advancing

12/30/12

12:45am

the tears

    reassure me

that my heart 
   
       is still made of 

flesh & blood

   rather than

ice & stone... 


   that I'm not 

       running away


but rather

        running towards

        something

   greater. 

nightmares

   standing in a wooden enclosure
         surrounded by little 
     smiling faces
                &
              hands grasping for mine.. 

 I recognize a few
       from the last time 
my feet tread upon 
          this lava rock ridden
               land... 

   the familiar colors catching 
my eyes
       between the cracks 
    in the walls... 

   the sounds of motorbikes, horns,
           women chatting at the 
      market, 
         and young children crying
drift in and fill my ears 
            from down the street...

     I squeeze the hand 
           of a little girl
 and stare into those 
    beautiful brown 
   eyes
before I walk through 
      the room... 

  I come to another 
       room,  
           crowded from  
    wall to wall
          with people... 

As I sit amongst the crowd, 
      I realize 
  something is very wrong... 

         men with guns 
are taking people at random
     out of the room, 
                never to be seen 
  again... 

           Outside once more
                    I am running

through the streets
       filled with holes, 
animals, 
     and crowds of people... 



   running, 
          running,  
               running... 



someone grabs me from 
            behind

   I let out a gasp
             before 
I recognize the face 
    very much out of 
                    context...

 we embrace
     & the newcomer 
joins me 

     as we set out 
           again



   running, 
       running,
    running... 




 I am the first
         to reach the center... 

I greet a very young 
      boy 
        standing outside

before I run 
      through the door...


  I immediately halt
        as I take 
in the scene.. 

        the boys hang by 
                ropes
    from the rafters 
        they built 
            with their own hands... 

  I run out of the room, 
         fighting the violent urge
     to retch, 

           tears streaming down 
      my face, 

         my eyes betraying 
                       my state of shock... 

  Again I am 
  


     running, 
              running, 
        running... 



I awake, 
   
   covered in sweat...

 a single tear 
          falls down  
    my cheek.





  

    

Seeing with my heart...

the backseat of my car
     reflects the state
               of my mind-

    a cluttered mess

 in need of an intervention,

   a vacuum
         and a trash bag

to remove the junk,
         the chaos of my
               thoughts

far from my skull

       which has proven
 reluctant

     to allow all the
        unnecessary thoughts
    that
preoccupy and clutter
     my mind

  to pass through
           its confines

   and clear my head...


     It has become
          increasingly difficult

to just sit & be,

    to see
       with my heart
              & soul

rather than
     my eyes
           & my mind...

    to rid my mind
        of the expectations,

   the "supposed to's"
                         &
       the "should's",

and let my free spirit
     be my guide,
  
       my heart be
my compass,

& my soul be
             my song...


    I must break through
       the cage that is
my mind,

         for my very
                life,

    the flame burning
        in my chest,

     depends on
        &
        demands it.

Learning from my 18 yr. old self...

Last night I was organizing some of my stuff that had been in boxes for months. I probably have 50 notebooks and folders that I've written and doodled in over the years. I felt like I'd come across a
time capsule.

I came across a notebook that I had written a note in the first couple months of my freshmen year of college. As I read through it, my 18 year old self inspired me and reminded me of what I truly value at my core.


    "I have so much dwelling deep inside of me. So 
many ideas, so many passions that I feel like I 
might explode! There are so many directions I want to 
go in, so many places I want to see, so many cultures 
I want to experience, so many needs I want to fill! 
What am I going to do with my life? I haven't a clue... 
I want to see people come together... I want to 
see true community, people loving each other, helping 
each other, living life together... living peaceably 
with all... working to better our environment and 
our world... spreading Christ's love to those who 
will accept it. I'm going crazy trying to figure 
out this whole life thing! I refuse to fade into the 
background, to settle for the ordinary, the mundane... 
I refuse to ignore this sense of purpose screaming 
inside of me. I want to make a difference in my 
world, here, close to home, and far, far away. I want 
to show people the beauty of life, how beautiful 
our world is, how beautiful people really are... how each 
person has something unique to share, to contribute to the 
world. If only people would realize this, our world 
would be transformed. 
So what now??" 

  This is just one of many notes that I found that capture snippets of the growth I've
experienced over the years. It caused me to start reflecting on the different stages/times
in my life, and all the ways God has carried me through each of them.

I have been reading through the Psalms right now, and this morning I came to Psalm 71:

In you, Lord, I have taken

refuge; 

let me never be put to shame.

In your righteousness, rescue me

and deliver me;

turn your ear to me and save me. 

Be my rock of refuge,

to which I can always go;

give the command to save me,

for you are my rock and my fortress.

Deliver me, my God, from the 

hand of the wicked,

from the grasp of those who are

evil and cruel.

For you have been my hope, 

Sovereign Lord, 

my confidence since my youth. 

From birth I have relied on you;

you brought me forth from my 

mother's womb.

I will ever praise you. 

I have become a sign to many; 

you are my strong refuge.

My mouth is filled with your

praise,

declaring your splendor all day 

long.

Do not cast me away when I am 

old;

do not forsake me when my

strength is gone.

For my enemies speak against

me;

those who wait to kill me

conspire together.

They say, "God has forsaken

him;

pursue him and seize him,

for no one will rescue him."

Do not be far from me, my God;

come quickly, God, to help me.

May my accusers perish in 

shame;

may those who want to harm me

be covered with scorn and

disgrace. 

As for me, I will always have 

hope; 

I will praise you more and more.

My mouth will tell of your 

righteous deeds,

of your saving acts all day long-

though I know not how to relate

them all.

I will come and proclaim your 

mighty acts, Sovereign Lord;

I will proclaim your righteous

deeds, yours alone. 

Since my youth, God, you have

taught me, 

and to this day I declare your

marvelous deeds.

Even when I am old and gray, 

do not forsake me, my God,

till I declare your power to the next

generation, 

your mighty acts to all who are 

to come.

Your righteousness, God,

reaches to the heavens,

you who have done great things.

Who is like you, God?

Though you have made me see

troubles, 

many and bitter,

you will restore my life again;

from the depths of the earth

you will again bring me up.

You will increase my honor

and comfort me once more.

I will praise you with the harp

for your faithfulness, my God;

I will sing praise to you with the 

lyre,

Holy One of Israel.

My lips will shout for joy

when I sing praise to you-

I whom you have delivered.

My tongue will tell of your

righteous acts

all day long,

for those who wanted to harm me

have been put to shame and 

confusion.  

  This Psalm helped me reflect of God's faithfulness, and the fact that no matter where I am in life (physically, mentally, or spiritually), He is right there, on the mountain top as well as the valleys. Like a good Father, He is there to catch us when we fall and will love us no matter how silly we are at times. He is the only constant in our lives, and He is Good, Loving, Merciful, and full of Grace.  

They call me Gypsy

  

 Raindrops cover my windshield,
distorting my view of the old 
          warehouse
                ahead of me... 

   I sit back & listen
        to the gentle
            pitter patter
 of the autumn shower... 

    Brightly colored leaves
stick to the dripping windows 
           of my jet-black 
       car... 

     It's been two or three 
months since I chose 
      to move out of my 
little cottage of a 
         house
and start living out of
 my little 
    Mitsubishi mirage,

couch hopping 
       from one side of 
town to the next, 
    from city to city, 

   rarely sleeping in 
the same place 
        two nights in a 
row... 

My back seat is 
    filled with canvases, 
easels & paint... 
    my studio being 
parks, homes, 
      or wherever 
I happen to be 
      at the moment... 

My trunk holds 
       the little leather
suitcase I 
    carried with me
to Africa this past 
       April... 

There is something 
             magical
    about this morning
as I look through the 
           droplets crowding 
my window... 

  the bright colors
         of fall 
against the dark, 
        grey skies

 bringing forth 
      nourishment 
for the earth

  & renewal
        for my soul.

growing pains

Wandering down empty streets
in the wee hours of the night,
navigating through
the fog & the coolness
in the air
as I attempt to navigate
the fogginess of my
mind...

my need for change and
growth
has not gone without
growing pains...

I take one step
forward
and three steps back
it seems...
as I let the fear of
disappointment from others
hinder me
from letting go
and moving forward.

On this sleepless night,
with the new Mumford album
filling this
empty building with soothing,
renewing melodies
and freshly brewed coffee
filling my senses with
bold aromas,

I am seeking
clarity,
newness, and
change...

"Instead of Worry" [from The Contributor]

Instead of Worry

Christ Scott F. 

Formerly Homeless Poet/Songwriter

I've walked the road alone so long

Pretending I don't see 

Acting like I didn't know

That you were always 

There with me

When I finally stopped running

When I'd finally given up 

I finally see the one thing 

That I needed was Your Love

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That God will take care of me

I'll have everything I need

Lord help me see... Help me see...

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That this is how it's s'posed to be

I'll follow you wherever you lead 

To destiny

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

Now this is all just temporary

You've got your hand upon my life

I feel like I'm being carried 

And I'm learning how to fly

And everything that's happening

Each new experience

Has already been written and 

It's all part of your plan

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That God will take care of me

I'll have everything I need

Lord help me see... Help me see...

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That this is how it's s'posed to be

I'll follow you wherever you lead 

To destiny

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

My Strength

My Fortress

My Rock

And my Shield

There's nothing more important

Than knowing you're real

I'm trusting you more

Each and every day

And listening

For everything

I hear you say

 

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That God will take care of me

I'll have everything I need

Lord help me see... Help me see...

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That this is how it's s'posed to be

I'll follow you wherever you lead 

To destiny

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

restlessness...

     I look up 

through the morning haze

        to see the 

shape of an airplane,

     camouflaged,

soaring into the thick,

           grey clouds

above... 

     Oh, how I long to be 

inside that winged 

       capsule,

    heading somewhere,

            anywhere, 

far from here... 

    Yet again, I've become

restless, 

     ready for a new 

              adventure

in some unfamiliar 

        land... 

  The stillness, 

        the sitting, 

the waiting

     is killing me

slowly, 

     suffocating me... 

 I need a breath 

       of fresh air, 

cleansing water, 

    a strong breeze

to wash over me

       to bring life 

back into these

            dry bones....

a wordless morning...

     there are mornings 

when words

          evade me...

they dance around

       the far reaches 

of my mind

   just beyond my reach...

I try to rope 

         them in

     but in vain... 

   I relent, 

       embracing

a wordless morning

     to sit & be.

move me...

Inspire me                        

& empower me,        

O God...                       

to fulfill the plans           

you have for me...                 

Empty me                       

 of anything that          

is not of you...                     

Fill me with                     

you overwhelming                       

presence.                 

Open my eyes                    

to see past               

the superficial,                 

and into the spiritual.

Saturate me with your          

truth & your               

love...                    

Guide me. Push me. Break me. 

Move me.                

 

           

        

a parallel...

   Grey skies,

a soft drizzle,

   the occasional passing of

a bird, 

     chirping 'good mornings'

to the world... 

  the foliage bright green

        covered in droplets of rain... 

thunder rumbles

     in the distance...

    the dehydrated earth sings songs 

           of praise and rejuvenation

 as it thirstily soaks in every drop

           of moisture... 

a cool breeze brushes 

           the leaves and 

it begins to rain again... 

the surrounding trees' vast branches

     reach towards heaven, 

         accepting the gift from 

    above:

renewal and provision for the day. 

  

hiding in plain sight...

hiding out 

     in plain sight

in the heart of Nashville

  on this warm

        Summer night... 

my evening plans

       were cancelled ,

but instead of calling 

    the others I'd 

turned down for my

       plans, 

I disappear 

      into the open... 

the sounds of the city

    fill my ears

as diverse groups 

         of people

              pass by, 

up & down

  the brick walkways... 

     I get lost in a book,

in an attempt to break

  through the walls of 

     my heart & my head... 

   the smell of fresh 

        coffee

travels through the air

   and down the 

pavement

    to my suddenly heightened

senses... 

   an hour or so later, 

             I can no longer 

resist the delightful 

     aromas, 

so I leave everything 

     where I sit, 

  in the middle of 

crowds of people

  to walk over to 

wait in line

      to grab my own 

mug of steaming hot 

  java...

 ignoring the Summer 

     evening's heat,

I hold the mug between 

  my hands , 

    taking in the sweet aromas 

rising towards heaven

        in the steam

curling around my face... 

 I begin sketching

       my surroundings, 

my pen

           glides across

the blank page, 

  lines form... 

     I let them 

         take shape... 

thumbing through 

    my sketchbook, 

I come across letters

     given to me 

 by a couple of boys 

   I spent time with 

during my time 

         in DR Congo

   in April... 

 "do not forget me 

      in your praying..."

          - Augustine

 "...and also, 

         all activities that you're 

doing, must be achieved 

  by God..." 

           - Pacifique 

my thoughts turn 

         towards Congo, 

as they do more so 

  than 

       not... 

   notes from a violin 

 begin to play

        from the corner 

down the street... 

     people clap & cheer

for yet another song... 

    finally, my heart finds 

itself home 

    in Nashville 

just as much 

as it does in Africa... 

            my heart 

   is with people, 

         rather than

 a certain place..

Africa is people, 

   as Nashville is people. 

 People need love;

     places do not need 

           love. 

        I choose to love

   wherever I may find 

                        myself

 in this unpredictable

                     journey

           that is my life.  

   

   

the birds don't sleep here...

1:00 am

    the birds don't sleep

here

  in Music City... 

       they continue to 

              fill the night 

 with sweet melodies

    long after

        the boot-clad, skinny jean-wearing, 

or flannel shirt-sporting  

musicians 

have laid their weary 

       heads to rest... 

the love of the Father...

strong, 

    full of patience & grace,

ever forgiving, 

       passionate & intimate... 

Oh, the love of the Father! 

   unconditional, 

             sacrificial, 

  

                      gentle, 

 without bounds, 

       unfathomable, 

overflowing, 

  

          universal, 

   never discriminating... 

  

abounding because of 

   

    & despite ourselves...

   this is the gospel: 

      grace + love + patience

it is not a list of 

     rules,

an excuse for judging or 

      

      hating others who

are different than ourselves, 

 nor is it a "get out of hell for free"

        card... 

the gospel gives freedom

      

   & life to the fullest,

 the gospel is to love everyone

as you love yourself,

   to find beauty in diversity, 

the gospel is to accept

    the love & forgiveness of 

the Father, 

   made flesh in the God-man

          Jesus Christ, 

who showed us what it

   means to love your 

         neighbor... 

the gospel is

   

     walking in grace,

the gospel is love. 

 

     

the clarity only rain can bring...

Sitting by the window

    in our little cottage

of a house, 

      just minutes from the 

heart of Music City... 

   Dark clouds roll in, 

giving relief from the 

      scorching 

Summer sun... 

             A flash of light

fills my peripheral vision,

   and seconds later

thunder booms, 

         rattling the 

window panes... 

   Slowly, droplets begin 

to appear on the glass

       as I look out

  into the distance, 

          farther than what 

my eyes are 

       seeing... 

Another burst of thunder

       snaps me back 

to the little tin table

    where I sit...

  It is raining steadily

now... 

 Leaving my shoes behind, 

     I slip out our 

back door

          and walk

to the middle of 

            our vast yard... 

 I turn my face 

       towards the heavens

and let the rain

        wash over me... 

 I begin to twirl 

     around, 

around & around, 

     faster & faster, 

building momentum

       with the rain...

 I come to a stop

       and stumble around, 

waiting for my head

         to acknowledge

the cessation 

          of motion...  

 Again I look up

      at the sky, 

the rain falling 

       in my eyes

forcing me to blink...

 the sound of 

        thunder & trains'

  whistles

      blend in perfect 

harmony with

     the sound of the rain

washing over 

       the foilage

  surrounding me... 

     I can always count 

on the rain

       to clear my head

 

             & to give me

                 a sense of 

 

                    renewal. 

DR Congo...

  Forgive me for the amount of time it has taken me to catch up on my writing from my time in Africa! 

I believe I left off merely a few hours before leaving Gisenyi to cross the border into Congo. 

  After lunch, we gathered our luggage for our journey into Congo. We were already an hour or two "behind schedule" (TIA)... We ended up having to take two trips because we only had one driver, so Jessie, Benson and I traveled to the edge of the border first, and waited for the driver to bring Matthew and Bethany.  While we waited on the Rwanda side of the border, we filled out all the necessary documents and looked out across Lake Kivu... so peaceful and serene... 

  After the rest of the team arrived and filled out their forms, we went together to stand in line, while Didi went to get a car, and some men took our luggage ahead, across the border for us. It was quite impressive, really... you have to realize that each of our bags were about 50 lbs... these men wore the duffel bags like backpacks, one on their back and one in the front, then had 3 suitcases stacked on top of their heads! Like I said, very impressive. We stood in line, and tried not to leave space for people to cut in line... (only a couple made it through). The official looked at our documents and passports, stamped them, acknowledging the fact that we were leaving Rwanda, and sent each of us on our way. 

    We showed our stamped passports to the man standing by the large barrier, leading to "no man's land" between Rwanda and Congo... we passed through, leaving the nice, paved roads of Rwanda (compliments of the Chinese) behind us... Didi met us here and led us over and up the steps of another building to give our documents to the Congolese officials to give us permission to get into Congo. We stood here while Didi talked with the men behind the iron bars... Benson bought some orange/lime-like fruit while we talked to a group of kids headed to climb the volcano... after getting our passports stamped again, we climbed into the two cars waiting for us. By this time, it was already starting to get dark... It did not take me long to realize how very different things were on this side of the border... We had to drive 10kph the entire time because of the pot-hole-filled roads... We wove in and out of traffic, dodging large craters, only to hit others... dust and exhaust fumes saturated the air in the streets of Goma... crowds of people walked up and down the sides of the dirt/gravel roads... what would have taken ten minutes took us hours. 

     It was pitch black outside by the time we reached the Catholic Guesthouse/compound where we were to stay. We drove up to a metal gate and Didi honked the horn... a minute or so later, the gate was opened for us and we drove through. Immediately, there was a stark contrast from the chaos we had just traveled through. We drove over neat, stone gravel to park underneath street lamps and palm trees... we climbed out of the cars into a peaceful silence... As we carried our bags to our rooms, we looked out to our right, and could see the volcano's vibrant orange glow reflecting of the clouds and dust that hovered above and around it... so beautiful. As soon as we got our bags to our rooms, the skies opened up and rain fell to the ground in droves... we sprinted through the rain to the dining hall to eat the supper that had been laid out for us- some kind of broth soup and rice.  After dinner, we ran back through the rain to our rooms to prepare for the day ahead of us... Jessie and I talked through the workshop we were to lead while I glued 150 mirrors to pieces of thick paper for the art project that went along with it... that is, until the power went out... remembering only after the glue gun had cooled down that it wouldn't work without electricity, we decided to call it a night and pick it up in the morning. Both of us, exhausted, welcomed the excuse to finally get some sleep. After draping our mosquito nets over our beds and curling up underneath them, it did not take long for the sound of the African rain falling on the tin roof and the thunder in the distance to lull us to sleep. 

     We awoke to the sound of birds singing their morning songs... I looked out our window to see an old man rowing a long canoe across the vast lake- I'd had no idea we were so close to the water! It was such a lovely sight- the bright green vegetation framing the dark blue water below the bright blue sky, hugging the mountains in the distance... We hurriedly got dressed and finished gluing the remaining mirrors to pieces of paper and packed all our supplies in a large suitcase... we walked to the dining hall for breakfast and to wait for Didi. Waiting for us were sweet rolls the size of my hand, along with honey and an assortment of jams. Shortly after we finished eating, Didi arrived to pick us up. We loaded up the jeep and set out for the Dina Center. This is a center for girls, 75% of which have been raped in the wars. Again, we bounced along the lava rock streets and dodged craters in the road...

      We pulled into a compound protected by stone walls and an iron gate... as soon as we stepped out of the jeep, we were surrounded by young girls and women.  I looked down, and a bouquet of beautiful, vibrantly colored flowers had been placed in my right hand, and a little chocolate colored hand gripped my left.  Their faces were absolutely beautiful... their eyes danced and shone with joy.  The next thing I knew, one girl began beating on a drum, and they all began to sing and dance... soon we all joined in the dancing. My mind took a step back to take it all in... here I was, in Congo (the place my heart loves), surrounded by these beautiful girls, all tightly packed around us, jumping up & down, and side to side to the beat of the African drum, all the while holding this precious little girl's hand in mine... time stood still in that moment for me... I never wanted it to end.  After a while, we all moved over to the porch area, where they had us sit.  They all lined up in front of us and the drum began to sound once again... they opened their lips and out came the sweetest, purest, most vibrant music my ears had ever heard... African music is so energetic and heartfelt... they swayed with their songs and waved their hands, singing of peace & hope, of Jesus and of Congo... we swayed and waved our hands along with them, as Didi translated some of the phrases for us.  

        After this, the girls were split into two groups. The older girls went with Matthew and Bethany, and Jessie and I took the younger girls... With dear Janet translating our words into Swahili, we led a workshop teaching the girls how to see themselves they way that God sees them, instead of the ways others see them because of what has been done to them.  Using Scripture, we taught them that God sees them as His daughters, as beautiful, as precious, and as new creations in Christ. I explained the art project to the girls, as we handed out the pieces of paper with mirrors glued in the center of each one. I explained that they were to use the markers we gave them to draw around the mirrors things that remind them of the four ways God sees them, so when they look into the mirror, they see themselves as a daughter of the King, as beautiful, as precious, and as new. They were so excited about this project, as most of them have never owned a mirror. I drew along with them to give them an example... they would come up behind me to look over my shoulder. 

          After they had finished their drawings, we had a few of the girls come to the front of the room and explain what they had drawn.  Then, we went on to explain that sometimes, things happen to us that prevent us from seeing ourselves they way that God sees us. We asked each girl to think of one thing that keeps them from seeing themselves the way that God sees them, and to write that thing down on the seed paper that we then passed out. After they finished, we had them hold the seed paper between their hands and to point them up to the sky.  As we stood there with our hands above our heads, pointing towards heaven, I prayed over these girls and asked that God take each of these things that keep us from seeing ourselves the way He sees us and to fill us with His love and His presence. After we finished praying, we went outside and buried our seed paper in the prayer garden. Soon, wildflowers will grow in their place, symbolizing the way that God makes beauty from our pain. We spent the next hour or so hanging out with the girls while we waited on our ride.  

          We stopped back by the guesthouse to grab more supplies and to grab a quick lunch before we headed back out again. I walked out to look over the water for a minute, and Didi walked up behind me. "I do not want you to leave, Morgan," he said. I looked over at this kind, jolly man, and said, "I do not want to leave either, Didi..." We stood looking out at the mountains in the distance for a moment, and we walked back towards the others with our arms around each other in camaraderie.  

          Our next stop was to meet with Janet and the other local leaders at the Hope Counseling Center to visit a building they are thinking about using as their new base, and to discuss their needs, etc. Afterwards, Jessie and I realized that this was the last time we would see Janet this trip... I fought back tears as I hugged her neck and attempted to tell her how much I admire and appreciate her... this goodbye was so extremely painful to me, and there were many more to come... I began to wonder if I would be able to survive them all... 

        Again we set out... this time for the Peace Lives Center... Oh, how long I had waited for this! Peace Lives is a rehabilitation center for former child soldiers. Didi and Joseph run this center together. After another bumpy ride across Goma, we pulled off of the road. On one side of the now dirt road, children were playing futbol... on the other, a few whitewashed wooden shelters. Again, we were swarmed by kids the minute we stepped out of the car... I caught sight of Augustine and Delphin, who had been playing futbol with the kids, walking towards us. Didi began giving us a tour of the buildings. He showed us the room with the bunk beds that Jessie had funded with her birthday money, and I had wired over to Didi just months ago. In another shelter, a boy was decorating cards with banana leaves, etc. The intricacy of these were incredible! We passed by a tent that serves as a kitchen, and walked into a larger wooden building. Inside, the boys were singing along to the beat of a jerrycan-turned-drum... after listening for a minute, Didi motioned to us to follow him... he showed us their office, and some other rooms used to shelter the orphans in their new orphan ministry... Didi spoke to us of their need for money for more food for the boys. "They cannot concentrate enough to study because they are hungry, so they are not doing well in school..." 

              After our tour, we walked back to listen to they boys' singing. The boys then performed a drama for us, describing their rescue from the bush and their journey to Peace Lives and their journey to God. Didi stood up afterwards and proceeded to speak of his vision for the boys' futures. This was one of the highlights of the day for me... After this, we had a sweet time of prayer for the boys, the orphans, and the leaders. Each of us took one of the groups to pray for. Then, the boys prayed for us... again, I fought back tears... (these last days were very emotional for me..) 

Afterwards, we had each of person in the room write on seed paper something that we needed to give up to God, and again we prayed over them and buried them in the newly dug prayer garden. 

     Soon after, Jessie and I were swarmed by the boys, wanting to give us cards, letters, and bead necklaces before we left. The orphans all gathered together to sing for us before we left. If my heart hadn't already melted long before this moment, it would have now.. Soon, Didi was signaling to us to make our way through the crowd to the jeep, as it was already getting dark...we made our way through the sea of beautiful faces, cherishing each one... letters were still being thrust into our hands as we climbed into the jeep... more goodbyes... my heart was breaking a little more, and I was not sure how much more I could physically handle... With my heart full, hands holding a stack of letters, and eyes moist with tears, Didi shut the doors and drove through the now crowded street, back towards the guesthouse.  

     We put our bags in our rooms and made our way to the dining hall for dinner, where we talked about the day... after dinner, we all walked down to the water to sit and watch the stars... the next morning, Jessie, Benson and I were to leave for our journey back to the Kigali airport... I could not bring myself to speak, for I was having to choke back tears at the heaviness and sorrow my heart was experiencing at the thought of leaving these beautiful people and this beautiful place... I decided to walk back to the room to finish packing so I could walk to the water alone later. 

      Back in the room, Jessie and I packed our things, and Jessie crawled into her bed and adjusted her mosquito net... I grabbed my sweater, told her goodnight, and walked into the night. Benson was out on the porch working on his computer... he asked me where I was going. I told him I was going to walk down to the water for a bit. He asked if I was going to be safe. I laughed and told him if he heard a scream, it meant that I was not sage, and made made my way out into the darkness, hoping that I would not get stung by an African centipede... I finally found the path down to the water and stepped carefully down the stairs...  I walked to the edge of the water and sat down on the cement... I sat there for a few minutes, but the sound of the water beating against the concrete made it difficult to hear myself think, so I climbed up a little way to a ledge where I could still look out across the lake... It was peaceful here. It was hard to imagine all the violence happening in this area... I gathered my floor-length skirt around my legs and sighed... the sound of thunder caused me to look up and notice the lightning storm above the lake, reflecting off the clouds and across the water... 

        Sitting there, on the bank of Lake Kivu, watching a lightning storm over the rippling water ahead of me, and the volcano glowing brightly far behind me, I attempted to make peace with the fact that this was my last night in Congo... I do not know how long I sat like this... eventually, I heard someone walking slowly down the path towards me. It was dear Benson, coming to check to make sure I was safe. He came and sat on a nearby bench to keep me company. We talked of his people of Northern Uganda, and of many other things... We talked of his wife, and their baby that is soon to be due the same month as my birthday... I told him that I was secretly hoping that it would be born on my birthday.  After a while, he said to me, "You are not like other muzungus I have met... you are unique, graceful, peaceful, beautiful." Over the past week, Benson and I had become very dear friends. I tried to decide if I should ignore the fact that I would have to tell him goodbye tomorrow, or if I should start preparing myself for it.. We both agreed that we would most likely be seeing each other again soon. It was getting late and I was physically, mentally and emotionally drained, so I decided to turn in for the night...

          Back in the room, I wrapped the mosquito net around my bed and laid flat on my back, looking past the net at the ceiling... a host of emotions flooded through me... sadness that I was leaving this place and these beautiful people... joy and gratitude that I'd had the opportunity to come in the first place... sorrow at the thought of telling Didi and Benson goodbye... hopeful that I might come back soon... finding comfort in this, I whispered, "see you soon...", closed my heavy eyelids, and slowly drifted to sleep... 

Here are the links to all my other writings from Africa:

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/04/congo-chronicles-gearing-up.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/04/congo-chronicles-gearing-up-part-2.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/04/update.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/04/replanning-staying-flexible.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/04/to-africa-journey-begins.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/04/you-are-going-to-see-our-bad-story.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/05/i-want-to-be-world-changer-samuel.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/05/writings-from-africa.html

http://thoughtsrecordedinanoldjournal.blogspot.com/2012/05/with-these-two-hands.html