This morning started earlier than usual, even for a Wednesday. Here, midweek means an earlier breakfast and a longer time of devotion, which also meant that today I was the one speaking in chapel. Breakfast, as always, was very good. I still love reading the menu each day and trying to imagine what will arrive at the table. “Chicken lollipops” really threw me the first time I saw them listed. They turned out to be quite delicious.
Early Worship and the Sewing Program Mothers
Naomi, unfortunately, was sick this morning. It was just Londyn and me at breakfast, and we were very quiet. The meal was short because worship started at 7:30. I headed over to the chapel just as the service began and took my place on the front row, notes in hand. François had given me Genesis 6:6 to speak from, and I had spent last night revising my lesson, trying to shape it to fit the time. Between prayer requests and announcements, we still went a bit over. I think the talk went fairly well. I did read off my notes more than I like, but after several days of preparing and speaking in so many different settings, my brain was grateful for the extra support.
After chapel, we headed to meet with the moms in the teen sewing program. Today I wasn’t presenting a formal lesson. Josiane and I sat in chairs and simply talked with the moms. I asked if they had questions. A few did; most remained quiet at first. We moved slowly, giving space for those who wanted to speak. I fielded the questions that came, answered what I could, and then it was time for their breakfast.
Once they left to eat, I walked a couple of doors down to be fitted for a dress. The last time I was here, the room was full of fabric options. This time, the choices were more limited, but for good reason: she has been busy making graduation gowns and school uniforms. Even with fewer options, the fabric she pulled for me felt just right. It is hard to describe how meaningful it is to carry home something made in this place by hands I know.
Fitting complete, I headed back to the room and sat for a moment, thinking about the rest of the morning. I decided it would be good to show the moms a motivational video I had shared with another group of mothers four years ago. My interpreter at the time had kindly translated and added Kinyarwanda subtitles, and the video has stayed with me ever since. Because we only had my laptop, I showed it to them in two groups so everyone could see the screen.
Afterward, we talked about additional strategies for connection with their children. We focused on behavioral matching — literally getting down on the child’s level — and they laughed when I sat on the floor to demonstrate sitting and playing alongside a little one. When we shifted to playful engagement, I shared some funny English phrases I sometimes use to catch a child’s attention. Several of them did not translate well, which made them even funnier. I then asked if they had playful phrases in Kinyarwanda, ways of starting a sentence that surprise a child into smiling instead of shutting down. They began sharing story after story. That last 45 minutes was lively and full of joy.
When it was time to leave, there was a small window before lunch. I spent it sitting with a staff member who had reached out and asked to talk. We sat together and talked about life, about challenges, and about options. Together we tried to problem-solve a few things. I was honored that they trusted me enough to begin that conversation.
Lunch, Scenarios, and a Razor-Close Debate
I made it to lunch right on time. Naomi, feeling better, was able to join us, which made me very thankful. Around the table we also had Sabine, Devotha, and Josiane. It was the largest group we’ve had at a meal so far. The food was wonderful, as always, and the conversation just as rich. I love these lunches where ministry, daily logistics, personal stories, and laughter all weave together over the same plates of food.
After lunch, I had about twenty minutes before my next session with the matrons and patrons. I wanted to use our remaining time well, so this session focused primarily on real-world scenarios. Rather than working through a full slide deck, we walked through situations they face in the dorms and on campus, talking about how trauma-informed principles might shape their responses. The conversation felt grounded and practical, and I was grateful for their honesty.
From there, my schedule said I was to help judge one of the student debates. I waited for several minutes in the fellowship hall before realizing that the debates are now held in the high school building. I walked over, convinced I was twenty minutes late, only to discover they had not started yet. I sat down at the judges’ table, ready with a pen and paper. Finally, the S4 team arrived, and the debate began.
I was genuinely impressed with the students. The debate was lively, with arguments that were well thought out and clearly rehearsed. Their references were strong, and they handled rebuttals with poise. The crowd was fully engaged, cheering and snapping when points landed well. Judging, however, was another story. I am used to clear rubrics; what we had today was more of a numeric scale without detailed criteria. I took careful notes and scored as thoughtfully as I could. Interestingly, the teacher on one side of me and I ranked the students in a similar order, while the teacher on my other side — and Londyn — had the opposite ranking. That meant the debate was very close. In the end, the winning team edged ahead by only 0.4%. It felt fitting for such a tightly matched conversation.
The debate was a reminder that when young people are given space to think and speak, there are often no easy answers — only thoughtful ones.
Conversation Corner and a Quiet Kindness
After the debate, we headed straight to Conversation Corner. Yesterday I had promised my group that I would bring them a version of Charity Gayle’s “I Speak Jesus” with lyrics, and they had also asked to play Mafia. As they arrived, I congratulated the debaters who had been on the panel. Two of the three student judges were in my group, and it was fun to celebrate their role in the event.
I tried to pull up the video, but it had not downloaded where I thought it had, so we shifted gears and decided to start with a game. Just as we were about to begin, I stopped and said, “Wait. We need to pray.” I looked at the student who had reminded me to pray yesterday and asked if he would pray for us again. He offered a simple, lovely prayer, and then we began.
Originally, we planned to play Mafia, but somewhere in the tangle of directions and suggestions, we shifted to a game of Concentration instead. We played one full round until it was just one student and me left standing. I am fairly certain I was given a generous amount of grace along the way. He won, as he should have.
Once the game ended, I finally managed to pull up the music video. The students crowded around my laptop, leaning in close to see the lyrics on the screen. They seemed to genuinely like the song, and several sang along. When it ended, I asked my student-pastor friend to pray once more, and then it was time to go.
When I walked back into my room to rest briefly before dinner, I noticed that my clothes had been folded neatly at the corner of my bed, and a new fan had been placed in the room. It was such a small thing, and yet it felt like a significant kindness — someone paying attention and choosing to make my space more comfortable in this heat.
Dinner was simple and good. Tonight it was just Londyn and me; Naomi wasn’t feeling well again and needed to rest. We had a great conversation at the table, the kind that meanders between the day’s events, future hopes, and small funny moments in between. There was no Uno tonight. Instead, we ended the day with quiet, with gratitude, and with rest.