Precious Moments

**I gave this talk while home in the States for Christmas.


Precious Moments.

This is a brand name for a collection of super adorable figurines that tug on the heartstrings. What about the broken moments we almost hesitate to label as precious? Do they tug on our hearts as well?

Today, I am going to explore some of my Precious and "Can I please get a refund on the precious part" Moments that I have had in Rwanda.

There are some moments that are so precious, you wish you could capture them in a glass bottle and savor them. For example, a 1st grader praying intently for people that don't know Jesus in a country they can't even pronounce. Or laughing so hard you are going to be sick, among fabulous missionary friends. Or how about when 7th grade boys think talking about the guillotine in history is disgusting! Falling asleep to Lake Kivu gently tumbling onto the rocky shore. Precious, is the word that pops into my mind, when I think of my students. Precious pops into mind when I say Rwanda.

Now, are these perfect? No, kids have bad days, lakes can be stormy, Rwanda has had its fair share of rough weather. I've experienced some personal "give me my money back on that so called preciousness" moments in Rwanda. Homesickness. Isolation from loved ones. Inability to speak the language. Of course there is health. I was blessed my first several months to not have any health issues.

In early December that changed. I found out I had amoebic cysts. Amoebas are pesky parasites, but the cysts are round balls of them, wanting to jump out and invade, like the invaders inside the Trojan Horse. So those were not fun, but the real problem came with a medicine I was prescribed.

On a Monday morning, my neck began getting stiff and I could only look one direction, and I felt as though I was ticking. Thankfully, a family that attends our school, the father is a Doctor. I was able to go and meet with him. As time wore on, I began to grind my teeth, clenching my jaw, I felt as if I was unable to speak. I was able to verbalize to the doctor that I felt like I was having a stroke. It was the only thing I could really compare it to.

He gave me some Benadryl, and I lay down, praying the 23rd Psalm over and over again, with nothing else to do about this situation but pray. When I woke up, I woke up rejoicing--the symptoms had ceased. I was bright eyed and bushy tailed and was in awe of God's healing. My mind couldn't wrap itself around how awesome our God is.

That night I struggled with panic of the same thing happening again, I would almost fall asleep, then sit up gasping for air as I felt panic come on. This happened for quite some time, until one moment when I felt a hand grasp my hand, Jesus held my hand. What started as a give me my refund moment, changed into a Precious Moment. HE was there, HE knew the pain I was in. Then he reminded me, through touching my palm, that HE went through much more suffering out of love for ME, and for billions upon billions of people.

One of my favorite quotes is: "God specializes in creating masterpieces out of broken pieces" by Harold Ivan Smith. I was a broken piece in many ways before I went to Rwanda. I was grasping to rely on God, grasping for purpose, grasping for the 'happiness' the world tells us we need. Through various moments God is molding me and continues to mold me. Am I masterpiece? No way! But the thought reminds me of story that my dear friend, Betty Jean Penrose told me. The story was about how God is the master weaver that makes us into beautiful masterpieces, but our view is from the underneath so all I can see is the threads. But when we get to heaven...ohhhhh boy! It is going to be a beautiful. And the black of that day of my health will look perfect next to the ripe red cheeks of the faces of my students.