Sent to Rwanda

This is something I rarely talk about, much less write about. So buckle in, I'm getting vulnerable here. When I was young, up through high school, I was very active. I played softball, golf, any activity at youth events. If there was activity, I was there. During my senior year of high school, I noticed a lot of pain that I just couldn't describe, it was just all over. We were talking with my local college about playing my freshman year as a walk-on with the softball team, but as the heat of the summer kicked in, it wasn't an option. I remember the heartbreaking moment for me admitting that I had hit my limit. I could still play recreational ball, but competitive softball was over for me. At the beginning of my sophomore year of college something was very wrong, but again, I couldn't explain it; I just hurt all over. I had to sit out a semester of school and my mom was on a mission to find out what was wrong. I was having blinding tension headaches and I constantly

When I was really little, my dad was a youth minister and we spent a lot of time at church camps and youth devotional times. I grew up at the Bible chair center around teenagers. (Maybe that was the start of my passion for youth--that's for another blog). There were many songs I remember singing with my dad and his kids, but one in particular was my favorite...The Whippoorwill Song. The chorus: I own the cattle on a thousand hills. I write the music for the whippoorwills. Control the planets with their rocks and rills, But give you freedom to choose your own will. It was just brought to my mind...I live in a country called, "The Land of a Thousand Hills" and cattle are a very important commodity. They serve many purposes and are the center of the traditional dances as they are seeking and finding the cows. The song comes from the passage in Psalm 50, where God is pointing out that He doesn't the our sacrifices, because he already own them. He wants us to