Introduction

This is a picture of Immaculee at the airport in Belgium.

In July of 2007 I went on an amazing trip. At first I wasn’t sure exactly why I was going. Maybe I’m still figuring that out. The opportunity. The adventure. Experiencing something new, a place and a people I have never known. Immaculee Ilibagiza. Along the way I may have discovered my purpose for going.

So, here is my story. Part of it. It was written in a composition notebook. The kind with the black marbled cover. 100 sheets. 200 pages. Wide ruled. Because this was a letter/journal, the grammar is not exactly textbook. Lots of fragments. Lots of strange usage. It’s how I write in this context. 

These are my memories. Often I recorded ideas and impressions quickly into a pocket notebook as words or phrases. Later that day or early the next morning I wrote out the ideas in more detail. I know that many words, especially proper nouns are misspelled. I may have mistakenly changed some numbers. I made judgments about the feelings of others I was with. I may have come to some wrong conclusions. I’m sure I got some facts wrong.

It is rambling. It is first person. At first it was sort of a “Dear Diary” kind of thing. Little focus. Before long, as I missed my family and my dear Heidi and it became a long extended letter to her. So, mixed up with the observations and recollections is a love story, a story of longing. I don’t apologize for this. It’s what it is. It’s also a discovery of God for me.

Not the kind of God who sits-on-a-thrown-throwing-thunderbolts at those who displease HIM. But God in the mango juice, in the morning mist, in the smiles of a beautiful people… in forgiveness. Neither do I apologize for this. Having gone to a Catholic school for 10 years during my youth, been an altar boy, read the Bible, received structured Christian religious instruction, attended a traditional Methodist church for years, played in a praise band for several years, etc. I have been on a search for God. Someone else on the same trip, on the same mission certainly wouldn’t have had the same personal experiences, the same conclusions. Me? I learned more about the meaning of life in Rwanda. Is that God? I think so.