Small Bits of my life: My God is so big

So, I arrived in Rwanda to start a new adventure. You have been with me, prayed for me, and encouraged me when I was scared (even though I pretended I wasn’t).
 
This is probably one of the most difficult emails to write because I’m trying to sum up the last 3 years of my life in one (not so) simple message.
 
When I first moved here, I was doing communications for ROC, the organization that I came here with and fell in love with Rwanda because of them. I was facilitating a women’s entrepreneurship program. I started a Bible study for some junior high girls in my neighborhood and a ladies Bible study for other Americans. I was also volunteering once a week with an orphanage. I wanted to do everything, I wanted to see everything and meet everyone. Three months in, I was tired…and sick. The first year here, I was sick a lot. I think it was a combination of learning how to properly clean and cook food and just being smooth worn out. Everything was new and exciting and I didn’t want to miss out on one piece.
 
My ROC director, Bryan, warned me I was running at an unreasonable pace, but I thought I knew better. And of course, I didn’t and I kept getting sick and tired. In August 2012, I started brainstorming Duhu. It was something I latched onto and just couldn’t drop. I remember sharing the idea with people who I knew in the back of their minds questioned whether this dream could actually happen. I never doubted; I knew the girls were there, I knew God was there and I showed up.
 
Duhu was launched and I was still running at an unhealthy pace. Duhu 1, Duhu 2, follow up and growth and fundraising and so many personal projects helping other people, I was worn smooth out again, but on a whole new level. Then something happened that dropped me flat to my face. A Duhu died. A young woman who was sick during class, but kept showing up. She was in Duhu 1, kind of the “first born” of Duhu. I felt somehow responsible like I hadn’t done enough. I suddenly felt like a huge failure. We had all these amazing stories, but I couldn’t see past the loss. My parents helped me come home for a break. I really don’t remember if I even packed a bag when I got onto the plane in December 2013. I’m not sure who dropped me off at the airport. I was a zombie. I had lost whom I was and what I was here to do. I was so lost I didn’t even know how to verbalize why I was home in a time I normally shouldn’t be home when people asked. By the way, I’m told this is one of those moments that missionariesaren’t supposed to share to their supporters, but I just don’t know any other way to tell you how God worked.
 
I felt like I had run so hard, I literally hit a wall, bounced back, fell on my backside and was laying there crying to God, “Why? Why did you bring me here and make it so hard?” I had to step away and spend some time in my home culture. I went to a retreat for other Christian workers and missionaries to share experiences and take some time to regain some clarity. While all this was going on, I had started discussions about a transition to Belay Global. The US Director of Belay Global and my ROC Rwanda team mates played a huge role in encouraging me to get some clarity in my home culture before I burnt out and didn’t want to come back. It happens y'all.
 
I know this email has taken a really downer tone. It’s not the bubbly “my life is fantastic and I love my missionary life and I live on a church camp high all the time”. But I don’t want to be anything but real.
 
So here’s the cool thing: Jesus heals! Jesus saves! And if you have any doubt, please see my small life and know that my God is so big, so strong and so mighty and there is nothing my God cannot do.
 
And, I came back. When I arrived back in February, I really had no idea how long I would stay or if I could just come back to close things up and come back to the US. I had no idea. So I took it slow, I started to find a better healthier schedule. I wanted to stay focused on Duhu and not get spread so thin. 

I learned a phrase called "self-care". In any care working field there is the strong possibility of burn out because of the exhaustion of giving so much of yourself and not filling back up.

So I tell people, "That's when I went crazy." Some people are uncomfortable with that and I'm sorry, but I still don't have the exact words to describe what happened. I had lost myself, my world and my purpose..pretty sure that's the definition of crazy. 

Stay tuned for tomorrow's email <insert cliffhanger music here> to find out more small bits about my life.