It's the evening of April 7th.
It's been 24 hours since the plane was shot down and roadblocks were erected to start the end of the decades journey to a genocide - 26 years ago.
One million+ people would be killed in 100 days.
It was the rainy season.
This afternoon it rained and my mind wondered just how people survived.
How does one hide in a swamp, up a tree, in tall grasses as it's raining out?
It would be cold, muddy, slippery, isolating, terrifying...
A week or so ago they found another mass grave.
They say it could contain 30,000 people.
Just how does one wrap their mind around that?
It continues to be all a bit hard to imagine, though I've heard so many real life stories from real people who have survived.
Today because of COVID-19, Rwanda could not gather together to remember, unite and renew physically but we were together in spirit.
It was a quiet day. I'm not sure I heard the birds sing today.
My mind and heart are heavy for all those who survived.
Those who are alone.
Those that don't have people to encourage, bring life, and just sit with them ...
God have mercy.
Rwandans are resilient people but the trauma is deep.
Only God can put His hand on ones soul and heal.
God, continue to heal this land.
