Freeman July 2019

Four months ago I said some of the hardest goodbyes at the airport in Atlanta and traveled for sixteen hours to a continent and a country I had no experience and no starting point for an idea of how my life would look. I can happily say that I stepped off that airplane and was overwhelmed with the excitement of living in this new country with people who I was so ready to call “my people.” My feelings haven’t changed! There is not one minute that I can forget how amazingly privileged I am to be here working with these people, loving these kids, giving my life. Rwanda!! This is where I live! This is my home! I can’t believe I get to write that! 

I began teaching all the music classes, first graders to ninth graders, on the second day of arrival. I was so jetlagged! Fortunately, there were only five weeks left of the school term and I made it out alive and even had all my grades in on time! Our school schedule is “ten weeks on,” and “three weeks off.” The term break was quite a welcome repose and an opportunity to get to know better my new surroundings and culture. However, all of the students have to go to a distant relative or foster care home during all the term breaks since Rafiki Rwanda has been converted to be primarily a school. That was hard for me. Thirty-four of the kids board in the Village and I was at the beginning of forming relationships with them and the Rafiki Mamas.

Besides teaching music in classroom setting, I’ve begun to teach private piano lessons and Epa, one of our Senior 3 students, has really taken to it! He already had some limited skills but man has he taken flight! As he was learning a Spanish dance, I was trying to get him to engage more emotionally with the music and tell a story to the audience. I made “lyrics” to the piece to help him understand a storytelling/conversation like way of conveying emotion through music. It wasn’t long before I heard multiple students singing my “song.” It caught on for sure and he plays that piece beautifully! More and more violins keep arriving slowly but surely and I am getting excited about starting a violin class soon!

During the break, I was the only LTM (Long-term Missionary) in the Village with a Short-term Missionary who had just arrived after a long stay in Malawi. We were feeling very adventurous, and decided to brave the trip to Kigali together. Well, map reading in a city constructed in circles and windings proves to be difficult! We ended up lost in Kigali. I thought people were looking strangely at my car but I was far too concerned that we were lost and running out of gas. My brakes were smoking and I had no clue. In our wanderings, we reached a place that looked familiar to me and I saw a gas station just past a red light. As we waited at the light, a policeman walked over, stopped all the traffic, and directed me straight to that gas station I wanted. Now, how did he know that I needed gas? The gas station workers began telling us what was going on with our brakes in broken English starting with, “you have a flat tire,” to, “your brakes are on fire,” to, “actually they are just smoking.” There happened to be a mechanic at that gas station. Talk about divine intervention! So the two of us “muzungus” sat on the edge of the curb while this mechanic, who spoke no English at all, fixed my brakes and got us back on the road to home within an hour! God’s hand was so noticeably working that we both got home elated with His mercy and provision for us. We did eventually get the courage to go to Kigali again and the car had no issues!

The best news I have is that I found a church, a really good church. I’ve been attending the first service and serving in the Sunday school for kids. It’s been a true place of refuge for me. When I’ve had a tough week I am nourished by the truth spoken and the worship shared with these Rwandan saints! I’ve made really good friends at the church and am daily encouraged by them. There was a particular Sunday when I was feeling particularly discouraged about myself, that we had communion. I was so down on myself and my ministry (you can go ahead and translate that to: “I had taken my eyes off Christ”) and as I got my little communion cup and the round, white communion cracker and stood waiting for the “ok” to take it, my cup started overflowing and soaking through that little cracker staining it red. I tried to hold the cup as still as possible but it just kept overflowing and began to run down my hands and splash on my feet and it hit me! My cup does overflow! Because of His work on the cross, my hands and feet are washed in the blood of Christ and made clean, ready to be presented to him as a sacrifice. I am here in Rwanda to be His hands and feet and act in the power of His love and mercy, not by my own merit, but His. I left the church that day feeling empowered and encouraged to bring that imagery to the forefront of my mind every time I am tempted to put my eyes on my weakness instead of God’s faithfulness. He is indeed faithful to me and to all these children and workers and teachers and mamas. I will trust Him.

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