tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60972337833131196282024-03-18T21:38:39.459-07:00Words On the WayShawna Benedict shares thoughts on life ~ faith, family, kindness, curiosity, adventure. Truly, it is in the shelter of each other that we live.Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-4295901221418838702019-05-28T10:27:00.000-07:002019-05-28T10:27:37.379-07:00Remembering Kindness<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My friend Gary died yesterday. I was sitting beside my daughter in a beautiful church in San Sebastian, Spain when I received the news. I guess that’s fitting since Gary spent so much of his time in church giving to others, me included.<br /><br />I met Gary last fall when I signed up for St. Michael’s <i>Education for Ministry</i> program. Gary was gracious and welcoming to me - the only non-Episcopalian in the four year program.<br /><br />This is what I know about Gary. He was kind, and the older I get the more I feel kindness is the most important thing. <i>The most important thing.</i><br /><br />Gary was unselfish. He gave his time away: Mentoring our weekly classes, teaching children’s classes at St. Michael’s. Helping with fundraisers for the Humane Society. Being very present in his children’s lives and his grandchildren’s lives. Gary was not the most important person in his life, because he knew the Way of Jesus. <br /><br /><i>He knew the Way of Jesus.</i><br /><br />I sat in that beautiful cathedral and my daughter slid closer to me to hold my hand as I cried. Someone was playing the organ and it filled the space - a memorial for Gary right there in the Basque Country.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m tired of friends dying too young. While sitting in that cathedral today, I was wearing the bracelet of my friend Lori who also died too young just last June. Gary was my third friend to die this year. It is too much. <br /><br />The world is hard and sad and tragic and cruel. Yet in the middle of all that, it is also a daughter holding onto her mom while she cries. It is friends sending messages of love and praying via text (yes that is a thing). It’s a neighbor offering to walk your dog when you’re sick. It’s a smile from the person in line next to you at the grocery store. It’s taking kids to the ice cream shop on the last day of school and listening to their giggles and trying to understand six year old David’s jokes, which almost never make sense. <br /><br />Life is heartwrenching and cruel, and it is beautiful and sweet. It is glorious but rarely easy.<br /><br />I will remember Gary, and I will remember his kindness.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-28642267855388066292019-03-26T08:51:00.000-07:002019-03-26T08:54:20.750-07:00Why Is It So Hard ?<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jesus told us, “Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.” (John 13:34)<br /><br />We are told so plainly and so often to love, yet we do it so poorly. Why is loving others so difficult? Why do we complicate it so? Does this go back to fear? To pride? To our constant struggle to die to self? To die to our need to get own own way? Why is our default to only want to love people who are like us, who agree with us? Are we that needy? That insecure? That unsure of our beliefs?<br /><br />It's scary how much we struggle to love others. I want to remember these thoughts and questions the next time I allow myself to think harshly about others, each time I see a news headline and think, “What idiots.”<br /><br />Jesus help me walk your love out of myself and into the world.</span></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-74945874093519564972018-12-31T10:00:00.002-08:002019-01-01T08:28:09.082-08:00When it’s Not All Fun and Games – My Real Life Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I sat with my daughter on Christmas Eve sharing some alone time. I asked her to name her highs and lows of 2018, and she was quick to respond. When it was my turn, I easily named the low point of 2018 but trying to identify a high point in 2018 had me turning silent. I couldn’t think of one. The hard parts of our lives sometimes outweigh the good times, and 2018 was like that for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I’ve seen friends posting their “Top Ten” fabulous things of 2018, and that’s great. Maybe I’ll share my own later. But if I’m being honest, I can list the hard experiences of 2018 far more easily than the good times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In June my friend Lori died. Putting this at the top of my “lows” cannot describe how this played out in my heart and life. Hurt and sadness and loneliness and confusion were the boss of me for a long while. It’s six months later and while the hurt lessens, I’m still confused. Yesterday, I thought to myself, “I’ll call Lori and ask . . ." This happens all the time. Part of me wants to be done hurting, but a bigger part of me wants to never stop missing her. I can hear her laughter even now while writing. I can pause and bring it up in my mind. I’m so grateful. And I still hurt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There were other hard experiences in 2018. Not all are listed here, because, you know, I want you to have a good day. . . </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">On February 1, 2018, I dislocated my shoulder while running alone in the hills near our house. This clearly showed I’m not as tough as I thought. There was screaming and crying and lot’s of, “Why does this hurt so much?” to every person I encountered at the hospital. Finally, the ER nurse responded, “You’ve dislocated your shoulder, of course it hurts!” I’m just saying, avoid this injury. The pain is fierce and the recovery long, and physical therapists are not as nice as you think. . . </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this daughter from whom I learn so much</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So here is what I came up with for my 2018 high points.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I watched my daughter live through a difficult and painful situation and push her way out to the other side stronger and wiser and kinder and braver. And I’m so incredibly proud of her. So grateful for her dependence on Jesus and her willingness to learn and make hard choices and look pain in the face. These are not easy things.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The loss of my Lori brought me closer to our shared group of friends, and I am wildly grateful for these women. To be loved by them is a gift indescribable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Pain and loss and hard times can bring a marriage closer or push it apart. I’m incredibly grateful for my husband’s extreme faithfulness and love. His desire to share my pain and do things that healed my soul - even taking up backpacking at age 53 - is a gift I want to live with forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Could we just be honest and share our ugly stuff and not just our pretty times. How many times have I looked at Facebook and come away sad or feeling left out or like I’m clearly doing life wrong? Life cannot be as perfect and pretty as we make it look on social media. Last week I stopped following a writer whose work I love, because her posts made me long for what I don’t have. You guys, if you follow people on social media who make you feel worse about yourself and your life, stop it! The world is hard enough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I read one chapter from the book of Psalm in the Bible before I pray each morning. Today, December 31, 2018, I read Psalm Chapter 13 and it seemed written just for me:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Psalm Chapter 13</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How long will you hide your face from me?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How long must I take counsel in my soul</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">and have sorrow in my heart all day?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over her,”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But I have trusted in your steadfast love; </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I will sing to the LORD,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">because he has dealt bountifully with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">God has dealt bountifully with me, and I look forward to 2019 because of him.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lori</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">No person has taught me more about <br />Jesus and his love than Lori</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZBtiqNCoOjXBncIOSsfzrJlpSzounE25GcOp9quz1knanpLUias5AjAn3XXf3yk7iZnXHofdSBBOnC3gPhF5T7wp98rCjGg_GZiCRycsvJ87oM_107hbalqVdRVfQ4MmlH5_1KOw6vo/s1600/IMG_0097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZBtiqNCoOjXBncIOSsfzrJlpSzounE25GcOp9quz1knanpLUias5AjAn3XXf3yk7iZnXHofdSBBOnC3gPhF5T7wp98rCjGg_GZiCRycsvJ87oM_107hbalqVdRVfQ4MmlH5_1KOw6vo/s320/IMG_0097.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjbT_grDjlK3RKVA3npH3ssjs6abWwRQ_ASBGI9zG_camC0IhvrWd2q-4UMzVpAOz86A1ll4fqraRsjS1et7XRnLt1Cs2jsj3zhLjbIdXbsv38z9HUUJVUBCwR9pWDQ7K9F1K16iyOgU/s1600/IMG_1412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1202" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjbT_grDjlK3RKVA3npH3ssjs6abWwRQ_ASBGI9zG_camC0IhvrWd2q-4UMzVpAOz86A1ll4fqraRsjS1et7XRnLt1Cs2jsj3zhLjbIdXbsv38z9HUUJVUBCwR9pWDQ7K9F1K16iyOgU/s320/IMG_1412.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">forever grateful for the love of these women</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRKaEzZc6L03uEwJplHQlX4RAl4zz3eaKK5okaD14MnLKkMGy6-j9CkGxZUXQwcW8J06JyoFtUynLp3lJ0VwSd8dtF7t078ZxJhvaahcl6vPCJJb3NvUPGHK29Fb0fXS1eNPVWoQFSAE/s1600/IMG_0118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRKaEzZc6L03uEwJplHQlX4RAl4zz3eaKK5okaD14MnLKkMGy6-j9CkGxZUXQwcW8J06JyoFtUynLp3lJ0VwSd8dtF7t078ZxJhvaahcl6vPCJJb3NvUPGHK29Fb0fXS1eNPVWoQFSAE/s320/IMG_0118.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Instagram photo says, "Backpacking <br />looks like this - all smiles and fun"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx35nDbNtjztfX5wcjjEIU2qXn36nFaoHZQU5dkTeoJPWgd5Xl3My-RnuJk7oKoyV4gINaGvhyphenhyphenmtogUabiVzwGy6mz109_zeNcWpIk1e3OlGpnSxZw_4hXY6xANr5JAl89rOFstyhZ51s/s1600/IMG_3487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx35nDbNtjztfX5wcjjEIU2qXn36nFaoHZQU5dkTeoJPWgd5Xl3My-RnuJk7oKoyV4gINaGvhyphenhyphenmtogUabiVzwGy6mz109_zeNcWpIk1e3OlGpnSxZw_4hXY6xANr5JAl89rOFstyhZ51s/s320/IMG_3487.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">actual real life photo says, "Climbing 2500 feet <br />up a mountain makes me want to throw up"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkcamILzajjqEyAzdJrDZTd9ofDwlJmWayKMiyRCYikPsb350YGfsaVyMDd1HFbkVSK5fyXbm_iMo4TAQ4b9YRF9Xj51JhIbKOHsQ1vYHKGo77qmeAIHMUuucyNNRrAfeJ8fpsBbCjnI/s1600/IMG_1732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkcamILzajjqEyAzdJrDZTd9ofDwlJmWayKMiyRCYikPsb350YGfsaVyMDd1HFbkVSK5fyXbm_iMo4TAQ4b9YRF9Xj51JhIbKOHsQ1vYHKGo77qmeAIHMUuucyNNRrAfeJ8fpsBbCjnI/s320/IMG_1732.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Instagram photo, "A dislocated shoulder is no problem"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQH5wXabsd7nJxGN0SQuasK7szrA6dvV9OxLMW8Vfi4b7nD92Wep9RhWIRSdiXeucuHXxy16iw3zt5QaiKdw0uZwpSkM9dkFBdE_xSTEIFnai7VUO5RHHF5QIfNpUWnMsNU6jdkWFsffY/s1600/IMG_1385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQH5wXabsd7nJxGN0SQuasK7szrA6dvV9OxLMW8Vfi4b7nD92Wep9RhWIRSdiXeucuHXxy16iw3zt5QaiKdw0uZwpSkM9dkFBdE_xSTEIFnai7VUO5RHHF5QIfNpUWnMsNU6jdkWFsffY/s320/IMG_1385.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">actual photo, "My shoulder doesn't work anymore<br />and therapy hurts!"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1CSnGvsw3UbA0071UhtBlDwbU84CDgDMojw9sSstnlaT8jtZE2Ze6n94Z4vHjZViybafkjvJng8wZQzt5zLDdRk5YDaXkaRu8hFKqiT1FFiZ0epfGtfCCuIFmpFbjBI-nYiPpoNsZ3Xw/s1600/IMG_6033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1583" data-original-width="1600" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1CSnGvsw3UbA0071UhtBlDwbU84CDgDMojw9sSstnlaT8jtZE2Ze6n94Z4vHjZViybafkjvJng8wZQzt5zLDdRk5YDaXkaRu8hFKqiT1FFiZ0epfGtfCCuIFmpFbjBI-nYiPpoNsZ3Xw/s320/IMG_6033.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">my girls</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">grateful</span></td></tr>
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-36696205935408793292018-07-02T09:35:00.002-07:002018-07-02T09:50:16.997-07:00When Love Wins Everyone Wins<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We live in a brutal world. Maybe you’ve noticed. Sometimes I try to trick myself into thinking the hard things that happen are just a season. Life will get easier, less painful, kinder to my heart. This isn’t true.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The truth is, every day brings incredible joy and incredible pain. Last week we said goodbye to one of my dearest friends. Yet that day which brought extreme pain and sadness also brought laughter and joy. I held onto the love of my husband and children. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I laughed with my friends.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> I smothered five year old David with kisses and grabbed on tight to him as he giggled.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">At the memorial, I watched my young Congolese friends sing, and was awed by their courage and kindness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The following day, I woke exhausted, worn down by grief and busyness. I woke ready to tackle a new day. A day filled with getting four young refugee children to summer camp. Yet I also woke to news reports of nine refugees being stabbed while celebrating a child’s birthday. How can this be the world we live in? Quickly I checked to see if I knew any of the injured. I did not. Relief followed, then horror that anyone could harm those who have suffered so much already. Who had already fled violence and death.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">A dear friend messaged me, “Why does this happen?” My first thought was, “The light has come into the world and the darkness cannot overcome it.” <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+1%3A5&version=ESV">John 1:5</a> I thought, “I must do a better job of loving people.” Sure, I do a pretty good job of loving the people I already love. My family, my friends, my bigger family of Congolese refugees. But honestly I don’t do a good job of loving those I view as unloveable, unworthy. Where does that fit into my life?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Because we all own the hatred that has become commonplace in our country. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Since the last presidential election, which seemed to push us even farther away from each other, I have been asking God to help me truly love each person. Especially to help me love the person who appears to be the opposite of me. The person who doesn’t want refugees in our country, the person who attends a White Supremist Rally, the person who wants to hurt my gay friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I can be so quick to judge. It feels like my right because I’m the "better person.” I’m so quick to blame. So quick to believe I am, of course, the kinder person because of how I voted or who I spend time with. But since I’ve begun praying specifically for these feelings to break down, for my heart to embrace anyone I previously considered unlovable, a strange thing has happened. I have actually begun to love those I previously allowed myself to hate. This is only Jesus. This isn’t me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I hope we will accept that we are all the same. All deserving of love. I hope we will all look around and love those who believe differently. I hope we will become uncomfortable listening to anyone speaking badly about those “on the other side.” That we will stop those conversations, those jokes that seem so funny but really are just cruel. I hope we will choose to love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Only love can eradicate hate. There is no other way. There is no MY way that fixes this broken world. There is only the way of Jesus. And that way is love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I hold onto this as I open my heart each day to the incredible joy and the terrible sadness that is every day life.</span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-8808511843594491972018-07-01T09:17:00.001-07:002018-07-01T09:17:44.595-07:00Always Say the Words<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday we said goodbye to my dear friend, Lori. Lori left us Monday after a long battle with breast cancer. Two weeks before Lori died, I gave her this letter. At her memorial service yesterday my daughter read this letter. I struggled with whether or not to share this here, and I do so only to honor Lori and to share how well life can be lived. Lori chose to live well and for others. Also, if you loved Lori and didn't get the chance to share with her the words in your heart, please take these words and make them your own.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">June 13, 2018</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My dearest Lori,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I hope it’s okay that I’ve typed these words and not handwritten them, but tears don’t smear digital letters like they do handwritten letters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I’m going to start by sharing the two verses I pray for you each day:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Psalm 23:4 “Even if I go through the deepest darkness, I will not be afraid, LORD, because you are with me.” Oh Lori, I pray you feel the love and presence of Jesus so real and tangibly every moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Psalm 71:14 “But I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more.” I pray for extreme trust, peace and joy to live deep inside you. And always I pray for healing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Oh Lori, every week when I have the privilege of spending my day with you, I want to tell you everything in my heart and all you mean to me; but I know if I open my mouth to say these things, only sobs will emerge. Such is the way of me. I’m grateful God has given us the written word.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You know, I know you do, how much I love you. Without you, a big gaping hole will forever be in my heart. I will miss your laughter (oh your laughter!) and incredible wit and silliness, your wisdom, our last minute coffee dates at Janjou, our hikes and XC skiing, your gentle words of guidance and sometimes even correction, and of course the pictures we text each other of our meals (at least we aren’t posting them on Instagram).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My first memory of you is when Rebecca and Madelon were in first grade together and you sent an invitation to the parents for coffee at your house. I was annoyed and felt a great deal of FOMO ☺ that I couldn’t come, because I was attending Boise State. I felt pretty sorry for myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I’d never had a friend like you before, someone who prayed for me and showed me a new and friendlier, more loving Jesus. There are some moments we’ve shared that are so clear in my mind. Once at my house in the Highlands, when Caleb was a teenager, I mentioned I was worried about how difficult it would be for our children to find spouses who followed Jesus and had the example growing up of a good family life. And you replied this didn’t worry you because the Holy Spirit can conquer anything. You probably don’t know this, but your words changed my life that day. Truly, changed the way I live. I began to let God out of the box I’d put him and really let him have power over my life. My world changed that day because of your words. I’m so grateful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">There is another memory that plays so clearly in my mind. We were in the garage of your home on the bench, painting corn toss boards for the Ambrose auction. Steve was with us and you snapped at him (I'm such a good friend for bringing this up). I remember being startled. Wait, what? My Lori also gets annoyed with her husband. This made me feel so good and normal (I know. Such a good friend).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I hope it’s ok that I refer to you as “my Lori” when I pray. I know there are many who come before me and that you belong first to Jesus, then Steve, Madelon, Tom, Jack and so many others. But Lori this is just how it is with you. You have loved us all so well. The rest of us Wonder Women joke that we each feel like your best and closest friend. This is just how good you are at loving us. We live in this love of yours and give Jesus all the glory for bringing us together into this little band of women.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">A few years ago when I started to speak at church – some might even say preach! Your support and encouragement and validation gave me courage and kept me returning to the pulpit. I have never spoken at church without you praying me through it. The first time I preach without you praying me through the week before and day of, is something I cannot let myself think about. Maybe put in some extra prayers for me now that I can always hold onto. I really do love you so much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">But here’s the thing I want you to recognize and hold inside yourself. I hope. I pray you know how much you have changed the world for good. I know this is Jesus living inside you, but I hope you will let yourself dwell upon the way you have impacted this world with your life. The choices you’ve made, the way you have loved others, the time you have given to others, the incredible way you can see what others need – your unselfishness – all of these things have made this world a better place. You have loved well and your love lives inside hundreds, maybe thousands of people. You have lived the royal law of love that is the way of following Jesus. Lori, Jesus is so proud of you. I know he is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hold onto this and the rest of us Wonder Women will laugh with you and love with you again. There are many tears ahead of us, but I know Jesus is bringing us more laughter and better days than we have ever known. And I will hold onto this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Your forever grateful, forever loving you friend, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Shawna</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">PS: There is a pile of tissue on my desk and poor Daphne Dog is pretty worried about all the tears. Maybe put Archie outside when you read this. Oops, I should have said that at the beginning. My bad.</span><br />
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-31370806036697287662018-04-18T07:15:00.000-07:002018-04-19T13:25:21.537-07:00When Darkness Closes In<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Note: This was written August 11, 2017. Today, the darkness isn't closing in on me and I am wildly grateful. It is my true desire that in sharing my life, hope will be passed on to another who struggles.</span></b></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Depression is a cruel thing. Sometimes depression makes sense to me. The first time I lived in this darkness it made sense. I had just received a second diagnosis of melanoma, I was working at a job I hated, my husband was out of work, our son had gone away to college, leaving me wondering what my purpose was. It kind of made sense that I fell into the dark place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But this summer depression has made another hard run at me, and it makes no sense. My life is lovely. Our son is newly married and living just ten minutes away from us in Boise. Our new daughter in law is a delightfully perfect fit for our family. Our daughter is a joy and finishing her nursing degree. Life is secure and filled with friends who love us and care about our lives. I’m not sick. We are financially secure. I have the rare blessing of being in control of my days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I feel guilty being sad like this. It seems self-centered and such an unkind thing to put my family through. Again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yet as much as I try and try and try to be free of it, here I am.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And I worry. I worry my family will get tired of "sad me." That my friends will stop calling, because who wants to be around this. I don’t.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I’m hesitant to talk about this thing that’s happening to me. Depression seems like a cliche. Something everyone is doing - like being hipster.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And yet I know this terrible thing I struggle to be free of has made me a kinder person. I judge less, perhaps hoping I will be judged less.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I hold onto the hope that my time in this dark place will pass. It always has. I must believe it will again. Maybe when I’m sitting on the other side of this darkness, I’ll look back and see I’ve learned new stuff, become a better person, stronger, kinder, more forgiving (of myself even). Right now, though, I hate this place. I want to laugh and soak in the good stuff happening all around me. It’s not fun. And it’s awful for my husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, I sat in my favorite coffee shop downtown and a homeless man was sitting next to me. He started talking to me, asking about the book I was reading. I looked at him and wondered how often people like me really see him. Really hear him, so I put down my book and gave him my full attention. We had an odd conversation. He bounced from one random topic to another, and I followed where he led. After fifteen minutes of talking and laughing, I wished him a good day and said goodbye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I left him there in the coffee shop, glad I had given him part of my day, knowing that in my own brokenness I too need the kindness, the understanding, the attention of those around me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I left hoping I can stay focused on the road ahead, trusting it will get better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>For You LORD are a shield around me, my glory and the One who lifts up my head. Psalm 3:3</i></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-50117253612080842832017-05-03T13:22:00.002-07:002017-05-08T13:46:33.503-07:00Once Upon a Time<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Once upon a time a woman stayed awake at night filled with anxiety that as her children grew older they would move away and become more mature versions of their amazing selves and forget about their mom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Once upon time a woman stayed awake at night filled with fear and anxiety that when her children were grown, life would be empty and lonely and there would be no one to love and care for.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Once upon a time this woman’s husband tried desperately to console her. Yet she would not be consoled and cried anyway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Once upon a time this woman’s God walked with her through sadness and despair and brought her out the other side into a beautiful light. He never left her. He was always faithful, always compassionate. He showed her how to walk in the light of Jesus and open her heart to EVERYONE and let go of fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Today, this woman’s children are grown and amazing. One of them even moved away. . . yet life is sweeter than ever. The children did not forget their mom. That was a silly fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Today, this woman’s life is filled with children - big and small - to love and nurture and hold deep in her heart. There has never been so many to love and care for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And she never forgets what a gift this is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-84421827106471313152017-01-21T07:39:00.001-08:002017-01-21T07:39:38.451-08:00I'm Paying Attention<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday was not my favorite day. I’m not a fan of the new president. I find his character - at least the persona he shows us - disturbing and sad. I remain mystified and hurt that we’ve elected him. This isn’t Italy after all! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Still, this is the president we have. Deal with it (that’s the pep talk I give myself; it needs improvement).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday my daughter said, “I made myself pray for the president today.” I stared at her. I hadn’t gotten there yet. Oh, I’ve prayed around him. “God, protect us. God bring good out of this mess.” That sort of thing, but praying for him? So this morning I took my daughter’s example and prayed for the president. It wasn’t the best prayer. It went something like, “He seems like such a messed up person inside. Help him love you.” That’s nice. I hope God can do something with that. . . </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I also prayed for myself, because I’m afraid my anger and hurt will change my insides. And that scares me. In the eight years of Barack Obama’s presidency, I’ve seen many of my Christian friends hating and disparaging Mr. Obama. It always startled me, and I don’t want to go that route. So I prayed “Please help me truly follow you in all this. Really. In my heart and in my feelings towards the new president and in my words and actions. It’s hard because hurt wells up inside me and flows out into words of anger that don’t honor you. Surely, I can disagree with our new president without hatred claiming a piece of me.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Sigh. One sentence for our new president and a paragraph for me. It’s a good thing God never gives up on us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday morning God was looking out for me. As usual. </span><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;">Each morning before I talk with God, I read a chapter from the book of Psalm in the Bible. This is an everyday thing and I just keep cycling through the Psalms, starting with chapter 1 and reading through chapter 150 and then starting all over again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">On Inauguration Day 2017, I read Psalm 46. At random. It was just the next Psalm to read.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It goes like this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">“God is a safe place to hide,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Ready to help when we need him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Attention all! See the marvels of God!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">‘Step out of traffic! Take a long,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Loving look at me, your High God,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Above politics, above everything!’”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Rather timely. . . </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I’m paying attention and stepping out of traffic to take a long, loving look at my God. I’m looking to see how he will use this mess for good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I’m reading through the bible again this year, and was tempted (haha!) to skip the book of Genesis because, having grown up attending church, I’ve heard those stories a million times. I mean, I did turn fifty last year! But oh how glad I am that my “rule following” tendencies wouldn’t allow me to skip even one page.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As I read the last words of the book of Genesis, I recognized God is constantly taking situations we have completely messed up and making something good instead. The book of Genesis tells story after story of humans ruining every good situation God has given them and then God fixing their messes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When this “light bulb moment” occurred to me, I laughed. Instead of being sad and hopeless, I should be watching and listening for the good God will bring from our mess. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">“Pay attention and see all the marvels of God!”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">God is bigger than my mess. Bigger than your mess. Bigger than the messes we make together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And I’m pay attention.</span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-15939278293946101102016-09-14T15:55:00.000-07:002016-09-15T05:29:57.070-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 10<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>“I think I made you too small.”</i> Those words from the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUqWazRsVuQ">What Do I know of Holy</a> kept running through my mind while we were in Rwanda. As we traveled to nearly every district in Rwanda, I kept hearing those words over and over. There are thirty districts in Rwanda. I’ve been to twenty. I had a lot of time to think.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8YCWYvAk4wTS4uGO9I265MiJ8DgLmxAlShf1ZQzkm19X_OVgOroYaJb_NK5MxmCKRh2QIfHpmJE39LFerRHyLvMC7EG4IrJYiHQROz5ISva9949lHtZy3t9fpd47EEkOFv9GV-vlvqWQ/s1600/IMG_4192+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8YCWYvAk4wTS4uGO9I265MiJ8DgLmxAlShf1ZQzkm19X_OVgOroYaJb_NK5MxmCKRh2QIfHpmJE39LFerRHyLvMC7EG4IrJYiHQROz5ISva9949lHtZy3t9fpd47EEkOFv9GV-vlvqWQ/s400/IMG_4192+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Her God is BIG</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">At home in Boise I read Psalm 62 this morning and found a note I wrote in my Bible when we were in Rwanda. It was written the morning after our hardest day. You can read about that hard day <a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/09/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016_1.html">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Psalm 62</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>God, the one and only— I’ll wait as long as he says. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Everything I hope for comes from him, so why not?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> He’s solid rock under my feet, breathing room for my soul, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>An impregnable castle: I’m set for life.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>My help and glory are in God —granite-strength and safe-harbor-God— So trust him absolutely, people; lay your lives on the line for him. God is a safe place to be.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The note I wrote says, “Kageyo, Rwanda 2016: I will not be broken. I will be a strong advocate for the poor and these dear families. I must not try to be strong on my own, because my strength comes straight from God.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As an American sometimes it’s hard for me to remember I must not attempt to be strong on my own. I am, after all, from the land of “pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” My roots run deep in individualism.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In his book <i>Embracing Grace</i>, pastor Scott Sauls says: <i>“Individualism is the biggest obstacle to the gospel of embracing grace. . . . Individualism diminishes us because it backs away from commitment and community. If humans are made to relate to God and to others, Individualism attacks our very essence.”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">A focus on my individual self will always take me farther from God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes it’s hard for me to let God be God, to let him be awesome and filled with love for me and great. I make him small, because I can solve my own problems. “I’ve got this.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In Rwanda, most Christians don’t have that luxury. Their lives don’t always give them the opportunity to solve their own problems, to pull themselves up by their (non-existent) bootstraps.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In Rwanda, God is not small. God is big. Very big. He does big things. He loves big. He forgives big. When God does these same things in America, I often don’t recognize him, and instead credit myself and my own cleverness. Because, “I’ve got this.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I desperately want to see God in all his bigness, in all his glory, and each time I visit Rwanda, God gets bigger.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I don’t want a small God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I don’t want to read one more book telling me everything I need to know about God. I’ve done a lot of Bible studies and enjoyed them and learned and become healthier because of them, but the danger for me is in thinking I have God all figured out. Thinking, “I’m so smart.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I can talk theology fairly well (I mean all those Bible studies. . .), yet every day my prayer is just this, “Jesus, please help me love you more. Bigger. With everything I am.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I don’t want a small God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Maybe we have to leave America to see a big God. Maybe we have to leave for a while to let God out of the the box we’ve put him in. When I’m in Africa, God is not in a box. He is big and he is all around me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In Rwanda, I see a big God in the face of every friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Let’s make God big again and put him in his place.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXoSeqrM1hhlu1T-nmuAbGgDH5beww2pV0RAZWEBuc_RJUt9Y-ag0M4RifDK7b6z2JlLxeeAKynksL4BfzqpLBh1xp8J82383KcBjQSkZXzBgXPu9TMrXkox4LJ4zqbsIwMPjUTX1D6Z0/s1600/IMG_4007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXoSeqrM1hhlu1T-nmuAbGgDH5beww2pV0RAZWEBuc_RJUt9Y-ag0M4RifDK7b6z2JlLxeeAKynksL4BfzqpLBh1xp8J82383KcBjQSkZXzBgXPu9TMrXkox4LJ4zqbsIwMPjUTX1D6Z0/s400/IMG_4007.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Their God is BIG</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>What do I Know of Holy by Addison Road</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>I made You promises a thousand times</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>I tried to hear from Heaven</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>But I talked the whole time</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>I think I made You too small</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>I never feared You at all No</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>If You touched my face would I know You?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Looked into my eyes could I behold You?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>So What do I know of You</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Who spoke me into motion?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Where have I even stood</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>But the shore along Your ocean?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Are You fire? Are You fury?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>So What do I know? What do I know of Holy?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>I guess I thought that I had figured You out</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>How You were mighty to save</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Those were only empty words on a page</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>So What do I know of You</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Who spoke me into motion?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Where have I even stood</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>But the shore along Your ocean?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Are You fire? Are You fury?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>So What do I know? What do I know of Holy?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do I know of Holy?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>And a God who gave life it's name?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do I know of Holy?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Of the One who the angels praise?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>All creation knows Your name</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>On earth and heaven above</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do I know of this love?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>So What do I know of You</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Who spoke me into motion?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Where have I even stood</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>But the shore along Your ocean?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Are You fire? Are You fury?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do I know? What do I know of Holy?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do I know of Holy?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do I know of Holy?</i></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-83790647442777478622016-09-11T00:56:00.000-07:002016-09-14T15:58:17.195-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 9<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssb9tT-RIky6vfLS-FZbgJ8Pf7uS0BoaI9yClWXsZS8-AIXZUlI4nQuao-Qsq9pR71sCqj9nRvJLFf_QUljxsWQQumy3lI-DJPGh4WNf2mrdP9UFKnaUnBrZsVXJ8A8J8Vl9HQBcZFuw/s1600/IMG_0355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssb9tT-RIky6vfLS-FZbgJ8Pf7uS0BoaI9yClWXsZS8-AIXZUlI4nQuao-Qsq9pR71sCqj9nRvJLFf_QUljxsWQQumy3lI-DJPGh4WNf2mrdP9UFKnaUnBrZsVXJ8A8J8Vl9HQBcZFuw/s320/IMG_0355.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Amsterdam</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When we stepped off the plane in Amsterdam early Saturday morning, I turned to Kevin and said, "This time in Rwanda was way more intense than last year." Walking through the crowded airport, I started to cry. I felt sobs coming. Kevin quickly hushed me. Apparently, he thought sobbing my way through Immigration Control was not a good idea. He's smart that way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Last year in Rwanda was amazing and new and hard and an explosion to all my senses. I went home and told Kevin, "All other travel is going to seem boring now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But this year we saw so much more. We were more connected to the people. More friends. More loved ones. More children to visit. More heartache to share. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We absorbed more. Refugee camps and poverty at a level we've never seen. More hungry children. More desperate teenagers begging for help. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday our friend Kamana (who will soon be an American citizen!) texted us and said, "You guys have done more in two weeks than I could do in a year." And it feels like it. I've never known this weariness. I imagine it feels a lot like many of my Rwandan friends feel. Every day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Maybe next year I'll have discovered how to create a more restful itinerary. But that's doubtful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For now I'm grateful for two nights rest in The Netherlands, but there is no avoiding the culture shock of traveling from Rwanda to Boise in two days. I'm so grateful to get home to Rebecca and be where I can easily talk to Caleb on the phone and not wait for the electricity to come back on so we can FaceTime.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'm grateful I don't have to leave Rwanda entirely behind as we go home to dozens and dozens of friends from Rwanda and Congo. These beloved friends keep me real and grounded and honest and living outside of myself in a way I'm scared wouldn't happen if they weren’t in my life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Truly, I don't know why God loves me so much, yet I know he does. I see it in the faces of my family and friends every day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And I am grateful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/09/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016_14.html">Read Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda Part 10 here</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi8Ao9zyHl5COoEjHO8rvcOamCnw_dCKJwM2fPmDv1Yrb6Acsu7cCpJjmPBIwRA1WB96fAByem8yeqb18FYmdKrpSoGLaXzPYdk6lQWcg5CXruXCfChQ7cycpTUoqN0UdfosertvcGgk/s1600/IMG_5913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi8Ao9zyHl5COoEjHO8rvcOamCnw_dCKJwM2fPmDv1Yrb6Acsu7cCpJjmPBIwRA1WB96fAByem8yeqb18FYmdKrpSoGLaXzPYdk6lQWcg5CXruXCfChQ7cycpTUoqN0UdfosertvcGgk/s640/IMG_5913.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">at home in Boise</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-39621497437851770722016-09-08T00:30:00.000-07:002016-09-11T12:39:04.161-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 8<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Remember that time I visited our World Vision child, eleven year old Noel, and scared him to death by fainting in front of him. Yeah. That was a good day.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">That was my day Tuesday in Rwanda.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The day began nicely enough. Kevin left early to guest lecture at Carnegie Mellon University in Kigali, and I jumped into the car with Fred Tumusiime, the sponsorship officer from World Vision’s Kigali office to make the three hour drive to Nyamagabo in Rwanda’s southern province. It was one of those drives that won’t let you to take your eyes off the road, even though I was low on energy and fighting what I thought might be a stomach bug. Rwanda’s beauty wouldn’t let me nap.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I saw things I hadn't seen before in Rwanda. Lots of pigs. Pigs are good money earners as each piglet brings a good price. Coffee washing stations dotted the side of the road. We even passed a station that said, “Roasters for Stumptown Coffee.” In the middle of rural Rwanda I found Portland’s own Stumptown Coffee. Crazy!</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We arrived at World Vision’s district office in Nyamagabo, where I met district director Jean de Dieu and was given coffee and mandazi (Rwandan donut), a favorite of mine. I thanked Jean because just the day before, Prince, one of our young Rwandan friends in Boise had messaged me, “Have you eaten mandazi yet?” I hadn’t and didn’t want to get in trouble back home.</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63Lg47zH_bgvOIkSxlInpRSL70msolSqDTTBIb8N12I_lyBQT_uhDqUv75gjdMIkMxtHsVAFFqPeJNBGzOIJLAFsZHSX6NNG_Xc7gD8ig9KRWGYKcO6NG8fVBoZW2uHTpL9uN8y_nPNE/s1600/IMG_0127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63Lg47zH_bgvOIkSxlInpRSL70msolSqDTTBIb8N12I_lyBQT_uhDqUv75gjdMIkMxtHsVAFFqPeJNBGzOIJLAFsZHSX6NNG_Xc7gD8ig9KRWGYKcO6NG8fVBoZW2uHTpL9uN8y_nPNE/s400/IMG_0127.jpg" width="300"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">mandazi - my favorite Rwandan treat</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">World Vision does incredible things in Rwanda. I thought our sponsorship money just went to Noel, when in fact it helps develop a sustainable community by teaching improved farming methods, good hygiene and nutrition habits, digging wells, and providing vocational training. They help 11,500 people in Noel’s district alone. World Vision works in partnership with the community and one of the ways they assess needs is by holding regular meetings with school teachers and local pastors.</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiloULYfHFQbghPNNNwsquZB1jJyEHaHCVHQgHGSyiLxfTLPgjD7Sv_kUve_JKpTddbsWHlugk-0fImKjHE2Gmjrua9NcQvPhvlecafr_1INt8pRO-SbZO9MOcv-s7Avrk5N6jFF8Bxeow/s1600/IMG_0169.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiloULYfHFQbghPNNNwsquZB1jJyEHaHCVHQgHGSyiLxfTLPgjD7Sv_kUve_JKpTddbsWHlugk-0fImKjHE2Gmjrua9NcQvPhvlecafr_1INt8pRO-SbZO9MOcv-s7Avrk5N6jFF8Bxeow/s400/IMG_0169.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">those clever fish farms</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">After sharing coffee and mandazi, Jean stayed behind while I went with Fred and Christella, a World Vision field worker, to find Noel. We drove another forty-five minutes on blacktop before turning onto a dirt road. We drove by fish farms. Ok I have to stop. These fish farms are genius. A pond is dug and filled with water and fish, then rabbit hutches are built over the pond. The rabbits do their business and feed the fish. Genius! Also, the ponds attract amazing birds, which we didn’t have time to stop and see.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We drove over a wooden bridge, up a steep, steep hill, passed a genocide memorial and reached a village. We went down the hill, then up another steep hill to another village. We went down that hill, got stuck on the dirt road, were rescued by the villagers and continued our drive. Finally, we parked and continued on a path through the fields and up a hill.</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDUzNo0iajRE5Tw5HTqGvotzqLGb6pinoJSpSh57B7I00RWV2EEmjTg4BE7a7TVsWigBqydcn56lANTyp3HNKkPEp6w7_Rfwj1fMrtz240ORMWvfFqaAlIBnP0x4JNugmEkuonLk5qxIA/s1600/IMG_0200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDUzNo0iajRE5Tw5HTqGvotzqLGb6pinoJSpSh57B7I00RWV2EEmjTg4BE7a7TVsWigBqydcn56lANTyp3HNKkPEp6w7_Rfwj1fMrtz240ORMWvfFqaAlIBnP0x4JNugmEkuonLk5qxIA/s400/IMG_0200.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">stuck</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Fred had told me it was a forty-five minute “walk” to Noel’s home. I understood walk to mean a walk. On a flat surface. But I soon discovered “walk” has different meanings, and it’s meaning on this particular day was a vertical walk. In Boise we call that a hike.</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">The climb</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The evening before I had sent a prayer request to several friends and my mom. I was feeling exhausted and a little sick. I asked that they pray I would be able to see Noel. He knew I was coming, and I couldn’t NOT go even if I was sick.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So we jumped out of the car, and I grabbed the bag containing Noel’s gifts but I forgot my water. Oh water, water, water, water. I love water.</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfC6t4I_dk4or0aiCH_UwNHFVkqsRhjVIawM7eZAaKmgVPJp4qucQzKC4brUU6DImTj64-DVKPeSfqKExtme8wGD74F1tB_dZhziA6cwVS1GLPkThF1jerD1Mp2O4eMgd8tBp9o-ChfE/s1600/IMG_0210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfC6t4I_dk4or0aiCH_UwNHFVkqsRhjVIawM7eZAaKmgVPJp4qucQzKC4brUU6DImTj64-DVKPeSfqKExtme8wGD74F1tB_dZhziA6cwVS1GLPkThF1jerD1Mp2O4eMgd8tBp9o-ChfE/s400/IMG_0210.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Before I knew what I was getting into.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The walk was incredible. One of those, “I can’t believe this is happening” experiences. We walked over handmade wooden bridges while I worried about losing my balance. </span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBGrzbodPHwAZ12ci28nMHKnAxNbGaZILDqmVHlDoodS2zKn8JH-P_O_Ove8j74rrz6YR0qAsjy5EUfriR-sXrf2Svwm_2lp6LgG8VnrZqEupziBS22YnIA7lwrIRrTeWWoMOkqg0WLI/s1600/IMG_0212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBGrzbodPHwAZ12ci28nMHKnAxNbGaZILDqmVHlDoodS2zKn8JH-P_O_Ove8j74rrz6YR0qAsjy5EUfriR-sXrf2Svwm_2lp6LgG8VnrZqEupziBS22YnIA7lwrIRrTeWWoMOkqg0WLI/s400/IMG_0212.jpg" width="300"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Alphonse - I thanked him a million times</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We passed homes and farmers and goats and pigs and coffee plants, and people resting on small wooden stools in the shade of their homes. And I was feeling worse and worse. We began to climb a very steep hill and I asked, “Which is Noel’s home?” Fred pointed to the home at the top and I got worried. I stopped to rest. I felt like I might vomit. It was noon and the hottest day of our trip. I felt incredibly foolish for not having water. I put my scarf over my head to shield me from the sun. We kept walking. I rested some more. I felt more foolish. I dreamed of water. I knew nobody on this mountain. Kevin was in Kigali. I had met my World Vision friends only that morning. </span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9BvBww2kMCbsUDYfByrAkf2PcaEo-QRzNsRlyJ_b8AEFSVVz5k9aB9vONjkHWkRapAzeVOiI8k_EoxgClnOulxsL8Pb4i9jLA76IgK5thX4VCbarkGd-AHTTAMw29N7HZ2bgAKl6r-k/s1600/IMG_0271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9BvBww2kMCbsUDYfByrAkf2PcaEo-QRzNsRlyJ_b8AEFSVVz5k9aB9vONjkHWkRapAzeVOiI8k_EoxgClnOulxsL8Pb4i9jLA76IgK5thX4VCbarkGd-AHTTAMw29N7HZ2bgAKl6r-k/s400/IMG_0271.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">My World Vision Friends</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We climbed that mountain in the hot sun for forty-five minutes. Finally, Fred said, “There is Noel’s home.” It was so close, only about 150 feet away. Yet, I couldn’t get there.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I stopped to rest again, leaning against the terraced hillside, in the shade of a tree. I waited. I don’t remember fainting, but next thing I remember I was lying on the ground with my head in Christella’s lap. Fred was furiously fanning me with my scarf. A dozen people stood over me fanning me. Alphonse, a teenage boy, had been sent at a run to our car for water. Just before I woke, it felt like I was having a really nice dream, then I opened my eyes, realized what had happened and instantly started saying “Ni meza” (I’m fine) and “murakoze” (thank you) (like a million times). Fred and Christella got me on my feet. Noel hugged me. I was embarrassed. His grandmother hugged me. I was more embarrassed. I couldn’t stand by myself, so Fred and Christella held onto me until they sat me down on a chair in Noel’s home. That chair was the best thing I saw all day. I loved that chair. I fell into it and immediately began visiting with Noel and his grandmother, acting like I was fine but really I wanted to lie down so badly.</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLflEQj6QL6MPmIGQf9OgfNNW2nQnbER4EUF8bBMP4-nXX26XG9u6TqHKCo6FrH5nFIauqIg5BfBBUEI4Bs3OaDrIbL7NKSXQqsJkchNmGrxGjXWVHnP-jhzIKWQHjSXPYSj_290vnq_Y/s1600/IMG_0220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLflEQj6QL6MPmIGQf9OgfNNW2nQnbER4EUF8bBMP4-nXX26XG9u6TqHKCo6FrH5nFIauqIg5BfBBUEI4Bs3OaDrIbL7NKSXQqsJkchNmGrxGjXWVHnP-jhzIKWQHjSXPYSj_290vnq_Y/s400/IMG_0220.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Noel with his grandmother</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Fred kept fanning me, while I began pulling out the gifts I had brought. I wanted desperately to make everyone forget I tried to die in the front yard. . . I brought out the fabric for grandmother. I pulled out the bag of marbles. I gave little sister Marie a harmonica, because every parent loves a noisy gift (yeah, I didn’t think that one through too well). But it was when I pulled out the soccer ball that the entire room went, “oooooohhhhh” simultaneously and Noel might have smiled a tiny bit.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Suddenly Alphonse burst into the room wearing a backpack filled with bottled water, sweat pouring from his face. I drank a liter of water and kept visiting with Noel. You guys, our family photos are on their wall. Every family Christmas photo I’ve sent is on their wall. I wanted to cry. At least I’m good at that.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Noel and I sat together but he was so shy and never, ever smiled. Christella kept saying, “seka, seka, seka” (smile, smile, smile) to no avail. His grandmother encouraged him to talk to me, but he would only respond to my questions in whispers. I scared this kid speechless. Trying to make him smile, I told him he’ll have the best sponsor visit story of all his friends. He just stared at me.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The entire village had come to welcome me and crowded into Noel’s home, spilling out of the doorway. They danced and sang their traditional welcome for me. I love this welcome! Noel stood up and said the Hail Mary for me (I mean, I’m sure he felt if anyone needed it, it was me). The eldest gentleman in the room stood up and made a speech. I was overwhelmed. I felt so undeserving. I am just me.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Before leaving, we stood together for photos and Noel and I played a bit of soccer, but mostly I tried to stay in one place. And also upright. It seemed wise.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The village followed us down the mountain to say goodbye. Christella wouldn’t let go of me. I kept saying, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” Fred replied, “Yes but now we don’t believe you.” I smiled. He’s a fast learner.</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Saying goodbye at the car</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I teased Fred saying I hope he’ll let me visit another year and he said, “Yes but you must bring Benedict (that would be Kevin) with you.” He told me all he could think of when I was unconscious what “What am I going to tell Benedict?”</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">World Vision took Noel’s family and me to dinner at a restaurant in town. It was the first time Noel had been to a restaurant. I will carry these memories with me always. Little Noel sitting across from me, his plate piled high with food, his eyes so big. Never speaking. Never smiling. Just staring at his wimpy muzungu sponsor. When we said goodbye I said, “Maybe someday you’ll send me a photo and you’ll be smiling.” I’m hopeful.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The “walk” up the mountain was hard, but I wouldn’t change it. I love these words my friend Alison texted me after reading an account of my day. She said, “What a picture of God’s grace. Here you’ve been helping Noel and he and his family had the opportunity to help you.” Every time I read her words I cry.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I collapsed into the car, and we made the long three hour drive back to Kigali. It was dark when I arrived. It had seemed wise to tell Kevin of my day’s adventure via text. . . and I fell into his arms as he opened the car door. Exhausted. Relieved. Embarrassed. Grateful. The entire staff at the guest house welcomed me. I had scared them all half to death. I was too nauseous for supper, so Emmanuel our cook made toast for me, but took it away saying it was too cold now and would make more. Rwandans love so well. I want that in all of us. Can you imagine that world?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I didn’t represent us muzungus very well that day. But I got up the mountain. I saw Noel and I loved him. I can’t explain how meeting your sponsored child changes you. It just does. You begin to love your child when you get the first letter or picture, but that first hug changes everything. From that moment the love you share becomes forever love. You never read those letters the same way again. Because you are never the same again.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Sponsorship may change a child’s life. But mostly it will change yours.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Please sponsor a child. It is good for your soul.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.worldvision.org/">World Vision</a></span><br>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.africanewlife.org/">Africa New Life Ministries</a></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.nl/2016/09/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016_11.html">Read part 9 of Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda here</a></span></div>
<br>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-57162237673717898972016-09-05T05:49:00.000-07:002016-09-08T07:03:48.219-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 7<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">“I don’t know why God loves me so much.” These are words my friend Beatrice says to me often. Now they are also my words. On Saturday I visited Beatrice’s grandmother (Tate) in her home in western Rwanda. Again. For the second time God has brought me to visit with this wonderful grandmother. This time I brought Kevin.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Greeting Tate and I didn't even cry this time - well barely</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Oh, what a day! I’ve decided I love second visits best. Last year was wonderful and fun and tear-filled and overflowing with joy, but this year I knew everyone’s name. We laughed together about our previous visit. We were at ease together. Tate said she remembered last year I said I wanted to bring my husband and here he was.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">As promised I brought Kevin</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">A lot of the visit was the same. We sat close together in the same small room of her home. We drank Fanta. I shared photographs. She has a new grandson, Gavin and stared so long at his photos. I gave her the gifts her children sent. She was so grateful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Before we left Boise, her grandson Kamana had said, “Please will you FaceTime me when you are with my grandma. I want to see her face again.” And that was the very, very, very best part of our visit. Watching them look at each other’s faces. Kamana who loves his grandmother so much. I’ve never met a person who loves his family as much as Kamana does. Twenty-three year old Kamana. A new father. Works full time. Is a university student. Yet, still he takes his four nieces and nephews to the park or the fun center in Boise most Sunday afternoons. I think his son Gavin is going to have a pretty sweet life.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrPeYU7r9kiESL55MRpMv2uUlks7EYT7NFUxG8iU99W_J6CltmqDd660cvOfuprcYSwTdrd5bEdnjD6n9H9TuC6lvx5uWCcnhaABdfNe129trgu4oYA3ttRv6iN_YRKc92LlssIDfVLmQ/s1600/IMG_0359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrPeYU7r9kiESL55MRpMv2uUlks7EYT7NFUxG8iU99W_J6CltmqDd660cvOfuprcYSwTdrd5bEdnjD6n9H9TuC6lvx5uWCcnhaABdfNe129trgu4oYA3ttRv6iN_YRKc92LlssIDfVLmQ/s400/IMG_0359.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Tate and Kamana FaceTime while Uncle Theo looks on</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We gave Tate our gift, a warm sweater, and I told her the story of the sweater. At home in Boise, I asked her oldest grandchild, 13 year old Celestin (whom I love so very much), “What should I bring your great-grandmother?” I was having trouble thinking of something special. He thought about it and said, “Bring her a sweater because she will be cold.” So we brought a warm sweater, and indeed it is cold where she lives. When she heard the story of the sweater, she smiled her most beautiful smile.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Telling Tate the story of the sweater</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we looked at photos of her great-grandchildren, Celestin, James, Simbi, David, Gavin, Tate said to me, “I think you are their grandmother too. You are their grandmother in America.” And we smiled together.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Celestin</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We sat a long while in Tate’s little house and talked about how good God is. She said she thought she was going to die last year because she was very sick but God healed her. I asked her to be strong so her grandchildren can visit her next year. Her grandchildren who will be American citizens next year! I laugh when I think of them needing a Visa to visit Rwanda.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Kevin talked with Uncle Theo, Tate’s son with whom she lives, about farming and what crops they are growing and how life is for them. I asked if all their children are in school. They are. All four of them. This is a huge blessing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Cousin Gentille married since I last saw her and I was so excited to give her a hug. She looked radiant and confident as a newly married woman, and so changed from the shy young woman I met last year.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we prepared to leave, we stood together for a family photo. Because we are a family. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vSlC8217Xy9p0WN3BiXsxPt143sWQHOgIs7SE1gymijOJ5SECM11OraR5tWuvDaF0DLWlBMHgyN56OgarlSPhr98F5386aNsOLHg727OGeHFTMWlZvF2XF5SUk91OhMMlhmq1ChXrj8/s1600/IMG_9966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vSlC8217Xy9p0WN3BiXsxPt143sWQHOgIs7SE1gymijOJ5SECM11OraR5tWuvDaF0DLWlBMHgyN56OgarlSPhr98F5386aNsOLHg727OGeHFTMWlZvF2XF5SUk91OhMMlhmq1ChXrj8/s640/IMG_9966.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Some of our Rwandan family</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfymyM0AYvU_Ro7WFEN33tPVe4jIFjiU7HGW8VbYnU1uK25KB1Pk_a9siobCfvpOqez8VZTH0rUXjI4aEbX37Y8zFR-KYMgIyazOR8QY0-8FrR5VHxAI46ealIsxLcIlqEdvd1JQnwjI/s1600/IMG_0361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfymyM0AYvU_Ro7WFEN33tPVe4jIFjiU7HGW8VbYnU1uK25KB1Pk_a9siobCfvpOqez8VZTH0rUXjI4aEbX37Y8zFR-KYMgIyazOR8QY0-8FrR5VHxAI46ealIsxLcIlqEdvd1JQnwjI/s400/IMG_0361.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Tate, making sure the family photo is a good one</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Afterwards, Tate sat down on her little bench to rest and I hugged her again and said, “I hope God blesses us with another visit here in Rwanda, but if not, we will be neighbors in heaven.” Then she said, “I am not strong enough to walk so far, so I will let the others push you to the car.” As I walked away I smiled at her wording and my heart was bursting as Beatrice’s words played in my head, “I don’t know why God loves me so much.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When I arrived at the car Kevin was surrounded by children he was teaching to play hacky sack. They caught on quickly since they play the same game with soccer balls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Next to the car, our fantastic driver and good friend John was playing with a dozen neighborhood children. Children flock to him. He had them all in a group singing. Rwanda may have a heartbreaking past, but today they love big. They love children, and I learn so much from them about love and generosity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Indeed, I don’t know why God loves me so much and has brought me twice to this beloved family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love. </i>1 Corinthians 13</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/09/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016_8.html">Read Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda Part 8 here</a></span><br />
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-64420058959017052622016-09-02T12:49:00.003-07:002016-09-15T11:35:57.073-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 6<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Thank Two are better than one because they have a good return for their hard work. If either should fall, one can pick up the other. But how miserable are those who fall and don’t have a companion to help them up! </i>Ecclesiastes 4:9-10</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It is not all pain and heartbreak traveling through the poorer areas of Rwanda. Wednesday was also a day of great joy. We saw our own sponsored child, Umulisa. Again. When we picked her up from her school, I hugged her so hard, I thought she might break.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Umulisa and her Parents</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We drove together to her home where her parents were standing outside impatiently waiting for us. Umulisa’s mama and papa, Francine and Jean Bosco greeted us with hard hugs. They were thrilled to meet Kevin and when we entered their small living area, Jean Bosco immediately took a seat beside Kevin. Naomi was wearing her best dress. Jean Bosco was wearing the (now faded) orange Boise State t-shirt I brought last year. He made sure to point that out to us and we laughed. We sat close together on the short, narrow benches lining the walls of their small living space.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Jean Bosco and Kevin - Prayer Partners</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Umulisa and I squeezed in beside each other and while I know from her letters she writes English beautifully, she is shy to speak it. Her smile more than makes up for it. I brought gifts again this year and we have started a tradition. Last year I brought Umulisa sturdy, purple Clarke sandals. She loved them. As I received photos of her throughout the year, I saw her wearing them. In one photo I could see they were getting worn. Wednesday as we sat together, I pulled out a pair of the very same sandals, but teal colored. She smiled hugely, covered her mouth and looked at her mama with joy. There were other gifts for her siblings and her parents, but the sandals won the day. It will become an annual tradition for sure!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">That Smile</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Last year when I visited we were all a bit subdued. It was my first home visit to one of our sponsored children. I felt awkward. I’m sure they did too. But this year, there wasn’t an ounce of awkwardness in the room. We laughed and teased. Jean Bosco said to Kevin, “Now that we have met, we can pray for each other.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Naomi told us a few months ago while she was cultivating in the field, she stopped and prayed to God that he would bring me back to visit them. Then she looked at us and said, “And just after that we found out you were coming.” She raised her hands up and praised God as we sat together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We talked a long time about Umulisa’s education. We told them we will support Umulisa through university. Her mama looked at Umulisa and happily told us Umulisa wants to be a nurse. Francine and I have much in common as our own daughter Rebecca is studying to be a nurse. I like this added bond.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Next year Umulisa will move into grade P7 which means she must change schools. It means a one hour walk to school - each way. After consulting with the sponsorship director in Kageyo, Kevin and I bought Umulisa a bicycle via Africa New Life’s online store. Now Umulisa can make the journey in half the time. I cannot wait to receive the letter I know Umulisa will write and see her standing next to her new bike. I can already see her smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Bicycles change lives in Africa. These aren’t your average kids’ bikes. Kevin refers to them as a truck-bike. Every day I see men pushing bicycles loaded with water-filled jerry cans weighing nearly 300 pounds. I see bananas pilled high on them on the way to market. Everything we would transport via car is transported via bicycle in Rwanda. This bicycle will get Umulisa to school, but it will also change her family’s life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It seemed our visit passed in minutes. I wanted to stay the entire day but it takes three hours to get to Kageyo and it isn’t a drive you want to make in the dark. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yet I still have so many things I want to ask Umulisa and talk with her about. I’ll have to be satisfied with letters for now, and pray God takes me back to Rwanda another day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For now, my heart is happy this bond of friendship and family continues and will continue for eternity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">God is so good to me. I will remember that when the days are hard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Please sponsor a child. Join me in this journey of joy and change the world. </span><a href="http://www.africanewlife.org/sponsorship/" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Africa New Life Ministries Child Sponsorship</a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/09/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-part-7.html">Read <i>Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 7</i> here</a></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-60173350352893306322016-09-01T20:45:00.000-07:002016-09-05T06:39:38.231-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 5<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There is a certain point each year when I travel to Rwanda that I break down. Today was that day. I thought I had created an itinerary this year that allowed for more rest, but that was a joke. Every day is a race, and not a sprint, a marathon. It begins early because I push myself to do a lot, running, prayer time, writing, and social media updates, because experiences this big, that involve so many people deserve to be shared.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Tuesday we spent the day at the Gihembe Refugee Camp. It was wonderful and hard and exploding with joy, and imploding in sadness and despair.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Today we drove to Kageyo in eastern Rwanda. We left pavement and drove hours on red, hard-packed dirt bumping bumping bumping along. All the while passing small settlements of the poorest people you will ever see. People living in mud homes that are crumbling around them. Children wearing only a torn t-shirt. I know I wrote about it last year, but the pain of seeing it doesn’t get easier. The land here is experiencing a drought, which means this already difficult area to farm has become nearly impossible. How they survive, I do no know. My last letter from our sponsored daughter Umulisa was a thank you for food we had sent. She said, “How did you know we had almost no food?”</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yvonn's Family</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We visited the daughter my own mom sponsors. Her name is Yvonn. She is a delightful fourteen year old in grade P5. Her father is too ill to work, so they survive on what her mama can cultivate and earn. Her mama has seven children. The youngest one month old. As we gathered in the front of their little home, I held baby Jean Pierre. I told Mama Yvonn he is a beautiful baby and she replied, “I would give him to you if I could.” I could only smile at her in return, but inside I was hurting.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuRWIKZEA_hp4pDB5dBxvpriWUQn7zCixkwgwpOqUpapirElE0xLb26MggQ4meZ5JVHEuXpbWU-0bq_lX-MX5junhWNdIPR0GvMISyYh7beVCeLnB0Gz_WUHIn0kNhdtJvIcc_aVtVc8/s1600/IMG_0166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuRWIKZEA_hp4pDB5dBxvpriWUQn7zCixkwgwpOqUpapirElE0xLb26MggQ4meZ5JVHEuXpbWU-0bq_lX-MX5junhWNdIPR0GvMISyYh7beVCeLnB0Gz_WUHIn0kNhdtJvIcc_aVtVc8/s400/IMG_0166.jpg" width="345" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday as we left the refugee camp an older teenager boy stood next to the car, tiny children swarmed around him as they each tried to slap my hand before we left. The teenager said, “Give me money.” I shook my head knowing it is forbidden and would cause chaos and certainly make me uninvited in the future. As I sat in the car waiting to pull away he kept saying, “Help us. Help us.” I could only look away in pain, because I could not help him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">After visiting our two children in Kageyo this afternoon we drove to the Akagera Game Park. A modest, aging lodge/hotel within the wildlife park. It sits atop a hill overlooking the second largest lake in Rwanda. Baboons scamper about. Exotic birds I’ve never seen sing outside our window. We’ll stay here two days to rest and go on safari. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The paradox is not lost on me. As we entered the hotel, attendants came out to take our bags and freshly squeezed passionfruit juice was brought to us. A television was on reflecting the election cycle in the United States has become no less grotesque since we left home. After fives days of constant emotional upheaval, I became a whining, cranky, crybaby. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Finally, after Kevin did his best to cheer me, I went into the bathroom, laid down on the floor, covered my face with a towel and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Because do you know how many hungry children whose faces I looked into today? How many near naked toddlers raced after our truck as we bumped along the roads in front of their homes? If you can come to Rwanda and visit the homes I’ve visited and not lie down and cry for a long while, you’re made of stronger stuff than me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Tomorrow I know I will have recovered. I will sleep in a comfortable bed. I will wake early and pray and write and talk with God. And I have a lot to say to him! Tomorrow will be good and my mind and body and heart mostly recovered, but for tonight I sit here in this sadness and anger that this is a world where unkindness and cruel words reign in the United States news cycle, and I drive my expensive car to Whole Foods to buy fancy food, beautifully packaged just for me. And in this same world tonight the children in Yvonn’s community will go to bed hungry.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kageyo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This is the world we have allowed. This is the world we’re okay with. As long as I can do my next thing, hang out on the lake, go to a movie, buy the newest iPhone. Well then that’s okay. Carry on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There is a lot of guilt in these words, because I doubt those families who are going to bed hungry, those strong mamas and hard working papas are having a cry-fest or temper tantrum. But then they don’t have that luxury. They were dealt a different life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This morning I prayed these words, “Oh, Jesus, Kageyo is so hard to visit, it’s so hard to know such places exist. Please may all my hope and glory come only from you. May I trust you completely, knowing you are my granite strength. Always my safe-harbor. Be all my strength.” (From Psalm 62)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Please, please change a life and <a href="http://www.africanewlife.org/sponsorship/">sponsor</a> a child. Our sponsored child, Umulisa, will move into secondary school next year as she continues on with her dream of becoming a nurse. This is happening. Her life is being changed for $39/month. You can change a life - <a href="http://www.africanewlife.org/sponsorship/">Africa New Life Sponsorship</a>.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnUvbFhdjot2w7llcewYQG7aDinhYjmDVgxtveuSfaJlRbePPVWvIR1lEInwdqBdZbShQZIrcMhFQFdjjuTMKf_aXeLhOVLlHneGX6xhyaj19I85-g4Z2qIGhnAFASlRG9cW3yeb_TxQ/s1600/IMG_0167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnUvbFhdjot2w7llcewYQG7aDinhYjmDVgxtveuSfaJlRbePPVWvIR1lEInwdqBdZbShQZIrcMhFQFdjjuTMKf_aXeLhOVLlHneGX6xhyaj19I85-g4Z2qIGhnAFASlRG9cW3yeb_TxQ/s400/IMG_0167.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Children of Kageyo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Read <i><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/09/two-are-better-than-one-because-they.html">Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 6</a> here.</i></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-22173835699674556342016-09-01T07:53:00.000-07:002016-09-26T06:51:27.609-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 4<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.</i> Romans 12:10</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How do I turn our day spent in the Gihembe Refugee Camp in northern Rwanda into words? It seems impossible. The day overflowed with emotions - joy, heartbreak, love, relief, contentment, sadness, impatience, anger, hurt, worry, guilt. What is appropriate and sensitive to share? What words will honor my friends?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We spent Tuesday in the Gihembe Refugee Camp in northern Rwanda. Gihembe is home to 15,000 Congolese refugees, many of whom have lived there since 1997. They have married there. Raised their children there. Managed to create lives in conditions we Americans cannot imagine. Lives spent each day in small homes made of mud, dirt floors and no electricity. Benches or the ground their only furniture. Yet you won’t meet more hospitable people. These are generous people. Their love is big.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ADRA Rwanda Headquarters in Kigali</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Our day began early. Representatives from the Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA) arrived in the tallest SUV I’ve had to climb into (in a long skirt) and first drove us to their Rwanda headquarters in Kigali to meet the associate country director, Geoffrey Kayonde and field officer Epiphanie who accompanied us through the day. Without ADRA obtaining official - and I mean official rubber stamped letter official - permission from the Ministry of Disaster Management and Refugee Affairs (MIDIMAR), we could not have entered the camp. Outsiders are not allowed into the camp without authorization and a guide with them at all times. This is for many reasons. One is for our safety, but also maintaining order in a camp with that large a population, in that small an area is no easy task, and when foreigners enter the camp we immediately create a mob of followers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Our first stop in Gihembe was to greet the camp manager of MIDIMAR. The purpose - for him to lay down the law - to tell us, “This is what you can do.” And. . . “This is what you cannot do? No pictures of groups of people. We could take pictures of the school and school children and the families we came to visit, but nothing else.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Primary Classrooms in Gihembe</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Next we toured the primary school. We went into the P2 classroom (second grade). Oh, the delight of those children. They begin learning English from P1 and love to talk in English, although we did have a translator explain our BIGGER thoughts. . . We introduced ourselves. Kevin was funny. I was funnier I’m sure. The children asked us questions: What is different about America? Do you have children? Do you like Rwanda? Troublemaker Kevin asked, “What is your favorite football team?” Then egging them on, Kevin said, “Who is better Renaldo or Messi?”</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRoxXgLw38ueatDLXl3OrxGNfX_cHeJMsHTZrhN7ZaKmtBvQiTUcuN7ahQQyAbpR6iwBNaWQ33skHrwNSLRl-eo764zxaF5CXNuE2UP0Z2i_vhO8ZzR4cI6p80TYf8pOAXgP8GgVpScDc/s1600/IMG_0144+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRoxXgLw38ueatDLXl3OrxGNfX_cHeJMsHTZrhN7ZaKmtBvQiTUcuN7ahQQyAbpR6iwBNaWQ33skHrwNSLRl-eo764zxaF5CXNuE2UP0Z2i_vhO8ZzR4cI6p80TYf8pOAXgP8GgVpScDc/s400/IMG_0144+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">P2 Classroom</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we left the primary school and climbed the hill to the P7 classrooms, children swarmed around me saying, </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">muzungu</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> like they needed too point out that I’m white. I smiled. I asked Epihanie, “If I am </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">muzungu</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">, what are you?” She laughed and said, “African.” So I decided every time they call me </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">muzungu</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> I will reply “African.” As we walked, the children began touching me (this always happens in a crowd of children; it doesn’t bother me, but it is awkward), some children were lightly pinching me. One older boy pinched me harder and I looked him in the eye, gave him the mom look and said, “No!” All his friends laughed at him. Struggling up the hill amidst a swarm of children, I saw Kevin looking back with a worried look on his face or maybe he was just jealous. . . </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We arrived at P7 where the children asked not to have the translator interpret. Their English was perfect. These children were more comfortable with us, asked lots and lots of question. We laughed so much with them. We told them we have friends their age in Boise who sat in this very classroom. I said, “Does anyone know Justin Karangwa?” Nearly all the hands in the classroom shot up. We showed them pictures of our school age friends in Boise. “I know that one. I know that one.” They said.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">P7 Classroom</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Then they asked, “What church do you attend?” We replied, “Seventh-day Adventist” and to our surprise they all cheered and clapped. Kevin and I looked at each other quizzically then asked, “Which of you are Seventh-day Adventist?” Every hand but one shot up. We laughed and I reminded them God loves all his children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I prayed for them, asking God to bring them to Boise so we could be neighbors. As we left I said, “Remember you are important to God. You are loved. Study hard. Maybe we will meet again in Boise.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We were blessed that day. It is not normally allowed to visit an individual family in their home. It can create danger for them if it appears they have rich friends. But we had come to see Agnes’ mama and papa (we call them Mama Agnes and Papa Agnes), but Papa Agnes was too sick to walk to the ADRA office. Our friend Dada (whose family has already been resettled to Boise), argued long and hard with the ADRA representatives and the director of MIDIMAR. And, well, I’ll just say we visited Mama and Papa Agnes in their home. Later I told Dada he should attend law school when he is resettled to America. He replied, “I do like to win every argument.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Dada led us through a maze of homes until we reached their home. There were so many family members waiting for us. As I stood there a bit overwhelmed, a woman came and stood before me. Dada said, “This is Mama Agnes.” Mama Agnes looked at me, grabbed onto me and I said, “Oh I’m going to cry.” And then we hugged the hardest hug. We share a daughter, you see. Earlier this year when Agnes was preparing to give birth to her daughter, she talked with her mom on the phone and her mama was so worried about Agnes being alone in Boise. But Agnes replied, “Mama it’s okay. I have found another mother here.” Mama Agnes told me this as we sat in her home together. Tears came to my eyes as I responded, “We will share her now and she will have two mamas.”</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The family of Agnes and Justin</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I don’t know what to say about this. This strong woman was sharing her daughter with me. This strong woman who raised an incredible daughter, the most generous and kind woman whose laugh can bring joy to the saddest day, this daughter is now mine also. I am humbled. My life has been easy. I cannot know the struggle she endured to raise Agnes into the person she is today, but I am so grateful to be a part of this family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we gathered in their home where benches lined the walls, Mama Agnes pointed Kevin and me to the chairs in the room but I said, “No, I want to sit beside Mama Agnes.” And so we squished together on a bench, never letting go of each other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Later, Papa Agnes slowly made his way into the room. He was very sick. I could see it in his face, but he had put on his best suit to join us. When I saw how painfully he walked into the room I wished he had not risen from his bed. But I could see the joy of being in the room, the honor he showed us, was greater to him than the pain of his illness. The hospitality of African culture is beautiful. We can learn much from it.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Papa Agnes</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We pulled out photographs Agnes had sent - beautiful photos of her little family, two month old beautiful, just learned to laugh, Rachael and her big brother Justin, who also is pretty cute but can’t compete with Rachael. Sorry Justin, but I’m sure you know this already.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We then settled into visiting. We stayed for hours, drinking Fanta and eating the delicious tiny bananas. We shared stories about Agnes and Justin. Good stories. Mama Agnes said, “Justin says he is always at your house.” We showed them pictures of Justin being baptized and Kevin brought out the video Justin had made especially for his grandma. He had a long message for her. I don’t know what he said. It was in Kinyarwanda, but grandma listened to it three times and then passed it around to each family member. Great grandma held it against her ear so she could hear his words, nodding her head all the while. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Then grandma recorded a message for Justin. I don’t know what she said, but I’m pretty sure it was a lot of love and reminding him keep following Jesus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we sat there loving each other, children began pouring into the room. Young children ages five, four and a little two year old. Each came directly to us and hugged us. When the two year old cutie hugged me I said, “Oh! I’m taking this one home with me.” The room roared with laughter. But seriously. . . </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Family</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As our visit ended, we gathered in front of their home for a family photo - because we are a family. We crowded together and Dada said, “Shawna stand by Kevin.” I said, “No. I’m standing by Mama Agnes.” Then ensued a ten minute laughter infused photo shoot. At one point Dada wanted me to hold Agnes’ baby niece, but she was having none of it. She fled back into her uncle's arms and gave me a look that said, “I heard you were going to take one of us home with you and it’s not gonna be me!”</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Talking to Agnes</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">During our photo shoot, Agnes called her brother Jackson on video chat. Can you imagine the joy of standing next to her mama while seeing the face of Agnes (in Boise) on the phone and both of us talking to her. One of us in English and one in Kinyarwanda? What crazy world is this where such technology is possible yet her family lives in the harsh reality of a refugee camp?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Praying with Papa and Mana Agnes</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we said our goodbyes and walked back to our ADRA vehicle, I hugged Mama Agnes and tried not to cry. We got into the car and as we waited for our driver, tiny children came in droves to my open window, said “Hi” and wanted to shake hands with me. An older teenager stood beside the car. His eyes were sad as he said over and over, “Help us. Help us.” I could only look at him and say “Sorry.” It is a paradox that to spend time amidst poverty you must have both a soft heart and a hard heart. But I know if I absorb too much of another’s pain, I will not survive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Today, I’m holding on extra tight to these words from Jesus in Matthew chapter 5.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/09/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016_1.html">Read <b>Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 5</b> here</a></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-57552563818668550642016-08-29T21:06:00.003-07:002016-09-05T06:38:11.204-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 3<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday we met sweet, tiny six year old Yvette. Yvette is a little girl in Africa New Life Ministries’ sponsorship program and is sponsored by our awesome Boise friends Michael and Shea, who were also awesome enough to send about twenty pounds of gifts to Yvette and her family, because why not bring seven bags of luggage across three continents. . . </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sweet Yvette</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Of all the children I’ve met in Rwanda Yvette is the shyest. I could see she wanted to hide behind her mama, but she bravely took a seat between Kevin and me on the sofa. But while she would sit with us, she spoke only a few whispered words. When asked she whispered she is in P2 (second grade) and math is her favorite class. As we pulled the gifts one by one out of the bag (and there were many, because if anyone has a bigger heart than my friend Shea, I haven’t met that person), Yvette stared but no smiles. Yet. Finally we took out the football, the American football, and in my expertise developed over years of watching Boise State football I demonstrated how to throw and explained, “You throw the ball to your teammate and then everyone on the other team runs after that person and tries to knock them down!” This brought her first smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But what really got her laughing was my husband. The always willing to be laughed at Kevin whom children adore because he is silly. He is really good at silly. He took the drawing pad and crayons sent by Shea and Michael and drew a self-portrait. As he finished the drawing she began to laugh, and her mama Rose laughed.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Master of Silliness</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As our visit came to an end Kevin prayed for them. He prayed for many things but he prayed they would have enough food. I’ve not visited a family in Rwanda who were so obviously food insecure. These were hungry people and so grateful for the food pack of maize, beans, oil, and soap Shea and Michael sent. When I asked where Yvette’s papa was Richard, Yvette’s social worker, replied he was out looking for food. The area of Bugesera where Yvette and her family lives is not easy living and the ground is not good for growing food. And while the future in Bugesera looks encouraging, as industry and factories are setting down roots, for now life is hard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we walked outside and said goodbye, I knelt beside Yvette and told her when I was a little girl I was the shyest girl you would ever meet, and I never wanted anyone to talk to me. But I grew up and now I’m a mom and I’m bossy (she laughed) and I’m not shy anymore (mostly). She smiled so big and I hugged her goodbye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When we walked back to the car, Yvette and Rose followed us all the way. As we drove away, Yvette and I waved and waved and waved until we could no longer see each other.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two Shy Girls</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our newest friends, Rose and Yvette</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I’m so grateful Michael and Shea sponsor little Yvette, for I would never have met her otherwise. I would never have seen her smile or heard her laugh at Kevin’s silly antics.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Poverty is hard. Most of us in America have only the smallest understanding of poverty, because we haven’t looked into the faces of it. But if you want to take a stand against poverty. If you’re willing to look into the face of poverty, into the face of a little girl or boy like Yvette, please join Michael and Shea and sponsor a child. Bring one of these children into your family. You will be rewarded with a joy I cannot really explain as you receive letters and photographs from your child. The days when mail arrives from Africa New Life with photos and letters from our own sponsored child Umulisa (whom I cannot wait to see in two short days!!!), my heart feels bigger all day. I smile all day! I read her letter over and over (usually while crying) and think, “How is it possible to change a child’s life so easily?” Yet it is. And you can. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Do not be overwhelmed by this world. Changing the world is really not that hard after all. It is just a <a href="http://www.africanewlife.org/#">click away</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Africa New Life Ministries Child Sponsorship is available <a href="http://www.africanewlife.org/#">right here.</a></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4B1vRpJTdqy87zHtSXjhyphenhyphenh4Js2TYTrYKwx5DzQIzsRkU6dIgaKiYLPZJT-y5MaTjNMafdu7JH1R3a38TdGuh4ZC2YEHcpWfDMIrIWqyUkaFfbxPaL1BFXi0eDgNARokqojBQP6VSH5ow/s1600/IMG_9270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4B1vRpJTdqy87zHtSXjhyphenhyphenh4Js2TYTrYKwx5DzQIzsRkU6dIgaKiYLPZJT-y5MaTjNMafdu7JH1R3a38TdGuh4ZC2YEHcpWfDMIrIWqyUkaFfbxPaL1BFXi0eDgNARokqojBQP6VSH5ow/s640/IMG_9270.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yvette's Home</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/09/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016.html">Read <i>Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 4</i> here</a></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-90661766822181260022016-08-28T12:07:00.000-07:002016-09-05T06:35:20.504-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016, Part 2<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In two days Kevin and I will travel to the Gihembe Refugee Camp in northern Rwanda. We have a long list of friends to visit. Friends we have never met. Friends we love. Many refugees from Gihembe have been resettled to Boise. Refugees like our friends Agnes and Justin, and Lucy and her beautiful, energetic children. Refugees like Calvin and Jackson, twenty-something year old brothers who arrived three years ago, leaving mom, dad and siblings behind. Refugees like our friend Louisa and her beautiful daughters, Giselle and the rambunctious twins Agisa and Agisaro. It is their families we will meet in Gihembe. We have been planning this day for so long.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Agnes, Justin and Rachael</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Giselle, Agisa and Agisaro</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Weeks before leaving Boise I began receiving messages from friends in Gihembe. Messages like, “I will be eager to see you. May God protect you during this journey.” And another, “My family tells you that no matter when, we are available to welcome you.” And always this, “May God bless you.” And “We welcome you.” </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Do you know how humbling it is to be loved by individuals you’ve never met? It overwhelms me and simultaneously makes me feel incredibly special.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Here is what I know. Friendship changes everything. It can relieve loneliness. It can bring joy. It can cure hatred. It does change the world, one person at a time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When my friend Agnes arrived in Boise in the winter of 2014 with her son, they arrived alone with no family to protect them from loneliness or help them learn a new culture. When we discovered they had arrived and were living in a hotel while awaiting permanent housing, Kevin and I brought them to church each week. Justin (now 14) recently told us he was amazed the first time we picked them up. He thought, “White Americans (<i>muzungus</i>) are driving me to church!” This was incredible to him. As they languished in that hotel room for several weeks (the housing market is very tight in Boise), we took them to the mall for a small excursion. Nothing exciting, a stop at the Apple store to play with the iPads, a fruity Frappuccino from Starbucks, and a lot of window shopping. When we returned to their hotel, Agnes spoke to Justin and he translated these words for her, “My mom wants you to know this has been the best day of her life.” Friendship changes everything.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">You guys, be friends with the men, women, boys and girls in your cities, in your neighborhoods. Love them like your own family. Love them like you want to be loved. We don’t know what sadness lies inside each other, but we do know how and who to love because Jesus showed us how to do </span><i style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">exactly</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> that. This is the way of Jesus. This is the way of Christianity. This is how we bring heaven closer to earth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">“God’s will be done, God’s kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.” <i>Matthew 6</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Let’s bring heaven down friends. Let’s love so well and so widely that heaven is seen on earth more and more and more and more. Let’s bring it down so our neighbors are lonely no longer - hurting no more. Let’s bring it down so your neighbors, your city know you by your love. Know Jesus by <i>your</i> love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we visit our friends, please pray we bring God’s kingdom down in Gihembe as it is in heaven. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Historical Note</i>: Gihembe was established in 1997 to host Congolese refugees, most fleeing the aftermath of the 1994 genocide which began in Rwanda. More than 15,000 people live in Gihembe. Over fifty percent of them children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/08/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016_29.html">Read <i>Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 3</i> here.</a></span><br />
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-14511036322859035352016-08-25T09:44:00.001-07:002016-09-05T06:34:17.872-07:00Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016, Part 1<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It’s hard leaving home when life is full of people to love. Family, friends, our kids’ bible study, and so many babies! Do you know how hard it is to leave those babies who need me to hold them? Two month old Rachael and I just perfected our own language (note: there are a lot of vowels)! How can I leave so much sweetness?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yet here I am again in the little city of Haarlem in The Netherlands on my way to beautiful Rwanda. This time my sweet husband has joined me, and I’m eager for him to see with his own eyes the beauty of Rwanda and meet our dear friends there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">After a week of goodbyes to our Boise friends, in the midst of weekly children’s bible study and back to school preparation for the kids and visits to hold those heart-stealing babies, finally we left Boise Tuesday morning. We, along with our seven suitcases filled with clothes and gifts from our Boise friends to their families in Rwanda, boarded the first of several fights which will take us the nine thousand miles to Kigali, Rwanda.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My dear friend Lori drove us and our seven fat bags to the airport Tuesday morning. As we stood at the curb, Lori prayed blessings on our journey. And her prayer brought tears. I’ve always struggled to explain why we go to Rwanda. We aren’t on a mission trip. We aren’t aid workers. We aren’t building anything. We aren’t making sick people well. We are just Kevin and Shawna. But as Lori prayed she thanked God we were going to Rwanda. She said thank you that Kevin and Shawna are going to show the people of Rwanda - especially those living in refugee camps - they are not forgotten. She prayed those family members left behind in the camps would know they are never forgotten. They are loved. They are remembered. They are missed. They are valuable. There is hope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Lori’s prayer made my purpose clear. We go to Rwanda because we love our Rwandan and Congolese friends in Boise and their families in Rwanda are a part of that love. We go because our friends in Boise cannot go. We go to take tangible love to our friends in Rwanda. We go because hope is everything. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We aren’t just taking seven overstuffed pieces of luggage with us to Rwanda. We’re taking hope and love and remembrance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Romans 12:10 <i>“Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Future Presidents of the USA</b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ivan and friends</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gavin let his parents be in his photo</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AruhkQ2QzDs1w8N29y1sFjd2f4emc95BThgi3N-2MmEsH1u1B80HTQwIdMCEWGzQZjqBN7ardt7gmfqERXSUHYRkch_-ubqceHthfW04sXfvYwUeRFsqLN9hTGs5QeoZQ5a4ZW_41-Q/s1600/IMG_9076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AruhkQ2QzDs1w8N29y1sFjd2f4emc95BThgi3N-2MmEsH1u1B80HTQwIdMCEWGzQZjqBN7ardt7gmfqERXSUHYRkch_-ubqceHthfW04sXfvYwUeRFsqLN9hTGs5QeoZQ5a4ZW_41-Q/s320/IMG_9076.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">and Miss Rachael whose language I speak</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://words-on-the-way.blogspot.com/2016/08/friends-on-thousand-hills-rwanda-2016.html">Read <i>Friends on a Thousand Hills - Rwanda 2016 Part 2</i> here</a></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-32388632048335411712016-06-14T07:45:00.001-07:002016-06-14T14:19:40.401-07:00Always One More<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Kevin and I spent the last two days camping in the Sawtooth Mountain Range in Idaho, a place so beautiful all the other states are jealous. . . We camped on the shores of Redfish Lake and went paddleboarding with our three month old puppy, Daphne. Yes, we have become those “dog” people. . . Standing on my paddleboard, with Daphne at my feet, and staring at the beautiful mountains, I had one of those, “This is so incredible. How can it be happening to me” moments.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And then we drove home, and as we drove home and re-connected with the world, we began seeing news of another mass shooting. This time in Florida more than 50 people killed in a gay nightclub. I thought of my gay friends in Idaho and wondered if they were ok. I texted a friend to ask, “Are you okay? We love you" I remembered how vulnerable I felt when the attacks happened on 9/11. I remembered the strange feelings of, “Why would someone want to hurt me just because I live in this country, just because of who I am?” And I realized that is how my gay friends are feeling right now. Attacked, vulnerable, scared, sad, heartbroken and a lot of emotions I have no inkling of, because I am just me and there is so much I don't know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I sat down this morning to read my Bible and talk things out with God. I read Psalm 140, “God, get me out of here, away from this evil, protect me from these vicious people.” I felt just like this. “Please God, get me out of this evil all around me.” I started thinking about the sad state of American politics and how our country is not likely to improve any time soon (sometimes I can be pretty cynical - my husband can confirm this. . . ). I began to feel pretty sorry for my country and myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Then I started <i>listening</i> to God and my next prayer was, “Please God, help me not let fear win. There will always be people to love, no matter my situation, no matter who is president, no matter what horrible thing occurs next. There will always be people around me to love. Help me do that - exclusively.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It’s so easy to let fear win, especially when something as evil as a mass shooting happens. I know the only way fear will not win in me is if I choose to believe Jesus is who he says he is, and I am who Jesus says I am. There is great power in knowing this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Today, I see my country living hard into fear and I am sad, although I understand it. I see the news reports, and it’s so easy to let fear worm itself inside me. If I am going to keep fear at bay, I must acknowledge fear is always a threat and I must consciously work to thwart it. The only way I can accomplish this is to walk every step of every day arm and arm with Jesus, because I know I will never chase fear away on my own. It is not possible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Rick McKinley says, “I would define true freedom as the ability to live fully, love boldly, and fear nothing, and if you want to know what that looks like in action, then you have to look at Jesus.” <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Answer-Our-Cry-Freedom-Nothing/dp/080101557X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1465911200&sr=8-1&keywords=the+answer+to+our+cry">The Answer to Our Cry</a></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I want to live fully, love boldly, and fear <b><i>nothing</i></b>. There is always someone to love. All I have to do is look around and there they are - a neighbor, a friend, a newly arrived refugee - always, there is another person who needs my love. Who needs your love. I’m going to focus on that, because anger and hurt and hate cannot chase away evil. Only love can.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">“But here within the framework of a heart captured by the love of God, I see a world of possibility, a world in which the rain of love is everywhere breaking in and the noise of futility fades. Here I see with the eyes of faith that I am the beloved and he is mine. I see that I have been set free and brought into the Father’s house of love. I see the Spirit’s cry within my heart that God is my Abba Father. And there in that moment, I am fully alive with the bold love, nothing to fear, and a Father who embraces me in the face of Jesus through the presence of the Holy Spirit. I am home.” Rick McKinley, <i>The Answer to Our Cry</i></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-75714116958559819482016-03-23T14:23:00.000-07:002016-05-09T17:12:21.251-07:00Stay in the Story<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">On Saturday <a href="https://youtu.be/2ZrJzrq5xMs">I spoke at my home church</a> about our need as Christians to stay in our story with God, to stay in our story as followers of Jesus, living engaged with our world. I spoke about the need for us to keep pushing into the pain and suffering and joy and laughter that surrounds us. I challenged each of us to stay engaged and not look away or hide from the hard things in our world.
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">“This is our vocation: to take up our cross, and be Jesus for the whole world, living with the joy and sorrow woven into the pattern of our days.” N.T. Wright</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">And then Brussels. Brussels, a place I have visited, an airport I have traveled through. Belgium, a country that has been a delight in every visit, the people helpful and polite and the chocolate heavenly.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">Cruel, ugly, frightening death and terror. Again. Kevin and I are scheduled to spend two weeks in Europe in April, including Brussels and Amsterdam. Yesterday, we woke to the too familiar news of yet another terror attack.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">If you would like to judge me for not writing about the near constant terror attacks that occur in other parts of the globe, I hope you’ll pause. Because for many of us who react with more emotion to certain places when harm is done to them, I would just say this: We have visited those places. We know people in those cities. We have eaten in those restaurants, ridden on that metro. The same was true of Paris. Those are familiar places to us and that they could be the recipient of such horror and death, shocks us. It doesn’t mean we care less about death in Turkey or Syria or Nigeria. It is simply that we can personally relate to Brussels and Paris and London and New York, because we have memories there. And perhaps because we have been in these places, it scares us more because it could have happene</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="text-indent: 18px;">d </span><i style="text-indent: 18px;">when we were there</i></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">. This brings our mortality front and center.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">This world pushes me into prayer more and more. The apostle Paul wasn’t kidding when he said, “Pray without ceasing.”</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">All this is happening while Kevin and I are tucked away in the Idaho mountains enjoying a last hurrah of fresh powder and XC skiing in surroundings so beautiful it takes away my breath. It is a surreal thing to be texting a friend in Europe, checking on her safety, while staring out the window as snow gently falls to earth. Our world is getting smaller.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">I was reminded today while gliding along fresh snow, surrounded by white-frosted pine trees and the sound of a distant woodpecker, of the need to get outdoors into nature. I was reminded of the craving of my mind and body to experience quiet and peace and beauty in nature. In Idaho we are spoiled. There are few people and a lot of mountains, rivers and deserts to explore and experience.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;">Let’s stay in the world, in the middle of the mess and walk arm and arm with Jesus, because that is the only way to survive. And when you do, when you stay engaged, when you relentlessly continue to push into the pain and suffering and joy and laughter in this world, you will see Jesus working miracle after miracle. And it will change <i>you</i>.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-indent: 18px;"> You will discover that what you started out to do (being Jesus to the world around you) has really changed you the most - that the person who received the biggest blessing is you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>“The Spirit, however, gives you joyful fearlessness by making you more aware of reality. It assures you that you are a child of the only One whose opinion and power matters. He loves you to the stars and will never let you go.”</i> Timothy Keller, Prayer - experiencing awe and intimacy with God</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">“Above all, love one another deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8</span></i><br>
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-63356785835261372722016-02-25T09:14:00.001-08:002016-02-25T21:02:07.669-08:00Some Things I've Learned About Winter Travel<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I travel often and after years of trial and error have developed some specific travel habits. Here I share the knowledge I have gained for my fellow, crazy winter travelers. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Planes are cold but coats are bulky and uncomfortable, so in the winter I always wear a sweater with a hood and bring a lightweight wool wrap to use as a blanket. Slip your coat into your carry on, or if you're feeling lucky, into your checked bag. </span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3QBhLt6gBvQiOb1vuf7mXbbTg_hI81lobsg5tf55GzBD3c-5jP479_LAxpirNt4-EG0-pwK8-t6J1z8eXnaj5E7TBqSnjYYQhNTcvqHRYIhyvckg_LmTx0AGS7OTonzBvidt_JFLDwww/s1600/IMG_1354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3QBhLt6gBvQiOb1vuf7mXbbTg_hI81lobsg5tf55GzBD3c-5jP479_LAxpirNt4-EG0-pwK8-t6J1z8eXnaj5E7TBqSnjYYQhNTcvqHRYIhyvckg_LmTx0AGS7OTonzBvidt_JFLDwww/s320/IMG_1354.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">12 hour plane rides are the best. . . </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Bring your slippers and your sweatpants. It will feel silly and granny-like when sliding slippers into your suitcase, but your feet will thank you when lounging in your hotel room or Airbnb apartment.
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Layers are your friend. You never know what the weather may bring. The weather app lies to me all the time! </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Long underwear or tights and then jeans. Your legs will thank you! </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The warmest boots you have and wool socks. Thank you Uggs, although why Australians need sheepskin lined boots, remains a mystery. </span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7dvaCj9lM92pKEIXo6W7lfFzkaRBn98UMyEBQqUdFLavwsw8BTIqLra-3AAnOQddsDVMUdxM8j2tBcsuZeoncEAzXnLOMFc2-4Cl7MpQmmjoiOQB5pua7rjW7f8QOLyw1kqFN1k8TclU/s1600/IMG_1857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7dvaCj9lM92pKEIXo6W7lfFzkaRBn98UMyEBQqUdFLavwsw8BTIqLra-3AAnOQddsDVMUdxM8j2tBcsuZeoncEAzXnLOMFc2-4Cl7MpQmmjoiOQB5pua7rjW7f8QOLyw1kqFN1k8TclU/s320/IMG_1857.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">that time we flew from Rome to Copenhagen<br>and packed all our clothes (apparently)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">When you return indoors after a long walk, leave your coat on until you’re warm. This prevents a chill which can last all day. In cafes I often take my husband’s coat and drape it over my legs until I’m warm. And wear your hat all day. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Wear your sunglasses even when it’s cloudy to keep the wind from your eyes. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Be very sure that picture you want is worth frostbite. This is a hard rule to follow, and I am always breaking it. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The coffee shop is your warmest friend.
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">And always walk on the sunny side of the street. </span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWiuyYGKQRCBxZvKyHIn46ifX6_s-Xop8xDVqMsNF1-0IgynH39rSolZsSWMUSzdLHa-meHSzOOHVzxWy9UfwMicyp-DWQuyIrZLr50akyISNhYXXqOnb6NzDstA-7iBbOpG25Wxr7Yo/s1600/IMG_1364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWiuyYGKQRCBxZvKyHIn46ifX6_s-Xop8xDVqMsNF1-0IgynH39rSolZsSWMUSzdLHa-meHSzOOHVzxWy9UfwMicyp-DWQuyIrZLr50akyISNhYXXqOnb6NzDstA-7iBbOpG25Wxr7Yo/s320/IMG_1364.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Happy Travels!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br></span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-46797531029487000982016-02-18T15:37:00.001-08:002016-02-23T14:10:26.840-08:00Eight Frigid Miles<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Last weekend was the coldest in New York City for decades, so of course Kevin and I were there. Saturday it was minus 10 degrees with wind chill, a perfect day to explore the city - eight miles of it - on foot. It was a blast. We walked across Central Park, towards Morningside Heights, then across the campus of Columbia University and mingled with people much smarter than us. We stumbled across an amazing service at St. John the Divine. We ate delicious Ethiopian food, and as the hours passed, the temperature plummeted. The frigid air hurt my nose even though it was covered by a face mask. Yes, we were fashionably dressed in America’s fashion capital.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We arrived in New York City earlier in the week, and Kevin spent his days in business meetings while I explored. For the weekend, we moved out of the business hotel reserved for us in mid-town Manhattan and traveled uptown to an Airbnb apartment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we turned onto the street in East Harlem where we would be staying our last three days in New York, consternation filled me. This neighborhood looked sketchy. Towers of public housing units surrounded us. I wondered if we would be safe. The situation wasn’t made better by the fact that instead of hailing a cab, we had hired a town car (they are more reliable and cost the same as a taxi). However, the car company sent a stretch limousine rather than a normal black car; not a little awkward. It felt weird as the driver parked the ridiculous stretch limousine in front of public housing units. As I climbed out of the car, pretending to be invisible, I saw children racing home from school, moms holding their little ones’ hands as they hurried towards shelter. As we climbed the worn steps to our fifth floor apartment, I reminded myself this apartment received great reviews. And, indeed, we had a delightfully cold stay in East Harlem. I loved being in a real neighborhood with real families.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This was our first foray into East Harlem, and I confess I chose this location because The Corner Bookstore is just blocks away on the Upper East Side. I like to get away from sameness. I like new things. New places. New people. One of my favorite things is to attend different churches in different cities. In New York this was easy, because many churches have services every day. I was excited to attend a Noon service at St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Cathedral in mid-town Manhattan. It was beautiful and my feet especially enjoyed the break from New York’s concrete jungle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This was my favorite experience with NYC. In year’s past I would never have stayed in East Harlem. I would have taken one look at the street and said, “Take me to the nearest Marriott.” But a few years ago I decided to live a brave life. And I discovered once we let go of fear, the doors to adventure and beauty and friendship, and all manner of new things, are flung open. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Life is precious and fleeting. I want to embrace it. I don’t want to live a "Groundhog Day” life, every day a rerun of the last. When we do things that make us uncomfortable, we often find waiting for us, joy and satisfaction. I am the boss of my life. I want to look back and say, “It was good."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">About a dozen times Saturday, as we walked those eight frigid miles through East Harlem and Columbia University and the Upper East Side and Central Park, I said to Kevin, "What a good day." We watched a hockey game outdoors in Central Park, and strolled down St. Nicholas Avenue discovering architecture we’d never before seen in Baptist Church buildings. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We made one last stop at The Corner Bookstore, and the shopkeeper laughed out loud when we entered wearing our face masks, hats, scarves, gloves and long coats.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">On our last night I stood looking out the window. It was negative degrees and people were bundled and rushing to escape the cold. Cars were streaming down the hill from the Upper East Side. The wind was blowing through the the cracks in the windows of the old apartment building. I wondered in amazement that this is my life. I could have stayed home and Kevin would have flown to New York, conducted his business meetings and caught the first plane home. Instead, we had an adventure. We went where we had not been. We saw what we had not seen. We brought home new memories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And it was good.</span></div>
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-35299797533455298022016-02-16T15:00:00.001-08:002016-02-16T15:00:09.045-08:00Learning How to Be<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I have been thinking lately about the difference between "being" and "doing" and what that actually looks like. How does a person go about "being"? I'm pretty sure it looks less busy than I have been this winter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The New York Times article entitled, <i><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/07/20/opinion/sunday/arthur-c-brooks-love-people-not-pleasure.html?_r=0">Love People, Not Pleasure</a>, </i>says if you want to be unhappy, seek external or "extrinsic" goals like achieving reputation or being famous. If
you want to be happy, seek internal or "intrinsic" goals like deep, long-term relationships. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Apparently, </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"People who rate materialistic goals
like wealth as top personal priorities are significantly likelier to be more
anxious, more depressed and more frequent drug users, and even to have more
physical ailments than those who set their sights on more intrinsic values."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This made me think of Beth Moore's book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Children-Day-1-2-Thessalonians/dp/1430028602/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406329030&sr=1-1&keywords=children+of+the+day+beth+moore">Children of the Day</a></i>. She says,
“The idea of shifting the approach of our prayer requests from achieving to
receiving is not an original concept, but it’s a fresh perspective for me. . .
seeking God to achieve nobler things like love for someone hateful, clarity for
mind-tangling scenarios. . . I’m just learning that approaching Him with an
emphasis on achieving is a pale second to an outlook of receiving.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I want to learn how to "be" during the hard, confusing times as well as the good times and not just how to "do", how to act or react.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There is a lot of fun to be had and I am all in for that! Bring on the family vacations, the outrageous laughter of silly, inside family jokes, cold days spent skiing in the Idaho mountains, blistering hot days spent floating down the Boise River on a paddle board. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Still, it is in knowing who I am and sharing my life with others that brings lasting joy. And I am really, really all for that.</span><br />
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-45420604130256974102016-02-02T15:31:00.001-08:002016-07-02T05:09:14.530-07:00We the People<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>“Bravery may mean learning when to shut our mouths and to observe rather than to opine, to seek to understand rather than to be understood.”</i> Jonathan Merritt</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There’s a presidential race taking place in the United States? Maybe you’ve noticed. It’s super fun for Americans. Except it’s not. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The message from each candidate is mostly negative and blaming. They each want us to know who to blame. This means we need never take responsibility for our own problems, individually or as a nation. This is great marketing. Use your words to instill fear and people will follow you. We are a people easily duped.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yet we’re all citizens of the same country. Some of us believe in a conservative government. Some of us believe in a liberal government. Some of us even believe in a libertarian government (after all, I do live in Idaho). We’ve bought into the belief that these different views require us to despise each other.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Why must we dislike each other because we believe differently? To me this is like saying, “You prefer Starbucks Coffee and I prefer Peet’s Coffee so, of course, we can’t be friends.” It’s more complicated than that. I get it, but your differing political beliefs should not bring out the bad in me. How you present your political beliefs, well that’s where it gets tricky. I am dismayed by those friends of mine on social media who seem only to look for the negative, who post angry and hurtful articles about how “those people” are ruining our country.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Here’s the thing. I will rarely listen to your opinions if they are presented from a negative viewpoint. If you want my attention, present what you believe in a positive way, without disparaging all other views. There must be something good in your beliefs. If the only way you can discuss politics (or education or religion, etc.) is by tearing down the “other,” I will disregard what you say.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I do not live life from a negative viewpoint (this is mostly true. . . ). Maybe you think that’s naive of me or Pollyanna-ish, but this is my life and I refuse to wake up each day and look around for what’s wrong or who is wrong. I choose instead to, <i>“Get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.” </i>Abraham Joshua Heschel.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Because it is for freedom Jesus set us free, and living into fear or hate or negativity is not freedom. It is self-imposed bondage.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>“Integrity consists not in having no presuppositions but of being aware of what one’s presuppositions are and of the obligation to listen and interact with those who have different ones."</i> N.T. Wright</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">One of the greatest joys in my life are my friends who are completely, radically opposite from me politically. I love them so much. My friends who hold to different beliefs enrich my life. I cannot imagine life without them. How boring! I want conversations that push me to consider why I think what I think. I want to be in relationship with real people who believe differently than me, so I keep remembering <i>they are real people</i>. I want them to be all up in my face, so when I am tempted to let enmity grow in me towards that other political party or that other denomination, I see instead the faces of those I love. And I remember there is no other. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There is only we the people.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>“Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another.”</i> John 13:34</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>"As life carries on, I hope my edges soften, my defenses weaken. I so desperately want it said of me that I loved well."</i> Jen Hatmaker</span><br>
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Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097233783313119628.post-64655031372285633002016-01-29T19:06:00.002-08:002016-01-29T19:16:46.604-08:00The Bittersweet Goodbye<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Last night we said goodbye to our friend, Fabrice. Today we are sad. And we rejoice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">One year ago eleven year old Fabrice arrived in Boise from Rwanda to receive medical care. Fabrice was suffering from a deep bone infection and without the generous care provided by St. Luke's Medical Center, a skilled pediatric surgeon and Walgreens pharmacy, today he would not have his left leg. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When I first met Fabrice, he was in a wheelchair. While in Boise he had multiple surgeries and progressed from wheelchair to crutches to running and jumping and playing soccer. Next week Fabrice will fly home to Rwanda. He will return to his mom and dad and siblings, including a baby brother he barely knows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For the last several months Fabrice has been part of our children's bible study. He speaks the same language as our refugee friends. Fabrice will be missed. His smile could light the world. His heart for Jesus nearly bursts from his chest. His hand was always the first to shoot up when we asked who would like to pray. His insight into who Jesus is, is profound. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Last night we said goodbye. We circled around him. Three adults and fifteen children. We put our hands on him and the children prayed. Some in English, some in Kinyarwanda. I tried not to cry as I listened to my young friends pour out their hearts to God, as their faith touched us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Afterwards, I hugged Fabrice hard and said, "We will always pray for you. God’s blessing is on you and your future is big.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We are grateful to have shared this past year with Fabrice. Our lives are richer because of him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>A friend loves at all times.</i> Proverbs 17:17</span>Shawna Benedicthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04205937874052233884noreply@blogger.com0