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| Please pray for a cook. our cook/janitor/everything handyman has the month off. so we are in trouble. so i am washing a lot of dishes. The woman they sent to replace her decided she didnt want to cook. she would just pass out bananas. After some complaint, they replaced her with another woman who showed up the past two days to tell us she was going to the doctors. and she didnt come back. so hopefully...something gets worked out.
This Wednesday is our trip to Word of Life. The kids are so excited about it, and the use of the pool. I am the designated life guard. hmmm. please pray for reinforcements. lotta kids. lotta pool. one me. GOD PROVIDED FOR THE BUSSS! thank you!
This next Sunday (November 22) is the youth conference at the Alcance. I am taking 11 girls from the Living Stones to join community church youth. Some of the girls are new Christians, some are not. Please pray for Godś voice to be heard.
Almost Thanksgiving already? November 24,25,26 is the college fair at FALUB. I am in charge of our 40plus group putting on a program about teaching English through fun/games. I dont know how it is going to go yet.
Pray for Andre and Gabriel´s brother (from Living Stones). Their three year old brother passed away last week. they are taking it really hard.
The International School Christmas program is coming up December 11. 8plus songs in English. we are performing in the downtown square with a gospel presentation.
This month at Living Stones we are working on personal hygene. but it is hard to teach children to wash their hands when they dont have running water in their house. or to brush their teeth when they dont have toothbrushes or toothpaste. The International school is working on sending some supplies. Let me know if you would like to help with that project as well.
Christmas is coming! a yikes, yipes and a hop away! The kids and i are making necklaces and bracelets to bring back to the USA...if you would be interested in having some handmade jewelry for Christmas presents--please let me know! if you e-mail me, i can even get specific items/patterns/whatever.
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| W walked over it.
We walked past it.
We walked around it.
There, on the sidewalk, the crushed butterfly.
Symbol of beauty tread under foot.
Life ended without note.
Because we are just too busy.
Other things are just too important.
Ground and crushed,
battered and flattened,
the wind blows and a wing still flutters.
The people clear and the colors are still bright.
There is only so much you can take away.
Only so much you can steal by your overlooking.
For some things are eternal,
and will still be seen,
even if eyes are lacking.
Some things will be,
even when life is ended.
Tomorrow the butterfly will be gone.
Tomorrow I will be writing about something else.
Thinking about someone else.
Tomorrow I may cease to be.
But there is something bigger.
Something that is found
in the crushed beauty
of the butterfly on the sidewalk.
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| Discipleship is relational. Maybe in the past many people were saved with the bang: preach and pray—but not many today. It is all relational. Living it day by day. Being. This is the first time I am teaching Bible studies. Sharing the gospel. Feeding the hungry. I have been in Brasil 3 years now and am just getting to this point. There are so many different faces of a missionary. Some are appreciated more than others. Some are more proclaimed and pronounced.
When I first came to Brasil, I would walk down the street—or anywhere—with a big smile plastered on my face. I would pray “God, let them see you in my smile because I have nothing else to give.” And they probably thought I liked to show off my teeth. They probably wondered if my teeth hurt. But I hope they saw something else too.
Now I can talk. I am still a bit shaky. I will be making a deep theological statement and then forget a word and say “you know….that redemption…thing…” But do you know why they listen? Why they sit even when I studder? Because I am here. With them. Handing out oranges. Making chocolate milk. Sweeping the floor. Washing the dishes. They walk home with me to see where I live, to see if I really live here, in their city.
I was gone for a day and they asked “Did you go back to the US?” “When are you leaving?” is always followed by “when are you coming back?” They ask so many questions like “Do your parents only speak English? Well, what about your grandparents? No Portuguese at all?” They don’t get the idea of me yet. Nor I them. I ask them things like “You don’t go to school anymore? How old are you? You don’t have a bathroom in your house?” I am scared to ask about toilet paper because I don’t want to know. Diane was so proud to tell me they now have a blender. Their first electrical appliance.
But it is about relationship. Gaining the right to speak. Earning the respect to be heard. And sometimes it begins with a smile. | | |
| I have met the rudest woman in the world. And she is sitting next to me. Again. And I am supposed to apologize. I am spending the whole bus ride summoning up love. It isn’t coming. She would sit next to me two days in a row. God is laughing at me. I saved a seat for Aninha on the bus. This lady picks up my books, sits down, and puts my books in her lap. I explain that it is saved for my friend. She says you cannot save seats. Bull. She doesn’t move. I explain again. She ignores. I speak English. She speaks Portuguese. Neither one listens to the other. I cannot believe her rudeness. She is no Rosa Parks. I tell her she has no manners and I am shocked at her behavior. She ignores. I fume. I haven’t been this mad in a long time.
Aninha says to let it go. I stew. Off the bus, the other girls contemplate her demise. She’s done this to many others. I feel guilty. Tonight a guy is sitting next to me. A guy who likes to talk so he can listen to himself. I am slightly bothered but have an incredible ability to tune out Portuguese and do so successfully. He stands to continue the conversation with the row across from us, and I feel a familiar heat rising—the rude woman is back, she slipped into his seat and doesn’t return it to him. She is tired and wants to sit.
I speak in English, she speaks in Portuguese. We fall into this rut, because it is safer for me and normal for her. If she doesn’t understand what I am saying, do I still have to apologize? What? God, no, do I really have to forgive her? And apologize? I give a weak attempt. She ignores. Maybe I will see her on the bus tomorrow. | | |
| knock off.
http-equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 3.0 (Linux)"> I can feel the popularity level rise and fall. I’ve never been the popular girl. I stick to myself and get what I want done. Much more efficient. Much less popular. Popular normally involves a lot of time doing nothing, and a lot of time gossiping. Or a lot of time doing everyone else’s work. Every once in a while I kick myself and say I should be more social. I didn’t explore the complexities of popularity growing up. I was homeschooled. There was church heiarchy, and I soon gave up on that. There were activities, but that popularity lasted only as long as the daylight hours.
So I am 27 and in a foreign country, beginning my experiments. I stand out in being unable to tan and speaking lousy Portuguese. Now I am in charge of this school fair project. And it is nice…people pass in the halls, stop, smile, and say hello. Notice me. Validate me. But it is fickle. If I stay quite and don’t say much…it fades away. You always have to be doing something to maintain the popularity. And I think that is too much work for me. I will be glad when the school fair is over. Easy come, easy go. One more thing to knock off my list.
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