Good-byes and Unexpected Delays -- From Goma to Home
Our final days in Goma are filled with more time with people -- teaching, encouraging, trying to let our 'light shine.'
On our last morning, Steve and I do rounds with the medical students, and Tom and Mary Ella spend time in the OR with the surgeons. It's funny how 'used to' something one can become -- I see patients, again and again, with tuberculosis and malaria and HIV and, sadly, it's like I've just seen the common cold. I see armed men with grenade launching guns, guarding buildings, and I am no longer aghast. I see and hear a bleating goat tied up under a bush at Maji, and not surprised when it is then served for dinner, that night. Todd and Chris and Marc fix physical brokenness in hopes of helping on a much deeper level. Marc and Chris operate on more goiter cases, 'abdominal catastrophes' from gun shot wounds (I'll spare you the pictures), and Todd fixes more cleft palates and lips and the burned hand of the little boy, seen in my previous post. The unusual has become the usual.
It's not that I've become numb to it all -- at least I hope not.
Our last morning, we gather together for breakfast, as we do each morning, with our team members and some new friends from Australia, who are here to help HEAL Africa. We eat bananas and bread and pineapple and avocado and cheese. It is a feast fit for a king, compared to the famine outside of the grounds of Maji. My heart flips back and forth from guilt to gratitude.
We pack our bags, attend our last chapel, and say our good-byes. It is hard to leave these people that we have built relationships with. It is hard to leave the suffering and the sorrow and the incredible needs behind, and yet -- the healing and hope. But we are eager to be home.
We cross the boarder into Kigali, and spend some time with Marc's friend, Caleb. He is coordinating and building a hydro-electric project, on a river, to help supply power to Rwanda. We drive and then walk on a road that is being cut through the jungle, and we forge streams on logs. We cross a cable and wooden suspension bridge, that is strung out over the murky river, to get to the place where the power plant will some day stand.
I think about crossing the bridge from here to home. I am in awe of what I see God doing, in so many places, in and through so many people, but I can hardly wait to be home.
We arrive in Kigali, Rwanda, a surprisingly clean and progressive city, with taller buildings than I'm used to in Goma, but with people still walking on the sides of the streets, carrying items on their heads. I see contrasts all around me.
I am sweaty, with dirt sticking to my skin from the hike into the jungle earlier, from riding in the multi-passenger van with windows wide open, for air flow. I am travel weary and my heart feels worn thin.
And then -- an unexpected delay. Unexpected delays.
"We make a lot of plans, but the Lord Will do what He has decided." Proverbs 19:21
Last night when we arrived in Kigali, Rwanda, we found out our flight from Amsterdam to Chicago is cancelled -- we'll have to deal with that in Amsterdam. At least we are not 'stuck' in Kigali.
Famous last words ... at least.
Sitting at the gate, we find that due to weather our flight to Amsterdam is cancelled -- another unexpected delay.
It's 10:00 PM. and we are 'stuck' in Kigali. Marc, our fearless leader, builds bridges with the KLM representative, and he helps us. Eventually, at midnight, with new flight plans in hand that will get us home 24 hours later than we hoped, KLM brings us to the Marriott in Kigali to spend the night.
I am disappointed and discouraged. I want to go home. But ... for the first time in 2 weeks, I have fresh running water and a shower that pulses hot water (instead of dribbling cool) and air conditioning and food I do not need to be careful about and dependable internet. In a weird way, feel spoiled.
Right now, as I write, I am pool side. I never thought I'd be sitting here, on this day. I thought I'd be on a plane to Chicago, heading home, at this time. Almost home.
Perhaps God knew that my heart needed this transition time, from here to home. Perhaps.
We never know what each day holds, do we? We make plans, but God knows. I often try to embrace this when I am home, but today, I try in new ways. Perhaps in these unexpected delays, God is doing something, maybe lots of of things. And although I miss my family and friends terribly, I am trying to grab hold of the gift of today, and give thanks. I am trying.
Lord willing, at 7:45 PM, tonite, we fly out -- this time to Nairobi, then Amsterdam, then Chicago, then, hopefully, home. I miss home; mostly, I miss my family and friends -- my children -- back home.
Thank you, dear ones, for walking with me over these past couple weeks, by reading this story, and for praying for us. Your encouragement and your love -- you -- are a blessing to me.
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| Our team, right before we head home. Dr. Jo Lusi, an amazing surgeon and man who is a champion of human rights, human hearts and the rights of women, stands near me. |
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| View of the construction at HEAL Africa through an opening the wall. |
Our last morning, we gather together for breakfast, as we do each morning, with our team members and some new friends from Australia, who are here to help HEAL Africa. We eat bananas and bread and pineapple and avocado and cheese. It is a feast fit for a king, compared to the famine outside of the grounds of Maji. My heart flips back and forth from guilt to gratitude.
 |
| The view from Maji in the morning. |
We pack our bags, attend our last chapel, and say our good-byes. It is hard to leave these people that we have built relationships with. It is hard to leave the suffering and the sorrow and the incredible needs behind, and yet -- the healing and hope. But we are eager to be home.
We cross the boarder into Kigali, and spend some time with Marc's friend, Caleb. He is coordinating and building a hydro-electric project, on a river, to help supply power to Rwanda. We drive and then walk on a road that is being cut through the jungle, and we forge streams on logs. We cross a cable and wooden suspension bridge, that is strung out over the murky river, to get to the place where the power plant will some day stand.
I think about crossing the bridge from here to home. I am in awe of what I see God doing, in so many places, in and through so many people, but I can hardly wait to be home.
We arrive in Kigali, Rwanda, a surprisingly clean and progressive city, with taller buildings than I'm used to in Goma, but with people still walking on the sides of the streets, carrying items on their heads. I see contrasts all around me.
I am sweaty, with dirt sticking to my skin from the hike into the jungle earlier, from riding in the multi-passenger van with windows wide open, for air flow. I am travel weary and my heart feels worn thin.
And then -- an unexpected delay. Unexpected delays.
"We make a lot of plans, but the Lord Will do what He has decided." Proverbs 19:21
Last night when we arrived in Kigali, Rwanda, we found out our flight from Amsterdam to Chicago is cancelled -- we'll have to deal with that in Amsterdam. At least we are not 'stuck' in Kigali.
Famous last words ... at least.
Sitting at the gate, we find that due to weather our flight to Amsterdam is cancelled -- another unexpected delay.
It's 10:00 PM. and we are 'stuck' in Kigali. Marc, our fearless leader, builds bridges with the KLM representative, and he helps us. Eventually, at midnight, with new flight plans in hand that will get us home 24 hours later than we hoped, KLM brings us to the Marriott in Kigali to spend the night.
I am disappointed and discouraged. I want to go home. But ... for the first time in 2 weeks, I have fresh running water and a shower that pulses hot water (instead of dribbling cool) and air conditioning and food I do not need to be careful about and dependable internet. In a weird way, feel spoiled.
Right now, as I write, I am pool side. I never thought I'd be sitting here, on this day. I thought I'd be on a plane to Chicago, heading home, at this time. Almost home.
Perhaps God knew that my heart needed this transition time, from here to home. Perhaps.
We never know what each day holds, do we? We make plans, but God knows. I often try to embrace this when I am home, but today, I try in new ways. Perhaps in these unexpected delays, God is doing something, maybe lots of of things. And although I miss my family and friends terribly, I am trying to grab hold of the gift of today, and give thanks. I am trying.
Lord willing, at 7:45 PM, tonite, we fly out -- this time to Nairobi, then Amsterdam, then Chicago, then, hopefully, home. I miss home; mostly, I miss my family and friends -- my children -- back home.
Thank you, dear ones, for walking with me over these past couple weeks, by reading this story, and for praying for us. Your encouragement and your love -- you -- are a blessing to me.
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| Hanging on Dr. Lusi's wall at Maji. |
It has been a blessing to read these posts. It is also a blessing to know what your family is doing for others. I don't know if you've read the book "The Broken Way." There is a chapter on bucket lists and she encourages people rather than trying to do things on such a list, to do things for others that impact our world. That is what you have just been doing. I trust you will make it home safely and filled with the Lord's words, "well done, good and faithful servant." Sending you love.
ReplyDeleteAndrea, thank you so much for the thoughtful and rich posts of your time in Goma. Although we've never met in person, I was able to go on this trip as a nurse exactly 10 years ago (with Todd) and your writing resonates so much with my experiences as well. Seeing God at work in so many ways in another culture is hard to put into words, but you have done a remarkable job. Thanks again, and thanks to Judy E. for posting the link to your blog.
ReplyDeleteAndrea, thank you for sharing many details of this opportunity to serve and the impact it is having. God works in mysterious ways and I am in awe of your ability to look past the inconveniences and seek His face... and see His Hand in all of it. May your rest be sufficient as you adjust to life at home.
ReplyDelete