BY TERESA WILKENS

The story starts with Teresa leaving Carl alone in Rwanda.

rom the time Carl and I made the decision that he would stay and the kids and I would go, I went on a sort of auto-pilot. It was so good to be welcomed in Nairobi by missionary families like the Lewis's who we stayed with for the first week and then the Mehary's on the mission compound where we found a guest room. They included us on outings and helped us get settled into city life.

I would say laundry and transportation were my two biggest physical challenges. The bathtub was my washing machine and I spent a lot of taxi money getting to the U.S. embassy in the first month or so to talk with Carl on their ham radio. I remember asking if I could talk with my husband in Kigali, Rwanda, and they were so kind and interested and they already seemed to know Carl. I remember walking a whole lot too, carrying a binder under my arm with a plastic pouch for money instead of a purse.

My days were busy with home schooling our kids, hunting around a strange city shopping for the basics, trying to get to a radio at the ADRA Sudan office or U.S. embassy, and trying to find ways to send money to Carl while also trying to make life seem as normal as possible for the kids. We would go swim at a nearby hotel, or go out to eat, or go to Ya Ya's, a mall, to look at the toys. It wasn't really normal: I guess I might have spoiled them a bit so that life would seem more like an adventure.

But always throughout my day I would look forward to the radio conversations with Carl... Sometimes they were so static-y and distorted we had to resort to whistling; one whistle for "yes" and two whistles for "no" when one of us couldn't be understood. I would read Carl faxes from the U.S. and he would talk about the "weather." "Stormy" meant a lot of bombs and gunfire and "partly cloudy" indicated that it was not too bad. The uniformed Interahamwe (militia killers) were referred to as Pathfinders.

We never knew who was listening in on our radio conversations. Some of the toughest times were when Carl would say quietly over the radio "There are 'Pathfinders' outside and I can't speak very loudly" or "I have to put the radio away quick, someone is at the gate, check back every hour on the hour." There were times when Carl thought he might have to flee at a moment's notice and I remember him telling me that he had a bag packed with all the stuff in it. All I could think about was how we would communicate and how I would know where he was if that happened. I remember really praying about those times.

I would occasionally let my mind think about our consulate officer Laura Lane's offer to send the Marines in to get Carl out, but there really was a peace about him staying there. It was very hard, though, when some friends and family kept asking why he stayed and I had nothing more tangible to say then "it seems [to be] what God wants." I remember one person in particular who I knew loved us but kept on with the questions and all the reasons why Carl should come out. While I don't think I told him this, I sure did think "If that's all you going to say in your letters and calls, don't bother!" You see, before the genocide there were times when I may have been tempted to think that Carl was putting his work before the family (like some were suggesting he was doing during the genocide). I might at times have been tempted to think that I was put on a back burner, but during the genocide none of those thoughts ever came to me. I can honestly say that God gave me that strength and perspective. It had to be from Him because outside of the genocide time, I wasn't always free from those thoughts.

God gave me something like a buffer or cushion around me during that time. When asked if I thought about Carl being killed, I say that I just would not let my mind go there. Some might call it denial but I knew what was happening every day, so I don't think it was denial. It was simply a gift from God. Though I would have been ecstatic if Carl would have gotten on the radio and said "I'm coming out," I never resented the fact that he stayed. As I think about our kids I've never sensed any resentment in them either. I'm sure that God gave us that peace that allowed us to be a support to Carl.

In normal times it is so easy for me to be focused on my needs and think that Carl should be aware of them and meet them, but during the genocide in 1994 God allowed me to set all that aside. I would, however, get very frustrated at what I saw sometimes as lack of support for Carl from others. There were times when it seemed he was out on a limb standing all alone. Carl's choice to stay wasn't like he was choosing something over me and the kids. It was a choice we made together and I felt happy that I could be a part of it. And you can imagine how happy I was when we were reunited once the genocide ended.