Loving ... Learning ... Lessons

I realize I haven’t shared much of what has been going on recently and I’m sorry for that. I just posted an entry last night, but I wanted to post another one quickly- I feel that an explanation or “progress report” is needed.

While much of my frustration and sorrow the past few weeks has been due to “Culture Shock”, it’s actually more than just that. About week 4 ½ is when culture shock hit, then at the week 5 mark everything else hit and I wasn’t (to go along with expectations) expecting it. I guess I expected other things to happen and for God to work in other areas of my life- things I wanted him to work on with me. Why do we (well I guess I can only speak for myself) think that we know exactly what we need?

The main thing I’ve struggled with this past year at Biola has been with academics. No, I didn’t flunk out of my third year of school (first year as a transfer at Biola) don’t worry. Actually I did surprisingly well. Of course all of us college students wish we took some classes more seriously sometimes, but hey, we have to have a little fun right? It’s in our job description. Anyway … Biola has been amazing and I wouldn’t take back any of this past year. But to be honest it was a rough year fighting the feelings of inadequacy. I feel like I am so far behind everyone else in my classes; bible and international development. It’s frustrating feeling like I’m not smart enough, that I’m not cut out to do development work, and that what I’m doing now is useless here in Rwanda.

But then that one person comes along (Toby) who tells me that what I’m feeling are lies from the world and from Satan. It’s a battle he helps me fight usually every week at school, and it’ll take a while to overcome, but I’m ok with this “process of developing”. Thanks Tobe ;)

So how does this relate to Rwanda and what’s going on here? Well …

My job/internship kinda went downhill and I began to feel an incredible amount of disappointment. I was already disappointed with myself for allowing my frustration with cultural differences get the best of me, but on top of that I began feeling disappointed with my internship and that I wasn’t getting “the most” out of it. Before coming here I thought, “Yes! This summer is my chance to catch up so I can participate in discussions in my development classes next year instead of sitting there hoping Dr. Greene won’t call on me.” I felt like everything that was happening with my “job” was out of my control.

I told you my work in Cyeza and with Mechtild got really slow for a couple weeks while she had other activities to do and meetings to be at. For days all I would write about in my journal was how bored I was and frustrated that I wasn’t able to go anywhere myself. It really wasn’t “safe” for me to try to go out and find other ways to be productive in the community. But being inside all day wasn’t my idea of fun. Then when I tried to fix the situation and make a change I got denied and that's when I felt like I was at my ultimate low here. I was overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted and drained. For a while, probably too long, I was angry with the world and with God. How could He tell me to come to Rwanda then leave me out here feeling like this was a wasted summer? Is it a wasted summer?

Absolutely not!

(On a side note real quick … I just want to remind you how hard this is writing to you, my sponsor, my friend, my family. You have supported me financially, emotionally, and spiritually and the last thing I want is for my honesty to make you feel is that your investment in me has been taken to the dumps. It certainly hasn’t. I feel like sometimes I don’t always understand why things happen the way they do until some time has passed. Sometimes it takes longer than other times, but already at the beginning of this week I am starting to come out of this “slump”). With that said …

From the small lens I’m able to see my life through, I know that God did bring me here to Rwanda for a reason. Maybe it was for development reasons that I’m unaware of at the moment. Maybe this experience got my foot in the door for a future job after I graduate next May. Or maybe it has been for some other significant event that will take place in the future. I mean … I have learned a lot about Rwanda and development in the community I work in. I think it just wasn’t the full experience of planning and assessment like I thought it would be- like what I learned in school and saw some other interns here experiencing. Apart from the job … God has been working in many ways.

Without spilling out all my struggles in life on you, I’ll say that through this experience I’ve learned a lot. (Maybe I’ll go more in depth in a couple days when I do my “wrap it up” shpeal). But the two main things I have been learning about here the past 7 weeks are love and patience. The two kinda go hand in hand. Love without patience is not really love. Our Great God calls us to love Him and love others. So many times I look back, this summer and before, on all the times I’ve failed at being patient; I’ve failed at loving. Is it really so difficult for me to do? Ya, actually it is … But the first step has been the Lord revealing that to me and putting me in situations (little by little) and showing me ways to practice loving Him and people through patience. Especially with the job situation and things "not going my way" ... He's showing me how I should be practicing patience- by putting my trust in God for He will work all things out for the good and for His glory!

I’m smiling this week. I don’t remember laughing or showing much emotion a couple weeks ago or even last week, but God is working in my heart and waking me up everyday whispering in my ear, “Kristina, today is a new day!” And I am so thankful that His mercies are new every morning. It's a pretty incredible thing if you think about it.

There is more in this world than my cares and worries. There is a world out there full of people who need to hear the word of God and come to experience Christ’s love for them and the desire He has to save their lives from the bondage of sin and death that we cannot deny we live in everyday. This world, both believers and non-believers can experience our Lord’s grace today and every day for the rest of their lives if they choose to. I hope and pray for our Maker, Creator, and Savior to dwell in you today and be your ultimate provider for your daily needs. Allow Him to work in your heart like He is working in mine today. He is good … trust in our Father in Heaven.

What is going on? "Culture Shock" maybe?

This was written to be posted about a week ago, but I haven’t had internet at all … This is a long one … get ready!

So I haven’t written a blog in a while … I bet ya haven’t noticed, right? Sorry :/

Where to start … I’m really not sure where I’m going to go with all these things running through my head right now, but bare with me. It could be one of my famous Kristina stories that makes no sense and goes on forever (actually I can bet on that) or it will be a serious and probably confusing explanation of a bunch of random things.

Not including this week, but the last two weeks I have hardly done anything at work. The CDP promoters have some sponsorship deadlines they have to meet by August 1^st, so they all have been hurrying to get that stuff done. With 300 children Mechtild is in charge of … well, it difficult to find the time. I don’t blame her for not making my internship a high priority on her list. As a result of all this, she has had to call me several mornings and tell me not to come into Cyeza community because I would be bored watching her translate letters. A few times, however, I have gone in and helped her by taking pictures of some of the sponsor CDP kids. I probably took 25 pictures in all to help update the “Case History” packet that sponsors get about his child. Most pictures were at Cyeza, but some we had to travel to other areas because kids had moved. And this, I think, is when it all began.

A couple weeks ago is when I noticed “something” change inside me. I just felt different. It was the day we had to travel south about 30 minutes in a taxi to the Ruhango area to take pictures of a couple sponsored girls in secondary school (high school). This was the last picture we needed to get for the day. We had already gotten two; one from a girl in secondary school closer to Gitarama, and the other at a primary school (elementary) just in between the two.

I didn’t bother me the first couple weeks of being here … probably because it was all just so new and exciting still, but even then I noticed it. I noticed the stares, the laughs, and the look of irritation on the Rwandan’s faces when we couldn’t understand them in either of their languages: Kinyarwanda and French. In the beginning all I noticed were the stares and although I didn’t expect them, I understood why I was getting them. I mean … I am a mizungoo and it doesn’t make much sense to them that a bunch of white people are there in their country, their town, their home. Most of the time the stares were in shock- some were delighted to see us and welcomed us with open arms, other times I feel like they are glares. This all sounds ridiculous even as I’m typing it, but it’s how I have been feeling. I get the stares from the women mainly, and that one day I just about lost my “cool” with it all.

Expectations … a word I’ve come to be hesitant to use since the 3^rd of June. I’ve been confused about whether or not it is good/bad, ok/not ok to have expectations. Since the day I found out that I was accepted as an intern I had expectations about this summer. I had expectations about Africa in general mainly- the people, the food, the WEATHER mainly, and the wildlife. I had some expectations, not many, about the internship- I actually thought that I would be sleeping on a hard ground every night. On the phone interview I had while applying I remember being asked if I could do that or if I would mind sleeping on the ground a couple nights … that put the expectation in my mind-ya. But these expectations I had were neither good, nor bad. They were simply ideas of what I thought this summer would be somewhat like.

This past year I learned an incredible amount of information about experiences oversees and in other cultures. Whether through just traveling or missionary work, people are pretty much guaranteed to experience some kind of culture shock. I thought I had mentally prepared myself for this summer. I thought, “There’s no way I’m going to get ‘culture shock’ … that’s only for people who don’t really know what it is. Boy was I wrong. I realized a couple weeks ago that there’s pretty much no avoiding it. No matter how much I prayed for myself or had others pray for me, no matter how much I prepared myself for drastic situations, no matter how much I talked to people here about what I was going through … I still got it. Culture Shock … yep, that’s it and it’s the most frustrating thing for me.

If you know me you know that I love to experience new things. Sure most of the time it’s scary for me. Usually I get so nervous about meeting new people that by the time they’re right in front of me I can hardly get a full sentence out of my mouth which makes my face turn red which … is just a mess, don’t ask. But despite how nerveracking all of that is for me … I will NEVER pass up an opportunity to try new things and travel and see the world, the beautiful creation that God has made for us, His people!

So lets recap all this … for both of us …

I’ve experienced culture shock. I once didn’t mind the stares and the hundreds of kids running up to me everyday wanting to hold my hand, walk with me, and talk to me. I used to laugh with the people who were laughing at me because of the differences in clothing, ideas, food, etc. In the beginning I felt bad when I saw the irritations on peoples faces when they found out I came to their country, but couldn’t speak either of their languages.

Now, to be honest, I hardly want to come out of my own room. I walk down the road and look at my feet because I’m tired of the stares from people on the street I’m walking down, of the laughs from teenage girls about whatever they just laughed at me for, of the glares from the women who I am sitting next to in a taxi, and of the children who say, “Give me my money” as I’m trying to just get home. I have to fight the urge inside of me to just ignore these people. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can’t.

You have no idea how difficult it is for me to write all this right now. I’ve read all of your comments, e-mails, and notes on my wall on facebook about how proud you are of me- about how I have a good heart and I’m such a nice a caring person who is making a difference in these peoples lives. If I’m honest I’d tell you that I cry every time I read those. I feel like I am doing the exact opposite of all of those things. I think about how I’m really feeling and my attitude and what my actions are saying. I think about that one kid who just wanted to hear me, a white person, say “Fine, thank you. How are you?” to his “Hello, how are you?” He even tried to talk to me in MY language. It breaks my heart to think about all the people here I have probably disappointed and hurt. If I could I would take it all back.

This was all I wrote a couple weeks ago. I realized I got to 3 pages and I tried to wrap it up, but it didn’t work. I guess I just left it at this … kinda cut off, sorry.

I’m in Kigali for the rest of my stay here until Tuesday, so I’ll post again tomorrow sometime since I have the day off. Thanks for reading and caring so much. You all are such a blessing and I thank you for your prayers and concern for my safety here! I love you all.