The day our family grew by three... (Mbabe, Rwanda)
I was getting nervous, the excited-butterflies kind, as our two-car caravan navigated the unmarked dusty roads in Mbabe, Rwanda.
We were almost there.
I took a mental picture of the road. I didn't want to forget what it was like. The downpours of rainy season months prior left trenches in the steep road and exposed large rocks making our drive down quite adventurous.
I imagined their tiny feet walking up that hill every day to school. It's hard to believe how far they walk... by themselves... every morning.
We took a sharp turn left at the bottom of the hill and there it was. On our left was a small plot of land near the intersecting roads, slightly elevated above them, with a breathtaking view of the rolling hills of Rwanda. (I secretly wondered if they knew how astounding their view was - did it become so normal they don't see it anymore?).
The view from the front of their home. I was trying to take it all in, to mentally document everything, until I spotted them, the children we've sponsored for 3 years. Jeska and Rosine standing with their mother. What were they feeling? Were they excited or timid? Nervous or happy? I approached them like any good awkward foreign visitor might in a sacred and special situation. With high-fives.
I resisted the urge to scoop them up in my arms and tell them how much I loved them. I didn't want to overwhelm them, to force my emotions on them and expect the same emotions in return. So high-fives it was. They responded with timid smiles.
We entered their meager three-room home, made of large mud blocks dried and hardened by the sun. A thin coat of smooth mud covered the internal and exterior walls of the home. Pieces of fabric hung in two doorways for privacy into what I'm assuming was the bedroom and kitchen. Their mother stayed in one of the doorways watching the visit unfold like every other parent did in the previous 4 family visits I observed that day. I wondered if the parents were asked to do that - to let visitors interact with the children uninhibited. If it were me, hello helicopter parent! I'd be in the middle of the action!
And like every visit, we started with the challenge of fitting 11 people plus a translator into a cramped sitting room sparse of furniture. It was also confusing trying to arrange seating so we could be next to our kids, who were always shoo'd away by their parents to give the seats to visitors (guests of honor). After some convincing, I got the girls to sit next to me.
Those beautiful girls were so shy! Imagine eleven 'mazungus' filing into your home with one in particular totally enamored with you whom you've never met them before.
A w k w a r d.
So let’s open presents! They opened backpacks with new clothes, school supplies, little plastic balls, and pictures that my daughters drew them - except to my horror I had mixed up one of the gift backpacks with another child so poor little Jeska had to accept my promise of bringing her gift the following day. I thought I was going to pass out from regret and sadness. (Don't worry. I redeemed the situation the following day!) I put stickers on their faces to be playful. They obliged with shy smiles.
(While everything was happening so fast and furious, in a corner of my mind I wondered about their father. Would I get to meet him too?)
After presents, the girls got up and sang us a song, two in fact, both in English. And then performed a brief traditional Rwandese dance. Google it. It’s beautifully rhythmic. I chuckled as I wondered how much they practiced and imaged them whining 'But mom do we have to?!'. Of course we erupted in cheers and clapping! Their mother disappeared in the other room to reenter with wrapped presents for me.
I was completely surprised (and where do they buy wrapping paper!?). The girls presented me with the gifts, which were a wooden statue of two giraffes (representing the two girls), a meaningful wooden milk jug (rich in Rwandese tradition), and a large piece of art (oh good lord how do I fit this in my suitcase!).
It pained me to think that they spent money on me - money that they probably needed for practical things. But gift-giving is a joy and I wouldn't steal that from them. And boy are these treasures to me! (including the two pictures they drew for my daughters!) Our quick visit was nearing the end as the mother approached me for a hug. Rwanda is a fairly non-emotive culture. Public displays of emotion are not common.
But their mom did not hold back.
She gave me the longest hugs (of the European kind with cheek-to-cheek hugs, three times, rotating each side). And then lots of kisses on my cheek.
She did this a few times in the remaining minutes we had together. She'd look at me in the eyes and say in practiced English, "I love you". Oh man. One mother's heart to another. Frankly, we don't share much in common, but a mother's love is a powerful thing and it bonded us instantly. Her girls deserve an education and opportunity just like mine.
About 15 minutes had elapsed and I knew our team had a few more home visits to do so we exited the home to take pictures outside. It was outside when the translator Ephaste, an amazing sincere Rwandan who works with these families through the sponsorship program, explained that their father deserted them 7 years ago (in my head I'm doing the math, when the girls were mere babies). He passed away 3 years ago. I had no idea. Their loneliness and emotional loss hit me. Did they feel abandoned? Do they believe shame lies? Does their mother know she's worthy of love? Do the girls know this too? Ephaste struggled to find the words to explain the effect of our sponsorship on families like this. He essentially was saying our love fills the gap. It gives hope. It restores.
As I took inventory of the moment, the emotions, and the reality for these girls, it hit me...We are family.
That’s how much my love matters to them and their's to me. It's not just a check I send every month. It's not an unknown face or name that supports them. It's me and Jake and Avery and Harper. We are their family. We remind them they're worthy of love, worthy of hope and worthy of opportunity. And they reciprocate our love. Miraculously, somehow, our love fills the gap. I don't know how but it's where I want to be. All because 3 years ago Jake suggested we sponsor in Mbabe and we committed to give $60 a month for these girls.
FRIENDS! Run, don’t walk, to go sponsor a child. I can’t describe what this little donation does practically and emotionally. The families rarely have enough money for school fees but their kids deserve an education as much as ours do. (read bottom of blog)
We ended this blissful experience in prayer - which was powerful. First prayer from my heart over them and then their mom’s passionate prayer for my family. As the team filed out slowly to the cars, I took a minute to toss around the ball with the girls, tears drying on my cheeks. Just a few more seconds to saturate my heart and mind with every image, emotion, smell and feel that I could.
We gave hugs goodbye and we were off to the next visit. I sat bouncing in the backseat of the car, mostly because of the awful condition of the road but also because of the joy that flooded my heart. It was hard to take it all in.
Over the final days of our trip we got to see our families two more times. The following day, when Jeska finally got her backpack of gifts, we presented them with goats at their school. I'll spare you the details but goat ceremonies take forever, goats are incredibly stubborn, and the sun was exceptionally hot that day. But I saw the girls receive the two goats we bought them. More pictures. More hugs and kisses. More 'I love you's.
I spy a goat... baaaaaaaaa
We came back a few days later to attend church in Mbabe, our last day of the trip. I quickly spotted mom and then noticed the two girls pop up their heads up above the crowd with smiles as I not-so-subtly waved at them from my seat of honor next to the pastors at the front of the church. They were wearing their new clothes and shoes. Be still my heart!
After church, more pictures, more hugs, more kisses and 'I love you's. (this time with an extra request for my phone number. Some day I'm going to get a call from a woman speaking a language I can't understand but somewhere in the chaotic moments I'll hear 'I love you' and I'll know exactly who it is. We'll stumble through words we can't understand but in tones as clear as day. Love transcends. Can’t wait.)
Final goodbyes were hard. Although I'm convinced I'll be back, and eventually with my daughters so they can finally meet Jeska and Rosine, I don't know when. Which was hard.
I’ve been home a few days now. I wonder what they’re doing. I wonder what they’re telling their friends. I’m pretty sure our visits in Mbabe gave the locals something to talk about for a while! I wonder how many times they’ve worn those dresses or if they’ve yet translated my personal letters that I left behind with them. I wonder if their goats are causing trouble. It’s still surreal. I got to meet my sponsor children. They saw the love in my eyes, heard it in my voice, and felt it in my hugs.
Love became tangible. We became family.
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Alright, here it is! Your chance to do something profoundly simple and yet profoundly significant. Go to www.childcareministries.org and click Sponsor. If you choose a child from Mbabe, Rwanda, I promise to deliver a gift/letter personally on the next trip I take. Heck, COME WITH ME! If you sponsor a child already (or when you do!), WRITE to your child. They are so much more than a picture and sponsorship number. They have goats to watch, clothes to clean, dinner to make, mothers to appease, siblings to fight with, and hearts to soar. Be. The. Wind. Write anything, it doesn't matter. (A friend recounts a visit with her sponsor child who hurriedly came out of the back room with a stack of every photo and letter over the course of their 8 year sponsorship.) They are treasures to your children. Tell them they're worthy of love - better yet - show them by writing often.