chipped not shattered...

As is true for many newlyweds, Hunter and I received a coffee pot as a wedding gift. Unfortunately, in a clumsy moment sometime in the first six months of owning it, I dropped it on our kitchen floor. But it didn't shatter. However, right at the spout it was significantly, noticeably chipped. The lid was also broken so you couldn't really make it stay on the pot. 

But we kept that broken coffee pot for 8 1/2 years. And I drank coffee out of it at least 90% of those mornings. (yes mom, even when I was pregnant. I know that's still a sore issue). That's 2,792 days of drinking out of a broken coffee pot.  

No one would have argued that the coffee pot was less than effective anymore. No one would have argued if I had decided to replace it. But I couldn't do it. It wasn't broken enough for that kind of investment. 

That image really encompasses a lot about what I've believed about myself for many years. I've believed that there was some kind of line between chipped and broken and since I have so much to be thankful for, so many things going for me... I don't qualify for really needing people to stop for me. Of course I've got some nicks and bruises but nothing in comparison to others who've had it much harder...so I don't qualify for attention, help, concern. I need to buck up and do my part in helping others. I need to ignore my pesky wounds that keep drawing attention to themselves. Maybe if I just serve others enough, care enough about major issues, then my (self-defined) smaller ones will just disappear. Either way I need to just press on.

But. Through a series of activities that I can only really label "God's kind pursuit of me", manifest through friendships, counseling, reading His word and so on, I threw away my old coffee pot and have tried to trash my skewed worldview along with it. That worldview, I think, is getting replaced with a kinder and more Biblical one.

Here's some of what that journey was like.

Last summer I spent a long time studying a passage in the Bible that tells of a day when Jesus was asked by a man named Jairus to save his dying 12 year old daughter. He agrees and is following Jairus when a woman who had a disease where she bled for 12 years came up and touched his garment. While time was of the essence in rescuing the little girl whose story was (as any Emergency Room doc would agree) much more acutely traumatic, Jesus stopped and he stayed with the woman. The scripture tells us that she told him the "whole truth" as he listened to her whole story. And in his staying with her, not just her sneaking up and touching him, she was deeply healed. 

But in the meantime, the little girl died. The story doesn't end there, of course, after arriving at the scene, Jesus resurrects her. 

But that's not the part of the story that I got beautifully stuck on for almost two months. I wasn't stuck on the truth that Jesus went and spent equal care and attention to the traumatized little girl and raised her from the dead. Yes, that's amazing and that might be the part of the story that God has for you today when you read it. But the part that is slowly changing me is the fact that Jesus stopped for the woman whose problems appeared so much less significant. Surely her problems were real...but in comparison with the little girl there was no question?! But Jesus doesn't assess situations the way we do. The broken woman's story, her health and healing was equally significant to Jesus. 

His stopping for her, his valuing her and his listening to her has felt like the permission I've needed to walk up to him and touch his garment and admit what's true. Actually, maybe my problems aren't as bad as others. But they've been affecting our marriage for 8 years. And I think they've been affecting me for a lot longer than that. Somethings not quite right. Somethings wrong actually. I don't feel like I have a lot to complain of, but I feel like I'm broken and needing help. needing rescued. 

And the attention I've needed hasn't bothered Jesus. It isn't stealing from anyone else that I'm receiving care, attention, mercy, love, help from him. His resources aren't limited the ways that I have arrogantly (and harmfully) defined them to be. 

There are many details that I won't share here as they involve other people and they frankly just aren't that important for most people to know. But. Last fall I participated in a counseling group with other women called Healing Hearts, provided by the Barnabas Center in Richmond, VA. The group is being offered two other times this fall, which is part of why I wanted to share my experience with it: to encourage others of you who might be hurting, broken, but reluctant to seek care.

There's real help and hope and redemption on offer and Healing Hearts is a great place to start. I think going through that group is actually one of the things that (looking back) felt necessary for me to come to Rwanda healthier. It is also why it felt surprising and confusing that after all that undoing of lies about chipped/broken that we were sent away from Richmond, after I finally agreed/believed that the work of showing and receiving God's love there was equally valuable and important as doing that in places like Rwanda. 

But, here, too, I can spend time with folks who look a lot like me, whose stories seem more "chipped" than "broken" from the outside appearance. But I don't need to assess that. Their story and life, their health and wholeness is deeply significant to the King. In fact, I think that kind of listening might be part of what He's made me for. 

So, it feels like a big gift to have participated in Healing Hearts (though the counseling group of course wasn't like going on a vacation. it was hard, emotional work!) But I am deeply thankful that I got to spend my time unpacking some of my story and allowing Him to heal parts of me. If any of this is resonating with you, I sincerely encourage you to consider participating in a Healing Hearts Barnabas group this fall. and feel free to ask me more detailed questions if you have them.   

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.

our most brilliant idea ever

Every time we'd tell someone that we were bringing a friend with us for the first month when we relocated to Rwanda they would give us these demonstrative eyes and body language that screamed "that's brilliant!" We agree. The idea to ask Brianne to join our family for the transition time (and flight) felt like one of the easiest decisions Hunter and I have made together. it went something like this: 

Adrianne- wouldn't it be amazing if the right someone could go with us and help us for the flight and first month.

Hunter- YES. definitely. who?

Adrianne....hmmmm (thinking about a few important factors: summertime month-long availability. fit with whole family. willingness. awesomeness. long blonde hair who loves the Squirrels. jk.)... 

Adrianne: how about Brianne?

Hunter- perfect. done.

Adrianne- let's call her.

Hunter- okay. 

not the most "spiritual" sounding decision, but it/she felt like God's idea and gift to us then and now.

And so, here is a tribute post to our friend and one of the most brilliant ideas we've ever had.

Ahem.

Dear Brianne's parents and family:Hi! You probably don't agree that this was our most brilliant idea ever (to take your precious daughter/sister so far. so long. to so different of a place). Or if it was...then you're now questioning our intelligence. Fair enough. :)

I'm really sorry we didn't get to meet you before your (beautiful and highly treasured) daughter, my husband and I carried our family across the Atlantic Ocean (with the somewhat significant help of Ethiopian airlines). However, I do want to sincerely thank you for generously sharing Brianne with us and allowing her to go on such a faraway adventure. As I imagine you know better than we do: she is remarkably selfless, helpful, strong, courageous, optimistic, calm, energetic, spunky, focused, warm, magnetic and fun. 

You might not have known this little gem: she's especially calm and helpful when there's projectile vomit from my daughter everywhere in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. hypothetically speaking, of course.

You probably didn't know that little detail about copious vomit/help before, but I bet you won't be surprised that she is sad coming home (and not just about leaving our family!)...but because she managed in 4 weeks to be helpful to our (needy) family everyday and yet had life and joy left in her to move towards more than a handful of now new friends. last night we had dinner with some new friends and their grateful words about her resonated with people in Richmond's experience: she's curious about their life, she listens well and asks good questions, she follows-up about important things in their life. In just 4 weeks she made many new people feel loved. 

Parenting isn't the only thing that makes people who they are (my kids and I are BANKING on this). However, I know she reflects both her maker and her family and so I'm thankful for and mindful of the ways you've positively shaped her to be so deeply beautiful and lovely.    

I know it wasn't nothing to you all to miss out on having her around for the past month. I imagine it felt costly. But it wasn't nothing to us to have her here. I wish you could've seen the way she loved on each of us, served us, played, read, exercised (with Micah. just ask), danced, cooked, cleaned, sang, snuggled. Her presence here was significant.

So, thank you. I promised you (through her) that we WOULD buy her a round trip ticket and we WOULD take her to the airport on time to come home. We're making good on that promise and sending her back tomorrow. However, I cannot promise that we won't look for jobs for her in Rwanda starting next year and hope and pray that she and others will come to Rwanda again to see us. Hope to meet you (here!) next year.

Dear City Church and friends of Brianne's:

Thank you, also, for generously sharing Brianne with us for the past month. The Scripture describes these kinds of visits and help sometimes. Here's one: "I hope in the LORD to send Timothy to you soon, that I may also be cheered when I receive news about you. I have no one else like him, who takes a genuine interest in your welfare. For everyone looks out for their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. But you know that Timothy has proved himself, because as a son with his father he has served with me in the work of the gospel. I hope, therefore, to send him as soon as I see how things go with me...But I think it necessary to send back to you Epaphroditus, my brother, fellow worker and fellow soldier, who is also your messenger, whom you sent to take care of my needs. For he longs for you all... (from Philippians 2.)

Anyway! I feel confident although sad in sending Brianne back to you. She's kind of a combination of how Paul describes Timothy and Epaphroditus there. My confidence in Richmond being the place for her right now is there because her aches and prayers and joy and sadness for you all and your stories did not wane AT ALL while she was away. When you rejoiced in something she was with you. And when you were sad, she was. She served us and served folks in this community (both expats and locals) very well. She was present here. She held little ones who cannot walk or talk who are older than my children. She danced in the home of a dear woman/friend who makes $100 a month working remarkably hard 8-5 every day. But she came home and even throughout the day she prayed for you and your burdens too. She smiled for you and your exciting news. She isn't coming home with a judgmental or haughty spirit (which is incompatible with God's spirit) having served in and traveled to such a "radical" place. Her heart for the physically poor, the orphaned ones, the neglected ones has surely grown, but not in a way that made her concern for other people (equally made in God's image) but with other adjectives before their names ("wealthy", "lonely", "feeling rejected", "american")  seem less significant or less valuable in any way. The LORD is giving her spiritual eyes and wisdom.

The real Holy Spirit is obviously at work in you all. When asked what she was most excited about in coming to be in Rwanda this summer--in a time in the States when "justice" "care for orphans and widows" and similar heartbeats of God are very (pardon my crudeness) "sexy" to be connected to (and legitimate and important obviously too)--she said "actually I've never really dreamed of going to Africa. I'm just excited to serve your family."  She learned that somewhere people, and it wasn't us. and it was reinforced somewhere. and prayed for by people. She learned never to elevate someone over someone but to know all are broken and all are beautiful. all have dignity and are worth serving and laying your life down for. and she'll follow and serve whomever He leads her to, wherever he has prepared works for her in advance to do, whether that carries accolades and attention with it or not. I pray that kind of real gospel work will continue among you and that that truth will sink deeper and deeper into her and you. I pray that you'll cheer for each other as you serve each other and the world in many important varied ways. she's been a gift to us, but she's coming back to serve and love people there. We are so thankful you sent her with us. She's missed you dearly. 

Dear Brianne:

If your mission statement the past four weeks was to love our family well and help us transition to life here...job very well done. You were courageous. helpful. fun. thoughtful. A gift. 

Thank you.

You, because you were a planned gift and servant from God, armed with His kingdom's power, have been kind of like yeast in bread from Papyrus. Essential. totally noticeable if not present. But if the bread is made correctly, it kind of disappears after it is worked in all the dough. He has blessed our family and our new loved ones here and He planned and chose to do it through you and the specific ways He has gifted YOU. 

I'm so glad the Scripture at church this morning was about how if the resurrection isn't true Christians ought to be pitied among all. You missed things while you were gone. Your life of following Jesus will continue to mean that sometimes following and listening will include missing out or added hardships and sadness. But the resurrection really is true. Follow him wherever he leads without FOMO or fear of the Nile. without need for approval or reputation. Keep following him and live a life that (as a result and by-product, NOT goal) would continue to grow in "pitiableness." EXCEPT. Jesus really was raised. None of your obedience will be pitied in the end.

Your time with us was significant and we love you.

Dear Brianne's Creator:

Brianne was across the board (in her full life of joy and service to you and others) a brilliant idea you thought up. She's more marvelous than we know and I hope you keep showing more of her beauty and your beauty through her to lots of people. thanks for sharing her with us these days.

and lastly:

Dear all our people:

we have a guest room open.

I don't specialize in subtlety.  

Part I: We Moved

So, we moved to Rwanda 2 weeks ago...

And I guess I owe some of you an update on life and such.  The short answer is that is has been really good...and really hard at the same time, really exciting and really sad, and really fun and sometimes pretty boring. And while people told me that those kinds of paradoxes were likely to be the story of our cross cultural living experience, I think I didn't really get it until we all landed here two weeks ago.

The good news is that we had about as easy of a transition as we could have had.  We moved into a beautiful house that was furnished because one of the partners in my company moved back to the states and gave me a great deal on everything. We had the car already. We had four friends who brought cars to pick us and our stuff up at the airport. I knew where I was and how to get around. We had been coached on where to shop. We were able to continue to employ the guard and house manager from departing friends who are fantastic. We had a dinner in the fridge and banana bread already made when we set foot in our house. Internet -Setup. Power - On. Cell phones - check. Everything, in relative terms was so easy. And I knew that.

But then I went to a dinner on Friday night with several other expat families and hearing their transition stories (looking for cars, houses, sharing temporary housing with 15 people or more) I think it sunk in again how easy we have had it.  And that's not to say its "easy" to move 8,000 miles. It wasn't. I had a stress induced stomach ache for 2 weeks before, during and after our transit. It took an act of God (and several friends and family members, and every logistical bone in my body) to get 24 boxes / suitcases out of my house in Richmond, to an airport, onto the plane, out of baggage claim and to our new place.

But, the prevailing emotion as we settle is that I feel blessed. Blessed to have had it "easy". To have a family that is pretty good (has a doctorate in?) flexibility. Blessed to have had so many good friends to say good bye to. Blessed to already know so many here in Kigali that we have been able to host people 5 or 6 times already in the last 14 days.

And if the prevailing emotion is feeling blessed, then the secondary one is sadness. Leaving Richmond was unbelievably difficult.  Leaving family before and at the airport was crazy difficult.  Meeting new people and having to tell them my high school basketball stories for the first time...I mean seriously, who HASN'T heard my high school basketball stories?  Just a reminder that while Kigali is highly concentrated with incredibly awesome people, they are all new people...and that's hard, even as it's pretty cool. 

There's more to this story - the work transition, the fact that we live a block from the best burger joint in town, the study I'm running collecting data on motorcycle taxis (trying to understand why none of them have a working spedometer), the fact that Adrianne and I are heading to a party at the ambassador's house tomorrow night, Micah's projectile vomit Sunday, Lucy's projectile vomit in the Addis Ababa airport, bedbugs, my colleague who graduated from business school and was given 9 cows by friends and family, the things we've missed the most, how I've learned how to ride my motorcycle, and stuff like that.  But I'll save that for Part 2...

Don't worry, Adrianne will be back for the next one. 

Peace,

HT

by the numbers...

Well, we're almost two weeks into being here and we have so much to be thankful for. I know many of you are following us on facebook or instagram, but for the friends and family out there who haven't gotten updates because they're not social media ninjas...here's a bit of a summary. just for some kind of format sake, we'll do it by the numbers:

• 3- number of days it took me (Adrianne) to learn how to drive stick (at all) and in a place called "the land of a thousand hills." my training was more like the sink/swim baby swimming lessons where you throw the kid in and hope instincts work out. But I'm doing it! I've driven the kids by myself all over town this week. I'm so thankful to be mobile! 

1- the number of people driving in Kigali with an RVA sticker :)

all of them- the number of days we've enjoyed Kigali's climate and our awesome backyard. 

1- the number of Steelers Jerseys I've seen so far. 8 the number of days Isaiah has worn his

a bajilliion-- how thankful I am and we are for Lilian. She is our house manager and helps out with everything. Micah ADORES her. and she has made us all feel so at home here.

5- a conservative estimate (bold face lie?) on the number of times Lucy has legitimately cried for a long period of time because she misses her friends and family. this is a book my mom read to us as kids that talks about praying for new friends. she is being brave and making new friends...and yet I find it beautiful and appropriate that she's missing people. yay for good friends and people who make us feel loved so much that we'd cry because we miss them!

please continue to pray that God will provide us with wonderful friendships. and that He'll give us grace to sustain strong ones across the world. 

11- (unless I counted wrong) made-in-God's-image-women in this picture who received sewing training and now have jobs through Noonday Collection. The wife of one of Hunter's colleagues at Karisimbi did a lot of the praying and grunt work to make those jobs happen. a job for these women means the difference between children going to school (even elementary), eating 2-3 meals a day, or not. if you want to read about her and that story, click here: www.noondaycollection.com/blog-1/when-one-women-says-yes

it is these types of stories that excite me so much! pray we'll know where and how God wants me to serve (most of Hunter's service will really be through his work). www.karisimbipartners.com 

10- the number of kids at the preschool (this day) started by friends of mine. before they started this preschool most of these little ones (3 and 4 year olds) would either have to roam the streets without supervision or be locked in their homes all day so their mom and or dad/uncle could work. so many children have this story and so many of them are wandering/playing in the streets all day. if their parents don't work they don't have enough to eat and childcare is too expensive for lower paid jobs. So friends started this preschool at a very affordable rate to make it available and excellent for those families. 

2- okaaaaaaaay. just kidding. jeez. the number of dates we've had since arriving. yay! Hunter is working so hard and I'm not very energetic (and sometimes not even super warm) when he arrives at the end of the night. pray for me that I'll love him better? Pray also for his work that he and they will be effective, that the end product and the means by which they do their work would reflect the truest and best things.  

3- number of dinner parties we've had. so thankful to be received so warmly and excitedly by folks here. and so eager to be known and know others. 

1- number of lizards Isaiah has caught in his bedroom. it is also the number of lizards that lost their tail during the conquest.

0- number of people in Kigali who feel more loved than me. the expressions of people's love and kindness have been overwhelming. before we left and all the parties and thoughtfulness. and since we've been here all the emails. secret hideaway packages. facetime. windows (above) with an enlarged photo of my favorite tree in Richmond. we miss you all so much and are so thankful. 

?? Number of people we've seen working so hard and carrying an unbelievable number of things on their head. my kids are in awe every time. and obviously we're practicing. 

50- number of words he has learned since being here. seriously his vocabulary just exploded. he also is learning Kinyarwanda at the same time and loves to greet people. just like everywhere in the world, babies are a great equalizer here and everyone wants to greet us, hold him, etc. he sometimes is okay with that but usually is still a mama's boy. 

Okay! I feel like that was a lot and yet I don't feel like I told you anything. So, at least there's a start. for anyone who made it to the bottom of this message--here's our mailing address and how to do it! 

Adrianne and Hunter Thompson
PO Box 7164
Kigali Rwanda

a regular letter to us requires 3 US stamps. 
The international flat rate envelopes and boxes are usually the way to go and those are found at the post office. you'll buy it at a flat rate...fill it as much as you can and then pay a little extra (I think?) depending on where you are sending it. it takes about 3 weeks to get to us. 

we're thankful to be here. getting settled in and will update or process more on here soon!

arriving on father's day

After 28 hours of travel with 3 kids, we arrived to our new home in Kigali Rwanda today. On Father's day.

While driving away from our send-off gathering on Friday where, in our dear friend Sutton's words, friends came together to "eat pizza, hug, say goodbye and cry," Lucy, our oldest at 5 1/2, completely lost it. "I WON'T go. I WON'T move. I can't. NO!!" And she continued with her dramatic and sure refusal for 20 minutes, complete with angry and scared tears, yelling and just honest, heartbreaking sadness. 

there were funny moments, like when in response to me saying "oh I hope I didn't forget anything" she said "you know what you CAN FORGET? YOU CAN FORGET  MOVING BECAUSE WE AREN'T GOING." and then there were the worst of the worst moments, like when she said: "can't you just ask God to change his mind. I don't think he put this idea into my heart. can't you just ask him to change your mind so we don't have to move from our house and our friends?" 

those are some of the most heartbreaking words you can hear. this beautiful child made in God's and our image, given to you to love, nurture and carefully and prayerfully launch into this broken and beautiful world, whose Good you want SO badly, looking at you and telling you she doesn't want to go to a place you're going and at least in some young ways, she resents you for it.

Arriving on Father's day feels a bit ironic. 

Hunter, today I would especially want you to know: I love how you want so many good things for our children: safety, joy, happiness, rewarding experiences. you want them to feel seen, known loved, delighted in. you want them to have tons of fun. you want them to feel secure. and you want them to have faith. Strong, deep rooted faith and hope that will bouy and orient them in this world.

So on Father's day I honor you for this crazy move across the world. a move that I'll admit in some ways feels like it exposes and makes more vulnerable some of those good desires you and we have for our kids. (of course that's true in every culture in which you raise children--some of those deep longings are more vulnerable and difficult to nurture than others.) 

But I wouldn't want you to think I just honor you because the work you're doing is so meaningful: using your skills to bless those who are more vulnerable than us, hoping in the end there will be many stories about how Karisimbi's efforts were part of bringing good news of God's faithfulness to those who are poor. Yes I honor you for that and hope our kids will too. But watching you go through the wrestling about whether or not to "say yes", I've watched your great concern and great love for our children shape the decision. 

And I watched how it actually felt simple in the end. Overall, through the process of discernment, it just felt like God showed us to go. And so while we can do lots of things towards our other desires for them, your most important job as their earthly father is to show them what it means to follow their heavenly one, whether that feels like it needs loads of courage or not. I know you'll make this move as you should: tenderly, remembering each of our children's frames and keeping your many desires for them. And I sincerely hope and pray with you that they come to love this decision and love living here. I pray that we will still see evidence that they feel seen, known heard, delighted in, here in Kigali. I pray they will feel secure. I pray that they will have rewarding and fun experiences. 

But I'm confident you've already done the most important parenting job regarding this huge change: modeling what it means to follow Him. modeling what it means to walk with faith and obey. thank you.

(Up in the middle of the night in a new unfamiliar "home" in Kigali, feeling homesick and shaky myself, I think I needed these reminders as much as our kids. This decision wasn't made lightly or passionately. it was made a bit more like Peter looking at Jesus and saying "LORD, to whom shall we go?" it seems like He led us here so how could we not come? 

thanks for leading us the way you have. I love you.

(PS, for all our concerned loved ones! Lucy told us tonight she was really excited and really likes Rwanda a lot more than she thought she would. you could tell she feels really comfortable in the house and she really loves her room. pictures soon, promise.)

why I don't want to go but am still going

“Why I don’t want to go but am still going.” Quite the name of a post, huh? The confidence is just exploding out of the title, I know.

Folks have been asking me why I haven’t updated the blog since our “how it is that we decided to move to Rwanda” his/her posts and, frankly, there are three very easy-to-explain reasons: 1) those words pretty much captured most of what I’ve learned in the past 9 years (related to the decision to move) so I didn’t have much else to say for a while, 2) we’re moving across the world and so I’d rather spend time with people or do the necessary packing work than type something and 3) I’m just so, so sad.  

So that’s what I’m writing about: what it is about being so sad…and scared. And still going.

For all of our marriage (literally) I’ve wanted to move to a developing country. I just really, really wanted to. I was sure of it. After spending half of our engagement living with Zimbabwean girls who had been orphaned by AIDS, I ached to live our life together alongside folks who are beautifully made in God’s image and yet who are impoverished in ways that robs them of many expressions of that inherent beauty and dignity. So I begged, pleaded, demanded, fought, cried, longed, hoped that we would “go.” Not with 100% exclusivity (my heart, like yours, beats for many things)…but certainly with consistency. The ebb and flow of that longing was more like a pendulum swing from slow, quiet, deep guttural longing to explosive need, desire and demand.

I can’t really explain it, but my longings and passions didn’t originate from me and that clarification is a big part of this.


If I were speaking right now I think I would be whispering, as it feels like holy ground, this particular moment of speaking of the unsearchable Weaver: but it is as if while I was tenderly and intentionally knit together in my mother’s womb, He was likewise counting and equally delighting in the number of hairs on Isaiah’s birth mother’s head. And as he knit her, He knit me.  

And we are woven together, though not knowing one another. Forever.

He carefully placed an expression of His love for “her” into me. And so for as long as I can remember after having my eyes opened to faith and receiving the spirit, for reasons higher than my mind can explain, the idea of knowing and being known by, loving and being loved by, and serving and being served by folks in a place like Rwanda has consistently made my belly and heart ache more than other things.

And it still does. The cries of the poor and marginalized cause groans inside me. Their cries and His hearing of their cries are part of my DNA, as I share their humanity and bear His image.

So I am confident that God has planned this story for us. This move to Rwanda.

And yet, even this afternoon the tears are still there. They are different than the ones wept when we didn’t take the job in Congo 6 years ago and when we didn’t get the job in Rwanda 3 years ago. They are different than that mix of unfaithfully bitter tears of an Eve-like woman trying to make a name for herself. And they are different than the faithfully aching tears of a woman made by and for Him, aching for those who are suffering and yet learning to wait on the LORD for His plans and timing. Those faithful and unfaithful ones shed on the same day in the same moments, neither kind really like today’s.

These tears today, while still a mix of faith and unbelief, reflect the reality that while perhaps we are sometimes called to specific places and specific kinds of people, we are all always called to love our neighbor and to honor our family. And we have come to love many and to be loved by many who are here, who we leave behind. It would seem unbefitting of a woman made to reflect the Maker who delights in all of us, for me to feel or act unaffected by this move. His love for people who are here and His sure knitting of me to them, too, move me to tears as we move toward a season when we’ll spend most of our time apart. My tears don’t feel like they confuse me about whether or not He has called us to go, they feel like they speak of other relationships and other loves also knit into me. and the longing for eternity together.

The tears in large part come because when there are things to rejoice about in beloved people’s lives (not in Rwanda), we will not get to physically stand and rejoice with them. And when there are things to grieve about in beloved people’s lives (not in Rwanda), we will not get to physically kneel or lay prostrate with them as we grieve alongside). And so I weep. and still we go.