The Journey :)

Beautiful Sunrise :)

4:30 am- Date with my papa and his word.

5:00 am- Make breakfast for the team.

5:30 am Breakfast

6:30 am- The Journey Begins . . .

As we leave the house we walk a 100 yards or so to the bus stop

as the busses start streaming into the stop

we shout for the one going our direction.

We cram all ten of us into a taxi bus t

hat is pretty full already

the smell of early morning and sweaty humans

fills the bus as we drive.

I am squeezed between three others

attempting to read my “Created to be His Help Meet” book

as we crazily drive through town.

We pull into a taxi depot

filled with hundreds of taxi’s shouting

and yelling at the Mazungu’s (white people)

to get us in their taxi’s.

We walk through the park

and pile into another taxi

and three other Americans join us

and we head off into another direction.

Around 8:15 am we pull up to this stop

where there is a long dirt road.

Road bikes that are at least 20 years old

surround us and our translator bargains with them

and they settle on 300 Rwanda francs,

which is about 50 cents,

to bike us three miles down this hilly windy road.

As we climb onto the back of these bikes

in our skirts and tennis shoes

I cant help but laugh and embrace

the journey ahead of us!

We head down this road

that is full of rocks and dips

and the bikers weave in and out of the road,

mind you there is really no place to hold on.

But the sweet smell of morning and the country

makes me remember that there is no better church

I would rather be visiting.

Once we arrive at the “hiking” point

our leader assures us that its going to be about a 45 minute hike

to the top of the mountain,

straight up a mountain.

Within five minutes my legs are burring

and I’m reminded that this will probably be the longest

forty-five minutes ever.

The view keeps me distracted as I continue up this mountain,

it looks like a beautiful painting

of what I would picture Peru to look like.

The farmer have made their homes on this mountain

and have probably lived here for hundreds of years.

As we continue on our journey kids flood the dirt pathway

in hopes of getting a look at the Mazungu

and maybe even a hand shake.

The kids eyes light up as I greet them in Kinyarwanda,

the local language.

I will never get used to the moments

when sweet little kids see a white person for the first time

and run up and wrap their arms around my legs.

And place their small hands in my hands.

Every time it happens my heart melts.

So as we continue on our journey

after about an hour of hiking up hill

we came to this small village

that we thought was where the church would be.

So the two of us who where in front waited for the team,

and waited and waited.

As we stood in what seam to be the middle of town

people from every direction flooded out to see the Mazungu’s

that were standing in the town.

As the bits of the team made it to the area we were at

we started guessing which building is the church.

As the final people in our team made it

we discovered that we were only HALF WAY!!!!

Goodness I thought I was going to pass out!

As we started walking again and heading up the hill

a thought comes to my mind

that I really need to embrace and enjoy this walk

because we probably wouldn’t have another one like it.

So I start to walk up to each kid I see

and shake their hand and greet them

and just really imagine what it would be like

to see a skin color that you have never seen before.

As we arrive at the church

we are met by the pastor of the church

who warmly embraces us and is so thrilled to have us.

We enter the church and share our names

And where we are from.

Then we are informed that we are going to sing

In front of the church as we get up the “worship team”

Picked songs that not everyone knew.

Even with the language barrier it was embarrassing!

I laugh and think to myself, whelp at least we wont see them again!

One of our team members shares their testimony

And another shares a sermon.

Something I have really come to enjoy here

is way they give their offering in every church

we have been to so far they have a basket up at the front

and everyone dances to the basket and puts their offering in it.

It such a joyfully expression of thanksgiving to God

And saying that I’m trusting you Lord to provide for my family.

I just have really come to love it.

I’m pretty sure I might have a tough time

going back to bucket passing without dancing. 

As the service comes to an end we head to the pastors house

For lunch and fellowship.

He gives us a tour of his place

and shows us the “remodeling” he is doing,

meaning he is laying some new brick

and extending his living room by about two feet

in order to be able to welcome more visitors.

Goodness I love the relationship aspect of this culture.

We extend our house so we can have bigger

and better and people will think more of us.

They extend so they can squeeze in a few more people.

Spiders fill the corners of the small room

and I cant help but love it so much here.

We are served beans, rice, potatoes, and beef.

It amazes me that whether we are in America

Or in Africa we eat so well.

As we leave after visiting

we head to hike down the mountain.

I am reminded that I probably shouldn’t eat

And then hike pretty sure there is a rule or something against it.

We hike about an hour downhill and then ride our bikes back

To the bus stop and take a bus home.

We arrive home around three thirty.

It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday.

Hiking, worshiping, and enjoying Gods beautiful creation!!!

Thank you God for Africa and all your beautiful little children!!

 The local kids trying to bust through the pastors gate :)