Well, we’re officially past the halfway point on our trip.

We’ve eaten spicy goat meat, finally nailed the pronunciation of the Rwandan greeting “amakuru”, spent an afternoon in a beautiful village where artisans taught us how to wash clothes and sort beans and designed accessories alongside new friends. I’ve fallen in love with an African coffee drink made from espresso, cocoa and spicy ginger, and “Next time I’m in Rwanda” has officially been added to things I say.

As a rookie international traveler, I felt an overwhelming sense of “just listen” preparing for this trip. Be kind and listen–take in, learn and say as little as possible because you hardly know anything.  I believe in people and the power of stories and the way that connecting these two together can make good things happen, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid that I might not express this experience and these stories as respectfully and beautifully as they deserve to be told. I’m far from an expert on any of the themes of this trip—African culture, Rwanda’s past, poverty, justice, empowerment, economic sustainability—and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said or written something and looked back to think, “Shit, wait. That didn’t come out right.” Given these two facts, I’m not a great candidate for a story-telling trip to Africa to draw attention to the important issues of women empowerment, justice and economic sustainability.

Photo credit: Paige Knudsen

Thankfully, Noonday doesn’t believe the lie so many of us tell ourselves—that in order to lend our voice to a cause or make an intention or believe that we can have anything to do with positive change, we have to be experts and can never make mistakes. And in order to help the vulnerable, we have to be plain and simple–definitely not women who care about shoes or highlights or the right nail polish color.

Photo credit: Paige Knudsen

Here’s my mantra on this trip: I believe I can make good things happen. 

My first tendency is to write that sentence as “I believe I can be involved in making good things happen” or “I believe I can help others make good things happen” or “I believe I can try to make good things happen” because—you know—humility. But after spending only four days listening to these phenomenal against-all-odds stories of women who made intentions and believed in them and showed up to make things happen, I realize how dangerous dream disclaimers are and how important it is to make powerful intentions, to believe in those intentions and to take actions to make them happen.

Yesterday, we had lunch with Jamie, a 14-year-old IJM client who believed her future was hopeless when IJM took on her case two years ago. At the time, Jamie was in the hospital recovering from a burn trauma that forced doctors to amputate her legs below her knees. With no family to care for her, Jamie believed she would never walk again, that she would never go to school and that no one would ever love her or take care of her. Brigette, one of IJM’s after care therapists who worked with Jamie, admits she had absolutely no idea how they’d find a place for Jamie to live or find a way for her to walk again, “I knew it would be nearly impossible, but—” she says, “I told her, ‘You will walk again. You will go to school again.’” Brigette believed she could make good things happen.

IJM prosecuted the perpetrators who victimized Jamie, found a rehabilitation center to care for her, partnered with donors to cover the cost of prosthetics and paid for her to attend a special school for students with disabilities where she’s currently living. And yesterday, we walked with Jamie. We listened as she told us about her dreams of becoming an orthopedic doctor so she can help other children like her. Jamie believes she can make good things happen.

If doubts of success or the reality of not having the resources or fear of making promises that couldn’t be met kept IJM’s case workers from fighting for Jamie, she wouldn’t be walking today.

So many women this week have admitted that they’ve had doubts and fears about their dreams as they made them. Artisans didn’t believe they’d ever find a job, IJM victims didn’t think anyone would want to help them, IJM staff didn’t know if they’d be able to find resources, Noonday wasn’t sure if they’d be able to build a company that could sustain artisans with business and writers questioned if anyone would ever want to read what they had to say.

Mama Ariel sewed this outfit herself with a sewing machine she was recently able to purchase for her home now that she has a job. She was so excited to take us to her bedroom to show us her sewing machine.

Baraka, another IJM Rwanda therapist, admitted yesterday that when IJM Rwanda began developing an after care plan for helping victims of sexual assault, there was so much they didn’t know. “It was new. We were learning as we practiced.”

I grabbed a pen and scribbled it in my notebook: It was new. We were learning as we practiced.

Great things happen when we stop believing that we have to know everything before we make an intention and just start practicing. When we let go of:

I can’t because it’s not possible…
I can’t because I have no experience…
I can’t because it’s an arrogant goal…
I can’t because I don’t know what I’m doing…
I can’t because people will think…
I can’t because it’s never been done before…
I can’t because I don’t have the resources…

I believe I can make good things happen. Period.

There are so many intentions in my own life that I’ve been putting off because I think I need to be an expert first or have everything figured out—ways to be a better advocate for special needs, ways to discover and deepen my faith, ways to connect with and empower other women, ways to fix some things that are broken, ways to use my voice and actions. Good things don’t happen for those who wait–they happen for those who start working.

The good work I’ve seen happening in this country this week has given me much to think about. There are so many brave women—in every culture and with multiple challenges—who are making good things happen and are learning as they practice.

Photo Credit: Paige Knudsen

I’m still not an expert on justice or economic sustainability or women empowerment, but I do know enough to know it’s something I want to support. I’ve begun by signing our family up to be freedom partners for IJM—to commit to a small monthly donation to support the incredible work they are doing because I believe it’s important. I’ve seen it in action.

Please take a moment to check it out—put your doubts and fears and disclaimers aside.

I believe I can make good things happen. And I’m so thankful for the stories of the incredible strong women I’ve met on this trip who believe this too—who believe it so much, they’re living it every day.

Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. ~Anais Nin

If Anais Nin was correct, then folks, there’s a galaxy up in here—new worlds exploding with every hand I’ve held since arriving, every hug I’ve received, every story I’ve heard.

This country is brimming with stories, and while the beauty of the landscape here is quite breathtaking, it’s the stories that reside in the people here—the stories they are so proud to tell—that truly give this country its beauty. Yesterday, we heard the most painful ones—the stories of the past, the atrocities of the genocide, the memories of survivors that are retold almost in a whisper, the pain still unmistakably present. We walked through the church at Ntrama where only 20 years ago 5,000 Rwandans—men, women, children, babies—were slaughtered. Their skulls and bones are lined up on shelves in the back of the church, the clothes they were wearing hanging from rafters above broken windows and walls demolished by grenades. The agony so many people in this country have faced is incomprehensible, and the past can never be forgotten.

But it can be rewritten, and in just our short time here so far, we’ve seen an incredible glimpse of a beautiful story that is being rewritten, page by page.

I couldn’t help but remember a song today—a song I haven’t thought about in a long time, but it was meaningful to me a few years ago—Sara Groves’ Add to the Beauty.

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are…
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find its worth…
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story…

The people of Rwanda are telling a better story, finding redemption in forgiveness, love, community and determination like I’ve never witnessed before in my life.

And today?  Good heavens. Let me tell you about a better story. And you might as well go get a cup of coffee.

We were welcomed this morning by the team at Rwanda’s International Justice Mission office (which I’ll call IJM for the rest of this post) where Chantal, the field office director, began with her own personal story. She told us how she dreamed as a little girl of becoming a lawyer someday because of the injustice she witnessed but soon lost interest in justice because, as she described, “I thought it was an illusion.” She ran from her dream but over time decided to rewrite her story, returning to pursuing justice, graduating from law school and working with IJM where, in Rwanda, they are currently rescuing victims of child sexual violence and helping to rehabilitate and empower their families. She told us that 10% of Rwandan girls reported having been victims of sexual abuse within the past year in 2009 and that sexual violence on the way to school is among the main deterrents keeping girls from getting an education here.  Not the bus schedule, not tuition fees, not a curriculum they don’t agree with—we’re talking babies’ lives.

We learned about the work IJM is doing—the children they’ve rescued, the perpetrators brought to justice, the statistics that are slowly getting better because someone intervened and spoke up for the voiceless, telling them that injustices against them would not be tolerated because they’re so worthy of more. We heard about a better story being written for these children and their families.

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces…
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find its worth…

Two of IJM’s clients are Noonday artisans, one of whom lost her husband and needed help fighting to keep her home and one who found her neighbor sexually assaulting her 6-year-old daughter four years ago. That’s right, I said six. Neither of these women could afford a lawyer on their own and were helpless in pursuing justice and consequently in feeling safe. IJM intervened, provided lawyers, brought the perpetrators to justice and granted assistance and counseling to victims and helped them find work with Noonday’s sewing co-op so they could provide for their families.

We met these women today with their friends, and between the hills and rooftops of the city–in a large sunlit space scattered with shiny black sewing machines and whiteboards on the wall displaying welcome messages—we found redemption. Souls that have found their worth.

Empowerment is one of those words like authentic, organic or brave—thrown around and overused so that the real cases of authenticity and bravery and empowerment are lost in the shuffle. But what we saw today was true empowerment—women with purpose, women who’ve healed, women who aren’t letting someone else rewrite their story but who are given hope and tools and opportunities so that they can rewrite their own.

Something I’ll never forget? Walking off the bus today in front of the Noonday co-up and into the arms of artisans who lined up to welcome us, so proud to show us their work and tell us their stories. We designed accessories together this afternoon—American writers, Rwandan artisans, united sisters in creativity and laughter and our hopes to be heard and seen; for someone to recognize our soul’s worth.

For all the times I thought Project Runway would be a fun experience (that is, of course, if they ran a glue-gun-instead-of-sewing-machine season, which, I’m first in line if they do), I can tell you for certain—today kicked its ass. For one, I’d love to see Tim Gunn start a sewing challenge with dancing.

Want a peek at today?

Noonday Collection music: artisan song

Our stories are never over. While our past cannot be erased, it can be rewritten. And we’re never alone in that process—we find redemption in community when writing our own stories, and we become community for others writing theirs.

One of IJM’s staff members, Melissa, introduced our day with these words this morning: “There are little girls all over the world who are told no one cares about you, no one knows, no one’s listening, you’re never going to be helped. That’s simply not true. We’re listening.”

And by following along on this trip, you’re listening too. Thank you for that.

You can continue to receive updates for our Style for Justice trip by signing up here.

And if you’d like to learn more about what Noonday Collection and IJM are doing to create opportunity, empower people around the globe and to be more involved in this mission, please click below.

A fun little travel project tonight:

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while now, and I finally aligned my brain’s “I’m gonna…” with my efforts.

With excitement brewing for some late summer Michigan adventures, we have good incentive to get this suitcase project done. I’ve always loved the idea of kids having a special suitcase of their own for trips to grandparents’ house or family vacations, and I’m all over any project that involves preserving memories.

1: I found a nice vintage hardtop suitcase on Etsy (try eBay too–happened to find a better deal on Etsy this time).

2: I went to Zazzle.com and searched for postcards from every city in which my kids have had travel adventures. I was so pleased with their selection of cities and the collection of postcards for each, especially the retro styles. Postcards averaged around $1 a piece, and they arrived within a few days.

3. Did a little trial and error here. The postcards were too thick to adhere nicely to the curves of the suitcase. I had the brilliant idea of scanning all of them and printing them on sticker paper, adhering them to the suitcase like travel labels and then Mod Podge’ing over them (to weatherproof it). I ended up having to brush Mod Podge underneath the labels as well as on top of them to keep them from bubbling. So final advice: Scan postcards and print on regular bright white photo quality paper. Use matte Mod Podge to adhere them to the suitcase, and brush the Mod Podge on top to seal them.

We added some polaroid-like prints of photos from our travels and placed each near its postcard counterpart. We covered both sides of our suitcase, leaving spaces to add more adventures as we travel.

This little suitcase makes me smile.

So did our Father’s Day, spent all day on the beach with friends.

Blue skies to you and you and you.