two humbling moments today

Not every day here is earth shattering or perspective enlarging, though every day is a gift. Many of the days we've spent here have felt much like days in the US: wake up, read, drink coffee, exercise, play with the kids, have friends over and go to sleep. 

I'm very thankful for those kinds of days and what they teach me. There is real learning, real beauty, real brokenness and real important work in those kinds of days (where the appearance of my friends or life seems more similar to me). There's lots to learn, receive and do, if I have been given the eyes to see. In Richmond or Rwanda that's true. 

Many of our days look and feel like this sunset: just deeply lovely and fairly comfortable.

sunset view from our backyard

But most days have at least moments in them when I remember more easily: people's stories here really are different than mine. They see things differently. They experience things differently. And there are reasons for that. 

And there's something about the privilege of listening and watching and learning and getting all-up-in others' stories here that (I hope and pray!) is going to make Hunter's Lucy's, Isaiah's, Micah's and my story more beautiful. And prayerfully the impact of our life and work here would similarly draw out more beauty in people here. 

I heard someone say recently that it is only when single threads are interwoven that real beauty (an interesting, ornate or beautiful fabric) or real helpfulness (durable clothing, warm blankets, etc) comes of the thread. A pastor in NYC (Tim Keller) says it this way:

"If you throw thousands of pieces of thread unto a table, no fabric results. The threads must be rightly and intimately related to one another in literally a million ways. Each thread must go over, under, around, and through the others at thousands of points. Only then do you get a fabric that is beautiful and strong, that covers, fits, holds, shelters and delights. God created all things to be in a beautiful, harmonious, interdependent, knitted, webbed relationship to one another. Just as rightly related physical elements form a cosmos or tapestry, so rightly related human beings form a community. This interwovenness is what the Bible calls shalom, or harmonious peace.”

Rwandan fabric. I'M OBSESSED.

I want to be like that. To have my story interwoven with people in Richmond, where we together add beauty and texture to the tapestry we're making and re-making together. But that means them being all up in my business and really being known and doing life together. But I still want it, even from far away. And I want that here, too.

So in addition to days that feel "normal," we have moments many times a week when we realize our thread is getting woven into a different kind--similar in so many ways --and yet so very different. And I hope the effect of what our weaving is like here will make the tapestry more vibrant, interesting, helpful, beautiful.

But the "really being in each other's lives" here means making plenty of "mistakes." it means plenty of humbling (even if quietly humbled) moments. it means asking and receiving perspective changing questions and answers.

I've shared some of these stories already. The humbling ones. Moments like a few weeks ago when Lucy asked a Rwandan friend "why do you wear the same dress everyday?" She was completely shocked to know the answer. 

The day before was a holiday and I asked a similar "innocent" question that left me stumbling into a humbling conversation. I somewhat jokingly (and to complement his work ethic) asked John Baptiste, who goes door to door selling fruits and vegetables, why he was not "taking holiday" like the rest of Rwanda (NOTHING is open that day. everyone is home). He looked at me and then looked down for a moment and then met my curious gaze with deeply kind eyes and said: "I work today so my family can eat." 

My relationship with these friends ought not be just so I can have my eyes opened or have humbling/powerful stories to tell others. These are real, dear, made-in-God's-own-image neighbors and friends. But there is something about our knowing them and their knowing us that is part of God's design in healing and restoring me. and in healing and restoring this broken and beautiful world. 

and so I tell some of the stories.

The first humbling moment like that today happened because I was out of money. Our guard Apollo approached us early this morning (he does more than guard our home: takes care of landscape, runs occasional errands, maintains the garden, etc.) Anyway, Apollo needed money to buy more soap for washing the patio. It is a cash based society so we get money out once a week (or so) from the bank and make it last. But this week we had two things go wrong with the car (80,000 francs), needed gas (50,000 francs) and our gas power/propane tank went out which meant we couldn't cook unless we replaced it (45,000 francs). So when Apollo asked for money (like the equivalent of 5 dollars) I had to apologize because we were literally out of money but would go to the bank later. And 45 minutes later when John Baptiste came as requested to sell us his vegetables and fruits I had to tell him that we didn't have money to pay today. I hated saying no to him. I felt terrible. I think he even travels a bit to bring his food to us.

A few hours later, though, I was rummaging through my pants pockets and found some money I'd left in them last Friday. It was more than plenty for the fruits/vegetables/soap. I came out smiling, carrying it in my hand and told Lilian and Apollo: "sorry! I realized I had some in my pants pockets so I have enough now. here you go." 

And they laughed at me. not (at all) a mean kind of laugh. but not a 'you're so silly" kind of laugh either. They gestured at each other while teasing me in Kinyarwanda something like "wonder what that's like...to forget you have money in your pockets." 

The other moment happened later in the morning. Micah has been sick since Sunday/Monday. We actually felt quite concerned at first because he had a reasonably high fever and his intestines were producing the wrong kinds of things. and those wrong kinds of things were going out both ways. all day/night long. yuck. 

On Monday/Tuesday he tested negative for malaria/typhoid/giardia/amoebas. The first humbling moment regarding illness is that you don't take symptoms for granted here. "I don't believe in medicine" kinds of folks (like me) aren't appropriate/welcome: fevers need to be dealt with seriously and if you have means you get tested quickly because early attention can be significantly important. So we tested him on Monday. 

But the test showed (thankfully!)...it is just a "normal" bug. I can do normal bugs. No antibiotics necessary. You let them run their course. make sure he gets lots of water/liquid. but nothing too worrisome. 

So that's what I've been doing. He's been sluggish and refusing food the past few days but he seemed to turn a corner last night when he ate a few things and had less diarrhea during the night. 

So this morning I left Micah with Lilian so I could fill in for a friend and teach an exercise class. Lilian called Hunter mid-morning because she was so concerned for his health. I was just about home so I rushed in. I came in and found him kind of like this:

Definitely lethargic-ish...but I watched closely and snuggled him for the next little bit and I could tell he was okay. He was laughing, talking, reading, playing...

But I could tell Lilian didn't agree. She kept making her case. She pulled together stool (gross, sorry TMI) and wanted me to take him to the doctor again. She came in every 5 or so minutes to check on him and kept pleading with me. "He's very sick. He's very sick." She repeatedly told me how many diapers he went through, how he's leaning over in pain, etc.

But I didn't budge. Not spitefully, but I really felt confident he was okay. Yes, I agree he is sick and has a tummy bug but I think we can wait it out. 

At this point in the day now that Lilian has seen him dancing and eating a normal-ish sized lunch she would agree that he's okay.

But here's the thing: Diarrhea is the second leading cause of death in children under the age of 5 around the world. DIARRHEA, people. Mostly because of contaminated water and food. TOTALLY preventable illnesses and deaths. THAT SHOULD MAKE US LOSE SLEEP.

Lilian's story has been marked by that. Mine has not. I can watch diarrhea for 3-4 days making sure he is getting (CLEAN!) water that won't exacerbate the problem. making sure he is showing signs of turning the corner. But Lilian's neighbors/relatives don't have that same story/luxury. You see diarrhea for a few days in a kid (maybe even just one day) and you MOVE on it. you beg a doctor for help if you can't afford it. you watch. you pray. You stress because it MATTERS. 

You don't sit on your couch and read stories when your kid has had diarrhea for 4 days. But that's what I did. And it was okay. 

But my heart grew today as I asked questions and as I learned why that bothered Lilian. And it BOTHERS me that she has to think so prudently. (insert plug of me asking you to consider learning about and participating in clean water options around the world. there are MANY ways to help).

My story and Micah's story is getting interwoven with Lilian's and I couldn't be more thankful, even as I'm humbled most days. 

dancing with Lilian at her home with her family for her birthday. it was AWESOME.