Today was my last full day in Rwanda, and the morning began early. I woke before 6am, and not long after, the sounds of the band and mic checks for Celebration began drifting across the field. The day was already stirring before the sun had fully taken its place.
I stayed in my room for a while, working on a few things as the sounds of preparation carried in from outside. When it was time for breakfast, I stepped out and saw the field full of last-minute activity—chairs, tents, decorations, and countless details being finalized. It felt like watching a stage being set for something beautiful.
I walked over to the restaurant in the woods where we’ve been eating as a group. As I sat down with my crepes and boiled eggs, John came over and said, “I hear that you’re leaving us tomorrow.” When I said yes, he turned away in his very “John” way and wouldn’t talk to me for a moment. It was playful and sweet, but it also carried the quiet weight of goodbye.
Wrapped in Tradition
After breakfast, I headed back toward my room, and on the way I ran into Bohnuer, who told me she was on her way to my room to deliver traditional garments for the celebration. When she arrived, she helped me dress, carefully arranging each piece and making sure everything looked right before she continued on with her busy day.
We had been told to meet at the field at 9am, so I made my way there. All of the women were dressed in traditional clothing, each of us in different fabrics and patterns. Standing together in a circle of color, it was really quite lovely—a visible symbol of honor and shared celebration.
Ten Years of Stories
Before the main events began, we walked to the front of the school to move through a display they had created to mark the last ten years of Rwanda Children. They had done an incredible job. On the wall as we approached were photos from across the decade—snapshots of students, staff, teams, programs, and milestones.
Each ministry had its own display, telling its part of the story. We took photos at the 10-year backdrop, smiling in front of the visual reminder of all that has happened over the years. Then we began making our way toward the field.
On the way, we passed a display where Deborah stood beside a board set up for people to write notes. Each of us added a message and then continued on into the field, carrying our reflections and gratitude with us.
Every photo, every display, every note on that board felt like a testimony to God’s faithfulness over ten years.
Front Row for a Celebration
The ACU students were directed to sit with the students, and I followed, joining them on the front row. The rest of the guests sat adjacent to us in a section that had been designated for them. It turned out to be the perfect spot—we had an excellent view of the entire ceremony.
The only challenge came later in the afternoon when the sun began to beat down directly on us. We shifted, adjusted, and did our best to create shade where we could. Even so, it was worth it to remain in the center of the celebration.
The program was full and rich: cultural dances from both primary and secondary students, the marching band, songs, drums, speeches, and many guests from the community. It was a vibrant, joyful celebration—a visible and audible expression of gratitude and hope. The day felt like a beautiful tapestry of sound, movement, and story.
Cake, Conversation, and a View
After the celebration ended, we were invited to the top of the Field of Dreams house. When we arrived, we found tables set up with beverages. There was a second cake there, and they passed around plates of samosas and donuts for everyone to enjoy.
We ate, visited, and took in the view—looking out over a place that has become deeply dear to me. After the snacks, we headed once again to the restaurant in the woods for lunch. Since I was one of the first to arrive, I quickly ran to my room to change out of the traditional dress. It was beautiful, but also a bit uncomfortable after a long, warm morning in the sun.
Lunch was wonderful—good food, good conversation, and that pleasant tiredness that follows a major event. As we ate, we also discussed the remaining plans for the day.
Stepping Into the Community
At 3:00pm, we gathered in the parking lot for a community engagement visit. From there, we walked into the nearby community to the home of a family whose two children attend the school. The father is raising them alone, as his wife and two other children tragically passed away. His story was heavy, tender, and marked by quiet perseverance.
The Southern Hills team had donated money to purchase supplies, and they presented him with many groceries and household items. He was incredibly thankful. His gratitude showed in his eyes, his posture, and his words. It was a simple gesture and yet deeply meaningful—to him, and to those of us who were there.
Today reminded me that celebration is not only big stages and bright lights; sometimes it looks like groceries carried down a dusty road to a father doing his best to keep going.
We walked back to the school and then retired to our rooms for an afternoon rest. My body was tired, but my heart was full.
One More Meal, One More Song
When it was time for dinner, we returned once again to the restaurant in the woods. Dinner was, as always, lovely. At one point, I told John that I didn’t know who was going to cook for me when I got home. Without missing a beat, he said he would just come with me. I truly enjoy him—he is a delight and such a gift to this place.
After dinner, the team brought out yet another cake because one of the adults with the Southern Hills group had a milestone birthday. We sang “Happy Birthday” to him, and then Devotha called me up as well to cut a piece of cake. As I stood there, they began singing their going away song.
They then presented me with a lovely gift and opened the floor for anyone who wanted to share words for me and for Todd. It was humbling and deeply moving.
It was a truly fabulous way to end this journey. In fact, I can’t think of a better one.
Leaving Different Than I Came
Tonight, as I sit with all of this, I am struck by how much we celebrated today. We celebrated how far Rwanda Children has come. We celebrated all that God has done. We celebrated each other. And I was able to celebrate my time here.
I am leaving this place a better person.
I have met new friends and reconnected with old ones. I have spent time with so many incredible people in the child malnutrition program and the teen sewing program. They have changed my life, and I pray I have had at least some meaningful impact on theirs.
I was able to leave the team here with a considerable number of resources they will be able to download and use in their ongoing work. I’ve also made connections with members of the board and the broader team. All of this makes it clear that this is not the end of my journey.
It feels like the beginning of something ongoing—an annual rhythm, yes, but also a partnership that will continue throughout the year.
So I am leaving Rwanda with an incredibly full heart.
I arrived as a visitor, but I am leaving as someone whose life has been woven into the story of this place.”