I woke up this morning before my alarm again, to the same familiar sounds — birds singing, children laughing somewhere nearby, and sunlight streaming through the window. It’s a gentle kind of wake-up call, one that reminds you before your feet even hit the floor why you’re here. Today was my first day actually leading a trauma informed care session at Rwanda Children Christian School.
Breakfast, Worship, and First Impressions
We started with breakfast in the guest dining room. As always, John and his team had prepared something both simple and deeply satisfying. From there, we headed to the worship hall for the daily morning worship and prayer with RC staff. Every morning, the staff gather for worship, a short message, prayer, and announcements. There is something powerful about collectively starting the day this way — before emails, classrooms, and responsibilities, everyone orients themselves toward God and toward one another.
After a brief break, I walked to the teachers’ workroom to meet Josiane so we could go together to the space where the mothers and their babies were gathered.
Learning with the Mothers
This year, I’ve tailored each presentation to the specific group I’m with. This morning’s session was with mothers in the Child Malnutrition Program. I had read about the program, but experiencing it in person is entirely different. We had three hours together. The mothers were seated on benches with their babies in a partially open space — bricked on two sides, open on the others. As I walked in, they were already seated and began to sing a song welcoming me. It is hard to put into words how honored I felt in that moment.
I pulled out my laptop to follow my notes. Seeing that, the team went to fetch a screen and projector while I began my introduction. I told the mothers who I was, why I was there, and what we would be talking about. In every parent session, I begin the same way — by acknowledging their own trauma and their love for their children. I started here just as I did at ATN and as I will with the teen moms: “You are here because you love your children.” The response was immediate and strong. A resounding yes.
“You are here because you love your children.” I start every parent session this way, and the resounding yes that follows is its own kind of sacred moment.
About fifteen or twenty minutes into the session, the projector arrived. It took some time to get it set up; they ended up having to nail a new nail into the brick wall to hang the screen. I worried I might lose the mothers’ attention during the interruption, but when we resumed, they came right back with me. We finished the first part of the session, and then it was time for breakfast.
The two psychology students from ACU, Londyn and Naomi, and I handed out cups of porridge and fresh baked bread. Watching the mothers share their porridge with their little ones — helping them drink, breaking bread into small pieces, making sure everyone had enough — was a quiet, holy kind of scene. Seconds were offered until everyone was full. Then we continued.
Much of what I presented was new to them — ideas about how trauma shows up in children’s behavior, how the nervous system works, and how safety and connection support healing. I tried to share it as respectfully as possible, always tying it back to their day to day realities and strengths. I am especially grateful for Josiane, who interpreted with such skill and care despite my Texan accent.
I had reserved the last forty minutes for questions. The mothers were kind and deeply engaged. They asked thoughtful, practical questions — the kind that come from real life, not theory. At the end, I closed our time the same way I will with every parent group on this trip: “The language we use every day writes the story our children believe about themselves.” I want that sentence to linger.
We took a photo together, and they sang another song as our time ended. As they began preparing to take their lunch, Naomi and I slipped away to our rooms to wash up before our own meal. Lunch, once again, was wonderful. You can taste the care John and his team pour into every dish.
After lunch, I went back to my room for a quick rest before meeting with the chaplains, who also serve as the school counselors. This was not a formal training, but a conversation — just the three of us around a table, talking through structure, programming, and how to navigate difficult situations. They asked excellent questions, and we discussed everything from crisis response to ongoing support. I hope my answers were truly helpful. We’ll meet again next week, and I left with “homework” to prepare some specific resources for them.
When our meeting ended, I had about an hour before Conversation Corner. I used it to catch up on work, finish a document I’ll bring to the chaplains next week, and jot down some field notes. Then I walked over to the secondary school to meet a new group of students.
Conversation Corner with 9th Graders
Tonight’s Conversation Corner group was eighteen 9th graders. As before, I had them introduce one another rather than themselves. This group was much more talkative than the 10th graders from the night before — but not always in a helpful way. Once introductions were finished, I told them I wanted to talk about respect and asked whether it was respectful to laugh and talk while their classmates were speaking. They straightened up quickly.
We worked together to define respect in their own words — what it looks like, what it sounds like, and how it feels when it’s missing. One young man in particular had strong opinions and took up a lot of space. At one point I turned to his peers and asked, “Do you agree with him?” A chorus of “No!” came back. It turned into a rich, honest conversation with good and sometimes tough questions. We ended up going a few minutes over time. I’ll meet with them again tomorrow and hope to follow up and maybe work in a game once the foundation is more solid.
On the walk back to my room, the fields were alive with activity — soccer, basketball, volleyball. The sounds of play and enjoyment carried across the campus. It felt like a tangible reminder that in the midst of heavy topics and hard stories, joy still makes its way into the day.
After dinner, I returned to my room and found my clothes from the day before washed, folded, and neatly placed for me. The way the staff care for guests here is remarkable. I have never felt so tangibly loved and cared for while traveling. I’m already wondering how I will adjust when I get home and realize no one is washing and folding my clothes daily — I suspect I will be disappointed.
Today was full — of mothers and their babies, questions and conversation, laughter and correction, meetings and games. It was a good day.