A Bit of Processing

The many experiences of our trip to Rwanda are difficult for me to put into words. I was touched deeply by the Rwandese, their culture, their warmth and hospitality, affectionate embraces, simple and unhurried rhythm of life, color and beauty, quiet dignity, shared community everywhere we went, generosity and so much more. I'm trying to think of analogies to help explain my difficulty. I think now of our new friend from Burundi who always spoke in metaphors to explain himself. I loved it since I am a visual person who can understand so much more vividly when given a picture to see. It seems we have become so uninhibited in our own culture that nothing is sacred anymore. All personal, private, intimate and other such similar subjects are freely talked about as commonly as speaking about the weather. Somehow I feel that my 11 days in Rwanda gave me such a deeply felt experience, perhaps "holy" can be used to describe it even, that it has become an intimate one. And what we share in intimacy is not to be broadcast to the world. Perhaps like the moments when a baby is born. It is not an event to invite everyone into the room to witness, at least not in my book. Therefore, I struggle in writing about my trip to Rwanda. I want everyone to know what it is like there, to meet the people, walk the streets and go into the villages, see its beauty and learn the lessons it has to teach us though it will take quite some time to process those myself. Yet, I also want to do that in a way that honors those I have come to love, who cared so well for me, invited me in, bartered on my behalf in the marketplace, pulled me into their dance, cooked for me, gave me opportunities to share encouragement, patiently taught me how to daily live in a different culture than my own, took me to the store to buy needed items, gave abundant gifts to me, took pictures for me, served me tea and treats, translated for me, helped me with money exchange, eagerly took me along with them into their churches, schools, homes, classrooms, city streets and village countryside and... As they did all these things, they took me straight into their hearts. How do I live now? I don't want to leave anyone out; I want everyone to find themselves mentioned in my writing though I mention no names. I never come to write without developing that lump in my throat, but I will keep coming, day after day until I feel it is complete. Rwanda, Burundi, Congo, Uganda, Canada, US, England...great diversity yet deep connection. My soul yearns for the living together of all peoples as I think about my Israeli and Palestinian friends, Nigerian, Swiss, New Zealanders, those from Ghana, Germany, Ukraine, Chile, Mexico, India, Lebanon, Latvia, Malaysia, Taiwan--I know I'm leaving some out, please forgive me. This great privilege has come to me almost solely through my sister-in-law Cathy to whom I am deeply grateful. She has openly and freely shared her world of wonderful people and cultures with me and my family thereby greatly expanding my views and beliefs, given me experiences beyond comprehension, challenged me, loved me, been patient with me, generous to bring me in to everything she is passionate about. I tend to hold people close, not quick to share them with others anywhere near to the extent that she does, a bit selfish really. How glad I am she is unlike me or I would never have experienced so rich a life beyond my borders. Thank you Cathy. Please don't ever stop pulling me on beyond my comfortable, secure place in which I dwell most of the time. You have afforded me the opportunity to taste of eternity, that though we have already begun to live in it, the permanence of living together with people of all the nations is yet to come. Until that time, I must live with the deep ache in my heart accompanied by an equally deep joy.