This morning I woke up well before my alarm. I’m not entirely sure why, because yesterday was long and full, but there I was — awake before the day really began. I stayed in bed for a bit, listening to the quiet, and then finally got up and ready for breakfast. Today’s meal included crêpes. I love when John makes crêpes. They somehow manage to taste like both comfort and celebration at the same time.
After breakfast, we headed to worship. Naomi spoke this morning and did an excellent job, especially considering it was her first time preaching here. It is a gift to watch someone you’ve traveled with stand in front of a room full of students and staff and offer what the Lord has placed on her heart.
Listening to the Mothers
After chapel, I returned to my room to gather a few things before meeting Josiane. Together we walked toward the space where the mothers in the Child Malnutrition Program meet. As we stepped outside, we met up with Londyn and Naomi, who were headed to the same place. We walked the path, went down the stairs, and as we approached, we heard them — the women singing the welcome song.
They are always so gracious and kind.
Today I had told them I didn’t need a projector. I wanted this time to be about connection. I wanted to hear from the women — what they had learned, what they had tried, what had taken root at home. Once everyone had settled and Londyn had introduced herself, I began with a brief recap of our previous session. Then I asked how many were not able to attend last time. About five women raised their hands.
I asked several of the mothers who had been there before to describe connection, empowerment, and correction in their own words. They did an incredible job. Hearing those concepts reflected back in their language and experience was deeply encouraging. I then asked if anyone had tried to implement the practices we discussed. Several mothers shared that they had told their husbands about the tools and had begun using them at home. Others said they hoped to use them in their broader community. I was so proud of them — not for “doing it my way,” but for taking what resonated and weaving it into their own lives.
Then it was time for breakfast.
Today’s meal for the mothers and children was eggs, biscuits, bread, and porridge. Londyn, Naomi, and I handed out plates of food and then cups of porridge until everyone had some. Here, everyone eats until they are full, so Naomi and I went back through with seconds and thirds. After they finished, the mothers cleaned up — dishes into tubs, floors swept, babies shifted from lap to lap. Then it was time to resume.
Self-Care and Connection
The second part of the session went incredibly well. We talked for a long time. I answered questions and then shifted to self care. I asked them first what they do for themselves when they are tired or overwhelmed. Some answers came quickly; others required a bit more reflection. Then I talked about why self care matters — not as a luxury, but as something that allows them to keep showing up for their children. We talked about simple, realistic ways to care for their own bodies and hearts in the middle of very real pressures.
From there, they wanted to talk more about connection. I reviewed the strategies we had discussed previously and added two more: playful engagement and behavior matching. I told stories. They told stories. We laughed together more than once. It felt less like a formal training and more like a circle of women sharing what is hard and what is hopeful.
As we neared the end, I asked if someone would pray. One mother stood up and prayed the most beautiful prayer. I did not understand a single word — it was all in Kinyarwanda — but I knew it was beautiful. You can hear sincerity even when you cannot follow the vocabulary.
Then one of the mothers asked me if I had gotten anything out of our time together. I told them honestly how deeply I love Rwanda and Rwandan people. How much I treasure being with them, watching them with their children, seeing the ways they are pushing through obstacles to create something better for their families. I told them they encourage me at least as much as I could ever hope to encourage them. With only a few minutes left, I asked if they would sing and dance one more time, because their songs and dances are so beautiful. They did not disappoint.
They asked if I had gotten anything out of our time together, and the only honest answer was yes — their courage to keep loving and learning in hard places speaks to me as much as any lesson I could teach them.
Afterward, we sat off to the side as they waited for their lunch. I wasn’t sure whether we should stay or slip away, but sitting there with them — not teaching, just sharing space — felt right. Eventually, as the time for our own meal approached, Londyn, Naomi, and I walked back up to the guest dining room.
Today, Sabine joined us for lunch. She is the director of the health clinic, and it was such a gift to have unhurried time with her at the table. I love that staff members often join us for meals; it gives us the chance to know them not just by their roles, but as individuals. Lunch was, as always, delicious. John’s artistry continues to show up in both flavor and presentation.
Nursery Teachers and Tiny Hugs
After lunch, I thought I might take a nap. I thought wrong.
I sat down intending to make a few small revisions to the session I had planned with the Headmistress and the nursery teachers. I only had one hour with them and wanted it to count. A “few small revisions” quickly turned into rewriting most of it. By the time the hour approached, I had essentially built a new session.
As I walked toward the fellowship hall, the nursery teachers were walking their students toward the entrance to meet parents and buses. I encountered one class, and one child in particular came running toward me with arms open wide. As soon as he reached me, the others followed. In seconds, I was surrounded by at least a dozen three year olds, all hugging me at once. It was fantastic. Their teacher gently worked to get them back on the path so they could go home, but for that brief moment, I was wrapped in tiny arms and pure joy.
When I stepped into the fellowship hall, it was excruciatingly hot — and empty. I waited for a bit, then began typing a message to the Headmistress, asking if we were still on. In the middle of my draft, she messaged me: “Hello.” I laughed, finished my sentence, and responded. She said she was on her way and that the teachers were dropping children off with parents and at the bus before coming to the hall.
The lesson I had prepared was already trimmed to fit in one hour, and given the delays I thought we might have only thirty minutes. Fortunately, once everyone arrived, we were able to move quickly and still cover the essentials. The Headmistress asked them to pose questions at the end, and the teachers asked excellent ones — practical, thoughtful, rooted in what they see every day in their classrooms. Afterward, she told me she wished we had more time and that she wished all the teachers could hear this content. I told her I would talk with Devotha. She said, “Yes, please.”
Here, you rarely hear a simple “yes” or “no” by itself; it is almost always “yes, please” or “no, please.” Even agreement carries kindness.
I sent a message to Devotha and then went back to my room for a short break before Conversation Corner.
Conversation Corner with 7th Graders
Tonight was a new group: eleven 7th graders. I really enjoy this pattern — meeting with each group twice — because it allows me to get to know many students while still having some continuity. It also means I get to teach my introduction format to a lot of different people.
Tonight the students chose to introduce the person on their left. They did a wonderful job. From there we talked about encouraging one another — how words can build up or tear down, and how even their peers can be sources of strength. Then I let them ask me questions. Some of their questions I simply answered; others I turned back on them in order to hear their perspective.
Several students said they enjoy Conversation Corner because they like getting to know a lot of different people, including visitors. At one point they asked if I had any talents. I told them that I had taken American Sign Language in college and remembered a little. They immediately asked me to show them some signs. I taught them how to sign “beautiful,” “please,” “thank you,” and “my name is.” They already knew most of the alphabet, which surprised and delighted me.
They also asked if I could sing. I told them it is not something I do particularly well, but that I would share one of my favorite songs. I scrolled through my phone and found Charity Gayle’s “I Speak Jesus.” I played it and sang along — much to their amusement, I’m sure. Soon it was time to end. I began to dismiss them when one sweet boy raised his hand and said we needed to pray. He was right. I told him that he was now officially in charge of reminding me, because I had gotten so caught up in everything else that I forgot. How did I forget to pray?
On my way back to the guest house, many of the younger boys were playing football and volleyball on the fields. As I walked by, I saw one boy on the ground, clearly in pain, holding his leg. Naomi and I went over to check on him and asked if he wanted us to call the nurse. I thought he said yes, but neither of us had her number. Naomi went to get Londyn, who knew him. She spoke with him, helped him to the sideline, and told him to let them know if he needed the nurse.
Evening Games and Stories
Before long, it was time for dinner. Tonight, Fred joined us. Over the meal, we learned more of his story. His parents are Rwandan, but he was born in Uganda after they fled during the genocide. They later returned to Rwanda, and he attended university here. He is married and has two young boys. He has only been on staff at Rwanda Children for a month, and after this term his boys will transfer from their school in Kigali to join him here. Fred is wonderful to talk with, and I thoroughly enjoyed hearing his journey.
After dinner, it was time for Uno Flip again. This time another staff member joined us — she helps in the kitchen, always has the biggest smile, and gives some of the best hugs I’ve had on this trip. We played two or three games, laughing our way through each one. Once again, it was the kind of laughter that settles down into your bones and stays.
Tonight I came back to my room and worked on my lesson for tomorrow. Chapel will be longer, and Francois asked if I would speak. I think I’m ready now. The lesson feels solid and good.
“Some of the most sacred work here happens in ordinary moments — a dozen three-year-olds wrapping you in a hug, a student reminding you not to forget to pray, a staff member’s story unfolding over dinner.”
Today was full — of songs, stories, questions, hugs, and games. I am very tired, and very thankful.