Oh, Olivia!

For those of you who aren't familiar with Olivia, I highly suggest you click here: Meet Olivia Manirafasha, for an introduction to our sweet girl and here: An Olive Tree in the House of the Lord, for an incredible update on her story!

“Oh, Olivia.” I sometimes whisper those words with a smile when I see her precious face.

After all, it’s kind of hard not to fall in love with those shining eyes and that crooked-toothed grin! And when I realized that it’s been months since I last gave you all an “Olivia update” I couldn’t wait to dig up some new pictures of her! Our precious girl has been thriving since her family’s transition to their new home. As I shared with you in my previous update, An Olive Tree in the House of the Lord, Olivia has received medical treatment at a well-known orthopedic center in Rilima and she is now walking all over the place!

She was quite the star at Shelter Them’s Christmas party that was held for all of our children! Isn’t she precious?

I still find myself shaking my head at her total transformation. From a helpless, crippled child crawling through the gutters with no hope and no future, Olivia has opened her arms to embrace the possibilities and is taking over her world with her dimpled grin. She pushes herself in every way. She hasn’t let her past hold her down, not one bit… and there’s far more to that mind of hers than we first realized.

When our team first met Olivia, they were told that she was physically and mentally handicapped. In the above photo, her mother supports her as she tries to dance to the music. She was completely unable to stand on her own. But as I studied the photos and videos more closely, I started believing that “mentally handicapped” was an unfair label. Olivia displays signs of cerebral palsy, which doesn’t affect a person’s intelligence at all. How terrible, I thought, with everyone thinking you are mentally challenged. Locked in a body that won’t obey you, trapped by a faltering tongue, and with poverty shoving you down and refusing to allow you a voice. My suspicions were confirmed when I watched a video of Olivia and Jules, who runs the Rwanda branch of Shelter Them, having a conversation about the family’s then-recent move.

Jules: “What should we tell the twins?”

Olivia: “We moved!”

Jules: “You moved?”

Olivia: “Yes!”

Jules: “How is your new place?”

Olivia: “We moved to a very beautiful place!”

Jules: “What should we tell them?”

Olivia: “Thank you and may God bless you!”

That, I thought, doesn’t sound like a mentally handicapped child to me. That sounds like a normal child her age… well, one who has never had a chance at any kind of education anyways; especially if she was treated as less-than-intelligent.

As it turns out, I was right… because as soon as Olivia finished her treatment at Rilima Othopedics Center and began walking, our team turned to the next thing on the “Olivia Bucket List”; school!

In the words of Jules; “I remember her asking me: ‘Uncle, will you take me to school? Will you buy me books?’ Her statement pushed me to go for seeking appropriate school for her.”

It wasn’t long after that that we got the news: A school had been found, and Olivia had taken a big step forward and begun the 100 km journey away from her family to attend a boarding school for special-needs students.

In the above picture, Olivia (on the left) stands with a new friend and classmate that she met at school. Our little “butterfly girl” is bursting out of her cocoon and soaring off to new adventures! With an education, nothing will be able to hold her back… I dream of seeing her become a motivational speaker and/or advocate for handicapped children.

Looking at this photo, it’s amazing how far she’s come… in just two years, Olivia has gone from being a “gutter child” with no future to a sassy, confident diva with a heart-stopping grin! Even her physical stature is changing… she’s grown so much taller and stronger.

No longer can we call Olivia "handicapped"… I think she’s proven herself to be more than “handi-capable!”

I just can’t wait to see where her journey takes her next!

They Call Her Mama Jesus (Part 2)

This is the second installment of a two-part series. You can read Part 1 here: PART ONE

On Sunday morning, I again arrived as early as possible at the venue, not wanting to miss one moment of the excitement. As our band, Driftwood Cross, ran through our song list, I watched my friends and family trickle in. I noticed that Mama gave me a special smile and wave when she came in, and I glowed.

When you spend any amount of time with Jo and Jo (and now Mama too) you’ll quickly discover that they are amazing singers and worshippers. Their voices blend and weave together with such exquisite harmony that you’ll feel like you’ve been lifted into Heaven by angels. So when the girls requested that we add “How Great Thou Art” to our morning song line-up and offered to sing it in Kinyarwanda, we quickly agreed.

Isaiah 56:7 says, “My House will be called a house of prayer for all nations.” As the band sang in English and Jocelyne, Josephine, and Mama Jo accompanied us in Kinyarwanda, it felt like a small piece of Heaven had come down to earth. I believe we were given a glimpse of the day when every nation, tribe, and tongue will gather together in praise to our Father.

After our time of worship, Mama Jo began to speak. Josephine stood close by and acted as translator as Mama expounded on the Scriptures and told stories from her life. One thing that Mama said really stood out to me. “We are like a glass that the Lord fills with water. But in order for the Lord to keep filling us, we need to pour some out. Otherwise we will just sit, full of blessings but never giving any away and never receiving anything new. When we pour out of our time, resources, money, or whatever He has blessed us with; then He will continue to fill us.”

As Mama talked, I delighted in listening and watching her. Wearing a flowing, traditional African dress and shawl, she stood as erect as a queen. Listening to her low, slightly husky voice, I smiled whenever she said a word that I knew. Imana (God), imbabazi (mercy), amazi (water) and even amafaranga (money)! I marveled that this saint of God had come all the way across the ocean to teach us. It was kind of like having Mother Teresa in our midst.

Even after Mama finished her message, her words kept playing over and over again in my mind. They were so simple, yet profound. In order to receive, we must give… But then again, serving God is like that. The first shall be last, and the last, first. In order to find your life, you must lose it. We cannot be made whole until we become broken. It’s the opposite of the world’s system… which is why it works. Man could never invent something that sounds so illogical… giving to get. Dying to live. Losing to find. It sounds crazy, but it’s so simple. And it’s so beautiful.

That’s one of the reasons why I can hardly wait for my trip to Rwanda… I can’t wait to be broken. So I can finally become whole.

That evening, after the hustle and bustle of the day, a small group of us gathered at the home of friends Sherry and David, to enjoy a time of fellowship with Jocelyne, Josephine, and Mama Jo. I love to sit and listen to a group of friends talking together… you learn so much by just observing the way people interact with each other.

During the course of the night, as friends continued to arrive, we started to run out of space for chairs. David solved that problem by taking a seat on the floor next to Mama. It reminded me of one of the wishes I’d made my blog post Hurry Up and Wait; to sit at the feet of some of these precious Rwandan women and learn from them. At first I wrestled with the notion; it’s one thing to think something but quite another to do it, especially in front of a roomful of people. But it didn’t take me long to decide, “If David gets up and moves, I’m sitting next to Mama.”

My chance came soon enough when David excused himself from the room for a minute. At the moment I didn’t care how foolish I looked; I quickly got down on the floor and scooted next to Mama’s knee. When David returned, he gave me a surprised look; I just grinned and said, “You find your own place, I’m sitting with Mama.” A round of laughter greeted that remark.

Mama squeezed my shoulders gently and then began playing with my hair. As the night wore on there were stories told, laughter shared, and even a few tears cried; but not for the world would I leave my spot on the floor. Even though I began to get stiff after a while, I scarcely dared move as Mama moved her fingers in small circles across my shoulders and gently slid her hands in and out of my hair.

At one point Josephine, who was sitting next to us, leaned over and told me, “She loves your hair. You know that, right?” She also remarked that Mama had never seen a muzungu (white person) with red hair like mine.

Finally, quite a while into the evening, after most of the stories had been shared, I gathered up my nerve and leaned over to Jocelyne, who was sitting on the other side of Mama. “Can I say something?” I asked.

Immediately Jocelyne called out, “Everybody listen, Hannah has something to share!”

I was flustered at the sudden attention, but explained, “You all know that when I first moved to Newfoundland over three years ago…has it really been that long?! Anyway, I’d hardly heard of Rwanda before… it was just a country to me. Then I moved here and Sherry and Dave were always talking about Rwanda, and then I began to get involved with it all, and then it became my passion. But I have to say…” Here I choked up, but struggled to keep going as Jocelyne translated, “…that one of my dreams was always, from the beginning, to meet Mama Jo and sit at her feet like I’m doing now. Because she is such a godly woman, and to me she is a saint… so one of my dreams is coming true, here and now.”

By this time my tears were streaming, and Mama leaned over and wrapped her arms around me and held me as I cried into the crook of her arm. She began to murmur in Kinyarwanda, and Jocelyne translated for me; “She says you are one of her daughters too now. She can’t wait for you to come to Rwanda and visit her, and she says her house will always be open to you. You may have to sleep on the floor, but she wants you to come.”

It was such a precious and holy moment. It was like this had been ordained from the beginning; that on this night, I would be “grafted in” to a precious family in my heart country of Rwanda.

As Mama continued to stroke my hair, she began to speak to all of us. Josephine jumped in to translate. “She says that her passport is now good for the next four years, and she says if God wills, she will be back again. She says that all of you are her family, and that Open Door is now her church. She also says that the next time she visits, she won’t visit her daughters in Ontario but will fly straight to Newfoundland…” A roar of laughter greeted that remark.

So, as we hugged goodbye at the end of the evening, there was no sadness even though our Rwandan family would be flying back to Ontario the next morning. There were only joyful exclamations of “See you in Rwanda in ten months!” Usually “goodbye” means the end… but in this case, “goodbye” is really only the beginning of a whole new adventure, and a big step along the Path that was laid out for me by the Carpenter from Galilee.

They Call Her Mama Jesus (Part 1)

If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you will have heard me mention Shelter Them, the ministry in Rwanda that I’m so passionate about. I’ve written about Jocelyne and Josephine, the twin girls who started Shelter Them (you can read their miraculous story HERE) and I’ve shared the excitement of their visits to Newfoundland (read the details of one of those trips HERE). Life is never boring with the twins around, so when they made plans to visit Newfoundland this month, I got ready for fun!

I love hearing the girls’ stories of their family back in Rwanda; most notably their mother, Mama Jo. Since both Josephine and Jocelyne often go by the nickname “Jo,” we call their mother, Sumwiza Cesarie, “Mama Jo” or simply, “Mama.” But in Rwanda, she is also called by another name.

They call her Mama Jesus.

You see, Mama Jo has a reputation for taking in street children, pregnant teens, hungry mothers with children, and anyone else who comes across her path. She lives in a modest two-bedroom house, but her home is almost always filled with people sleeping on mattresses in every corner. Mama says, “It doesn’t matter if there are ten other people standing around with me. Someone will tap my shoulder and say, ‘I am hungry and I have no place to go. I see you are a godly person, will you help me?’”

And Mama always says yes. She has been stolen from on numerous occasions, because when you take strangers into your house there are no guarantees. She has been taken advantage of many times, but yet she keeps on giving. Besides her own ten children, who are now grown up and have left home, she is also raising five other children as her own. And besides that, she also runs the Shelter Them Batarure office along with her son Jules and his wife. Quite simply, they call her Mama Jesus (in Kinyarwanda, Mama Yesu) because she is His hands and feet in Rwanda.

I longed to meet her.

There’s something about stories the girls told me that drew me to her. My friends David and Sherry, who know her through their visits to Rwanda, told me how good and kind she was, how sweet and loving. I wished I could have the privilege of sitting at her feet and learning from this dear lady who, I felt was a saint in every sense of the word.

But Mama was in Rwanda, and although she had applied for a passport to visit Canada many times, the answer was always, “No.” For fifteen long years the girls tried to bring her for a visit. They visited her in Rwanda as often as they could, but they hoped that someday she would see their “adopted” country for herself.

And then one day, the miracle happened, and Mama’s passport was approved. She was on her way to Canada!

I was beyond excited when I heard that during the course of Mama’s three month visit, Jo and Jo were bringing her to Newfoundland. I knew she didn’t speak any English, and of course I only know a little bit of Kinyarwanda, but I began practicing in earnest so I could at least greet her in her own language.

Finally, the day came when I was to meet her. Our church, Open Door, held a meet-and-greet for Mama and the girls, with finger foods and music provided by our band, Driftwood Cross. I was one of the first people to arrive, so eager to see my Rwandan sisters again and meet Mama Jo that I simply couldn’t wait!

I’m a withdrawn person by nature, so rather than bounce up to Mama and introduce myself, I hung around in the background and watched her as she conversed with her daughters and with others. She was just like her pictures… beautiful and elegant.

Finally Sherry noticed me standing there and asked, “Have you met Mama yet?” I believe I was too overwhelmed to say anything, so I just shook my head. Of course, Sherry grabbed my hand in hers and tugged me towards Mama. And then she turned and looked at me… and I blurted out, “Witwa Mama Yesu!” (Your name is Mama Jesus!) And all of us broke out in laughter as Mama’s face lit up and she hugged me.

I don’t think anything could have prepared me for how loving she was… as she crooned in Kinyarwanda and touched my face and my hair, Jocelyne translated, “She says you are so beautiful, and she is so happy to meet you!” And when Josephine told her that my chosen Rwandan name was Uwimana, (meaning "daughter (or son) of God") she lit up with delight. Jo translated, "She says that is such a beautiful name, she loves that name!" We conversed for a few minutes, with Mama grasping my hand and speaking directly to me in Kinyarwanda, and me smiling and looking to the girls for help understanding. I could see now who Jocelyne and Josephine get their beautiful, affectionate personalities from!

As the night wore on, I was more and more impressed with Mama’s passionate faith and humble spirit. With Josephine acting as translator, she expressed her love to everyone who attended the gathering and told us, “I am so amazed and humbled that you would all leave your warm homes and come out on a night like this just to meet us...”

By the close of the evening, I felt like Mama was part of my family. As I prepared to leave, I put my arms around Mama and told her, “Ndabakunda cyane.” (I love you so much.) She replied with the same words, and I was so thankful that I had taken time to learn a few things in Kinyarwanda so that we could share at least a few words of conversation with each other. We gave each other one last squeeze, and then I left the building, anticipating the next day’s adventures!

This is the first installment of a two-part series. Click here for Part 2: PART TWO

An Olive Tree In The House Of The Lord

"But I am like a green olive tree in the House of God; I trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever."

~Psalm 52:8

When you think of a symbol of peace, what do you think of? A dove, a white poppy, a peace sign, an olive branch?

When I think about a symbol of peace, here’s what I see:

To the casual observer, she’s just an ordinary little girl. And in many ways, she is; she lives with her mother, father, and two younger sisters. Like most little girls, she’s curious, playful, and loves to be the center of attention. She loves affection and hugs. Sometimes she snorts when she giggles. She has a charming smile and an adorable way of looking away and then peeking at you out of the corner of her eye. And she’s brave and tenacious.

She’s also my hero.

Her name is Olivia, which means “olive tree.” And like her namesake, she has had to be tougher and more resilient than most children.

You see, Olivia was born handicapped, to parents living in poverty. In Rwanda, having a handicapped child is not as easy as it is here. There is often a lack of medical care and parental support. Olivia’s mother had to stay at home to care for her daughter, all the while dealing with neighbors who said that Olivia would never be anything and who could not understand this faithful Mama’s dedication to her child. They often told Olivia’s family to just leave their little girl at some rich person’s gate; to get rid of her.

One day, while Olivia’s father was away doing a menial job, Olivia’s mother left the house to try to find some food for her children. As she returned, she noticed that Olivia had crawled too close to the river and was about to fall in. As Olivia’s mama rushed to save her daughter, a neighbor called out, “You should either carry it on your back or leave it somewhere else! Or… just let your hunger kill all of you!” Olivia’s Mama’s heart was broken by those words and she vowed to stay with her daughter and never leave her. But her heart was crying out for a miracle; for God to come and save them from their poverty and hopelessness. Little did she know that her disabled child would become the key to unlock poverty’s door.

"He will fulfill the desire of those who fear Him;

He also will hear their cry, and will save them."

~Psalm 145:19

In November 2012, a team of Canadians traveled to Rwanda with an organization called Shelter Them, a ministry that cares for orphans and vulnerable children. While on their three week visit, they were able to distribute several wheelchairs to needy families who could not afford one. Olivia was one of the children chosen to receive a chair.

The next day, the mission team decided to visit one of the families who had received a wheelchair. Jules, who helps to run the Shelter Them office in Kigali Rwanda, knew that Olivia lived nearby and offered to guide the team to her home.

What they saw, shocked them.

Five people were living in a tiny mud hut smaller than most Canadian bedrooms. Olivia’s father, an unskilled worker, had taken two jobs to try to feed his family but was still unable to provide for them. Olivia herself was forced to scoot on her backside, her usual method of traveling, through the mud and sewage that flowed around the tiny house.

It was an eye-opening experience for the team, who had never seen such shocking poverty.

The above picture is of two of the team members after leaving Olivia’s house, too devastated by her family’s condition to do anything but weep. They vowed to get her out, no matter what it took.

When God’s people come together, mighty things happen.

Just one month later, Olivia’s family was given the surprise of their life: a brand-new rental house, paid for by donations from people all across Canada.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Recently, Olivia was taken to the St. Mary of Rilima Pediatric  Orthopedic Center to receive medical attention. No one could have guessed that this little butterfly of a girl with sparkling eyes, forced to crawl on the ground like a caterpillar her entire life, was about to burst out of her cocoon.

What you see here has no other explanation than “God does miracles.” You’re seeing correctly… Olivia is standing, alone and unaided, for the first time in her nine years of life. And she is not just standing, but walking! Oh, she still stumbles and falls on occasion, and she struggles mightily at times to keep her balance, nearly contorting herself in an effort to remain upright, but she is doing it… one wobbly step at a time. Her determination is unbelievable; when she loses her balance, she catches herself, slowly gets to her feet, and forges on. And each time she does, she gets a little stronger.

I wonder, sometimes, if Olivia’s mama knew what a prophetic name she was giving her newborn daughter. The olive tree for which she was named is famous for its ability to grow no matter what the circumstances. Olive trees are virtually indestructible, their gnarled and twisted trunks proving to be one of the strongest types of wood. They remain untouched by storms, wind, and even fire, living for millennia. An olive tree is seen as a symbol of peace, wisdom, glory, strength, and purity. Perhaps it should also be seen as a symbol of hope; the same hope that gives strength to a little brown-eyed girl and keeps her looking ever onwards and upwards.

And I think to myself, if this little child can keep on pressing forward and reaching for her dreams, then what prevents the rest of us from rising above our most impossible circumstances and giving Glory to the very Lord who created the mighty olive tree thousands of years before a little handicapped girl would bear its name?

And if this little girl can keep smiling through situations that no child should have to experience, what prevents us from doing the same?

Each time we look at Olivia’s precious face, may she be a symbol of hope, of resilience, of bravery, and of strength.

Click this link to view a video of Olivia walking! Olivia Can Walk!

May she continue to grow healthy and strong; an olive branch in the House of her Lord.

SPONSORSHIP SUNDAY: Meet Olivia Manirafasha!

Welcome to post number eleven of Sponsorship Sunday! Each Sunday, the Path of the Carpenter features one child in Rwanda who is being helped through Shelter Them, a non-profit licensed organization in both Canada and Rwanda. Sponsorship is just $40 Canadian ($38 U.S.) per month, and 100% of your money goes directly to your child. None is taken out for administrative or other purposes. Because many of our children are orphans or have been abandoned, we provide everything: food, clothing, housing, medical care, education, etc., for our children. For this reason, each child will require four sponsors. Our goal right now is for each child to have one sponsor by the end of this year.

Today I want to introduce you to a little girl who is very close to my heart. Olivia Manirafasha is seven years old, and her birthday is April 28. Olivia is our “poster-child” for Shelter Them; her picture appears on all of our child sponsorship packets and many of our posters, flyers, etc. Olivia is one of the most beautiful children you’ll ever see. Her smile absolutely lights up the world, and she never seems to stop smiling. She is the sister to Florence, whom you can read about HERE.

Olivia is also disabled. We believe she may have cerebral palsy. When Shelter Them’s mission team first visited her house, they found her scooting on her backside through the gutter, unable to walk. The photo above was taken outside of the hut that Olivia’s family called home. Olivia’s mother, father, and their three children were living in this tiny shack smaller than most modern bedrooms. Olivia’s father is an unskilled labourer, and her mother had to stay home and care for their disabled daughter.

The above picture shows the area that Olivia’s family used to live in. When the Shelter Them team visited, they were stunned at the sheer poverty this family lived in. The Team had given a wheelchair to Olivia’s family at a special presentation; they were overwhelmed to discover that Olivia couldn’t even use her wheelchair because of the narrow passageways between shacks and the dirty gutter running on all sides. This disturbing scene soon became a call to action: we had to get them out.

When the Shelter Them mission team returned to Canada, the call when out for supporters to donate the cost of a rental house for Olivia’s family, to get them out of the slums. Jules, one of the wonderful people who heads up the ministry in Rwanda, was able to find a beautiful house for “our” family. It’s not perfect, but it’s so much better that the life they had before.

Above, you see Olivia’s Christmas surprise. Our Shelter Them team was able to work on the new house without her family knowing about it, and just before Christmas, Jules, Bright, Mama Jo, and the rest of our team surprised Olivia’s family with a brand-new home.  She has her own bedroom now, and her two sisters share a room. Mama Olivia and her husband also have their own room.

And here’s our precious girl herself, thanking everyone who made this possible. She is a bundle of joy!

And the best news of all? About a month ago we found out that Olivia is now receiving medical treatment and for the first time, she is learning to walk.

Will you continue the cycle by making sure that Olivia and her family never have to go back to living in the slums? Your sponsorship will help provide for her family and pay her medical bills so she is able to continue receiving help. Disability can be a death sentence in Rwanda… but with your help, Olivia is now looking forward to a future as bright as her angelic smile.

If you’d like to sponsor Olivia Manirafasha, or if you would like to view the rest of our children available for sponsorship, you can visit us here: Shelter Them Child Sponsorship.

Feel free to share this page with your family and friends so we can find her a sponsor!

And don’t forget to visit the Path of the Carpenter on Facebook!

MINE

You are mine. Why? Not because you grew inside me, joined to me physically. I have never felt your feet kicking just below my heart, nor thrilled to the knowledge that you were growing inside me. Nor have I given you your eyes, your hair, your laugh, or your skin. But you are mine.

Because when I close my eyes and think of you, and when you close your eyes and think of me; when our hands stretch across an ocean and beyond, our lives somehow inexplicably collide in a way that makes you not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone, but heart of my heart.

Because when God moved Heaven and earth to bring us together, nothing can change the fact that you are mine. And you are also HIS. And He gave you to me. And He gave me to you. Because we needed each other. Because somehow, through the eons of eternity, we were destined to be here. And “here” isn’t Canada. It isn’t Africa. It’s somewhere in our hearts; where every language is the same. And where we never have to say goodbye, because you are mine. I can’t lose you… not when I’ve already found you.

You are mine. And that means I would run through fire to find you. It means I would give every last breath to make sure you are okay. To make sure you know you are loved. It means that words like “me” and “you” don’t exist anymore. There is only “we” and “us.”

You are mine. And you are His. And I am His.

And we are ONE.