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| Humanity's Team Canada - August 2006 Newsletter | |
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The summer is upon us and we are feeling the pull to
enjoy the warm weather while we can. Tending our gardens, taking vacations and
relaxing in the sunshine. As a result, the newsletter crew will be taking a
break for the months of July and August.
In place of our regular assortment of articles we will be a two part story by
teammate and Group of 1000
Information Coordinator Nannette Kennedy. The first part will appear in the July
newsletter and the second part in the August newsletter.
The story is about her recent experience of synchronicity while planning to
attend and attending a Wayne Dyer lecture. A wonderful account of how everything
that happens, happens for a reason. And how we may not understand at the time
why things happen, but if we look closely are blessed to see why they do.
Enjoy! See you in September and back to our regular format.
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| Synchronicity (Part 2) | |
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Like he told you, I was on Easter vacation, home and we heard that the
president died. My parents and my brothers who loved me very much, I was their
only daughter. They insisted that I go to hide with a Hutu neighbor they
trusted. I went to him and told him what my parents told me. He took me to the
bathroom in his bedroom and I found there seven other women. We were eight. The
space was a little smaller than this table. We sat there and were told not to
say a word, not to make a noise, because if anyone knows we are there, they
would call the killers. He told us he won't even tell his own children. We were
happy for his generosity. All day long we were listening to a radio which was
next door in his room. All the news was talking about was how to kill Tutsis.
They say to kill children, not to forget the women, old people, that they had to
cleanse the country. That was said by the new president who had just taken over.
The ministers, the whole country was just going crazy. They killed in public
places, even in churches and then they started to say on the radio, encouraging
all the Hutus to go to each house and search to see if there is any Tutsis
hiding. Then they came to our home. I looked surprised. I remember I was
stretching and I saw through a curtain of a small window. I saw outside like
three hundred people. I fell down. I couldn't talk. I couldn't talk. They
started searching. I had the rosary that my father had given me when we were
separated. I just started to pray. I couldn't remember for a minute any words
really, in my mouth. I was so scared. I could not even tell you how much you
feel when you have to experience something like that when you know people are
five inches away looking for you, and if they find you, they will kill you. They
searched everywhere in the house, in the ceiling, in the top of the house, in
every room, they went under the beds. They opened every suit case, saying that
maybe babies are hiding there. I was so scared. I was talking to God. That was
my only refuge. I begged him to save me. There was no choice. I didn't want to
die . . . I kept saying that if you say that if we ask, You will give. This is
the one thing I am asking you in the world. Please make it happen that they
don't find us . . . I was really praying so hard. I remember, and I don't really
know if this was my imagination or my mind, but it was almost like a vision. I
saw Jesus standing with us and heard Jesus say, 'I know you are praying so hard.
Don't worry. I will put a cross in front of the door. And no one will ever come
across.' I saw the cross. It was almost like I was helping Him put the cross on
the door. I stood out of my body and I was feeling like a spirit, and pushed the
cross on the door. I was happy. I knew that we were protected. And after that I
could see the cross. It was a cross of light . . . There was just a light. I was
happy and a few hours later, the killers left. The only room they didn't search:
it was that bathroom. The pastor came back two hours later and said that they
would come back many times. We didn't know when they would come back. It was so
painful to wait, because we heard them singing all day long outside. And any
time they passed by, we thought they were coming for us. I heard so many voices
in my mind, so many bad thoughts of how I was going to die. That was the only
pictures that were going through my mind. How they were going to rape me, how
they were going to cut my hands and my head. Just the thoughts were so heavy, so
poisonous to my body without anyone touching me, and I was asking God I just
wish these thoughts can stop, but I couldn't help it. That was the moment I
think I heard an angel make a suggestion to me. It was the best decision I ever
took in my life. I told myself, maybe if I pray every minute of my life of the
day, these thoughts might be able to shut down. It was such good idea. I told
myself: okay, I'm going to do it. As soon as I got up, I used my rosary to say
my prayers and meditate on the bible on the life of Jesus. As soon as I get up
in the morning, I started to pray. I would pray from like 6 in the morning until
10 o'clock at night, to the minute I fall asleep. The next day, I did the same
thing. It was so good. I was able to spend a day without having these thoughts
that were burning my body. And then as I was praying, every prayer talked about
love. Every prayer talked about forgiveness. I knew in my heart, there was no
way I can forgive these people who are killing me. I hated them. I wanted them
to go to hell. I was thinking that maybe they killed my mother. And I thought, I
hope God agrees with me. I mean it was a good reason not to love them, not to
pray for them. Any time I reach this part of the prayer, and for those who don't
know the rosary, on one rosary you say seven Our Lord's prayer. And any time I
reach this part, 'Father, forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who
trespass against us,' the first days it was okay. The next day I feel like I'm
lying to God. I wish I could take this part out of the prayer. But yet it is God
who say this prayer. It must be true. So, one time I was really feeling like a
liar, I sat there and I told God. 'Look, I cannot pray for these people, but
maybe help me out. I just want to be so sincere with you because I want your
favor so much. That minute I surrendered everything. I give God all my thoughts,
everything. Control me. Tell me what to do. I was praying one time, meditating,
and I remembered the words Jesus said on the cross when He said, 'Father,
forgive them. They don't know what they do.' It was almost like I never heard
those words before. It was so powerful. It was so clear to me that they cannot
possibly know what they are causing. In that minute, I forgave them. We spent
three months in that bathroom. We came out when the Tutsis liberals who have
been in exile for thirty years, captured the country. And then we were able to
come out. When we came out, I found out that everyone in my family was dead, my
mom, my dad, my brothers, my neighbor Tutsis, my school mates. The whole country
was dead bodies all over. I thought it was almost maybe the end of the world. Or
the beginning, but one thing was real. The forgiveness I've experienced, the
love I got in the bathroom about God was so real, it was a gift that helped me
relieve the pain of losing my parents. I am so grateful. I found out I was
always the one concerning people. I even went to the prison to visit the killer
of my parents. I wanted to find out how I would feel. As I saw him suffering,
sitting down, a man who was respected. I really did feel compassion. I couldn't
believe that sin could bring somebody in a situation like that. If he couldn't
think of it himself, if he couldn't love himself, to protect himself from coming
into that situation, how can he think of me? How can he think of not hurting me?
I knew for sure that he couldn't know what he was doing. And I forgave him. My
life today, all I want to do, all my thoughts, my decisions, I just want them to
be based on love, on what God would do in my place if it was Him because I know
as humans we make mistakes, and we can really make big mistakes. I hope and I
think with forgiveness and love, unconditional love we can accomplish peace on
earth. As Anne Frank said, the Jewish girl who was in hiding just like me, I
really still believe that human beings I wouldn't hurt and I hope we all help
each other, pray for each other more than hating each other. Thank you for
listening. Thank you. Thank you. What a beautiful soul. What an example of life, love, mystery. By the time
Immaculee reached the point in the story where she met the killer of her family
and knew that he knew not what he had done, I was not ashamed of my anger and
disappointment and antipathy toward my family, but moreover, I was gifted with
an epiphany: It was in my power to find relief from the gnawing sensations of
such negativity. The spiritual energy in that room was like nothing I'd ever
experienced before. I've never felt like I felt during the time this woman
spoke. Never.
For the next ten minutes or so, Wayne Dyer spoke about the power of spirit
and faith and the fact that that was the only reason Immaculee survived. She
came back to the stage for few additional minutes and talked about how she had
learned the English language while she was hiding in that bathroom from a
French-English dictionary that had been left on the back of the toilet before
the room had became a hide-a-away. Immaculee now lives on Long Island with her
husband and two children. She works at the United Nations and will be speaking
for the next year on the power of faith and forgiveness.
Just before closing the lecture, Wayne Dyer briefly mentioned that one of his
eight children has suffered a great deal from drug addiction and that while she
is doing well now, and in recovery, he would have approached that issue
differently today. It was an odd aside because it didn't fit with anything else
he was saying. He even said that he didn't know why he'd brought it up. Then he
added he would stay for a while after the lecture to sign books. I looked over
to my fiancé and my daughter. "No way," I said. It was late and we were all
exhausted and had a full schedule the next day. Quietly, we walked back to our
room. I was still in awe and didn't have much to say. I was trying to process
the experience. My daughter asked me if I was okay. All I could say, "right now
I'm overwhelmed."
Once in the room, I made a visit to the bathroom. When I came out, I picked
up my purse, Wayne Dyer's children's book I'd bought earlier and looked at my
daughter and fiancé who had made themselves comfortable. "We have to go back," I
said. They both looked at me as though I lost my last remaining marble. "Let's
go before everyone is gone," I insisted. "Something is telling me we need to go
back and get our books signed." While it is nice to have books signed, it is not
my modus operandi to do so. We all headed back to the ballroom.
We returned to the lecture hall where about forty people remained. Twenty or
so were gathered around Wayne Dyer, ten were huddled around Immaculee Ilabagiza,
and the others seemed to be people who worked for the conference. We stood in
line and listened to people praise Wayne Dyer for all of his contributions to
helping people with spirituality and watched as he signed the books. Mary, my
daughter, is generally quite shy, but when Dr. Dyer made eye contact with her,
she immediately said, "I know what your daughter went through. I'm a recovering
drug addict." I had a knee jerk reaction of being choked up. I was very proud of
her. Dr. Dyer looked at her with such kindness and said, "That's why I said that
bit about my daughter. I said it for you. I couldn't understand why I brought it
up. How long have you been clean?" Mary told him four months. He asked my
daughter if he could hug her, which he did, and he kissed her-for a time she
swore she was never washing her cheek. He then told her she now had a job to do,
to tell others of her experience, and spent several minutes asking her
questions. He did sign our books, and my fiancé took a picture of my daughter
and me with him. We thanked him and began to leave.
We turned to leave and I told my daughter and fiancé that I had to speak to
Immaculee, that I needed to touch her, to hold her. I had no book for her to
sign. We got in line to see her. I had no idea what I could possibly say to this
woman. When it was my turn, I approached Immaculee and asked her if I could hug
her. She opened her arms and we held each other. I said the only words I could
utter: "Bless you." She said, "You are so kind to me." Then, a friend of
Immaculee's suggested to Immaculee that she might want to say/teach the rosary
in the morning. I almost fell over. That's why my computer bag made it to the
conference. It wasn't for the computer which didn't work. It was for the rosary
sitting in the bottom of the bag. I told Immaculee I would definitely be
interested in saying the rosary with her. She thanked me and told me she would
see me in the morning. What was happening to me? All of these "coincidences,"
which coincidentally I don't believe in, were occurring in such an orchestrated
fashion that I knew I was in the mystery and part of something very
extraordinary and sacred.
The next morning, Sunday, I had an eight-thirty seminar. I didn't care. I was
going to the rosary instead. At 6 a.m. my eyes opened without the use of the
alarm. I showered, dressed, had a cup of coffee, pulled the rosary from the
bottom of my computer bag and headed off to the lobby. I couldn't find Immaculee
anywhere. Instant disappointment. I scrambled my way to the front desk and asked
about it. Nobody knew anything. They referred me to the registration desk for
the conference. I asked the women at the conference registration desk who all
looked at me like I was some kind of nut. I explained that this was an impromptu
sort of thing arranged late last night. One of the women got on a walkie talkie
and someone radioed back that Immaculee was meeting with some people in the bar.
I took off running and laughing at the fact that this rosary was taking place in
a bar.
When I arrived there were about fifteen women sitting on couches and chairs
around Immaculee. There was one space left on one couch. I promptly sat.
Immaculee was answering some questions regarding her experience during the
genocide. Then she passed out copies of information about the rosary. By now it
was eight-thirty and the group had dwindled (people left to get to their
seminars). Immaculee explained the rosary itself, holding up her rosary. My eyes
almost popped out of my head. Other than the fact her rosary was clear crystal
beads (mine are blue crystal) our rosaries were identical, same crucifix-an
unusual crucifix-and everything. While I'm fairly certain this rosary I held
came from my mother's home, I'm not sure just how it came to be in my computer
bag. When the prayer/meditation of the rosary eventually got underway, Immaculee
interjected throughout the meaning of the sorrowful mysteries. From the time we
made the sign of the cross at the beginning until the sign of the cross at the
end I wept. It was like someone turned on a faucet. I wasn't heaving or
hysterical, but tears kept a slow steady trickle down my face. The small space
we sat in had such an incredible spiritual energy that it is beyond any words.
As we prayed I noticed we were now down to eight, the exact same number of women
who spent 91 days in the bathroom in Rwanda together. It was so powerful. I had
no Kleenex with me and at one point I stood and walked over to the closed bar to
grab a napkin or two-no napkins. I'd asked the women on either side of me if
they had a Kleenex and they did not. Consequently the dress I was wearing served
as sponge. When we finished the rosary, I hugged and thanked Immaculee. I bought
a cup of coffee, walked outside, and sat by the pool. It was Sunday morning,
early still, and I was the only one there. The following is my immediate written
response:
Chills surround me from my feet to my head even though it is probably
seventy-five degrees out here. I've just said the most powerful rosary with
Immaculee from Rwanda. To feel in my heart even the secondhand pain this woman
has endured and her glowing energy of forgiveness is so much for me to take in
and accept that the emotion has risen to the point which my body cannot contain
it. My cry comes from deep within and cannot help from spilling down my face and
on to my breasts, where I can feel my heart pounding beneath. I have no Kleenex
now, nor did I during the rosary. The tears are so deep. Immaculee has suffered
so much, spending 91 days in 3 x 5 bathroom with seven other women, going in
weighing 120 pounds and leaving the tiny cubicle weighing only 65 pounds. Her
father, mother and brothers were hacked to death with machetes-ethnic cleansing.
I do not understand this hatred. She said the rosary everyday, several times a
day, with the rosary her father gave her when she fled into hiding, and she
knows that her love of Christ and God are the reason she survived. Every time
she got to "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against
us" part of the Our Fathers, she stopped as she says she always does whenever
she says the rosary because she doesn't know how she could ever forgive those
that trespassed against her family, but she knows she did. How powerfully
beautiful for her to be able to say the rosary at all, but to say it with an
honest knowing of those words, and to be reminded each time she professes this
part of the prayer that she does know the true meaning. It's beyond my scope of
comprehension. She begged and prayed for God's favor and had a faith that willed
it so. While she led the rosary with the seven of us, every one of us cried. I
have no rights to complain. Just before the sorrowful mystery of Christ carrying
the cross, Immaculee said, looking into each of our eyes, "What we must remember
is that Christ carried His cross under such painful conditions," she paused and
began to cry. "What we must remember, is that God, Christ, do not want us to
cry, but rather remember that Christ died for us, and that all of us make
sacrifices, and that we are very connected. We are all one as is evidenced by
our tears." I will never be the same person as I was yesterday, never. And here
I sit beneath a gorgeous blue sky, bathed in sunlight, sobbing into a pool
towel. Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you. Immaculee, bless you and
thank you. Not one day has passed since this event that I haven't thought about it. The
Prime Mover conducts such extraordinary symphonies. While I know the music is
ubiquitous, it is in hearing each note and listening for its significance to the
entire piece which creates the spiritual encounter. I am forever grateful,
blessed and fortunate.
My daughter is still talking about her experience at the conference. She too,
believes she has had a true awakening.
I have shared this experience with a dozen people. I even bought the
recording of the night's lecture and transcribed it so I could read parts of it
to those with whom I have shared my story. The beauty is that everyone has
thanked me for sharing and I feel I have made a positive impact on their lives.
One elderly gentleman, that I didn't really even know with whom I shared the
story, wept and told me that I was the best thing that had happened to him in a
long time, and that that in itself was a gift I must carry on: be the best thing
that happens in some one's life every day for the rest of my life. That's a good
goal, don't you think?
While I've written a thank you to both Dr. Dyer and Immaculee, the best
thanks I can give to them, is to tell this story and attempt to spread the
inspiration. I hope it inoculates you with just a fraction of the spiritual
energy it gave me.
Blessings, | |
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