the view from my hammock. whew.

this was some festival in Nazare. they are famous for those big afro-lookin things.

hmm. random notes. i rode on the bus and the lady next to me decidedto breast-feed her baby. without a blanket or anything. that was verydiscomforting. bleck. definatly inside my personal bubble space.

 

Josue found a scorpion in the garage yesterday.

Ivy and i were walking last week and i was suddenly spooked by ahuge taranchula (this computer does not have spell check in English, soi am sorry that you are now submitted to my poor spelling). Ivy wasworried that it would go into the house, but i pointed out that killingthe thing was out of the question since it was bigger than my foot.

It rained yesterday. officially for 20 seconds…but it was a lovely 20 seconds. i miss rain.

 

In a weird way

I love being alone and lonely

I like the desolation of it all

There is something satisfying in pain

In not letting in to the numerous distractions around you

And embracing the emptiness

 

Loneliness is the same ache

As when you are overwhelmed with beauty

It speaks of heaven

When all will be fulfilled

There is something that refuses to quip whispering

That God is still good

 

The lump behind my heart is growing

It crescendos with each breath

And when it is gone

I wish it back again

Often when I am surrounded by laughing people

I stop and wish to return to that solitary moment

 

Maybe those are the moments

I truly live

I truly understand myself

I truly grow and am free to hear God’s voice

Could it be the rest of my life is only a mask

To hide this real me

Could it be that I am made from pain and loneliness

 

I want this depth more than I want the comfort of a smile

I want to be stretched

I am too small for myself

My life and body are crowding my soul

And it is only these moments I escape and breathe

And then I return

 

But one day I will be free

The moments I only escalate to now

In pain and sorrow and loneliness

Will be the real me

Free the laugh with the same abandon that I write with now

Free to enjoy without the fear it will all disappear

 

The footsteps are returning

The enchanted doorway closes

Yet I reach my arm out for I want more

Let me feel as I was meant to feel

My petty emotions only tease me

I was made for heights of greatness

And I am tied so I only see the vision without obtaining

It is cruel and yet I beg for more

 

And if I can only reach it through pain

Then lead on

I desire it will all that my weakness can desire

And if freedom only comes through death

Then lead on

 

Part of me is still locked up

It keeps banging at the door

If you want me to live

Then give me life

But give it to more abundantly

Overwhelm me with it

 

Consuming fire burn me through

The walls I’ve built in my fear

I have forgotten where I hid the key

I love the tears that cool my face

Releasing the sizzling pressure

I give myself to it

Close my eyes and fly out the window

 

I cannot soar for long tied to earth

My resolutions to abandon all

Crumble quickly

I shuffle past the world of feeling

Into the world of placid existence

Not knowing what my thoughts are

Not knowing who I am

Content to live like that for another couple of days

Until my inner soul refuses to be silenced

For it is much more convenient to ignore

To stay in protection

But that is not life

i found out that this guy died. just like that. Yesterday he was riding a horse and something happened (sorry, i am getting this story only in Portuguese and can only translate so much. )and poof. he died. he was in Raquel´s class–graduating class–this year. i met him a couple of times. he was always nice and said hello (even though he didn~t know anymore English than that) his name was Julio.

 

i don´t know why this is affecting me so much. i guess because it makes me want to reach out and grab everyone i love and hold them close and shoo away all the bad things that happen. and i can´t. i am sitting in front of a computer with no power whatsoever to protect anyone i love from anything.

DANG.

The funeral or showing or whatever is at the school across the street. i go to the door and watch every now and then. as the people pass, each numb from shock, wondering why it was him and who will be next…because someone has to be next since death is always pending. And yet soon his death will be a part of their past just as his life was. what a pity. it always hurts me to know that life goes on. that it will continue to go on without me someday.

 

Happy Thanksgiving on Thursday everyone. nope. we don´t celebrate it in Brasil…remember…pilgrims…Plimoth Rock…yeah, they don´t have that here. but my family here was so sweet…they´re gonna buy a turkey and fix it for me. too bad i don´t really like turkey. i always ate ham instead. but that isn´t very traditional, now is it? so yeah. i need a hug. missing my family. heck, i am even missing the cold. i–yes–i, Rachel the `cold shower hater` have been taking only cold showers and liking it. it is HOT. and DANG i miss Christmas music. so i´ll have my pity party and all better in a moment…i promise.

 

cuz God is still God. and He is good. and i love Him.

So if Ivy’s futebol team wins today, Josue has to dye his hair red. For once, I have left my “Switzerland” stance and am rooting for the Corinthians. (I figure I cannot really pick a team until I live here…unless bribed with money or dying hair) So far I have rooted for one team because I liked their name (Palmeris “palm trees”,) and another because I liked their uniform…but those are not really substantial reasons to pick a team—something that will determine my future here in Brasil.

 

I have really settled into things here. I was riding in the car, looked out the window to see the brick-lined street and two goats running along side the car…and realized I forgot what it was like to see anything different. I looked at street posts the other day and realized that at home they were made of wood and here they were cement…

 

Sometimes I feel like I have never lived anywhere else. Weird how a person can adapt like that. My basic life has settled down into this: mornings I get up at 5:30am to go walking around the city (but this is changing since I found out my walking partner, Christiana, is now all red with white spots from Dingy fever, poor girl) I normally see a variety of pigs and chickens, and have learned to never step in any kind of liquid, and have discovered that every corner holds a new smell…some very, very good (like passing the bakery) and some very, very bad (we won’t talk about that one). I return to the house (normally everyone is still sleeping) and do my devotions in bed or in the hammock and then snooze until I hear “tomar café?” and then I stumble to the table for my morning coffee…er…cup of milk with alittle bit of coffee and breakfast (normally fresh bread from the store located below up—God bless them).

 

After this a variety of things happen, including teaching Ivy some English, studying Portuguese, working on various projects, or quickly running to my room as someone from the church appears at the door and I still have on my pajamas (this happens A LOT. I think the whole church has seen me in pajamas by now). I haven’t really discovered where all my mornings go, but then lunch comes (normally chicken something with rice something—yummy), I do the dishes (Ivy and I have worked out a deal. She cooks and I wash dishes. This safer for both of us). By the afternoon it gets so hot that life does not function properly unless you are sitting on the couch, facing the fan. Sometimes I watch Brasilian TV or a movie (yep, in Portuguese. Now I find it alittle weird to see the mouth and words actually correspond…) and on Mondays I teach English. Dinner is a lot like breakfast (they have my favorite cake a lot too…cake for breakfast. Oh yeah baby.) Wednesday we have prayer meeting and small groups.

 

 So that is Monday through Wednesday…Thursday I go with Josue to the Alconce in Carpina (about 45 minute drive through country that leaves me breathless) and I go to one of the seminary classes and talk with everyone and get ready for English classes in the afternoon. I have a beginning class and advanced class back to back (classes are an hour and a half) so I’m pretty exhausted by the end, and then I go to Tele’s house in Nazare (about 15 minutes from the Alconce) to relax, hear English around me for the first time that week, and watch about 5 minutes of CNN so I feel like I am still in touch with the world around me. After 5 minutes I get sick. Karine and I normally stay up late, talking about our lives and problems and issues…we make sure to talk long enough to get thoroughly depressed and then happy again. Friday John and I hang out (while the kids are at school and Heather is taking a class at the Alconce) while the maid cleans up. This is when I watch Barney in Portuguese. Disturbing. And I normally end up making noodles for lunch. The kids have decided I really, really need to learn how to make something else.

 

Then I leaven WHENEVER I FEEL LIKE IT (boy I love my independence) on the bus back to Timbauba. This week it was so crowded that I was standing up, pressed against the seat, thanking the Lord that the guy next to me had recently taken a shower. Then I am a lazy bum, enjoying the weekend and whatever happens to be planned in it (normally a church activity, playing futebol, and more people showing up while I am in my pajamas.) So lots of studying Portuguese, lots of teaching English, and then lots of going with the flow…I like it.

 

Yesterday Ivy asked if I wanted to go with them to Marcio’s house. I said sure, not knowing that like everyone from church was going to be there—ALL ASKING FOR MY CAMERA—which I hadn’t brought, since I thought it was going to be a friendly visit, not a party! I ended up playing tag for a while, teaching them how to play thumb war (I am the INTERnational champion now), and beating all my boys in “Mercy” and other such “show off your strength” games. Yes, and I have the bruises to prove it.

 

And today at church…I think you could call it “my most embarrassing moment ever.” Yes, it should have an official title. You know those dreams where you realize your zipper is open? My skirt zipper decided to pop…yes, completely POP. Explode. Right when Josue asked me to come forward for a sermon illustration. Thank goodness I don’t wear belly shirts and I could discreetly cover everything…But after I sat down I couldn’t stand up again…and right after church I was going to do a mini “Church directory” and take everyone’s picture…so I sat in church, sweating away…while David is sitting next to me—laughing. After calming down, realizing how very funny the whole situation was, and constantly stretching my shirt out more (by this time I was VERY paranoid), I had the lovely idea to make David get the keys from Ivy, run back to the house, and get me another skirt. Did I tell you I love that guy? Yeah, he’s great. He came back right at the last prayer—I bolted during the prayer (because the restroom is BEHIND the pulpit area darn it), changed my skirt, threw that horrid thing away, and returned in time to begin taking everyone’s pictures. Amid all the business…I think everyone forgot what happened…at least I hope so. Life is so…

 

This left me breathless:

“ Therefore Jesus also, that he might sanctify the people with his own blood, suffered outside the gate. THEREFORE LET US GO FORTH TO HIM, outside the camp, bearing his reproach. For here we have no continuing city, BUT WE SEEK THE ONE TO COME.” Hebrews 13:12-14

 

I WANT to WANT what is right so bad it kills. My “wanter” must be broken. It isn’t listening.

 

400 people die a day around the world for the name of Christ.

 

Should I repeat that? Did you really understand what I just said? I have been letting that sink in for like a week. Wow. Who am I to think that I am someone who shouldn’t have to suffer? Who am I to think that life is unfair? Who am I to think that this may not be in my future too. We just don’t think right, do we?

 

Life isn’t like a movie

The endings don’t announce themselves

The loose ends aren’t all nicely tied up

And the lovers don’t always get back together again

It’s a lot longer than two hours

And not everything’s in color

The scenes are not edited

And the mistakes are not erased

The pot is not explained

The characters don’t remember their lines

And the camera does not stop rolling for a coffee break

No. Life isn’t like a movie

There’s no audition

No choosing scripts

It is here and now and in your face

The answers are not written

But you are expected to find them and go on

The show must go on

Time will continue

Life will happen

And somehow you will get out of bed again

No, life isn’t like a movie

It’s bigger, greater, and real

The characters cannot be explained

The plot doesn’t follow reason and has more turns than the road home

It is deeper and more complex

It is more heart wrenching and more beautiful

Than Hollywood ever put its mind to

It covers more than the camera lens

And touches deeper within than the screen

It is constantly growing, changing, becoming new

And your heart is important

You are not an extra

You’re the star

No—life isn’t like a movie

And past the movie lot

Past the cameras and equipment

Past the companies, the budget, and the plans

Past the actors and directors

Past the pots and unwritten rules of what to do

Past life and its struggles and pain

Past choices and love and death

Past desires and wishes and dreams

Is God

No. Life isn’t like a movie

my girls…with blue tongues…and they wouldn´t even share their cool bubble gum with me

there must have been some tension in the air…Christina is about to stab George with the pizza knife…i missed that…i must have been making another pizza in the kitchen…darn it…

me making pizza…i think i am adding tomatoes…it was so hot–can you see the sweat pouring down my face?

TADA! this is my attempt at Vanna White (with my very sunburnt arm–see it?) for the Gopher club. my brother´s church class made me pictures and sent them to me..ahh…and i love em and have them up on my wall…and here is the picture to prove it. John…if you see this picture…i love you:) and tell your classmates they are super great.

 

The moment has arrived. Earlier today. It actually happened. I mean, I have been waiting for this moment…for years now. I have been planning, anticipating…I have spent hours watching and learning exactly what I needed to do. I rejoiced with others when they achieved this moment…always thinking in the back of my mind “when will it be my turn?” I am so inadequate that I was thinking it would never happen. But moment of moments…it did.

 

I scored a goal. In an actual futebol game. With actual players.

 

(hehe. You thought I was getting married or something, didn’t ya? Nope…and quit holding your breath)

 

Well, considering the fact everyone from both teams was rooting for me…and I had scandalously completely missed the last pass my teammate gave me…it wasn’t all glory or skill on my partJ, but it happened—the ball went the right direction—and everyone cheered for me and made me feel special. One giant step for womankind in Brasil (since I am only ever the one girl representin’ on the field.) ahhh.

 

Moving on to more important things in life…Saturday we had a pizza-making contest. The Pastor verses the American. The competition was fierce and people came more out of curiosity than for the pizza. I decided to spring on them my secret weapon—my mom’s home recipe, and then use pineapple and ham toppings (which NO ONE had ever tried). One bite and WHAM. We knew who had won.

 

Backtrack a bit…I was feeling dramatic. We did have a pizza night, and Josue made it sound all interesting by saying I would make my famous American pizza and we’d see which was better…but considering I’d only made pizza once before (and I was pretty sure it was a freak accident that it turned out so good) and he’d never made pizza (and got a recipe off the internet) our competitive spirit was lost in the hopes that at least the pizza wouldn’t stink. It didn’t stink, and 22 people (six of them being children under the age of 10) showed up in our small apartment and ate 11 pizzas (we still have not figured out where they went…because Ivy and I only ate 2 pieces, and the kids could not have eaten too much…it must have been those boys of mine. Humph–actually, I think I remember one of the boys sneaking out with something covered in a napkin…)

 

The small kitchen was filled with activity as one small possessed oven continued to pop out pizzas at an astonishing rate. By the end, I was throwing on toppings so fast I don’t even remember what I put on what pizza…and while they did like the pineapple/ham pizza, I don’t think it is anything that is gonna catch on fast here in Brasil. Oh well, I tried. And mom, thanks for the recipe!J

 

You know when God told us to pray? He meant it. “…Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth, as it is in Heaven…”

 

this is the boat/raft thing. it was a raft with a sail i guess. OI means HI. tell me i am not in heaven.

 

 

 

I was buying my bus ticket when this little boy came up to me and asked me for money. I only had a 50$R bill (note to self: please ask Tele to give me smaller bills when he exchanges my money). I shook my head as another, older guy came up and asked for money. What am I, a magnet? Oh yeah, I forgot…I’m American. As I pull out my 50 (trying to be very unnoticeable) and pay for my ticket, the guy gives me my change VERY loudly as the man and the boy are pressing in closer…the boy was against my elbow and pressing me…Josue quickly pulled me out and I began to breathe again, and he walked me on the bus, making sure they didn’t follow. Thank God for that man. I don’t know…should I have given the boy some money? I had it to give…so anytime I actually have some money, should I give it? is that really going to help? Is it just going to help them with their habit? Is it going to give them hope? Should I do it since I am not willing to take that boy, give him a home, and set him straight? Should I give a bit to ease my conscience because I am not doing more? All these questions fly at me every time I see someone begging for money…which is quite a lot (now that I understand Portuguese enough to know what is going on around me). I haven’t settled this in my brain. I just don’t know. Today I was watching this group of girls (with perfect bodies) and I was like “God, that ain’t fair!” and then they pass to reveal this man with one huge swollen foot and one arm, extra long and hanging limp. And God said “no Rachel, it isn’t fair, is it?” okay, no more whining. And then the man came over and asked me for money. Argg. I refuse to give money because I feel guilty. I want to give because I know I am supposed to. But then again, I don’t want to NOT give because I am confused, I want to NOT give because I know it is right or wrong. Where is the black and white here? This is where I need my dad to say “Rachel, Honey, do this because I said so” and then my conscience feels perfectly fine…like when my dad told me not to pick up hitchhikers—ever since then I don’t feel guilty when I pass one of those guys with the sign “please help—God bless.”

 

We stopped at a gas station and there was a can of Pringles. It was so old that the colors were faded on the container. Yuck. And it was displayed all by itself (probably the only can the had) and it cost $14R (about 6.50$ US) oh yeah. On the other had, we were able to take a ride in this sailboat thing, snorkel in a natural reef, and feed fish for over an hour for $8R each. Two rides or a can of stale Pringles. Hmm. Oh yeah, and Big Macs are $10R here. That’s why when I go out to eat, I go to the places with a steak dinner ($3-7R) instead of McDonalds. McDs is for rich people.

 

I can communicate just about anything now in Portuguese. Because I have found there are so many ways of saying things. I mean, you memorize the basics, and then use those words over and over in different combinations to get your point across. But I have found the very important things you need to say…well, there is only one way to say them. Things like “I love you” or “I am proud of you.” Those are the ones I gotta memorize.

 

 I have the most lovely church. My brother’s gopher class all made me pictures and sent them to me. I put them on my wall and look at them every morning. It is the greatest. I am so spoiled.

i was going to expound the story for you…but i want you to read it with an open mind, so i won´t tell you all the DEEP things i was thinking…hehe. have your own deep thoughts. you don´t need mine. so. pictures.

awhhh. couple picture. they are so in love it makes me sick (this is Karine and Roberto) this is us on this raft/boat thingy. good this i got this picture early, because Karine got sea sick (how can you do that within sight of the shore?) and romantically threw up over the side of the boat.

this is David and i in the water, with the weird face mask thingys, where the water was seven meters deep. i really have no clue how much a meter is, but it was deep and as i dove down, i saw a shadow (promise on a Bible) and freaked and stayed on the boat from then on out. before that we had gone to a shallow area and fed the fish…in the natural reef…it was so incredible swimming around them and seeing all the colors–red ones, blue ones, yellow ones, floresent blue ones…Then David and i swam farther on and crossed this rope thingy…and quickly found out that the rope was there for a reason. there was tons of sea urchins…i thought sea urchins were cute little fish or something…nope…they are balls of pointy spikes. yuck. and i already have this great fear of stepping on pointy things…but no…really–it was incredible and took my breath away, swimming in the reef with the fish all around, yet never touching you…it was an experience of a lifetime and something on my list to do before i died.

this is a view from the hotel where Karine´s parents were staying, so we crashed there. guess what…it is $40 US a night to stay here. my gosh i paid $40 US to sleep in the sleaziest hotel they had in Miami last year…so when are you gonna come see me? this place is called “Porto De Galinhas“ literally…Port of Chickens. nice huh? yeah, they have these pictures of possessed chickens everywhere, proudly representing their city. bleh. you see those chairs in the forground? i feel asleep on one…and woke up a tomato. yeah, right now i am in pain, sicking to the chair…but man, it was worth it. one of the best days of my life. there is nothing like the beach…running up to a wave and daring it to stop you (which is normally does with saltwater up your nose) feeling the current rush againsts you–delighting and yet fearing it´s power. and then falling asleep exhausted with the sound of the waves.

 

I met a man. He wasn’t beautiful, and he didn’t need to be. He went around giving lectures. He didn’t have a home and he didn’t know where his next meal or meeting would be. In my uptight society looking for release, he was the perfect solution and soon had a following. My life wasn’t so perfect either, but life had taught me to be more cautious than to throw everything away for a man with fancy words.

I went with my parents to a meeting he had. Oh, I’d heard about him, but my life had been fine without him. Until we talked. Something opened in me and I knew I’d never be satisfied sitting at home in from of the TV. again. His words stirred up something in my soul, like a forbidden romance that you know you shouldn’t and that only makes you want it more. It was truth, and I believed it. It all sounded so simple, and the simplicity lasted until the harsh words of reality scorned me.

He stayed in the city, but I found ways to ignore him. I knew what he was saying was true, but I hid from truth so I could hide from him so I could hide from myself and the choices I knew I needed to make. He even came to my house and asked me what was going on. I always found a vague answer, smiled, and then closed the door and went on with my life. But as much as I ignored it, my life had changed. I had changed just enough that I didn’t fit into my old life with my old friends…but I resisted a new life with this man who disquieted my soul. What was worse was that my parents had embraced this man and were always talking about him. It made me sick.

After another night of avoiding everything, and my emotions pent up in restlessness, I broke out in abandon and went to another lecture. I’d rather give anything or do anything than continue living that pathetic existence. After the meeting I was glowing and he met me to talk. He gave me an invitation. Three was a small group of young people who were interested in more. They, like me, had broken loose from society and decided to join the experiment of traveling and living with this man. None of us would know what was coming or where we were going—we’d just follow. I said yes before he could change his mind and the next day began my adventure.

It was incredible. He would speak and then have special times with just our group….explaining the principles and ideas to a new level. People everywhere came and always provided for us, no matter what city it was. Some said we were starting a revolution, and everyone agreed that it was about time. I learned more than my brain could digest. I learned how to live a new life doing things a new way because I had a new heart. People from the crowd would ask me why I was different—and I rejoiced to brag on our speaker.

After awhile of traveling, he came to me personally and asked me to call him “friend.” We set up a time—early in the morning before the days activities—to meet together one-on-one to talk. It was the best year of my life. We would joke around during breakfast, laughing at one of our inside jokes. throughout the day, we worked side-by-side as one person after another, with problem after problem, came to find help and solutions. I remember stopping for a moment, glancing over at my friend hard at work, and thinking “wow. What a guy.”

One morning he came with a rose. Another it was a poem. Another time he took me outside to see the sunrise. My life began to change in a new way. Soon I wasn’t happy when he wasn’t near. I could never really enjoy beauty without him. A moment was never complete if he didn’t share it with me, and I longed for him to know me more deeply. I wasn’t content to call him “friend” anymore.

How could this be happening? I’d given up everything I’d known in the past—my whole life. Now I was with him, living each present day with him. What was left but the future? I hadn’t asked questions—I suppose I thought this would go on forever. But love? Was I really ready to close off all other options and lay myself bare before my friend—with no promise of return? With no knowledge of tomorrow?

What if I wasn’t good enough? What if he was too busy with others? What if he only wanted to stay “friends”? what if I chose to love and it was rejected, or worse, patronized as a crush I would recover from quickly?

So I hid it the best I could. I didn’t look him in the eye, for I know he’d see the secret in my soul. I tried not to laugh so loudly at all his jokes or talk about him too much…I didn’t want to be obvious to others. When others teased me I would deny it or quickly leave…I knew I couldn’t keep it up forever.

He began to ask questions—questions I couldn’t completely answer because I knew if I started to talk my whole heart would spill into the conversation. He finally asked, “What is holding you back?” He knew. And suddenly I knew too. I knew he’d loved me—loved me like THAT the whole time. And I knew the only thing holding me back was me. was I willing to put all my eggs in one basket? To say “for better or for worse”? to burn every other bridge and kill every other option and give all for this one man, knowing that whatever happened, I would be his forever? Yes. I do.