Good morning from Rwanda . . .wow, that's the last time I will say that during this trip . . . Our suitcases are packed and waiting, we just finished a delicious breakfast and now we start to say goodbye. I am trying not to get too emotional, but this country has touched my heart so deeply, it will be hard to say goodbye.
So, what will I miss the most? Every morning, when we get up, we are greeted warmly by everyone, "mwaramutse" (good morning) and a hand clasp or hand shake. The bright smiles and welcoming faces will be missed.
At night, soon after the sun goes down, the chorus of frogs, crickets and toads sing a beautiful melody. You could almost fall asleep to it, except for the interrupted roar of the traffic as it comes barreling down the hill.
The morning sounds are much the same. The voices of children singing replace the alarm clock of Canada. The sounds of the roosters and chickens in the neighborhood greet the rising sun and the soothing chatter of people all around add to the melody.
Walking up and down the stairs have been good for the body (I never did count how many stairs are in the property . .. 100's, I think). The stairs always are climbed faster with kids holding my hand and practicing their English with me.
I will miss the cheerful visits with Mama JoJo as she comes early for a visit and a cup of mint tea. Her gentle manner, encouraging words and deep faith both bless and challenge me.
It will be sad to no longer see Kim with Papa JoJo walking around the property, fixing, improving, talking together as much as they can. Though from completely different cultures, they have the same servant's heart and have become good friends.
In the afternoons, I will miss seeing the kids play and joining in with their many games. We have played: capture the flag, parachute, what time is it Mr. Lion, red light green light, Canadian football, leap frog, and many, many more. I will also miss sharing my story of Moshe (based on my travels to India) with the kids. Every time they see me, they are asking for Moshe. I am sure Kim will miss the kids getting so excited about "Chocolate (aka Banana, aka Sugar Cane) Box"--a drama about how too much of one thing can tempt you and separate you from God.
The evenings will be different without family night--connecting with the kids, sharing stories, playing games, praying with them and just being together. They've already memorized everything we've shared about our kids, if only they could somehow meet . . .
I will miss the drives (maybe not the crazy driving), but the people I see along the way--women and men balancing huge loads on their heads, people of all ages continually fetching water in the stained yellow and white jugs, little ones carrying babies on their backs, children working, children playing. When we stop, they look up and excitedly wave at the "mazungus" in the truck.
The landscape is so different from what we have. Incredible terraced land (we found out mostly done by hand, by the prisoners), with buildings of all sizes, shapes and conditions, perched on the sides of the thousands of hills. Villages every few kilometers grace the sides of the road, people everywhere.
I could go on and on. I can't say for certain that our family will be here or not, but I can say that whether you visit a country for 2 weeks, 2 months or 2 years, when it's time to leave, you leave a part of your heart behind and take a piece of the country with you to treasure always.
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