Thought of the day.

The following blog post is a real and authentic account of my life lately. I mean no offence to any parties involved. I still love Rwanda. I still love being a missionary. I still love my coworkers. I am human and that means I get annoyed, frustrated, tired. I'm human so that means my tiny human brain not only cannot comprehend the goodness of my Creator, but it often forgets that I was not created by mere man.

Sometimes I hate that I speak english. Actually, most the time, I feel inferior. I'm surrounded by people who all speak at least two languages. But many can easily list of 3-5 languages in which they can successfully carry on conversation. I am currently at like 1 1/2. I can have a conversation in Kinyarwanda if it is either 1. a short greeting/how are you conversation. 2. It is negotiating the price of fruits/vegetables or a moto taxi. 

And now, maybe you're thinking "Well, why didn't you spend years studying the language?" Well, here's my honest answer - Once I knew God was calling me to stay in Rwanda for the foreseeable future, I felt my heart burst with love for this nation and it's beautiful people. The very thought of only studying the language (not being with people, not praying with my sisters, not telling about about my Jesus) sort of felt like I was being stabbed in the heart.  And, Rosetta Stone doesn't know Kinyarwanda either, so that option is out. Seriously, Rwanda = tiny country in Africa = not a lot of help online to learn correct, actual Kinyarwanda. 

Anyways, carrying on...this whole language thing has been a pain lately. My team is made up of 5 people. Three are from Rwanda, one from Burundi and then mzungu JoJo. Being the only non-kinyarwanda speaker in the group is rough. I am constantly missing things. Things are decided, planned or plans are changed, but not fully communicated with me. My team is awesome, all of them speak english and most are completely fluent. They translate for me, and they work to make sure I understand. But sometimes, they get tired and just naturally speak their own language. I get it. No hard feelings. It makes life a bit frustrating for me, but honestly, I get it. 

However, this makes life hard. And unfortunately, it sends me into a downward spiral filled with lies about my value, or lack I guess. I wonder why I'm here in Rwanda. I question if I am improving the ministry at all or if I'm just a giant burden on those I work with. I wish I knew Kinyarwanda. I wish that I was better at learning languages. But still, as much as I desire to know the language, and as much as I study, I am still not fluent. I still cannot communicate the love of Jesus with my sister in the village. There are just so many things that I cannot do. 

Just when I feel useless and like a burden to my team, Jesus rushes in and shows me His love for me. Yesterday alone, two people (people who I love dearly, respect greatly and an incredibly blessed by) took time to encourage me. They told me I'm not a burden. That I'm not waisting my time. They told me that I play a specific and unique role on my team. All of a sudden it was like I was knocked over and unable to get up. I've been selfish. More focused on my ease of understanding than my co-workers ease of speaking their own language. I've been more concerned with understanding everything than stepping back and being patient. I was more worried that I didn't know what was being said than the nearly dead, sick woman in front of me. 

It's crazy how frustrations bring out selfishness. I'm not saying it's wrong to be frustrated. It's a part of life, and most the time unavoidable. At least with me, when I get frustrated and stressed, my focus turns to me. I am focused on how upset I am. How inconvenienced I am and how hard my life is. 

And let me just say this : that's stupid. So stupid. Yes, I've had some rough days, but really, I have nothing to complain about. At the end of the day, no matter how frustrating it is, I have my dream job. I live in a country that I love more than I ever thought possible. I get to see lives changed and hearts transformed. I get to attempt to be fluent in another language. And, I am surrounded by some amazing people who love me like I'm their sister or daughter. 

So, thought for the day: when you're frustrated, angry, annoyed or just bummed out - is it really that bad? Is your life really that awful? Could you put that same energy into someone who has a reason to complain? Is there some injustice that you could put that same about of passion into? Car troubles, mixed up order at Starbucks, annoying co-workers/bosses, bad days at work and electronic convinces failing is not the end of the world. That's not enough to have a meltdown over. 

There it is. My rant/thoughts for the day.