Being Schooled by a Twelve Year Old

“Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

I’ve had the opportunity to have two conversations with a delightful twelve year old in here in Rwanda named Diana. This little girl is absolutely remarkable. First of all, her English is amazing. Most adults that I talk to on a day to day basis don’t have the English level that this twelve year old girl has. This from a girl who is educated at the local primary school where teachers make approximately $60 a month and her class is 43 children in size.

She’s also wise beyond her years. She’s the oldest of five children in her family (Yay for firstborns!) and is so outgoing and sweet. She struck up a conversation with me on the road about a month ago by saying, “Excuse me, I’d like to ask you a question.” Then she launched into a mini interview, even asking me about what I do for work. When I explained what I do she remarked, “That’s very good work.” What twelve year old asks you about what you do?

Well I ran into Diana again today and I do believe it was providential. I received some difficult and angering news from home that I just wasn’t happy about. I was and still am struggling with my anger at the key player in the situation and struggling even with my attitude against God. I’ve been asking myself all day why God just doesn’t give my parents a break. They’ve had a really rough go of it the last five years and unfortunately it doesn’t ever seem to stop. I was mulling over these thoughts and other vengeful thoughts about the key player in the situation when I ran into Diana.

“Hello,” she piped up, startling me greatly since I was so lost in angry thoughts. “Do you remember me?”

“Sure ,” I said. “You’re Diana, right? How could I forget you since your English is the best I’ve heard from a girl your age?” This comment brought a smile to her face. “How is school?” I asked.

“School is good,” she said. “I have been studying very hard and have received good marks on my exams.”

“You must be first in your class,” I commented.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “I was very worried that I wasn’t going to do well on my exams but I prayed a lot to God for his help and he helped me. I always tell my friends at school that you must pray to God about the things that you worry about and He will help you.”

When she said that it resonated to my core. Here I was (and still am) worrying and stewing about a situation at home that really, I have very little control over. I’m angry, upset, tense and blaming the key player of the situation. And while all of these are legitimate emotions, I haven’t done what this beautiful twelve year old girl, in her childlike faith has learned to do. I haven’t given my worries over to God and asked for His help believing that He will help my family. I certainly am not going out and telling all my friends that, “you must pray to God about the things that you worry about and He will help you.” Because I’m not sure that I always believe that God can help. I don’t have the childlike faith of this twelve year old.

Instead I have the faith of an adult. The faith that writes contingency plans, and does internet research and thinks over every possible worst case scenario in her mind and tries to plan for it. The adult that tries to micro-manage every situation and be a “fixer.” I like fixing problems. It’s probably why I’m in the development field now. I like helping people and being involved in desperate situations. But I sometimes wonder if all this “fixing” and “helping” points the adultness, lack of faith and idolatry in my heart. I’m trying to do God’s job for Him.

I wonder what would happen when I finally let go and became as a child? What would happen when I stopped trying to do God’s job for Him and simply trusted and believed in Him? This is what Diana does.

Lord make me like this beautiful, wise child.

My Rwandan "Family"

I'm so excited to now have been here for a year and to have built relationships and friendships here. Now while every day has its ups and downs (this morning was a down) overall I'm excited about what God is doing here in Rwanda, the amazing work that my colleagues are doing, the friendships I'm building here and how God allows me to take part in it all. I'm building a "family" even though my real family is far from here.



Take Art Club and my friend Eric for example. Becky, my former housemate started Art Club in our home in our old neighborhood. It really helped in forming relationships with the kids and their parents and was a really fun way to connect with the kids. When Becky left I kept it up with Emmanuel, my day guard who's really gifted at art. After we moved, the Art Club was forced to relocate since our new house is a half hour walk from our old neighborhood. (And we do have some two year olds that come from time to time!) So we re-located to a storefront, owned by our neighbor Eric, that had an awning to protect us from the sometimes unpredictable weather. It's amazing how fast a rainstorm can stir up here in Rwanda!



To my dismay, I returned from the States to see that Eric had followed the edict handed down by local authorities to rebuild his storefront. Now following government edicts is not a bad thing, except for the fact that his re-building left us without the lovely awning and cement floor that we used for our Art Club. So, to date, we haven't met for Art Club because of the lack of meeting space. Then last week I stopped into the old neighborhood to visit the kids and Eric hailed me into his bar for a Fanta.


There commenced the most interesting "melange" of English, French and Kinyarwanda conversation. Though I wasn't sure I understood everything Eric said I was sure that he said I should feel that at home and that his home was open and welcome to me. I also thought I understood that it was important that I still meet with the children and it would be no problem for me to meet with the children inside his small attached restaurant seating area.



Incredulous that Eric would offer his restaurant area for me to meet with the children and hold Art Club, I sent Emmanuel to talk to him this week. Indeed, Eric did say that we could meet in his restaurant area until the rest of his re-building is completed. Then once it's complete he would give me a key to the store area where the kids and I could meet inside. For Rwanda, this is really no small thing.



That Eric would offer the use of his restaurant seating area means that he could lose possible patrons for an hour or so. In a country where people are dependent upon every franc they can earn this is a big deal. Also, that Eric would be willing to trust me with a key to his store is not a small thing in Rwanda. This is a country where people aren't always prone to trust one another....for obvious historical reasons. That he would trust me enough to have access to his store....that's a big deal.



Eric's trust of me makes me realize that he really does want me to consider his home as mine. His requests for me to come and visit the children and still do Art Club with them make me realize that he cares for his community and their children. I definitely will feel at home when I'm at Eric's knowing that he is a brother who cares as much for the children I am privileged to work with as I do.



Or take Marie as another example. Marie is a lovely single mother in my old neighborhood who struggles to meet her special needs child and herself. She works hard, yet it seems that ends never meet for her. I paid her a visit after I returned from Rwanda and her son who hadn't seen me in two months was terrified of me. (It's definitely not uncommon for small children in Rwanda to be scared of white people.) She kept repeating over and over again to Jean Paul that I was his aunt. His aunt! That would make Marie and I sisters and Jean Paul my nephew. Her pronouncement to Jean Paul touched me at my core. I really do have Rwandan family! I have many children that I consider my nieces and my nephews in the US that really aren't but to have them in Rwanda.....well, that's special!

Or take the three "cherubs" as I call them at the top of my hill. Leticia, Aline, Marine and Patrick are brother and sisters who live in the most ramshackle mud bricked house in our neighborhood. There's no contest....they are the poorest family in our neighborhood. Yet, their children have touched my heart bless me from day to day like no other children. Almost every morning I am greeted my the three who in addition to wanting to be swung in the air will sing-songy greet me with, "Karine Wanjye" which in Kinyarwanda means "my Karine". Then the girls sing this little song that I made up with them which says our rhyming names together, "Aline, Marine, Karine." It's precious. God hasn't blessed me with children yet. I'm confident that He will someday. But until then, I truly believe He puts children into my life that I can consider as my own. My song to the four should be, "Leticia, Aline, Marine and Patrick Wanjye."

I may not have "real" family in Rwanda. But I am increasingly seeing how God is blessing me from day to day with those that I am growing to consider my family: Eric, a brother, Marie, a sister, Jean Paul a nephew and Leticia, Aline, Marine and Patrick, my "adopted" children. God is good!