March 16, 2006

• March 13

  
  

   

  
  

  My brother just told me that he loved me more than an apple. Before I could get too offended, he added that he loved me more than Christmas. Where he gets this, I don’t know. But I am glad to be bumped from apple to Christmas.

  
  

   

  
  

  Our water was stinking so they went and checked the water container thingy (I really don’t know how exactly it works) and found a dead pigon in there. Blekkkkk. So they cleaned it out…but that does not take away my thought that I brushed my teeth this morning with that water. This is one of the many reasons why we only drink bottled water.

  
  

   

  
  

  I am such a blessed person. Tele and Heather took most of the money that I gave them for room and board this month and purchased a nice wardrobe for Ivana and I. We only had our beds and suitcases laying around, so unpacking and making everything look good…is really nice. The store people came on Saturday morning with the pieces of the wardrobe and then stayed in our room a put it together for a couple of hours. As I was still in my pajamas, I tried to stay out of the way, but the delivery guys found my English fasinating.

  
  

   

  
  

  I caught the bus to Timbauba and let the sun shine in on my face the whole time. The wind was blowing, and am pretty sure that wind must be the breath of God because…it’s so perfect. There is nothing like the ride to Timbauba. Being alone on the bus, surrounded by Brasilians and culture, the smells, the sounds, the bumps…the view. Incredible. You pass all these houses with people sitting on their porches…most of them poor sugar cane workers who will be born, live, and die walking the same paths through those fields that generations before them have. Two little girls giggled as they got on the bus and squeezed their faces out the window. It was a treat to them to get to ride the bus. Behind them their mother noisly came on, arguing so loudly and violently I could not understand—and I am glad—as I did understand her middle finger continually expressing itself. I wonder what kind of life those girls will have.

  
  

   

  
  

  I was greeted in Timbauba by more than just the people I remember…Raul’s whole family has decided they love me and I had his little cousins begging for a hug while his mother told me that so many people have heard about me and love me…yikes. I don’t deserve this…popularity, and I am not sure I want the responsibility that accompanys it either.

  
  

   

  
  

  I had REAL conversations (in Portuguese) while I was there. Good ones. The deep kind. It was great for my Portuguese, but meant so much to me to deepen those relationships. Sometimes I wonder. I wonder, well, how much of it is real. Only understanding a certain percentage of what is going on around me is rather limiting. And then everyone knows there is always more going on than what is spoken anyways. It is easy enough to tell me life is good and you are growing in God when it is just making the poor Americana feel good—goodness, my kids in the US would tell me that all the time just to get me off their back.

  
  

   

  
  

  And then the baptisms. Last year Timbauba had their first baptism service, baptizing over 10 people (about 1/4^th the church). Some of my boys were baptized, but some of them were not sure about it. I had some great opportunities to talk to them about it, and so Timbauba had their second baptism service on Sunday, and I got to see my boys baptized. Wow. The past two years I’ve had the opportunity to go with my girls at the youth center and see some of them baptized. Each time it is a special epoch (if I might steal that word from history) in my life. Seeing my babies grow. It is such a visible step in discipleship. Can’t stop the tears. I’ll never forget it.

  • 3:38 pm
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