My One Story

Unbelievably, I have been home for 2 weeks.   A friend asked me if I had a few minutes to tell her some stories.  "Of course!"  I finally left an hour later.  There is really no way to sit for five minutes and sum up what is going on in Africa and my love for it.  However, among all the smaller stories, there does seem to be a bigger picture that I would love to share.  If I could only tell one story, this would be it.

After a couple days in the city of Bujumbura, we finally traveled up country several hours to our village of Bugenyuzi.  I was like a kid on Christmas morning.  It was all I could do to not squeal aloud.  I had traveled halfway across the world and now I was seconds away from being reunited with the piece of my heart that I had left last year.  

 

As we passed through villages near ours, others in the bus would ask, "are those the Batwa?"  "No."  "Is that them?"  "No."  Suddenly, Paul and I proclaim at the same time, "There they are!!!!"  I had forgotten how easy they were to spot.  The rags they wear and the dirt on their bodies are a chilling dissemblance.  My heart was doing flips inside me.  A year of waiting.  The bus came to a stop and the beauty of the familiar mountains, huts, and little faces let me know I was at my home away from home.  The crowd of children surrounding the bus started singing, "God is so good" just as we had taught them last year.  Everyone around me seemed to be waiting for directions but I could simply wait no longer!   With tears in my eyes I was the first to step out of the bus.  I gave countless hugs and quickly felt little hands clasping mine.  "Amahoro!  Amahoro!  Amahoro!"  (Peace.  Peace.  Peace.)  As I looked in the eyes of both children and adults I instantly knew, I was in the same place with the same people but everything had changed.  They were healthier.

Bebe last year

Bebe this year

If I left for home after that moment it would have been worth the trip.  A year ago we walked into a village of people who were dying.  3 in 4 women died in childbirth.  Most children died before turning 5.  This year the story is life.  All your prayers.  All your money.  All your love.  Over the last year, God used it all and packaged it up into the gift of health.   One man said, “Our women are not dying anymore.  If this is all that you do for us, it is enough.”   Thankfully that is not all that God has planned for them.  But isn’t that the way of God, when we see no light at the end, suddenly God shows up and does abundantly more than we could ever ask or imagine.