The First 48 - details

“Wake up momma. It’s time to go to Africa.” My little Gavin said and inch from my face in between coughing. Rob, stood behind chuckling and welcomed the little boy back down stairs. We need to leave in 30 minutes to get nancy reed. The car had been packed, the clothes for the kids laid out and it was just so smooth. There were no spats, no hard words or feelings, there were so many moments that were peaceful enough to take in and analyze what was about to happen. They are staying, I am going to Rwanda with Nancy. We take off in a plane not far away from now. Just a few hours.

The boys behaved, Rob was affectionate, the inlaws accommodating. The dishes were even done. The back of our chrystler town and country was loaded with luggage. 100 lbs of goods for the children in Mother Theresa’s Orphanage in Kigali. Two heavy but appropriately sized carry ons for me, and two more will later come when we picked up nancy reed. I was dressed in my traveling clothes the night before. Almost anything I could do to make the morning smooth, easy and enjoyable the night before, was done. We got to bed at a descent hour. It was around 1:30.

6:30 came and went so quickly. We picked up Nancy and were off to the bank for bill exchange. In Rwanda, you will get a better exchange rate if you have newer, crisper bills. Since we had these balled up, ratty lookin things (in all denominations- down to the 1s) stopping at the bank wasn’t only wise, it was a priority. We were meeting them there early at 8:30. They normally open at 9 but where willing to accommodate us knowing that our flight left from 1:50pm the same day. We made arrangements the afternoon before. We decided to come an hour ahead of time and see if we could spot anyone and ask them if they could help us to do the exchange earlier than 8:30. I rang the bell, the telephone and no one. So we decided to all make separate transactions at the ATM there. Nancy, Dad and I piled our money together and started off to the airport. We were all in jovial moods and full of wonder it seemed. The sun shone in well as it came up. Gavin asked “What?” about nearly every statement, but it didn’t seem to work on our nerves even in the slightest. The air of the car was joy and the destination was trust and hope as we made our way to the Reagan international airport.

We were making excellent time, so we decided to stop for breakfast at Cracker Barrel. I was a little leary of spending the time to have a sit down breakfast the morning of a very important flight, but I was so glad to have a chance to enjoy one last American meal. I went on with no hesitation. We made our way in, sat down and soon enough, Cody-Shawn made his disapproval known. He kept hitting his head on the back of the highchair, and strangely, it bothered him the same amount each time he did it. Eventually, the unspoken call of the irritated patrons of the cracker barrel rang into my mother’s sensitivity and I picked up my little baby, who is not really a baby anymore, and coddled him near as he relaxed a little. A few others did the same. I began to walk around with the boy. He would vocalize a strange hum, as if to be singing and it made my spirit relax. Everything stood still and just walking around the in-restaurant store among nick nacks and lights changed from a moment of easing my child to that of bringing us both to a place of serene space. We anticipated nothing, and there we were: Accepting each other, loving and enjoying the company while it was there. When I came back a few times there to the table I came on the company all smiling, sharing stories and acting normally, just like a family would on a sonday after church. I don’t know why, but I felt like this may be the last time I see my family. I need to put fear behind me.

Just before we left, I attended study and share at Calvary Church as I do every Tuesday. The message offered by Betty Baltozer was on “joy”. I learned that morning that joy is something that is fruit of the holy spirit. I just assumed it into my little foolish head that joy was something you were either born with, or you weren’t. As a child I was often annoyed at the teasing of my name so much that I began to resent it and learning the true meaning of joy was set aside along with my feelings that came with child name games. I never noted it that joy was evidence of a Higher Power in my life. Joy is not something that comes about by circumstances. As a matter of fact, joy is something that shows up out of nowhere it seems, in tougher situations. Without hard times, you don’t know if you possess joy at all. Joy is a gift that is obtainted well by those who are overtaken by the Holy Spirit. As I listened to dear Betty speak on this subject that just touched a part of me that had been ignored for so long- I felt a seal to my calling. A calling for Jesus. To unabashedly possess His gift to me, and to others through me, of Joy.

We left the restaurant with ease. I seemed to be in a slight panic but kept myself in prayer and thanks. It was nearly a miracle for a person who enjoyed the thrill of panic and rushing around like a straight fool. This time around, I enjoyed my baby’s smiles as he was infront of me, my company all around and boy oh boy, I was going to Rwanda. Here we come, ready or not.

While we waited for the airport to come to the side of the car, we decided to call Marcel, a dear friend we met through equal friends and someone with a heart seemingly made of pure gold. The reception allowed us to listen to a clear voice on the other end. He was kind, happy and sort of professional on the phone. We felt a smile at the end of our 4 minute conversation. Rwanda has been welcoming us with wide, open arms from afar and Marcel has been an embodiment of that hospitality. We are entirely eager to meet our friends just houses down the road from him. Dear Jano and Chrissy, we are excited to see you! What will your house be like? What do you look like and how to you get ready for guests from the US? Where is Mugabo’s room and how often does he sleep the full night through? We wonder, and soon we’ll be satisfied in the company of God’s loved children, a world away from what we are familiar with and just where we are meant to be.

Goodbye’s weren’t as hard as I thought they would be. I kissed my dear baby, my strong 2 year old and loving husband. We loaded large suitcases off of the van and onto the side walk. They made a thud and overwhelmed the sidewalk with weightage of formula, blankets and gifts. This is it. We all looked at each other, snapped a picture or two and took a moment in each other’s arms. God protect us when we’re far apart. Watch us and keep us safe. We looked onward to the doors that opened for us and, thinking we had everything we needed for the flight, we made our way in to the checking counter.

The ceilings high and buttressed well hung about 3 stories over the heads of businessment, beautiful women, 20somethings and families all calmly moving about next to each other. Various dress and languages made the airport feel more like world meeting than a place of travel. Light came in through the windows and I wondered if they needed any lights on at all. I’m sure they did, but I didn’t notice any such thing. We must’ve stuck out as minorities in the airport, but we didn’t feel it. It took a few minutes to snap out of the reality of our trip setting in with the elaborate airport setting and get into the process of getting onto the plane. We marched to the kiosk where you can now, you guessed it, check yourself in, all including your baggage. Who knew. The first step to check in was accessing one’s passport. After searching for about 10 minutes, I was disappointed to find that my own was missing, and the caravan of my dear sweet family (and now my passport) was driving a little over the speed limit going the opposite direction from me. That passport is in the car. My hands began to shake and I forgot about the beauty of the building, the clamor of the rushing people and the wonder of Africa. All was quickly replace by worry, fear and honestly, trembling. I shuffled for my cell phone, dialed Rob and begged him to come back and deliver what I forgot. He acquiesced and we were rescued.
Well, one could’ve guessed with the way it usually goes with us, there was a problem with check in and we were forced into a line of puzzled folk, puppies and others with special traveling needs. It seemed like the minutes became hours in that line where we were the 5th of about 8 people. Nancy and I made a few passing comments about what we were about to get ourselves into with following through with all of these plans into the trip, we laughed and tried to center on Jesus. This is one of those times when you tell yourself as a faulted human being that you need to be quiet with your mouth, still your movements and just be in your situation while bringing to your head songs and promises of the most high. In airports, so much is out of our control, it seems, especially when flying out of the country. We were about to find out another example of humanity, grace and devine intervention. Miracles were upon us.

We lugged our large cart of baggage through the windy line. Adding it all up just now, there were 316 lbs. on that poor cart. And thank God for that cart or we would’ve been juggling all of them like acrobats in a crazy place called the circus. 316 lbs. and only 100 of it was our luggage. We were able to fill the two largest suitcases with about 100 lbs. of formula, and 100 lbs. of blankets, diapers, wipes, toys and the like. One bag, the heaviest, was nearly 52 lbs. We took out a can of formula and, ding, it was suddenly 50 lbs. The next was 51 lbs, and we removed socks and shoes. Ding again. The other two made us nervous as we brought them to the scale. They were two very tightly packed plastic sterilite containers. Both ductaped shut with an obsession and we envisioned making the hard choice of either paying the overage fee of $50 or ripping that duct tape off, removing a solitary article and then taping the sucker back up all over again.

We watched the clock, 1 hour and change until our flight took off and we were just getting our baggage checked. Nancy handed the clerk her passport and I critically thought to myself, huh, that vaccine paper that she has stapled in there looks a little out of place and slightly obnoxious. I looked at the clerk and she was paying attention to that paper. I was familiar with it, that’s the vaccine ‘receipt’ that we were given by that dear nurse back at the travel center after we were inoculated. I had mine in the car, and I only realized it that morning on the way to the airport. I wonder if I’ll ever need that.
I bet I do, look at the way she’s paying attention to what it says.

“Nancy, do I need that form?” Nancy’s expression changed from dutiful to disgust. “Yes, joy. You need that to get into the country.” What happened next, I’m not sure, but I have a rather large bruise on my left cheek. That statement isn’t really true, but that would be expected. We need to call Rob again, now farther away. They were so far away. Nearly 40 minutes. We had about that until our flight was due to take off. We took ourselves to a nearby seat and worked against what felt natural, we gathered, organized, had a snack and prayed for direction and strength. Sigh. We can move through difficult circumstances and that’s when we see if God is really in us, right? Because we’ll have joy inside, we’ll have peace, patience, kindness…. And we won’t have to create them, they will be there. So here’s to that, Lord. We’re all done panicing and we’ll let you take over.

Snacks were sparse, but we seemed to have stumbled on the yummies. Two Odwalla smoothie things and a large cup of fresh fruit. What a good yummy treat! We drank all of the smoothies though we weren’t really into them most of the way through. The energy they produced, we would come to know, would be desired of and well appreciated. We after stuffing our bellies full of fructose and fiber we made our way to the security check point. The line was moving and it was moving pretty quickly for what it appeared to be. The plan was, Nancy, you wait in line with the bags and I will run up, wait for the men to come and give me that paper, then I will, fast like Xena warrior princess come and join you back in the line. Just save my spot. Nancy was uneasy about the idea of her friend cutting infront of then about 100 people. So I excused myself and asked the people behind us, “Would you be offended if I were to leave the line to get something I forgot from the car and then return?” “Absolutely not. Go ahead!” “Do you think that others would be offended?” “That doesn’t matter, you’re in front of me and I’ll let you back in.” Nancy seemed perhaps 40% relieved, but overall remained in disapproval. She however didn’t dispute- we had no other option for making the flight on time but to risk the possibility of offending others in line.
I ran up and prayed for a miracle. God, we’re going to be thankful for life whether we make this flight or not. But God, I pray that somehow, if it will please you, that I can join her at the front, that we would make this flight. But if You have higher purposes, that you would give us joy in missing it. I had a nice conversation with the security guard stationed at the top there and it was about 10 minutes until my task we before me. Here they were, speeding down the road to me as I ran to them, with no words exchanged but “thank you!” I took that yellow paper and ran as fast as I could to meet my friend. My joints weakened under the pressure on them. Not just physical pressure, but emotional. How could this dream, if it’s slowing and changing now, be moving in the way it is. My mistakes will cause a missed flight and now I’m going to fall down this escalator. Nancy was now at the very front of the security line looking worried and sad. I met with the first officer I saw, said to him “I need to give this paper to my friend at the front of the line. We were in line, I forgot it, you see and …” he cut me off, “I’ll give it to her, but you can’t join her.” Then by this point I was standing next to another guard signing passports and tickets to let them to proceed forward to the next step of the screening. “Just be still, unless I sign this paper here, you can’t go through.” He signed, let me though, and I thanked him. Running to meet Nancy, I shook the hand of the person who stood behind her, the man who was willing to let me keep my spot contrary to procedure and common etiquette and filled with thanks, it overflowed into a handshake and a smile. Then one second forward we were being rushed in through the detectors. I didn’t know the rules so I flunked out right away. Bossing and hollering followed us into the situation and didn’t leave it until we did. “You need your bags on the belt! Push them! Push! Push! Laptops need to be by themselves! Push them through the belt! You’re too slow!” I came forward to the drill sergeant figure, where she stood in the doorway of that scary metal detector. I handed her my papers, she passed me through and I waited to put it all back together. Then, (it’s about 2 minutes until they close the gate to our plane) “Excuse me ma’am, let’s just take a look at this bag.” She hauled my heavy carry on over to a room and opened it. She took her time with the gloves and observed my countenance for nervousness. I made light of everything as I felt my previous prayer being answered in the midst of the rush. We made a few jokes about Hershey kisses and undergarments that were in my bag and she moved me onward. “Nancy, I’m through!” She was gathering all of our precious belongings and shoving them into bags so we could rush to the gate.
It takes looking back to appreciate the way we looked hurrying like a sandstorm out of the check point and down the long hall to the terminal. Our hair and faces said it all… frizz, flying, help and Ack! Faster! We were readjusting the shoulder straps, pulling the wheeled bag behind me it was wanting to do pirouettes far away. That bag wanted to be free, I’m convinced. I needed to stop, and shove what was falling out, back into the back while ahead to Nancy, “Just go!” And I should’ve added, “save yourself!” But all is lost in that moment, so I’ll put it in for my own amusement. That weakness came over me again while we ran, looking ridiculous I’m sure. Our gate was the very last one at the end of the hall. An empty waiting area and solitary worker at the front desk greeted us. “Name?” “Derner.” “And Reed?” “Yes! Can we board?!” He took our passes and welcomed us into the flight. We cackled in amazement and joy that we, indeed have made our flight. Can you even believe it? We arrived on a small plane. Just two rows. One to the left of us with double seat, and the other to the right with single seats. Everyone had a window. Our seats were in the fourth row. We slammed our gear and bodies down, and scrambled to organize. Then it hit us: We’re in the plane. We’re not going to be punished for my lacking and yes, Rwanda is still waiting for us to arrive on Thursday evening! We giggled in disbelief, relief and again, joy for nearly the entire flight.
Looking out the window was a new experience. We watched the take off, the land sinking down and away, and the clouds drawing nearer. The plane soared out of the first layer of thick cumulous clouds into a misty sea it seemed. It reminded me of Genesis 1 where it says the Spirit of the Lord was hovering over the waters. You could see that it was there, but there were no edges and it wasn’t something to at all be contained. The white soon vanished and all we could see and feel was the crisp sunlight coming into our window. The arrival of God’s blessing, amidst our humanity, my poor planning and natural coarse of actions and consequences captured the room. Though we were with others flying above the earth, we may as well have been in heaven being handed a beautifully wrapped situation, and God watched as we unwrapped and enjoyed.

We both needed to use the restroom. So as we left the aircraft, I waited for the baggage and was to meet Nancy “Out there” and she left to find relief. Since our baggage was first off, I took off in the same direction with about 120 lbs. of carryon fun. Up a steady sloped ramp, out the main doors, through a large waiting room and to the open door of a public bathroom. I waited for about 10 minutes and decided to walk down to the checkin area at gate 44. All the way at the end of the hall. I struggled with my load, teetered on and off of lovely belts that help you walk faster and soon was there, gate 44. I waited and watched for some time. No Nancy. How frightening for her, for me… we’re needing to leave for Brussels soon and where is she? So the search let on. I piled on that backpack, slung the shoulder strap of the first laptop around me, hooked the other laptop on the handle of my pully thingy and set off. Walking with this weight was no easy task with my floor length skirt and extra grabby croc shoes. Looking to and fro I found no Nancy until I arrived back at the gate from where I came from. She was looking down the hall where I came from with eagerness to catch me somewhere and a hint of panic. I finally caught her attention and she spun around to see me. I sensed relief, frustration and a little gladness from her as she took her backpack stating “Let’s not do that again.”

We wound up recharging our electronics at a kiosk at gate 44 when a gentleman with a guitar case showed up next to us. His name was Tale. He was a tall man with long blondish hair, a soft spoken voice that spoke English well while graced with a Hebrew accent. His family was staying in California and for the first time in their married life, they were apart for more than a few days, this was going to be 3 weeks until he saw them again. While she was staying in California with family, their two sons kept company with his dear wife. He was missing them and it was obvious. We ended up at a pizza shop with this man. Tale was easy to talk to and though he was jewish, there was a look in him that told me he was loving God and looking for the savior, maybe even in Jesus. That pizza idea wasn’t the wisest. We were nearly late for that flight, but just made it. Fed up with the drama, I wasn’t ready for misplacing my ticket at last minute. A thoughtful flight attendant at the gate was quick to ease me with finding me in the system and issuing a new ticket, even as late as it was for boarding an international flight. We had an empty seat next to us that Tale quickly claimed. And as we took off, we began a 6 hours long plane ride. By the end of it, we all got some sleep in those small seats, I shared my faith with Tale and Nancy and I got a little cranky and selfish with our tiredness.

This time getting off the plane was no complication. It was simple. Brussels was a stunning airport in most parts and others were under construction and less welcoming. We said goodbye to Tale and began our walk through the large airport down and around ramps and into a wing marked “T”. We checked in and waited for our bus to take us to another area of the airport. While waiting we started to see African nationals and it was relieving to be in their presence. Among them were two darling siblings. A boy and a girl, probably two years old played peekaboo with me for a few rounds and then waved hello with enthusiasm. I thought of my own boys and how they reminded me of them. Then I thought of those dear children in Kigali without parents, needing them and still prepared myself for the devastation that lies ahead. There’s nothing I can do, it seems to prepare enough, but I will be able to do something until then. God will keep me still in prayer.

The bus finally came to pick us up and we loaded it. Already we felt the culture changing around us. The bus was familiar to one I’ve been on before but the company was changed from what I knew. The change was welcomed and I wanted to jump into empty seats near these people and just know who they were. There was an older gentleman wearing mostly tan colored clothing, a baseball cap and glasses. He was solumn and reflective just staring ahead into openness. His face showed age, pain and experience. His wealth of life not one of us in that bus could own or even understand if he were to share it.

Infront of this gentleman where two businessmen. They wore gold watches and three piece suits. I noticed the one gentleman wore cufflings. Only Established men wore them, in my mind. They were talking closely and touching each other’s for arms in agreement with each other. It was all enthusiastic conversation and eager listening on their side of the bus. There were a few others and the one thing I noticed in their company was that although I was dressed up, I felt dressed down. Hair was done, shoes were shined, they were dressed to impress. I remembered what I heard about the people of Kigali and how they always look so nice, act so well and smile so often. It was true, at least of these people, but who knows if they are going to Kigali or not. So the bus ride was pleasant and short.

On exiting we were greeted at the door by a businessman of some sort. He spoke English, French, German and Dutch. As a matter of fact, everyone in Brussels speaks 4 languages along with him. It wasn’t too difficult feeling inferior with our little 1 language and a half under our belts. He was very friendly, and accommodating. Most of our experience at the Brussels airport was that way. New feelings came along with that airport. People spoke English, but their accents were so different. Finally being the minority, even in the UK was almost a scary feeling. I wished I spent more time paying attention and less time socializing in French class in high school.

The nice man escorted our bus party from the elevator through construction to the rest of the airport. It was refreshing to see it open up from the plywood and plexiglass experience into a vaulted ceiling, stone floored wonderland. There weren’t any shops like other airports, at least not yet. I rolled my luggage over the strong floor’s consistent cracks to our port, T69 the first on the left. We were a little sad to see only one other person sitting there waiting to board, however, aftertime that place would fill well with others from all over making a jet full of color and life.

Brussels flys a classier flight than we’ve experienced in recent times with American Eagle/American Airlines. However, this whole ride, which is supposed to be the longest of them all, seems like the shortest. Both Nancy and I have been sleeping on and off. Each time I wake up I see new sights in that blessed window next to me. My first view of Africa was one of them! She greeted me like a parade! I saw green, then patterned farm lands and the closer I looked I saw dirt roads. Clusters of communities gathered here and there around mountains and how majestic the mountains were! Brown, green and deep red life decorating these pillars of earth who time and the elements birthed with command from the mouth of God commanded the land and space of the scape as people established about it with thanks and respect nearest to water usually. The roads were windy, and I could make out what looked like a wind farm. A people group stationed in the center of the mountain, away from it all, and no doubt feeling a little chillier than those below caught my attention. All of this to live by and I pray the are in harmony. God bless those dear ones, and oh sweet days, Hello Africa!

We’re going over what looks like the Sahara, and would you believe that it’s -61 degrees outside… oops. Gotta go. Ice cream! Who served that on airplanes? Is HERE! Gotta go.


Zia is from Pakistan. When we went to sit and wait an hour before check in at the gate, he greeted us and that turned into about 2 hours of conversation, probably the most educational, pleasant conversation we’ve enjoyed this trip. He said so much, but here’s a small account of what we learned. He’s on his way back from a vacation in California with his sister and her family. He’s a soldier for the UN keeping peace in the Congo. Pakistan offers more troops than any other nation in the world to the UN annually. He’s a major in his the army there. He’s got dark skin and hair, he seems to live simply by the looks of him. His luggage didn’t match, he wasn’t recently shaved, but he was pleasant and kind, especially with having spent the last day in an airplane and he was onto another 8 hour flight. He mentioned that America was good to see. He has had built up an understanding of what we are like here from the media, from movies of people living a carefree, workfree lifestyle, laziness and the like. He mentioned that traveling there opened his eyes to the fast paced world of the US. It also helped him to knock down walls of any prejudice that were standing. However, he prefers his own home to the Us for a place to reside. However, he would love to be in a cooler climate so even though he’s never visited, Scotland is for him. He took one of our cards and I hope he visits our site and learns about what we’re up to. I’m so glad and honored to have met a soldier. He is stationed in the Congo currently as a peace keeper, protecting local people from the violence of warring malitias. These little armies are fighting over gold. And his job is to protect the innocent. What a hard year it must be for him to wake up every day and do this, but defending those who have no protection has to give him some fuel to keep doing this sacrificial act.

Flying over what appears to be desert lands in Africa. It seemed like a sea of sand. No dunes, no live, just sand. For a few hours I looked out and kept asking, what is that? Dark patterns began to form in the nothingness. Was it the Nile? Is there a river in the desert? Soon after that I saw more, a straight line pattern in the sand. It’s a road! Who is out in the desert? And then the mountains formed of what looks like from here petrified sand that was tired of blowing around forming opinions with other sand that was tired of blowing around formed a merger with whatever life and elements they could find and just stayed put. Ah that’s better.

The wings of the plane still look the same, and it’s a wonder to me that they would tolerate the beauty so often. Wouldn’t they want to just be a part of the view? I guess they see above to, if they could and they are part of the view somewhere out there. What has this craft seen? I feel sad by the beauty I’ve missed, but elated in a sense to be a part of it. Not through television or by reading, but by sitting here, flying high above it, the beauty that I can’t control, place, name or remark on to have it bring it to life for a reader. I can only be here, and praise a Maker with my thoughts that He who is making our hearts to beat here in this plane, our lungs to breath and eyes to see. . . has fashioned the earth below with equal mastery. What a maker. What a savior….

What’s about to happen to us? Kigali waits in the wings of 6:30, nearly an hour and a half from now. God, let me see you clearer and take over the controls. I need you to use me and fill me. Be the life in me that will love these people and hear them. Hold me together with your might. The next time I write here, if God wills I will be communicating a miracle. The completion of the planning of something God has formed called The Rwanda Project. Next, we are still just clay.
-joyous