This morning began the way I’m starting to recognize as a pattern here: with breakfast alone. Naomi is feeling much better, but still not quite back to herself, and Londyn is simply not doing well. I went to breakfast a bit earlier than usual, the air still cool, the campus just beginning to stir.
Breakfast, Chapel, and the Sewing Program
Yvette and John were standing outside the guest dining hall. Yvette, as always, greeted me warmly and asked how I was doing. I told her I was fine and asked about her. We conversed for a moment and then there was a pause. Then John piped in, “I’m doing fine too.” We all laughed. He’s pretty funny, and the moment broke some of the quiet that had settled in around my solitary breakfast.
Inside, I ate my meal and then headed to chapel. The worship team was already singing when I arrived. Londyn had been scheduled to speak this morning, but because she has been ill, Augustin stepped in. François is part of the worship team and he was singing, though he didn’t look entirely well himself. Illness has touched a lot of us this week.
After worship, Esther asked how everyone was doing and invited prayer requests. We prayed together, and then Augustin brought a good lesson. You would never have known how recently he was asked to preach. He spoke clearly and with a gentleness that fit the room.
When chapel ended and I stepped outside, I had a surprise that made my heart immediately lighter: all of the primary school students were on the basketball court. They were having their own worship and chapel time. I love watching the way the primary and secondary schools mirror the rhythms modeled by teachers and staff. The children were singing a beautiful song, and then one of the students stood to give the lesson. I stood for a few minutes, watching and listening, taking a short video and a few pictures. I love how much of the student activities are student-led. Then I headed back to my room to prepare for the rest of the morning.
We were going back to visit the girls in the sewing program. At our last session, one of the students had indicated she would like to have a private conversation. Josiane had mentioned that she’d already spoken with this young woman several times. We decided that today we would take all the students to the restaurant in the woods — a shaded area with tables under the trees and cool air moving through. The girls could visit and relax while I sat a bit apart and met with anyone who wanted to talk one-on-one.
We explained the plan to the group, then went to sit at a table a distance away. The student who had requested to talk, along with a few others, had gone to use the facilities, so when they returned, Josiane called her over. We ended up having a long conversation about significant trauma in her past, her current mental health, and the places where we might be able to offer help. It is hard to step into so much pain knowing that one conversation, especially through an interpreter, is not enough to shift everything. But sometimes even a small connection can be a starting point. We are following up with school leadership to see if she can receive longer-term professional support. I am praying that door opens.
Hard Conversations, Monkey Rings, and Games
During that conversation, I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to hand out my monkey rings — small, spiky rings you roll up and down your finger. They are meant to help calm the nervous system, to give your hands something to do when your body is buzzing with anxiety. I gave this student three rings and explained how to use them. Shortly afterward, she returned to the group. It is heartbreaking to see someone who has almost no support in this world and who feels out of place among her peers. I hope the rings become a small, tangible reminder that someone sees her.
Another student came over as we sat under the trees. She said she simply wanted to thank me for everything I’ve done. I had mistakenly told the group this might be our last session together, when in reality we have one more next week. Still, her gratitude caught me off guard in the best way. I thanked her, and she returned to her friends.
When no one else came over, I decided to go to the larger group sitting at the tables and bring the rings with me. I explained what they were, gave a gentle warning about not wearing them too long or too tightly, and then let each girl choose a color. I told them the rings can be helpful when someone feels nervous or anxious, when their body feels full of worry. Their interest was immediate and intense. They rolled the rings up and down their fingers, comparing colors and sensations. I walked to another table and shared the same explanation there. Soon nearly everyone was using the rings, and several told me how much they appreciated them.
It was time for the girls to go for breakfast, so they left for their dining hall. Josiane and I stayed at the table, sitting in the quiet and talking. After a while, the girls returned, and we shifted from quiet conversation to games.
Josiane is quite the game master. She started us off with one game, then a student suggested another, and by the end we had played four different games. It was especially good to hear the laughter of some of the young women who had been very quiet until now. There is something powerful about hearing a voice that has mostly been serious break into genuine laughter.
As our time neared its end, we circled up. We asked the girls what their favorite things were to make in the sewing program. We talked about what feels challenging. I asked whether they imagine having their own shops once they graduate. They all said yes. Their faces lit up when they spoke about it. We traded funny stories about sewing. I told them that I sew as well, and they were very interested. They asked if women in the United States ever wear African dresses. They had never seen a pale-skinned woman wearing the kinds of dresses they make. I tried to find a picture on my phone and couldn’t, so I told them I would wear one of my dresses to come visit them. Once I realized we have one more session, I knew what I was going to wear that day.
When our time was up, we walked back to their classroom, thanked them for the day, and I headed to my room for a short break.
It was especially good to hear laughter from young women I had barely heard speak — proof that sometimes all it takes is a game under the trees for something in a heart to loosen
Choosing Rest
Josiane had said she would join me for lunch. Around 12:15, I went to the guest dining hall and sat, waiting. At 12:30, John uncovered the food, and I made my plate. Shortly afterward, Naomi arrived, having taught that morning. Not long after she sat down, Josiane came as well. After Naomi finished eating, she excused herself to take some white rice to Londyn, who was still not feeling well, and Josiane and I stayed at the table, continuing our lunch and conversation.
After lunch, I went back to my room. I was exhausted. I also had plenty of work to do — presentations and handouts waiting on my laptop. I opened my computer and stared at the screen for a few minutes before deciding that the best course of action was a nap. I set an alarm so I wouldn’t miss the student chapel in the afternoon and fell asleep almost immediately.
When my alarm went off, I opened my eyes and felt the weight of deep exhaustion still pressing down. I texted Devotha and made the decision to skip chapel. I could hear the worship and speaking from my guesthouse, and part of me longed to be there. But I also know my body. I know when I am approaching a limit. After I sent the text, I fell back asleep.
I had set another alarm to make sure I woke up for late afternoon activities. Just before it went off, Brogan called, and we talked for a little while. By the end of the call, it was clear I needed to keep resting if I wanted to finish this trip well. Outside, I could hear students and staff playing sports. I think the band was there too. It sounded like a lot of fun, and I felt a familiar tug of “I’m missing out.” But another part of me knew that choosing rest was an act of stewardship, not selfishness.
I could hear the band and the crowds from my guesthouse and felt like I was missing out, but I also knew that choosing rest today was the only way I’d be able to keep saying yes tomorrow.
I made my way back to the dining hall for dinner and ate alone again, which meant the meal was quick and quiet. Afterwards, I returned to my room to work for a bit on presentations and handouts before bed. My schedule is full on Saturday and Sunday, so I am learning to find rest where I can, even when it means saying no to things I would normally love to attend.
Today was full in a different way — not of constant activity, but of deep conversations, small tools for nervous hands, big dreams around sewing tables, and the humbling choice to listen to my own limits. I am tired, and I am grateful.