This morning, I woke up before my alarm—again. For someone who struggles to wake up in the States, it still surprises me to find myself awake nearly an hour early. There is something about this place—the sounds, the smells, the sunlight—that gently calls you into the day.
And then reality followed.
Painters were at my house today.
Of all the timing decisions, I’m still not sure why I chose to schedule that while being away—but I am incredibly grateful for my mom, who continues to step in and manage things on my behalf. Even from across the world, life continues to move.
Between coordinating last-minute details and communication, I ended up skipping breakfast—but made it to chapel on time.
Gathering with the Mothers
After chapel, I greeted a few familiar faces before heading back to my room to gather my materials and find Josiane, who had the handouts for the mothers in the Child Malnutrition Program.
When we found her, the papers weren’t stapled—but they were ready.
We decided to go ahead and head down, and she went to find a stapler.
Sallie walked with me, joining for the morning before heading out to Akagera. As we approached, the mothers were already gathered—singing.
I love hearing them sing. There is joy in it. Strength in it. Community in it.
I set the materials out and realized they had already been collated. As we waited, Sandra helped me offer a simple welcome. Shortly after, Josiane arrived, and Sallie, Nathaniel, and London jumped in to help staple while I began speaking.
We talked about the handouts—how they were designed to be used, and how the practices we introduced could continue beyond our time together.
Words That Take Root
We spent time reflecting on how they had used these practices over the weekend. The conversation was honest, engaged, and full of thoughtful questions.
After breakfast and cleanup, we shifted into a conversation about self-care. While I had spoken to the sewing program mothers about words of affirmation, this was my first time introducing that concept to this group. We talked about the importance of speaking truth over yourself—intentionally, consistently. Because the words we speak to our minds, over time, are believed by our hearts. And what the heart believes begins to shape who we become.
When you speak words of encouragement over yourself—words that define who you are or who you are becoming—your mind begins to believe them. And when your mind believes, your heart follows. Once those truths are rooted in your heart, anything that contradicts them no longer has the power to define you.
I shared a short video—one that had been translated into Kinyarwanda by my interpreter in 2022. We gathered in small groups around my laptop so each woman could see it clearly.
They watched. Reflected. Received.
As I continued my work with the mothers, Naomi and Sallie slipped to the back to help with preparing lunch.
And as we closed, I reminded them that these same practices can be carried into their homes—to their children, their families, their daily lives.
Before leaving, I shared that Thursday would be our final time together, and that we would spend it practicing—breaking into smaller groups to apply what they’ve learned.
Space to Rest
After the session, Sallie, Naomi, and I returned to our guest rooms before lunch.
Lunch was simple and good, shared in the usual rhythm of conversation and connection.
In the afternoon, I was scheduled to assist briefly in a high school English class—but I made the decision to ask for that time back.
And I’m glad I did. It became space to rest. Space to pause.
I slept for about 45 minutes, something I didn’t realize how much I needed. The rest of the afternoon was spent working on the resource materials I’ll be leaving behind—tools, guides, and content that can continue to support the work here long after I’m gone.
Ending in Gratitude
Dinner brought us back together again. Tonight, John made mushroom soup. It is, without question, the best mushroom soup I have ever had.
We lingered longer than usual, talking about travel, upcoming celebrations, and the rhythms of the days ahead. There was no rush—just space to sit and be.
Eventually, one by one, we excused ourselves and headed back.
I returned to my room and spent a little more time working on materials before settling in for the night.
Today was good.
Not rushed. Not overly full.
Just steady.
A day of pouring out—and being filled in return.
There is quiet strength in a day that makes space for both meaningful work and needed rest.