I love coffee

I'm back at my favorite spot in the house I'm staying at in Rwanda. The upstairs veranda. I'm drinking coffee (confession: my 3rd cup this morning) and soaking up the cool, fresh morning air and the noises of birds and voices of small children yelling in the distance and dogs barking and cars forcing their way over unpaved back-roads. This is my first day of rest in quite a while, and I'm so terribly thankful for it. The last two weeks have been busy with the partners' conference, endless conversations with partners and staff, finishing off a couple of proposals with quickly approaching deadlines...Yesterday, I drove back from Goma (in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, or DRC), having spent a day and a half there meeting with staff. Then I went straight into two more hours of meetings in Kigali. I was exhausted, but had made plans to go to a Good Friday service and then out to dinner at a Greek restaurant. It was a nice evening -- we were entertained by a large gray cat with a very imposing meow who was convinced he ought to be allowed to help himself to the good-smelling food on our table. The waiters asked if the cat was ours or if we wanted the cat to stay with us -- we did not, so they tried shooing him away with firm voices and stomping feet. This cat was unmoved. Finally they threw bread so the cat would move away from the table. A short-term solution that will no doubt cause them anguish in the near future...

Why am I writing of stray cats and Greek food and meetings? Why are these the things my brain is processing right now, instead of the punch-you-in-the-gut-reality of the lives of the people who live in utter deprivation every day here? A week ago I took a walk down a well-populated hill and on the way back up, out of breath from the steepness and the altitude, I was passed by men and women and children who were carrying loads (of branches, bananas, water, whatever) on their heads. They climbed this hill every day. Not for exercise or enjoyment, but because they had to. I am struck once again at how profoundly different my life, my reality is from that of so many other people. Is it better? Is it worse? Am I blessed? Are they? My brain cannot know the answers to such questions, can hardly even process them. My brain convinces me to just drink my coffee and listen to the noises around me and thank God for all He has made.