How do I share?

I just got back from Rwanda. I don't know where to start, but I'm going to say that I saw gruesome things, and I'm going to share those things in detail because I was very affected by them and hopefully you can see a glimpse of what I saw. It's not pretty. I had very vivid nightmares and this is going to be pretty graphic I think. It's not going to be funny at all and it's not going to make you feel good. Please feel free to not read it, it was good for me to write.

We were in Kigali, the capital, staying with Amanda Moore and her roomates which was really awesome. It was amazing to hang out with really fun girls our age and laugh and play and eat :) It almost felt like we were in America and at times it was a little overstimulating cause I haven't been around that many white people in a loooong time...it was really fun!

While we were there we went to some genocide memorial cites and the memorial museum in the city. We went to the museum first and it was almost surreal, but was nothing compared to the churches we went to later. It was hard though. There was first a little walk around place that told the history of the Rwandan genocide that happened 14 years ago. There were pictures and captions and there were short videos with personal stories that made it real. Many things were hard about this, seeing the people that were my age speak about their families that were gone. One that really got to me was a girl, maybe a little older than me, talking about her little sisters and how she watched men carry them and throw them, alive, into a latrine. She talked about hearing "the last born" crying. I'm crying now, and I was then. It made it so real to think about my family and my sisters and it WAS real. There was another story about a girl who was walking around in a daze, surrounded by the bodies of her neighbors and she saw a small child breastfeeding herself on her dead mother. Again, the girl was around my age. It's hard even now to think about now. It's just so heavy. What humanity is capable of. One Million People died in 100 days. I cannot get my mind about how many people that is.

There was another part of the museum that was especially hard. It was the children's section. It had pictures with the names ages and likes and dislikes and how they were killed. Like, Angela Age: 3 Favorite Food: Mother's milk Was very talkitive and happy child. Cause of Death: smashed against a wall. Or, Alman Age: 7 Loved: riding bikes and playing football. Cause of Death: Clubbed.

It was aweful. There were about 20 of those. Some were shot, some were beaten, one was tortured, some were killed with a machete. All of them were under 13. Some died in their dead parents arms. Some watched their parents die before they did. As you walk through and read about these kids you think, "how could someone look these kids in the face and then continue to brutalize them?" How could they?? But this was not the first time this has ever happened in our world. Another part of the museum had a section for every other genocide that has taken place as far as we know. One happened a YEAR after Rwanda. The Holocaust, Cambodia, Armenia, The Balkan Islands, and many more. It was hard being an American walking through this museum because our country knew what was going on and did nothing. I know there is more to politics than I understand, but seeing this kind of devastation and knowing that the "Land of the Brave" did nothing to try and stop it made me sick.

I feel like I'm in mourning. Remember 9-11? I feel like I did then. Devastated.

Guys, this was not even the worst of it. There were bones at the museum, but they were all underground in mass graves or behind glass. Sterile. Clean. Covered with purple, the color of mourning. Then we went to two churches (people fled to churches thinking they would be havens, many priests gave up thousands to save their own lives). The first church we went to was the site of 5,000 deaths. I don't even know how that many people fit in this facility, but the bones and clothes and shoes were there to prove it to me. There were grenade holes in the sides of one of the buildings (there were three buildings on the compound) and as you walked in you saw shelves of skulls lined up, close enough to touch. In fact, the lady that was working there, who was a survivor of that site, picked up one very small skull and said one word...infant. The people's clothes were hanging from the rafters and gave the place an eerie feel. There was a pile for shoes, there was a pile for belongings and things people brought with them...things of survival, like food and water and a strainer to make tea. And comfort things, like pipes and mirrors and a pair or hair cutting scissors. Looking at the skulls and trying to make them people was hard, until i saw a spike stiking out of one. And then a bullet hole in another. And then one that was smashed into something almost unrecognizable. One with a hammer sized hole. One with a six inch machete gash...in the bone. Then it was real. The ones that did not have visible injuries were almost worse though. Those people were burned alive. I don't know how the survivor lady works there everyday. She was 10 when the genocide happened...she is a year older than me.

We went to one more church. The site of 10,000 deaths. Here they had built catecombs underground and we went into them. It was creepy. There was a space about a foot and a half wide and you walked through floor-to-ceiling shelves of bones. Inches from your face. I couldn't make myself go all the way in. This happened at a church. I couldn't get over it. Someone had hung a cross necklace on one of the shelves in front of a shelf of skulls. How ironic is that? These were God's people. These were families. This was me if I was born in a different country. It was overwhelming.

It was such a struggle to walk the streets of Kigali and think "I wonder how many people I see have murdered. Who is a Hutu? Who is a Tutsi? What is her story...the lady with no legs? How did that man get that scar on his face? When these people look at me do they see inaction?" But on the other extreme...I didn't even think about the genocide on the entire 4 hour ride there because Rwanda is beautiful and I was soaking it all in. It's called the land of a thousand hills and it is non-stop beauty. I didn't think about it until a new friend we made on the bus said, "that river was clogged with bodies", and "the man who owns that building brought in many of the machetes used in the genocide". This place of beauty was once grounds of one of the worst events in world history. Funny, how you can't tell from looking. It's normal. It's everyday. People work, go to school, eat ice cream, and ride taxis to the market. It's life for them. But there is not one person in Rwanda that doesn't have a story. Everyone was affected and not one person has had a "normal" life. Yet, life goes on. Not perfect, not good, but it goes on.

I have a new appreciation for life. I have a new appreciation for the sanctity of everyone's life. I am not an American first. I am a Christian first. My brothers and sisters died in mass genocide and the place I am proud to call my home ignored them. How can I be proud of my heritage when it doesn't care about the people God cares about? I saw a bumper sticker "God bless Rwanda" and it made me think of the millions of places I have seen "God bless America". We are one people and we are one world that has one goal and one job. We are one creation and we share with each other in all we do. Our actions affect the whole of creation. We are not superior. We are not blessed because of how great we are. We should not even be a "we". We belong to God and we are all God's children. We are killing our brothers and sister in Iraq, why? because they started it and killed us first. (I realize that is oversimplified) We kill God's people and destroy His creation that He loves and then we ask for God to bless us. That is weird. I wonder if God ever gets ticked at us and wishes he never created rainbows. Where would be without rainbows?

What I saw this weekend was overwhelming and I don't really know how to handle what I saw. I had nighmares. I was angry, even at myself. I was scared. I cried. And I'm sorry.

God is my God and He is good. Heaven will be the restoration I long for. Until then i will have nighmares and be angry and scared and sorry, and I'll cry. For the first time in my life I can say honestly...Jesus come today! He will make all things new.