I was cleaning up my desktop and came upon this little piece by Mother Teresa. She is my hero. Her words are simple but oh so true. I posted this before, but it helps to be reminded of simple truths.

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies.

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you.

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight.

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, there may be jealousy.

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow.

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.

Give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God.

It was never between you and them anyway.

- Mother Teresa -

Rwanda: The Genocide Memorial

The following few posts are from my Rwanda blog. They were written at the end of June in 2007, just a couple days after arriving in Rwanda. These are about going to the Rwanda Genocide Memorial Centre with my new friends. It was a hard experience, but one I wouldn't trade for anything.

This is another post that is not for young ones.

The Kigali Genocide Memorial

The Kigali Memorial Centre

The map of Africa at the memorial that shows Rwanda

Sunday 6/30/07 11:50 PM

Tim (Immaculee’s friend and agent) talked us into going swimming after dinner. Hilarious. He is such a salesman. The water was cold and we laughed until our faces hurt. Everyone came back, at least part way, from an emotionally wrenching day. I didn’t know what to expect from theGenocide Memorial. Thousands of innocent Rwandans in a mass grave. I took some pictures, just a little video but nothing will be able to describe the power, the sadness. Most of the visitors were Europeans, a few Rwandans, a few Americans besides us. One of the drivers was there in the room with the photographs staring at a picture of his own family.

Outside, large cement slabs – maybe ten yards by twenty yards, covering hundreds (thousands) of bodies each. A large black wall, not marble or obsidian, concrete. Black, stark, simple. Hundreds of names on small plaques were attached to the wall. So many of the ones buried there remain unidentified. A perpetual flame. Simple. There are several mass graves across Rwanda. Official graves. They are still finding bodies. There were some flowers. The black painted wall. A perpetual flame. Many names.

Inside a man told us in a very quiet voice a little about the genocide. He must have said the same things many times. He was reverent. When we entered the memorial we saw an enlarged photo of an unnamed Rwandan child. A boy. Maybe ten years old. It was ripped and scratched. Stained with blood. He was just a child. It was found in the pocket of an unidentified victim. His eyes were looking into the lens of the camera. Into our eyes. Just a child.

The guide left us there. As we walked through the maze of stone walls and rough cement or brick floors there were pictures showing the history of Rwanda from the early days before it was a colony throughout its history. Photos of leaders, ordinary people, military. Pictures showing the persecution of the Tutsis. The text was in Kinyrwanda, French and English. It was detailed, honest, brutal. The farther we went the quieter everyone became. We cried softly as we saw the horror of everyday people, simple good people, killed by their neighbors, coerced by their government, betrayed by their friends, their religious leaders. There were videos of survivors telling stories of what happened to their families. To horrific to write now. Rape, physical torture, families made to watch their loved ones brutalized, killed. We cried. Occasionally we stopped to reflect, to talk softly, to pray, to cry.

Rwanda, 6/30/07

I hope that you don't this is a cop out (my reposting from my old blog). I think there may be some new friends who haven't read about that important event in my life. I will post some new things from time to time, but I'd like to put some of this out there again. For one thing, it reminds me. I had studied Rwanda, watched the film - "Hotel Rwanda" - read several fantastic books, read all over the internet about the people, the genocide, heard from new friends about Immaculee and her story, heard her voice on line, read her book Left to Tell (twice). None of that even remotely prepared me for the power of that group of people at that time and place. So, this is for me as much as it is for my new friends. Check out the links. I think most of them are still active.

If you don't know about Rwanda... you should. This is sad. It is sad because it is so real. It is still happening in the Democratic of Congo, in Sudan. But you've got to believe that goodness is stronger than hate.

If you follow the links you may cry. After all this time - I do. This is a set of posts for grown-ups, not little ones.

Des Milles Collines - Hotel Rwanda (movie trailer)

Sunday 6/30/07 7:50 AM

Last night before we went to sleep we went to the hotel formerly known as Hotel Rwanda (tribute to Paul Rusesabagina) for drinks. We were all bone weary. The airport was tiny and the customs procedures were very slow. We’d all been awake for two days. Eighty degrees, sticky, humid, diesel fumes, body odor, heavy bags to lug from the conveyor to customs to a disorganized but extremely kind and well meaning group to “collect” us and take us to the hotel.

The moon was full, burnt orange as we touched down. Immaculee’s brother Aimable (uh mob blay) met us with some of his friends, relatives and possibly coworkers. He’s a vet. At least two cousins came. One, Gonza, is a catholic priest (Jesuit). Much love all around at our arrival. We must look like typical American tourists with our huge, over stuffed bags.

Cindy, her step-son Brandon and I went in a Toyota SUV with a driver named Wycliff Kalega (They call me Wycliff). He is our interpreter and driver while we are here (at least in Kigali). Soft spoken, expressive smile, rarely speaks, two young children (one is two yeeahs the uttah is seven munts). It’s a funny feeling to have a drivuh. His work as long (as we are here) is to drive us wherever we want to go. His English is basic and I think he understands more than he can express. He has a light spirit.

At the hotel last evening we were all a little dimmed by lack of sleep. Beer, wine, coffee, African tea. We sat around a lovely swimming pool. The moonlight was pale and huge. We laughed. This is an amazing group in as much as we are from the other side of the world and the Rwandans gathered there accepted and trusted us. Of course we came with Immaculee. She is loved. We talked about… just stuff. It was sort of a getting-to-know-you session. It was lite. The laughter was easy. We were all a little drunk from exhaustion.

Hotel Rwanda

The power of being in Hotel Rwanda (music video) - now Des Mille Collines - was huge. No one really spoke about it – but it was there for me. Just imagining the Interahamwe outside with machetes raised, searching for others to kill. The Tutsis and their sympathizers hiding inside waiting, probably expecting to be murdered at the hands of their countrymen.Imagine the bravery of those who did the right thing in the face of all the madness and the relief as the madness seemed to pass, and the grief to find what was left of Rwanda. All of this happened just thirteen years ago. Thirteen years.

Today Ganza will say mass for our group. It will be casual. I haven’t been to mass in a very long time. One thing that has already been happening on this trip is an openness, an awareness of God and manifestations of God. It is a wide view/interpretation/compass now.

The Veranda

Sunrise from the veranda

I was on the patio earlier this morning by myself. The sun was blazing – not really hot but clear. Different songbirds flocking around the tall palms. Large butterflies a lot like our black swallowtails. A tall waiter brought me the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. Super strong, very black and hot. Last evening when we got to the hotel where we are staying (The Serena) we were served tall slender glasses of passion juice (I think). Cool, syrupy, tangy. Delicious. Maybe it’s because it’s because I’m here in this special place. But the sunshine, the beautiful birds and butterflies, the fruit, the coffee all seem so rich, so extra, so… God.

I wrote this on my way to Rwanda. I was so weary that I couldn't sleep. I was getting used to keeping up with a writer's notebook and watching the people around me - anxious in anticipation for what I was about to experience. This was originally published on Sunday, September 2nd 2007.

I wrote this on my way to Rwanda. I was so weary that I couldn't sleep. I was getting used to keeping up with a writer's notebook and watching the people around me - anxious in anticipation for what I was about to experience. This was originally published on Sunday, September 2nd 2007.

Beautiful People

Rwandan children in Ntarama

Heidi. I am so weary from lack of sleep. It’s Saturday 5:00 PM. No sleep since Thursday night/Friday morning. I guess it’s 11:00 AM your time. Every time I look at my watch I think of you. I wonder what you are doing – what you might be dreaming of. We are still on the plane but we must be getting close by now.

In the airport in Belgium I know that you would have enjoyed watching all the people. Seeing thousands of faces (Charlotte, New York City, Brussels) always makes me marvel at how wonderfully unique we are. No two people are alike. Incredible. God. When I look into all of these beautiful faces I miss your face. Sometimes I’ll see someone from behind with hair that looks like yours or who walks like you or I’ll hear a snatch of laughter that sounds like you. Then you come swimming back to me. And I am grateful. Seated at the gate in Brussels we were with everyone going to Rwanda. Beautiful people. Exotic to me. So many have a look similar to Immaculee. Dark, beautiful smiles. I know that you would recognize their beauty. The God in them.

On the plane a little one has had a hard flight. She has cried a lot and whined a lot. Some of the grown ups around her can hardly stand it. You can see it on their faces. Her beautiful mom just hugs her and sings to her and rocks her. And it makes me think of you because you would recognize the beauty in the mom’s kindness, in their love for each other. You hear music in babies’ cries. The God in them.

A Rwandan child with lovely elaborate braids is asleep on the fold down table. Peaceful. Serene. Two Belgian guys are walking down the aisle. Older guys. One stops for a moment and takes in the breathtaking beauty of this innocent little scene. One nudges the other drawing his attention. They both stare at her. Just for a few seconds and then move on. You would have appreciated that little moment. That Godness.

In the airport all announcements were in French, English and some other language (German?). The people who work there are so adept at subtly seeking your language before talking to you. I think French is the default language but they switch over so fast. Incredible to me. Cindy got me a bottle of water so when we got coffee, I bought. $4.00 for water. $4.00 for coffee.

I think of you when I read words put together well or when I hear laughter, when I hear a baby cry or see an old man’s wrinkled smile. Because you would appreciate these things too. I see the world partly through your eyes. And my life is better because of it.

Poor Mr. Beck

Glenn Beck is an odd little man. Somehow he seems like his own worst enemy. It may be that he just speaks before he thinks. I have certainly done that. Usually I am embarrassed. It might be that he just enjoys riling people up. He's

famous for that. He's got his agenda. You've got to admire him for sticking with the message. And while I have written about him a few times, I never go looking for him. I don't watch him on TV intentionally. I have never listened to his radio show. I understand that he has written some books. Never read them. I don't know him personally. Don't care to. But he finds his way onto my radar pretty frequently. Usually when I least expect it.

There is this group called Sojourners (Click on the highlighted section to read more.) Their mission is pretty simple...

...We believe that unity in diversity is not only desirable, but essential to fulfilling God's ultimate desire for God's people, as expressed in scripture (Acts 2, Revelation 7:9), and thus an essential element of seeking God's will on earth as it is in heaven....

Whether or not you are a believer in the Bible, you are sure to love their goals: "In our lives and in our work, Sojourners seek to be guided by the Biblical principals of justice, mercy and humility." What's not to love about Sojourners?! They work to combat climate change, to battle child slavery and for fair wages. They wage peace. You may not be a Christ follower, but this is simply good work. If you are a Christian, you would agree that if Jesus were here today, he would be pushing for peace and justice. God knows we need the work.

Jim Wallis, founder of Sojourners, felt obliged to answer Glenn Beck's latest rant claiming that Social Justice is evil and that if it is an aspect of your church that you should quit and report it to the proper authorities. The following message is from Jim Wallis. It speaks for itself. I for one am going to respond to Mr. Beck telling him that I support social justice. You can too by using the link below. Poor Mr. Beck.

Last week, when radio and television talk show host Glenn Beck said that social justice is a "code word" for Communism and Nazism, and urged people to leave their churches if they teach social justice, I decided that message needed to be challenged.

Many church leaders from across the spectrum agreed with my concern that social and economic justice are deep biblical concerns and central to the teachings of all of our churches. Even Beck's own Mormon church leaders were calling to assure me that they believe in social justice too. I thought Beck's rather extreme and misguided comments needed a response, but I did not attack him personally; nor will I.

In fact, on Friday, I sent Glenn a letter proposing that the two of us sit down together and have an open and public discussion on what social justice really means and how Christians are called to engage in the struggle for justice. I said, "let's make this a civil dialogue and not engage in personal attacks on each other -- which is never helpful in trying to sort out what is true. So let's talk about the heart of the matter."

Well, on today's Glenn Beck radio show, I got a response that disappointed me. Glenn Beck said:

So Jim, I just wanted to pass this on to you. In my time I will respond -- my time, well, kind of like God's time, might be a day, might be a week to you, I'm not sure. But I'm going to get to it in my time, not your time. So you go ahead and you continue to do your protest thing, and that's great. I love it. But just know -- the hammer is coming, because little do you know, for eight weeks, we've been compiling information on you, your cute little organization, and all the other cute little people that are with you. And when the hammer comes, it's going to be hammering hard and all through the night, over and over...

He went on to say that "It's weird how people all over the world have been sending me stuff. It's weird that way, Jimmy." Why is the idea of a civil dialogue such a threat to Glenn Beck? Glenn, let us please not resort to threats and attacks. To repeat, I have not and will not attack you personally, and I repeat my invitation to a civil dialogue on what social justice really means. Since you were the one to raise this issue and start this whole discussion, I just want it to end in a better and more civil way.

More than 30,000 Christian pastors and church members have written to you as Christians who believe in social justice and are asking you to reconsider your statements. This is a time for dialogue, not monologue, and I prayerfully ask you to consider my request for a conversation.

Jim Wallis is the author of Rediscovering Values: On Wall Street, Main Street, and Your Street -- A Moral Compass for the New Economy, CEO of Sojourners and blogs atwww.godspolitics.com.

+Click here to tell Glenn Beck that you support social justice

Rwanda - Early July, 2007

These were written in early July, three years ago as I was on my way to Rwanda. Paris Hilton was all over the news.

Paris Hilton

Sunrise in Kigali

What I learned about the Rwandan Genocide I discovered only recently. On my own. These remarkable books, the internet. Why do I know so much about Paris Hilton? I avoid it. Still I know too much about her. Why don’t we know more about the genocide? The Sudan? The Democratic Republic of Congo? Is it because they are far away? Because we have no “strategic interest” in the region? Because they have no resources in the ground that we need? Is it because they are black? Poor?

One million one hundred seventeen thousand deaths during the Rwandan genocide. So far. And we watched. We did nothing. The Clinton Administration spoke of “genocidal acts” but couldn’t bring themselves to use the G-word. Civil war. Internal affair. Tribal warfare.

Heidi Mills, my greatest blessing.

When I take out pictures of my beautiful family I know one reason why I am here… to appreciate the rich blessings of my life. So many people lost so much. Right now with this picture of Heidi (you – Heidi) in my hand and our boys in my heart I am the richest man on earth. It’s selfish. But that’s one reason I am here.

Humans

FREE PARIS (?!)

Thirty five thousand feet in the air. Humans have only been flying
at all for 105 years. Now we are cruising at thirty five thousand feet above Nova Scotia. By the time we land in Rwanda we’ll cross six time zones. Three continents. Three hundred people, cruising at seven miles above the earth, going six hundred fifty miles per hour, getting ready to cross the Atlantic Ocean. It’s 7:39PM where we took off in New York City. It’s 1:39 AM where we’ll land in Brussels. I’m looking at a monitor that shows our progress as we cross the ocean. A tiny picture of a plane with a dotted line showing our direction, where we’ve been, where we’re going. Soft drinks, coffee, TV shows, magazines, ear buds, multi-channels in our arm rests, overhead lights, flight attendant call buttons, reclining chairs, little pillows, portable DVD players, MP3 players, headphones that cancel flight noise, laptop computers, expensive hardcover books bought in the airport, battered paperback books, the Bible, The Koran, Skymall catalog. Perfume, a baby crying, laughter, playing cards, adolescent boys punching each other in the arms, irritable stewardess, lovers holding hands. Humans are amazing. Onemilliononehundredseventeenthousand deaths in the Rwandan genocide (that we know of so far… rounded to the nearest thousand). The US fussed about whether or not it was genocide. We watched. We knew. We did nothing. Humans are more than just amazing.

Clinton and Albright apologized for not trying to stop the genocide in Rwanda ( music video). Sincerely. How long before we apologize for not stopping the genocide in Darfur? Digital watches, iphones, ipods, handheld videogames, in flight movies, CBS Sports on TV, sitcoms with canned laughter. Flying seven miles high over the Atlantic Ocean. Onemilliononehundredseventeenthousand Rwandans were killed in one hundred days. Over ten thousand a day. Humans are amazing.

Onemilliononehundredseventeenthousand stories. It’s almost too big to imagine, too big to believe, too immense to even think about. FREE PARIS HILTON. That’s what a sign said at the nursery and garden center by my house. FREE PARIS HILTON. Humans are amazing.

More About Rwanda

We (I) take so much for granted. I started a list of things I take for granted the other day. It is long. Take one. Water. That's it. Water. In most places in Rwanda they have to haul every drop of water they will use to drink, wash and cook with to their homes. They must gather or barter for wood to boil the water to make it safe to consume. This process often takes hours. Often you see little ones with water containers almost as large as they are, walking with the container bumping into their legs, straining to get up a hill (Rwanda is the land of a thousand mountains). Water.

We go to the tap and have safe drinking water. We water our lawns with it, fill our pools with it. We wash our clothes, take long hot baths and showers, wash our cars with it - and don't even think twice.

Drinking Water, Sanitation, Health and Disease

About 2.6 billion people – half the developing world – lack even a simple ‘improved’ latrine and 1.1 billion people has no access to any type of improved drinking source of water. As a direct consequence:

• 1.6 million people die every year from diarrhoeal diseases (including cholera) attributable to lack of access to safe drinking water and basic sanitation and 90% of these are children under 5, mostly in developing countries;
• 160 million people are infected with schistosomiasis causing tens of thousands of deaths yearly; 500 million people are at risk of trachoma from which 146 million are threatened by blindness and 6 million are visually impaired;
• intestinal helminths (ascariasis, trichuriasis and hookworm infection) are plaguing the developing world due to inadequate drinking water, sanitation and hygiene with 133 million suffering from high intensity intestinal helminths infections; there are around 1.5 million cases of clinical hepatitis A every year.

So when I think back on Rwanda and how these folks deal with their very survival - with gratitude - it makes me more grateful for what we assume, what we take for granted each and every day.

Friday 6/28/07

The beautiful faces and sincere smiles

of the Rwandan people will stay with me

forever.

What can be written about Rwanda that hasn’t been? Immaculee andBishop John Rucyahanna's books have done so much for me. Immaculee’s personal witness of tragedy and hope – so moving and personal. Bishop John’s socio-political-historical perspective had so much of Immaculee’s depth (Don't pray for him to DIE - Pray for HIM to CHANGE video) but with a wide angle lens. The message from both: faith, love, forgiveness. Both seemed to use forgiveness almost as a weapon, at least a defense. “I wish he was alive and I could see him again. I’d forgive him.” I cannot understand what these two have gone through. WhatRwanda (Rwanda music video) has gone through. Their loss. Their pain. Imagine their pain and loss times millions – as millions were directly affected by the genocide. I cannot imagine the guilt of those who raised machetes against their neighbors. How must they feel to encounter the survivors? How could their lives ever return to anything close to normal? How can they not think of what they have done? Why Rwanda? Immaculee with her friend and manager Tim Van Damm at The Serena Hotel. Seeing Immaculee on the PBS broadcast. Reading her compelling story. Feeling like I know her a little… as much as one can know another person by reading their written words. More admiration than I remember feeling toward anyone. Hero worship? Yes, I guess so. Wishing that I could know her, have a conversation with her, get inside her mind, reach some insight into her brilliance, her light. How can someone overcome so much? How can someone learn to forgive so much? Being profoundly moved by Left to Tell. Life changing, really. Critical time in my spiritual walk. Never thinking that I would ever cross paths with Immaculee. Realizing what a powerful teacher she is. Thinking that I might see her again on TV or wishing that she would write or publish again. Never imagining that we would meet. But in the back of my mind hoping so. I was more than a little scared when the opportunity arose to go to Rwanda. Cindy Charles asking me at a school function. A little relieved to say no thanks. Heidi saying yes, that we could free up some resources and that it would be the trip of a lifetime. Trusting that it would be OK. Discovering that the copy of my birth certificate wouldn’t do. Tracking that down. Applying for a passport. Hoping that it would come through in time. Immunizations. Brandon and Cindy Charles, my good friends and co-adventurers Rereading Left to Tell. Reading A Long Way Gone and The Bishop of Rwanda. Reminded of how average I am. As a human. As a citizen of the world. Living in a nation where selfishness and self-absorption are normal. Isolated from real news, from so many real people in real places. Real pain, real laughter, real tears, real joy.