rules than Rwanda, we were able to save money by sitting two to a moto and also there were no helmets. (Mom, I know you just read that even though I told you not to. Sorry.) Because there were two of us on each moto plus the driver, that meant we were three deep on the motos going up and down very rocky dirt hills masquerading as roads. How the driver was able to balance all that weight is a complete mystery to me, and I don't even get that close to my friends, so it was an exercise in letting go of my personal space expectations. The good news is that we only fell off the moto once!

We made it to Amajambere Community Camp, the rustic and oh so amazing place that we stayed, just before dark. We ordered an excellent dinner of beef stew and mashed potatoes and played a game of euchre while waiting for the food to arrive (I will win one day). It's been so long since I've had mashed potatoes, and they were so delightfully salty. They were so delicious and helped me carb load for the big hike. The hostel-style cabin where we stayed was everything I ever wanted. There were candles in the place of electricity and really nice bathrooms outside. Don't tell anyone, but we took one of the blankets off an extra bed and laid out under the stars for a while. The sky was so clear, and there were no lights for miles around, so there were many stars both stationary and shooting to be seen.

Uganda is an hour ahead of Rwanda for some reason, so when we woke up at 615 to go eat, it really felt like 515. That was a little brutal, but I killed that morning with kindness and smiles. I threw down some eggs and toast, and we made our way to the park entrance gate, aka next door (well done Mary Clayton on some excellent planing). We has a short briefing and then hit the trail. It took about and hour, a swamp, and a buffalo for us to get to the base of the volcano. Thankfully, I am well-versed in swamp wading, and I hardly noticed my very damp toes after a few minutes because goodness knows I am not coordinated enough to actually keep my feet dry.

Sabinyo means old man's teeth which is the perfect way to describe the way this volcano looks. You can Google it or wait for my picture post, but, regardless, you will definitely see how it got its name. The hike spans three peaks of the volcano, which means that you end up hitting all three peaks, and then go back across the first two. I can just imagine God reaching down as a potter into clay and thumbing deep ridges into the side of the mountain. It is an intense hike. The volcano also has mass in three different countries: Uganda, Rwanda, and Congo. The third peak actually has parts in all three countries. There are loads of places on the hike where we had to climb ladders at varying angles, some of which were vertical. There was even a set of stairs to get to the third peak, and some of those stairs went vertical for short spans. It was weird to be on a ladder above a ravine and know that were you to fall off the ladder, you would likely be toast. Jesse noted that it would be the perfect setting for a kung fu movie. The student has now become the master. We are grasshoppers no longer.

There really is no way to describe the absolute awesome that were the views of and off this volcano. No photo and no word could ever capture it. I will try with some pictures, but I could never do it justice. I wish everyone I know could somehow see it through my eyes, but that can't be. I will forever hold it in my mind and be able to share it with the other three. Part of the beauty and the majesty of it all was having three incredible friends to hike with. People I never tire of talking to and laughing with. People who, when I stopped in awe of what I was seeing, would stand right next to me and be blown away, too. God has been so incredibly good to me, and I have experienced many wonderful things, but this was the single, most awesome nature thing I have ever seen/done. It didn't rain, no one was injured beyond sunburn, it was altogether a perfect day.

If you read my post about our hike on Bisoke, you will know that I experienced major hypoxia, so I was pretty worried about what would happen on this hike on a higher mountain. However, Mary and I have been training for a half marathon, so my body and mind were much better prepared to work harder at a higher altitude. It was still odd to feel my heart racing so fast, but I never felt my brain was compromised, and I never struggled for air. This was one of those moments where I had to stop and thank God for health and strength and a body that is able to do incredible things.

I have to give you a snack break-down. Mary and I are the queens of snackage. On our many stops, we were sustained by Pringles, apples, roasted cashews (Mary roasted them like a boss), and laughing cow cheese with crackers. A very special snack was saved for the third peak: snickers. It was exactly what I needed. Between all of those snacks and loads of water, we made it through the nine and a half hours of hiking back and forth across the peaks and up and down countless ladders.

We managed to make it back in perfect timing to catch our super squished, helmetless motos back to the border (Sorry again, Mom). This ride was much easier maybe because it was more downhill than up. Jesse and I stayed upright this time and the other two bailed, so I would say everything was pretty even. We made it through the border as smoothly as could be hoped for, and finished our journey home with a friend whose car's headlights don't work. That last drive in the dark really rounded out the perfect weekend adventure. And it all happened in the span of about 28 hours. We done did it.

Kibogora

My great aunt and uncle are in Rwanda and working at a missionary hospital in Kibogora.. The older kids were home from boarding school, so we all went to Kibogora for Easter weekend. It's on Lake Kivu and is shockingly gorgeous. 

The long car ride was eased by anti-motion sickness medication and an excellent playlist. My cousins are keeping me musically current because, goodness knows, I am so far out of the pop culture loop at this point. When I get home, it's gonna be like the opening scene of Mean Girls. Our major stop on the way there was at the only ice cream shop in Rwanda. It happens to be in Butare and right between us and Kibogora. Ice Cream? YES PLEASE.

This is the gorgeous house where we spent the weekend. The compound was made for missionaries who are working at the hospital, so there are many houses all with incredible views of the Lake. There are many gardens full of produce and herbs and guava trees abound.

Aunt Lydia and Uncle Bill brought us all chocolates for Easter from A Southern Season (I love that place), and I was greeted by this little pig cutie. It actually took me a while to eat it because it was just so adorable!

We had a swing outside.

 

I ate way more than my fair share of guavas. 

Some of them are super pink inside...

...and some are pure white. Both are delicious beyond words.

Saturday night, we were invited to join one of the missionary families who lives at Kibogora for movie night. I had never seen The African Queen, but my mother has often talked about it, and, given the high volume of old movies consumed at my house, it's a mystery to me why I never saw this one. An incredible dirty Humphrey Bogart rescues the tight-lace missionary Katharine Hepburn as the Germans are rounding up Africans to add to their World War I troops. Their escape plan is to float down the river on Bogart's boat, The African Queen. It's a classic, and you should all watch it if you haven't seen it already. I was mainly struck by how dirty and gross Humphrey Bogart is the whole time. I remember him as the suave, fedora-ed, nightclub owner of Casablanca. Let me tell you: this was nothing like that.

The missionary retreat center, Kumbya, is a short drive away from Kibogora, so I got to swim in Kivu every day and spend delightful hours soaking up as much African sun as possible. My great aunt and uncle brought over some of my grandmother's ashes, so we were able to have a small service to commit her ashes to the lake. It is a comfort to know that part of her earthly body has been given back to a place she loves so much. The water carried her back to Zaire. 

On our way back to Musanze, we were able to stop in Kigali and see a movie. This was very exciting for me because I so enjoy movies and haven't gone to see one since the summer. Bright lights, big city. I went with the older kids to see Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Basically, it was awesome. It was also refreshing to see so many things America to prepare me for my return. 

twenty years

This week is Spring Break for our school, which means that I have slept in everyday until the blissful hour of 6am. Yeah... I can't really sleep in because my body is in the rhythm already, but I can refuse to leave my bed until 730 or 8, which I cannot do on a regular school day. Our Spring Break coincides with Genocide Memorial Week here in Rwanda. On Monday, I was able to attend the big meeting that kicked off the whole week. Everyone gathered at the district offices, walked over to the memorial that's behind my house for a short ceremony and laying of flowers, then walked to the stadium for a series of speeches and singing. I did not understand a word of what was said, but the grief was palpable.

In no way am I comparing my experience to that of genocide, and I praise God that I have never experienced anything like that, I just need to write something out. The biggest total loss I've experienced was due to Hurricane Katrina. We were living in New Orleans. Dad was actually deployed in Baghdad at the time, so Mom packed Erich and me and the pets up in the van and we went to Northern Mississippi. I had a duffle bag of clothes and a few things including my homework that Mom kept telling me to complete to turn in to my teachers on Monday because we were going back as soon as this storm blew through, right? Well, it didn't just blow through. Our one-story house held 8 feet of water for weeks. The thing is, I was never homeless or hungry, my whole family was safe, there was hardly a hiccup in my education as I was back in school the next week. We switched cities and started again. It was certainly hard, but we were provided for every step of the way.

Each year that passes, I miss New Orleans deeply. I miss New Orleans as a home, the people I love there, and the music, food and culture that make it such an incredible city, but the tide of grief seems to ebb a bit further out to sea. Could the pain of genocide ever be like that? It's been 20 years, and, for individuals, the pain and grief seem to be as visceral and real as they ever were. Don't get me wrong, there have been incredible steps of reconciliation for this nation and its people, but that's some painful stuff. I don't know that it will ever fall away.

I was two, a baby, when it happened. There are people my age here who have lived with unimaginable loss for their whole lives, my whole life.

Come, Lord Jesus. Come.

on safari

A few weekends ago, the men of the Miller family offered to take Ellie, Mary and me to Uganda to Queen Elizabeth Park to go for a safari. I really like animals, but I didn't feel any great need to drive around and see them when I got here. However, when you are in Africa, you should probably go on safari at least once. You have to. It's safari. Also, turns out that it was insanely cool and definitely felt like being in The Lion King.

We stayed at this amazing place right outside the park called Queen Elizabeth Bush Lodge. The food there was amazing and we were treated to a veritable symphony of hippo grunts and groans at all times as we were just above a waterway. This is the amazing tent palace that we stayed in courtesy of the Millers.

It was crazy driving in from Rwanda to go from mountains to absolutely flat land.

We saw buffalo.

These are cob. They were everywhere and made it feel like I was actually just driving through my neighborhood on a particularly deer-filled night. I wanted to stop and say, "I bring greetings from your brothers in America!"

We saw water buck.

We saw the circle of life in action.

We saw two, young, male lions.

The headed into the bushes to escape the heat of the day.

The second day we were there, we went on this long drive through a host of craters that are in the park. It was so beautiful. It's actually impossible to tell you how insanely beautiful it was. Each crater had one or two groups of elephants in it. These were big groups, too, and full of baby elephants that I really wanted to take home so that we could be best friends, but they would not have fit in the car, and I didn't want to separate them from their mamas.

There is a herd of elephants down there.

Is this even real life?

God is one incredible painter.

Giant crater.

Then all the elephants were crossing the road right in front of us.

Wah! Baby! Elephants are so cool.

Not pictured here are the other animals that we saw that I didn't take pictures of: warthogs (my spirit animal), hippos, baboons, various birds, mongooses (mongeese? Why is English so hard?). The animal that really blew my mind was the hippo. Cognitively, I understand that hippos are huge, but they are actually SO MASSIVE. We went for a night drive and saw loads of hippos out on the plains because they come out of the water to graze at night, and I spent the whole time wondering how an animal of such size and girth could possibly support its weight on land. Literally, the most rotund animals that I have ever seen, even more rotund than Gerty!

We even got to stand on the equator. 

I was in two hemispheres at once.

I basically lived that scene from  A Walk to Remember.

Only my version was much more grand and awesome. Take that Nick Sparks.