When I travel somewhere new, I don’t like carrying expectations into a place. If you expect nothing, nothing can disappoint you, and everything just gets to be experienced. But if I’m honest, I did carry an image of Ethiopia in my head before I arrived— rusted, cramped, neglected.

My first look told a different story. Green medians splitting the paved boulevards in half. Arranged flowers and perfectly placed trees to decorate. Cellphones, tall buildings, jumbo screens.

What you don’t see is who used to live beneath it.

The corrugated tin roofs patched with scraps are still there — you just have to look past the fences, or drive to the outskirts to find them. On Wednesday, we visited Tariku’s home. His family lives in a mud hut smaller than my hotel room. He got evicted the following day.

In the past year, Ethiopia has poured resources into government infrastructure and urban expansion under what’s called the Addis Ababa Corridor Development Project — an effort to establish Ethiopia as a major trade and logistics gateway for East Africa.

But progress, I’m learning, always has an address. On Sunday, we drove out to where a neighborhood used to stand. In place of homes were machines that sat digging into the earth. I asked Jerry, one of the psychologists at Bring Love In, how she felt about the redevelopment. She said it was good for Ethiopia’s future — but hard, right now, on the people living through it. Her response feels both true and devastating.

I think progress and pain move as a pair. I reflect on my own life; the seasons I couldn’t make sense of while I was in them. I see clearly now where God was moving through the hardship. When I listened to the little orphans at Bring Love In share their stories, I couldn’t help but cry. I felt heartbroken — a similar heaviness I felt about the displacement of people losing what little they had. I am still processing, and keep on reminding myself that He has a plan through it all, even if we can’t see it yet.

I came to Ethiopia carrying one image and left with another. One of unfinished stories and a God who doesn’t waste what’s broken.

– Kenzie