Rwanda June 2007
Due to an unexpected and sudden change of events, I was having a bit of a discouraging day last week. I am sure that my posture made that quite apparent to the people I passed on the road on the way to work in the sleepy town of Butare, Rwanda. I looked off to my left down a dirt road, and saw a young girl who looked to be about eight (which probably means she is 11 or 12). She took off running in a dead sprint directly towards me. She came to a halt right in front of me, giggled, and said, "hellohowareyou." We chatted for a minute, and she kept giggling. When we had exhausted her English and my French, she ran away again. I continued my walk to the office, and a few minutes later, heard the pitter-patter of her tiny little feet. She grabbed my hand and put a small bouquet of little pink flowers in it, giggled, and ran away without saying a word. I cannot tell you how much I needed that encouragement, and how her countenance made my day. I was so delighted to see her laughing and running and giggling.
That caused me to think about the way we carry ourselves. I think too often, I view my countenance as my own, and don't think much about the effect it might have on other people. But in reality, my countenance is the only contact I have with every person I see. We never know the condition of our passers-by, and I hope that we never underestimate what a tremendous gift our countenance can be.
