Last year, when Rwandan genocide survivor Imaculée Ilibagiza was heading to Hawai'i for a series of inspirational talks, a huge East Coast snowstorm grounded her during the initial part of her visit.

Not that she need this cosmic reminder. She's been grounded all along — even when the awards started piling up and the recognition grew. And while Ilibagiza managed to catch a flight to make several inspirational talks here last February, audiences clamored for more.

This time around, she'll be speaking at several venues, from the Blaisdell Concert Hall to Red Mass at Our Lady of Peace Cathedral, held at the beginning of the new legislative session.

"It has been a great year," said Ilibagiza humbly, "and I look forward to coming back. ... I'm happy for (the awards) because it means people are appreciating the story. (They say,) 'This story has changed people's lives and we choose to honor her.' "

The honors have come from Beliefnet, Science of Mind and others; the praise is for the way she's championed the cause of forgiveness. The spark that ignited this fire might have consumed a less spiritual person. Ilibagiza lost most of her family in 1994, when the death of the Hutu president sparked a massacre of Tutsis.

She and seven other women hid in the bathroom of a neighbor, a Hutu pastor, going days without food and hearing the pounding on the door of soldiers demanding to search the house again and again. Because a large chest had been pushed against the newly added bathroom, hiding the door, the eight women lived, though Ilibagiza, then a 22-year-old, dropped from 110 pounds to nearly 65.

Ilibagiza, a Catholic, prayed the rosary constantly during her 91 days in that cramped space.

But perhaps the most remarkable part of her story is how she became the poster woman for forgiveness: She chose to forgive those who worked in the death squads that killed all but one member of her family. (One brother was away at school when the massacre occurred.)

These days, Ilibagiza talks about gratitude, and feels she owes a great debt to one of Hawai'i's own.

Here's the story:

Ilibagiza had taken friends' advice and put her experience on paper, writing it almost as a letter to a friend. She prayed for something to happen for the story.

A few days later, Ilibagiza bumped into Wayne Dwyer, a motivational speaker and author who lives in Maui, while in line at an event. When he found out she was from Rwanda, she shared a bit of her background. Within minutes he wanted to know if she thought about writing a book.

Heartened, she went about polishing the manuscript, and he sent it to his publisher. It led to "Left to Tell," her book, and a followup documentary.

The process has taught her a lot about dreaming: "You just dream. It's not your business, how it's going to happen. Just dream and get ready!"

But the biggest thing was to get over her feeling of being in the spotlight.

Dwyer told her something that she still uses as comfort, to this day: "This is not about you. God is using you for something much bigger."

It makes the humble woman from Rwanda able to extend her reach even farther. She's met President Bush, as well as former President Clinton.

"Please talk about that, too," she says with a laugh.

Can you tell her background is diplomacy? After leaving Rwanda, she went to work for the United Nations, moving to New York, where she now lives with her husband and two children.

"Anything given to me is from God. (My job) is to accept it with love, know it will be used to help others," she said, then turns her words to God. "I am your instrument, your will be done."

SMALL MERCIES

She also talks about the small mercies we show one another, and the effects that has not only on our lives but the greater world.

Ilibagiza talks about the woman who rescued her from the refugee camp where she was taken after the massacre, remembering Ilibagiza's mother, who had lent her money to go to school, and recognizing Ilibagiza.

"It was less than a dollar," Ilibagiza marvels, yet she was taken in to the woman's home and able to begin the road back to health.

"Every moment, choose to be kind, be compassionate," she said. "Ask, 'How can I live lovingly in peace with another person?' Even if you have to close your eyes to the past."

These days, her measurement for life is how much she's living in the moment and how much love she can have in her heart.

The talks are to inspire others, but they also inspire her.

"I go to another event, feel love, and something changes right away," she said. "You come in angry or whatever, (then the mood changes to) 'Oh, can I help you?' People tell me how they are going to change their lives."

She laughs when she recounts how one woman told her "she was going to go straight home and 'love my husband like crazy, love my children like crazy.' "