The red crosses mark my 4 angels, now watching over me. The only photo of us all together—my Catholic First Communion.
💜
I Rise.
April—the month my world went silent, laughter stolen, love torn from my grasp. The embrace of my parents and two siblings— now a memory I hold but can never touch.
April 1994 did not just take them; it tried to take me too— my voice, my light, my innocence, my will to exist. Darkness swallowed my paradise, grief clung like a shadow, but even then, something within refused to fade.
So I Rise.
Not only on April 7th for my little sister Marie Claudine, or April 17thfor Papa, or April 24th for Mama and my big brother Jean Félix— I Rise every day.
I rise for forgiveness—I do it for me. I rise for love; hatred is too heavy a burden to bear.
I rise for my parents’ three surviving gifts, my first rays of sunshine, whose existence gave my life meaning.
I rise for the little loves they blossomed, —my preciouspearls— treasures my parents never got to hold, spoil or adore. I rise for their other halves, who cherish and are deeply cherished.
I rise for the scars I bear— a testament to survival. I rise for the journey I have walked. For the life I built far from home, Rooted in love, standing on solid ground.
I rise for the child I once was— orphaned, lost, abandoned, poor. Now, a proof that hope survives.
I rise beyond trauma, beyond nightmares. My story is no longer just my own. I rise for the children who walk the road I once did, for those unseen, unheard, alone.
Rising Above the Storms, a whisper: “You are not alone, your pain does not define you. You are seen, you are worthy, you too can rise.”
I carry wounds neither time nor any human can heal, yet still, I rise—undefeated. When strength fails, faith lifts me. And one day, beyond sorrow, I will see and hold them again—forever.
For my light that dimmed in April 1994— I am Here. I Remember. I Grieve. I Speak. I Forgive. I Hope. I Love.
31 Years.
Still. I Rise.
💜
🕊️💜 In loving memory of my four angels perished during the Genocide against the Tutsi in April 1994. May their memories remain a blessing.❤️ 🕊️
The past few months have felt like a walk through memory lane. My husband and I took our annual Christmas holiday trip to Rwanda, my homeland, and it turned out to be more special than I ever imagined. While our visits always include spending time with my siblings and their families, the children and staff of Rising Above the Storms (RAS), and exploring Rwanda’s beauty, this trip held an extraordinary addition—my US parents joined us.
On my wedding day with my parents ♥️ Jan 2019
If you’ve followed my journey on this website, you know I lost my parents in the 1994 Genocide against Tutsi in Rwanda. But “my US parents”? Allow me to explain.
In 2008, shortly before I graduated from grad school in Rochester, NY, I met an incredible couple through a local church connection. They invited me into their home, and while most students they hosted came and went, I stayed. Over time, they unofficially adopted me as their daughter. They gave me the motherly and fatherly love I thought I’d never feel again. Their unconditional love helped heal the wounds inflicted by surviving relatives who had been abusive and heartless.
My parents arriving at Kigali International Airport, Rwanda (Jan 2025)
Kigali International Airport Arrivals.
From left: dad, mom, me and my youngest sister, and my husband (front) taking the selfie
This trip marked my dad’s first visit to Rwanda, and my mom’s second. One highlight was visiting my parents’ land, just outside Kigali. As I stood there, I reflected on how, from the ashes of my deepest losses, God had blessed me with parents who love me fiercely, even if we don’t share the same blood or story.
Getting ready for the 30 min ride to my childhood town
Giving my new parents a tour. One of the roads around my heavenly parents’ land ♥️
Our childhood’s main road—oh, if only it could speak!
My childhood’s driveway
My childhood’s driveway
So many memories
My parents’ hard work!
My innocent childhood lives here
So many memories
And so much more
Another special stop on our itinerary was my childhood Catholic Church—a short drive from my parents’ land but, in my childhood memories, a distant hike.
Standing before my childhood parish. I couldn’t quite recall it ever having this shape!
The moment I stepped onto the parish grounds, a flood of memories overwhelmed me. Standing tall and unchanged was the magnificent acacia tree that had witnessed so much of my family’s life.
Only the two of us, out of four siblings, had the chance to witness this moment. We hope to return together someday, all four of us, to share and compare our memories!
The only photo I possess of my entire family together—taken during my Confirmation—was very near this tree, beneath another acacia tree.
My beloved family, captured during my Catholic Confirmation. The red cross honors our cherished loved ones now in heaven.
As I stared at its sprawling branches, I couldn’t help but wonder: Does this tree remember my parents? Does it remember me? If only it could speak, I would have lingered longer beneath its shade.
This tree stood as a silent witness while the world around it changed—while neighbors turned into enemies, while innocence was lost. But the acacia remained steadfast, offering shade to churchgoers and a home to nesting birds. In its stillness, it felt like a keeper of memories.
The Mighty Acacia Tree
The Parish Courtyards
With my baby sister ♥️ Guardians of our loved ones’ memories!
Under the Acacia Tree. The last time we were here she was a few years old
Stepping inside the church, everything seemed smaller than I could remember. The once-grand sanctuary of my childhood felt humble now, though its spiritual significance had not diminished. I knelt in one of the rows—the one I believed we sat in during sacramental celebrations—and whispered prayers to the Savior my parents had taught me to worship.
Silently, I mourned the loss of my innocence and childhood, reflecting on how I was forced to grow up in a rush, denied the chance to be young. As I reminisced on cherished memories, I marveled at the journey that has brought me back to where it all began.
Stepping into the church and absorbing it all after more than 30 years!
One of the rows where I believe my parents once sat. The emotions were beyond words!
Saying a prayer to honor the memories of my loved ones and worship the God my parents taught me!
I shed tears of both sorrow and gratitude, praising the Lord for His protection over the past 30 years and 9 months.
Thank you Lord for your Faithfulness!
With my parents
And with my husband
With my baby sister
With my hubby
I couldn’t help but marvel at how deeply my parents had rooted us in faith. Amid unimaginable loss and pain, that foundation gave me strength and, eventually, hope.
Lastly, I wanted to see the eucalyptus forest behind the church— somehow a place of peace and meditation in my prayers, often appearing in my nightly dreams. To my disappointment, the trees had been cleared for construction. It felt like a part of my sanctuary had been taken, but the memories remain, vivid and unshaken. It will be interesting to see how my nightly dreams change as a result; this area was one of the reasons I longed to return here.
The eucalyptus forest that once stood here is now gone.
Now being transformed into a convent.
Sunday school hall
It was taller in my childhood memories
My new family walking my memory lane
My baby sister
This church, and the acacia tree in its courtyard, is where my faith began. It is a place of cherished memories, not resentment or guilt. It is a reminder of my extraordinary parents, who continue to guide me even in their absence.
I survived—I made it. I am my parents’ wildest dream and their best wishes fulfilled, their pride, and the voice of my loved ones who perished. I carry their legacy, a beacon of their hopes, resilience, and the enduring love they left behind.
With my baby sister, beneath the tree that holds the cherished memories of our loved ones, taken from us too soon.
♥️♥️ In loving memory of my parents and two siblings who were taken from us in April 1994. May their memories forever be a blessing!♥️♥️
“These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” ~ John 16:33 NKJV
There are topics that I get excited to write about and share, yet there are others that give me pause, particularly when sharing over the vast expanse of cyberspace with individuals I may never encounter face-to-face. It truly exposes a sense of vulnerability within me. Nevertheless, since launching this blog and founding Rising Above the Storms (RAS) over a decade ago, my goal has been to open up to my readers and audience about the wounds of my past, narratives of the present, and the person I aspire to become.
If you are new to my blog, I frequently delve into my personal journey amid the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda. I recount the harrowing stories of humans who became ferocious animals. I share about the tragic loss of my loved ones, the struggles, and immense grief I faced as a young girl, and the arduous path toward healing, forgiveness, and embracing hope. Amidst the trials, I attribute the person I have become today to the profound encounter with God throughout this tumultuous journey.
My Dearest Mommy, the Source of My Inspiration
The month of April permanently reminds me of the darkest time of my life, an experience that left me with wounds that defy healing from any human, object, or time. Amid numerous close calls with death throughout April and subsequent weeks, one particular date stands out as pivotal in shaping my identity: Sunday, April 24, 1994.
That fateful afternoon marked a week since my mother had assumed the role of the head of the household, thrust into this responsibility abruptly. Exactly one week prior, on Sunday afternoon, April 17, my father—my cherished confidant—was murdered. We learned of his death while cowered in hiding and overhead the Hutu Interahamwe militiamen passing by. They boasted: “We just killed Alphonse and cut him into three pieces; he indicated that he left a wife and five children behind. Where are they? We’ll finish them all.”
As newcomers to this town, my resilient mother may have hoped we could blend in unnoticed, believing perhaps that our lives might be spared. Unfortunately, this hope proved futile. On Sunday afternoon, April 24, my mother, elder brother, cousin, and I were led by Hutu Interahamwe militiamen to a mass grave in Mulindi, Kanombe, northeast of Kigali, a mere ten-minute distance from the Kigali International Airport. Despite our unfamiliarity with the area and the fact that the militiamen didn’t know us, our appearance alone betrayed our identity. Trapped in this moment, escape was inconceivable.
My entire family in one place, the only photo I have of us together. Blurred faces are friends/relatives.
We were instructed to sit down on the top of the looming mass grave, a pit that had already consumed countless innocent Tutsi victims and awaited many more. The militia leader, sneering at my mother, questioned how she was still alive, two and a half weeks into the genocide. Then, with chilling certainty, he asked my mother if she had other children not present with us at that dire moment.
Any response such as “I have no other children,” “they ran away,” “they are dead,” or “I am uncertain of their whereabouts” could have sufficed. However, my mother, characterized by her honesty, and extraordinary nature, opted for transparency during this critical moment. She revealed that she had three additional children in hiding. My emotions were already muted; I cannot claim that her response had a specific impact on me. Waiting for death has its own effect that cannot be put into words.
💔A red cross for the souls I lost 30 years ago, from left to right: Jean Felix, Dad, Mom, Marie Claudine💔
The same squad leader singled me out, citing my perceived physical vulnerability compared to my elder brother. The assailants assumed I would be unable to flee as swiftly as he could. My brother, aged only fifteen but appearing mature and towering at almost six feet tall, looked like an adult. Therefore, I was the target. The killers actually thought that my brother was much older and accused my mom of lying about his age. I was given an armed soldier to accompany me, with a mission to locate and bring my younger siblings so that we could all meet the same fate together.
I couldn’t walk away without saying something; I begged the merciless militia leader not to kill my beloved mother before I returned, hoping he would listen. My plea was my last conversation with my mother. The militia had already started beating my brother and he was bleeding when I left.
💞May their Memories Forever Be a Blessing💞
After disclosing my younger siblings’ hiding, the armed soldier didn’t take me back to the crime scene. Instead, he directed me to leave my siblings in their hiding place and escorted me in the opposite direction, towards a small house where a few others were also seeking refuge. While many details from that day remain hazy, I distinctly recall him leaving me in that house. I don’t remember how many people were there or their stories. After some time, the soldier returned and told me to follow him, leaving me no choice but to comply. With an assault rifle in hand, he held not just my safety but my very life in his grasp.
At that moment, I feared he intended to sexually assault me, a tragically common practice by the assailants before executing their victims. Though at just 13, I also harbored a sense of relief, thinking he might simply fulfill my plea and kill me with a bullet instead. It sounds bizarre, but knowing I might die by gunfire felt like a small mercy, a luxury denied to my loved ones.
I followed him and we walked, I cannot say for how long with certainty. Eventually, we reached a home that I’d later learn belonged to his brother, a soldier as well, near the Kanombe military barracks. Darkness had already settled in by then. To my surprise, he offered me food, clothes, and a place to sleep. He also delivered the devastating news, that my brother, mother, and cousin had been killed. Adding to this anguish, he also disclosed that the death squad had discovered the hiding place of my younger siblings, and raised serious doubts about their survival.
As I lay in the tiny bed within that gigantic house, sleep eluded me completely. The events of that day still felt surreal, as if trapped in an unending nightmare. Questions swirled in my mind, wondering about the soldier’s role in the murder of my loved ones. He had claimed to have witnessed their deaths firsthand. I couldn’t shake it off: How did the death squad discover my siblings’ hiding place? Could the soldier have disclosed their whereabouts? After all, he was the only one who had seen them. Yet, despite these suspicions, he didn’t touch me and remained committed to his promise, emphasizing that he had spared my life to be the storyteller of my family’s tragic fate. It was evident that he believed I might be the sole survivor among my family members.
Like many in the ex-Rwandan Army Forces responsible for planning and perpetrating the genocide against the Tutsi, he eventually fled as the Rwandan Patriotic Forces (RPF) advanced, leaving me in that home. Weeks later, around the 4th of July, following intense clashes between the RPF fighters and ex-Rwandan forces, the RPF army seized control, leading me and other survivors to safety. This marked the beginning of a new journey, one marked by solitude but also survival.
My Blessings From Above. Our Parents in heaven must be proud❤️
Upon sensing the first semblance of safety, I embarked on a journey of piecing together fragmented memories to safeguard recollections of my loved ones. Details around when and where they were murdered, and any information I could remember, I attempted to trace back. It was during this introspective process that I grasped the true significance of my mother’s honesty. Had it not been for her truth, my own history would too have concluded on April 24, 1994. If I hadn’t been taken by that soldier to reveal my younger siblings’ hiding, the mass grave that claimed my mother, brother, and cousin would have become my dwelling.
I often ponder what compelled my mother to speak the truth when survival hung in the balance. I will probably never know; nevertheless, of this I am certain: I am alive today because of her actions, and here to share this story.
Although my time with my mom was tragically brief, her legacy lives on through me. She was honest, had immense kindness, a capacity for forgiveness, and devout faith. If I can embody even a fraction of her remarkable qualities, I will consider myself immensely fortunate. In a piece dedicated to her memory a few years ago, I wrote, “To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power,” capturing the essence of her indomitable spirit.
These narratives form the foundation of my faith; God has been our Father, Provider, Protector, and the source of everything we could ever need.
Thank you for reading my story!
“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” ~ Revelation 21:4
In this tender month of April, Grant me the moment to entreat. For within this season’s embrace, Memories abundantly flow. A path through trials, battles faced anew, Life’s tapestry woven, by pain and strength tried.
♦
In ’94, hell engulfed Rwanda, The land of a thousand hills that once gleamed with light. Rolling hills and lush green, a paradise’s hymn, Now veiled in the blood of my kin, a tragic tale. Silent world, their crime? Physical features they couldn’t curtail.
♦
I harbor no grudge, my word stands strong, Bitterness won’t mend the past. No victim’s stance, I claim my place, Resilience carries on, a path unmarred. From the ashes rising, steadfast in my stand, Forgiveness, not vengeance, a lighter hand.
♦
Three decades on, wounds still tender and raw, Their memories revered, a pledge of eternal splendor. Their absence echoes, a void within my heart, Their journey truncated, a poignant call to persevere. Allow me, O world, to unveil my story arc, Of valor, endurance, and transcending the dark.
♦
I vow, no tale of despair shall you find, Instead, one of strength against fate’s bind. From shadows, a journey to illuminate, Survivor by name, warrior within. Carving purpose from chaos, A new life to behold, another chance to cherish.
♦
Each trial conceals a lesson’s profound lore, And within every warrior, hope eternally soars. In brokenness, faith endures in tranquil sway, In this April’s remembrance, my heart doesn’t tarry. Allow me to raise this resounding anthem high, To honor, to unite, in hope’s enduring embrace.
💓
Paying tribute to my dad, mom, brother, and sister who were taken from me so soon, during the 1994 genocide against Tutsi, in Rwanda (4/7, 4/17, 4/24). 💓May their memories forever remain a blessing💓
Our new t-shirt & mask with a new logo, at Our Center in Rwanda, setting up new laptops. Dec 2021
How do I even begin? It has been a little over 9 years since the idea of starting a nonprofit first came to me. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I lived in North Carolina at the time, and had been at Cisco for less than 2 years. I remember pondering over names that I felt would fit the mission of the work I had on my mind: how do I use my personal story to encourage & be a blessing to others? The name “Rising Above the Storms (RAS)” was born.
However, I also understood that doing this nonprofit thing meant entering some uncharted waters; for example the vulnerability that might come with sharing a personal tragic story to strangers I may never meet in person. In tandem, I also launched this personal blog, initially called a Soothing Voice, and later changed to Beauty for Ashes (Isaiah 61:3).
The early days of RAS were unequivocally slow, rightfully so. Albeit, 9 years down the road, I can safely say that I didn’t fully grasp the burden of launching a nonprofit while early on my career as a female engineer, with zero leadership experience. While it might sound cliché, all I was armed with was a vision and a passion. And 9+ years later, I am still as passionate, and more hopeful.
While I mostly winged it, there’s one thing I fully understood from the beginning: I absolutely had no budget to spend upfront. I couldn’t afford a lawyer to help with putting together our ByLaws, Articles of Incorporation and file them with the State. For that reason, I decided to take my sweet time with everything. I built our first website from scratch, got approved by the State of North Carolina and opened a bank account, all by myself.
The next step, if I had to start receiving donations, it was critical that I get the public charity status with the Internal Revenue Services first. The application was probably the most challenging part of the process with the amount of information it required. This time, a friend helped me! However, struggling to understand differences, Rising Above the Storms was first approved as a Private Foundation in 2016. This meant that we couldn’t solicit donations; immediately, I had to file for an amendment and shortly after we were a public charity the same year and ready to rock and roll 😀
Speaking at our Gala in September 2016 in Raleigh, NC
The upside to all this is that you learn so much when you do everything from scratch; while this post’s intention isn’t to share the wisdom and lessons learned, but if I had to write one thing now it would be this: if you start a nonprofit, alone, with no funds to do the preliminary work, it might be wise NOT to combine it with a full time, demanding job. Although I have to say that I love the idea of having a career so that all funds for RAS go directly to where they need to be. Another mistake I made early on was my inability to discern talents I needed due lack of time or luxury to be selective when it came to volunteers. Consequently, I’ve had to rely on friends who absolutely cared for my vision, but didn’t necessarily have the skill I needed to advance my mission. Being at the mercy of whoever is willing to give it a try is not a good feeling!
Our team showing off our new t-shirts and new logo
Please don’t get me wrong; I am eternally indebted to everyone who had served as a guinea pig at the beginning of this journey. It definitely shaped the way we do things today and helped us get us started. But if I could do it over again, there are things I would do differently. I’d just have a concrete business plan before embarking in this incredible journey. Because I sure didn’t have one in place.
We navigated from small fundraiser events, to a successful gala to a canceled one to building a solid Board and team of volunteers. Surprisingly, 2020 was our best year yet in terms of fundraising. It’s been a game changer to watch how much can be done when you are surrounded by people who are both talented and equally passionate about the vision and mission of an organization. Everyone starts from somewhere.
Our partnership with Amahoro (Peace Builders) that launched a Learning Center in January 2017 with 11 children found on the streets in Rwanda keeps growing, with most children joined in the past 1.5 years, which unfortunately is a consequence of the pandemic. Most children are boys, ranging between 12-16 years old. Numbers go up and down but the majority of children have remained consistent. Today, we have over 50 children who attend on regular basis. Also, as of November 2021, we launched a year-long partnership with Westcon-Comstor Subsaharan Africa to expand our Computer Lab, sponsor 10 children, as well as building a longterm strategy for a lasting impact on the children through mentorship.
Finally, in 2021, we launched a new logo, gear, and a new website. Through an anonymous donor, we shipped items worth over US$10k to Rwanda from the US worth that includes soccer gear, school material, shoes and clothes for the kids.
Here is a good chart we did in the fall of 2021. Number of kids go up and down at any given time!
All in all, we have come along way, as an organization, me personally and our kids in Rwanda. But we still have a long way to go. Like a lot of organizations and companies, the vision evolves. We’ve had to shift focus from time to time. An example was my assumption on how education would look like for our youth. I figured they all would be like me: go from high school, to college and grad school and professional career. This couldn’t be far from the reality on the ground: as you see from the stats above, more than a half of our kids’ grades don’t even hit 50%. It was eye opening for me.
The truth is that education for some of them will perhaps look different; while ideally we want everyone to finish high school at minimum, we watch very closely and monitor their progress. Our focus will shift to trade careers and job skills training to prepare them for the job market. Only a handful may make it to a traditional university. In fact, our very first high school – university bound candidate Idrissa – graduated last year. He’s interested in mechanical engineering. I look forward to seeing wonderful things he will do for himself, his family and community.
With Idrissa (our first college bound graduate), with his two siblings (Amina & Hussein). They all have been part of our Rwanda program since the beginning, January 2017). Picture taken in Dec 2021
In the end, the important thing is that they gain experience or learn a skill that will better their lives and those around them. I am eternally grateful to everyone who has contributed from small to great thing to Rising Above the Storms. I have met and I am blessed to be surrounded by many generous people who have made RAS a possibility. They are too many to number for sure.
It would be a very remiss not to mention one person in particular: my adopted mother Glori who’s a gift from heaven (check out this post I wrote about her). When I first shared with her about my vision to start RAS, she immediately gave me a donation check. I chuckle about it because back then I was not ready to accept donations. However, her reasoning was that eventually I’d get to put it to a good use. The first few deposits to our RAS checking account, in a few thousands of dollars, have all been from her. She believed in me even before I believed in myself. To say that my new parents have changed my life is an understatement.
So many people to thank who have poured into RAS with their expertise, time and finances. If I wrote each one, it’d be pages and pages. But let me just say that they are appreciated more than they will ever know. I pray for God’s blessings for each one!
2021 Christmas Celebration. Pictured above are the top performers in their class this past year
Will you join us today in this incredible journey? You can change a kid’s life. There are many ways you can join our journey:
You can sponsor a K-12 student at $50 a month. This amount covers basic needs for a child to participate in life changing programs at the Center
You can buy and wear an item from our collection, powered by the Cisco Store; Cisco goes above and beyond to ensure their employees are cared for, professionally and individually. Giving back is in our Cisco’s DNA
You can share and like our social media pages found at the bottom of our RAS page.
I am so thankful to everyone who contributes to making my dream of being a blessing to the most vulnerable youth come true. I look forward to 2022 with hope and anticipation! God bless!
When I was growing up, just like most of Rwandans then, for some reasons, I thought that Rwanda was the biggest country ever. It goes way back in history. “Rwanda” comes from “Kwanda“, which means “gettinglarger or expanding“. After I moved to the United States, I of course abandoned the idea. Rwanda is nearly the size of the state of Massachusetts.
Also, I am still convinced that everyone in Rwanda believed in God when I was growing up. Many songs and expressions in Kinyarwanda simply reflected “the God of Rwanda” that spent the day in other countries but definitely came home to Rwanda every night. In fact, most last names in Rwanda carried “God” or “Imana” in it. For instance, my maiden name Imaniraguha, means, “God gives you”, and many many others.
Unfortunately, Rwandan artists also later wrote that God didn’t come to Rwanda on April 7th, 1994. That Thursday morning (ironically this year 2016 exactly matches days of 1994) marked the beginning of an ethnic cleansing, the 1994 genocide against the minority Tutsi group (15% of the population of about 7 millions then).
Personally, as I have written in many posts, although the genocide against the Tutsi lasted about 100 days, April is a unique month in mine and my 3 surviving siblings’ lives. By Sunday April 24th, 1994, I had already lost my parents and two of my siblings. One mourning song especially conveys the degree of my grief, my prayer, my hope. It’s called Hear Me God. Click here to take a listen: Nyumva Mana (Hear me God) by Suzanne Nyiranyamibwa.
Unfortunately it’s in Kinyarwanda; however, below is my attempt to transcript the lyrics in English. Although the song is possibly nearly 2 decades old, it has been my favorite for so many reasons!
♪♫Hear me God, Hear me God, Please Hear me, God of Rwanda.
Keep me from having rancor and rid me of a heart of vengeance. Let Justice roll, and please end oppression in our country.
Hear me God (x2)!
Although many years come to pass, my heart is still stricken with grief! I look everywhere and my sight has no end. And when I call out for someone, echoes answer me, instead!
Hear me God (x2)!
My father! I didn’t bury him! My Mother! I didn’t see her on a deathbed! Many relatives, children and true friends, were killed without a crime and I was left all alone!
Hear me God!
One who could be on my side was taken away in this tsunami, too. They robbed me of love and wrapped me in sorrow. I escaped without hope as the enemy watched!
Hear me God!
Your chosen ones were murdered because of how you created them. Please seat them near you in Your Palace of Life, relieve them of pain and rest them in peace!
Hear me God!
Lord of Mercy, hear me I am begging You. Please come quickly, win over the enemy and protect me with Your Shield. Bless Rwanda with great things and get rid of all bitterness among us!
Hear me God, Please Hear me, God of Rwanda.
Keep me from having rancor and rid me of a heart of vengeance. Let Justice roll, and please end oppression in our country!
Hear me God (x4). Please Hear me, God of Rwanda
Aerial View of Kanombe, near the International Airport in Kigali
“But those who wait on the Lord, shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31
“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”~ Revelations 21:4
“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”~ Revelations 21:4
It’s almost February and April is around the corner. Oh how I anxiously wait for this month all year around! Why is April a big deal? Because it will be the 22nd anniversary of the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda, in which I lost my beloved parents and 2 of my siblings. Unfortunately, although a lot has happened since then, it still feels like it was yesterday to me!
Though I still grieve for them with a deep sorrow and always will, however, I have encountered someone who has deeply touched my shattered heart with a mighty healing power and gave me a reason to rejoice forever: my Lord and King Jesus! He has turned my mourning into dancing! Therefore, I grieve with hope!
That’s my prayer for anyone who has lost someone close, especially tragically. I know how you feel!
“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” ~ Romans 12:15
My Dearly Beloved Parents
Today, I am again reminded that life is extremely short and that tomorrow is NOT guaranteed! I knew that already, but my weary heart needs a constant reminder. This evening, I learned of a death of someone so young and full of life. This young man was a newlywed to an extremely beautiful young woman who is a close friend to my family in Rwanda.
He died of a motorcycle accident, the most popular means of public transportation in Rwanda, besides buses. Quite frankly, a cruel fact may be that those commercial motorcycles probably claim more lives than any other cause of death in Rwanda.
I weep so deep with this very young widow. My heart breaks for her, her family and many whose loved ones have been taken away so suddenly. This life begs more questions than answers unfortunately. You may have many examples. My prayer is that the whole world will come to know how much God loves us despite our circumstances. That’s very important.
You see, the Bible tells me that one day, God will make everything new, and wipe away all our tears. Our mourning will be no more. This gives me hope! And that we will see again all those who died in the Lord, in the new life that knows no sorrow.
There, hatred, discrimination, accidents, killings, injustice, tragedies, natural disasters, diseases, illness, hunger, wars, all will lose battle. Love & peace will be victorious and eternal life will be our song forever!
“Then I heard a voice from heaven saying to me,“Write: ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.“Yes,” says the Spirit, “that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.” ~Revelations 14:13
Father God, I pray that You’ll comfort all those who are grieving & hurting. You alone are their Strength, Shield and Salvation. You are capable of consoling them even when the outpouring sympathy & support is not enough. Will You send them Peace, surround them with Your unfailing Love and Kindness! Will You be their only Joy, Hope and Refuge! Now and always!
In Jesus name! Amen!
“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”~ Revelations 21:4
“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river, and will not fear when heat comes; but its leaf will be green, and will not be anxious in the year of drought, nor will cease from yielding fruit.” Jeremiah 17:7-8
Sometimes, when I share my experience during the 1994 Rwandan genocide against the Tutsiand its aftermath, my audience often asks me what I struggled the most with after the loss I endured. I have talked about the pain of watching my siblings especially my youngest sister Mireille who doesn’t recall much about our childhood or our loved ones we lost during the genocide against the minority Tutsi ethnic group in Rwanda. This truly breaks my heart. I also talk about how God enabled me to forgive my family members’ killers. However, there is something else I don’t say often.
Trusting people does not come to me easily. As I talk more about my personal life, my failures and fears, although I must admit that it has been both challenging and thrilling, it has certainly helped me with healing and forgiving. I am very thankful for another chance I have been given to life and the great opportunity to be able to share my story with all kinds of people. It may help someone. However, I still struggle to trust people.
It’s still painful to grasp that neighbors who spoke the same language, whose children we attended the same school and played together, worshiped at the same mass every Sunday, would murder their fellow neighbors, people who meant the world to me. It hurts so badly to feel abandoned by relatives when you’re young and need them the most. It changes everything when love is taken away from you at a very young age and people who should care don’t feel empathy toward your horrifying circumstances.
It absolutely hurts when a friend you trust so much lets you down or people you rely on are not there when you need them the most. It is disappointing when you share a personal struggle with someone but they don’t take it seriously. It hurts when you have expectations for certain people and trust them but they turn their back on you when you need them. It is heartbreaking when a religious leader you look up to turns out to be your worst nightmare.The list goes on..
The truth is that, people will probably let you down. Unfortunately some people change and we often make wrong choices. We are human beings and the devil takes advantage of our weaknesses. But also, Timothy explains what is to come:
“But understand this, that in the last days, there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people”2 Timothy 3:1-5
Nonetheless, you’re not meant to place your trust in your friends; there is not a single person in this world who is perfect. On the contrary, you are called to love everyone unconditionally and put your TRUST in GOD alone. He is the only one who will NOT: disappoint you, let you down, turn his back on you, forget about you, leave you as orphan, irritate you, or delay.
You can trust that God understands your pain better than anyone else and that He will come to your rescue. Even though people may not be there for you, God will never let you down! You can trust Him fully and fix your eyes on Him! When you feel all alone and disappointed, remember that you are not into this alone. You can trust God with all your life!
Although it is a great weakness of mine to open up and trust easily, God Has been patient with me. He Has enabled me to trust Him completely first and foremost, and to forgive when people I am able to trust let me down. His Grace has also been overflowing through seeking forgiveness when I am not there for those who need me the most. Thank God for His wonderful promises we have been given:
“Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, Yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me.” Isaiah 49: 15-16
“Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever.” Psalm 125:1
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior”. Isaiah 43: 2-3
Beauty for Ashes 