Sent to Rwanda

As a child I remember a story about the city mouse and the country mouse, I am making a cultural adaptation here...the city mouse and the village mouse. Once apon a time, there was a city mouse, who was very convinced her city way of doing things was the right way. She had the clothes and the friends equivocal to the city life. There were certain foods she longed to have daily access to, where she knew city life was the only life for her. For the sake of this story, we will call this city mouse, Jamie. Then she was introduced to the village mouse, who, for the sake of the story we will call Tara. This village mouse wanted nothing more than to live in the village and work with other village mice. Tara and Jamie met and then lost touch. I'm not sure why, but sometimes it just happens. City life gets too city and village life get too...villagey. Then one day, unbeknownst to either mouse, their paths were crossed. The village mouse had come to the city to pray at the city mou

For those of you who have seen the No. 41 bags on facebook, we have set up a temporary way for you to purchase them. You MUST know someone who will be bringing the bags to you and have contacted them in advance. No. 41 provides skills training and sustainable income to orphaned young people in Gisenyi, Rwanda as they get on their feet and transition to independence. The proceeds from our bags and beads will also fund a school feeding program for secondary school students in the area. Buy a bag, feed a child, support young girls learning a trade, empower them to give back to their own community. Changing the world for one. The bags are $50 each, plus a $1.50 paypal fee to cover the online processing. More pictures of the other colors of bags coming soon. There is a light, tan and chocolate.

A friend recently wrote about her experience driving in Kigali, so I was motivated to share my daily adventure when I get behind a wheel. There is one main understood rule of driving in Kigali: the biggest car will always have the right of way. Unless, you flash your lights and pull out in front of someone, which happens often. Driving here makes me exhausted some days. I am constantly watching--watching for a person to step out in front of me, a car to pull out in front of me or decide to whip around me thinking I'm not driving fast enough, or my favorite road annoyance--moto drivers! There are motorcycle taxis who pretty much feel that they have no rules on the road, so they are constantly cutting in and out of traffic. Ugh they are frustrating. There are always people lining the side of the road, walking somewhere. Sometimes they feel they have the right to walk on my side of the white line. It is customary to give them a little beep of your horn and keep going. Horn usa

A blogging missionary recently wrote: People aren’t meant to be projects. Even people who have a desperate need, even people who are achingly afraid, even people who are longing for a Savior will feel the sting of loneliness that comes with being turned into a project for the sake of missions. Nobody wants to be your project… but everybody wants to be your friend. Ok, fine, maybe not everybody wants to be your BFF. There are plenty of people I plain old don’t like and don’t want to be friends with. I think that’s allowed. But, the point is, most people would prefer your friendship to your “evangelism”. Of course, friendship requires a lot more of you. Friendship must be nurtured. Friendship must be mutual and reciprocal. Friendship needs time and effort and, eventually, the sort of transparency that allows people not to see through you, but to see Jesus in you. It’s a lot harder to make someone your friend than to turn them into your project. But, I’ll tell y

There are many phrases and gestures that I have noticed I have picked up from living here. But one of my favorites is saying: Oh, sorry. Let me explain. On my first trip here, I realized that when I would drop something, the nearest Rwandan would say, "Oh, sorry". I would laugh and say, "I dropped it, why are you sorry?". Or I would smack my funny bone on something. Again, "Oh, sorry". "But you didn't do it, it was me who smacked my own funny bone." I didn't get it. Oh, sorry isn't an admittance of guilt here. It is a sympathy gesture. For example, I'm sorry you dropped your phone and the battery just flew across the room...again. Or, I'm sorry you are coughing your brains out and you seem to be in pain. I believe that the short phrase "Oh, sorry" or "I'm sorry" has so much more meaning to me now than ever before. It is taking a moment to empathize with someone. Stopping to realize that the stra