May 12, 2006

• May 11

  
  

   

  
  

  I was sure by now

  
  

  That you would have reached down

  
  

  And wiped our tears away

  
  

  Stepped in and saved the day

  
  

  But once again I say amen

  
  

  But its still raining

  
  

  And as the thunder rolls

  
  

  I barely hear you whisper through the rain

  
  

  I’m with you

  
  

  And as your mercy falls

  
  

  I’ll raise my hands and praise the God

  
  

  Who gives and takes away

  
  

  And I’ll praise you in this storm

  
  

  And I will lift my hands

  
  

  You are who you are

  
  

  No matter where I am

  
  

  And every tear I cried

  
  

  You hold in your hand

  
  

  You never left my side

  
  

  And though my heart is torn

  
  

  I will praise you in the storm

  
  

   

  
  

  I remember when

  
  

  I stumbled in the wind

  
  

  You heard my cries

  
  

  And raised me up again

  
  

  My strength is almost gone

  
  

  How can I carry on

  
  

  If I can’t find you

  
  

  And as the thunder rolls

  
  

   

  
  

  I lift my eyes unto the lord

  
  

  Where does my help come from

  
  

  My help comes from the Lord

  
  

  The maker of the heaven and earth—Casting Crowns

  
  

   

  
  

  The mornings are getting colder and so are my 6am showers. The only time I think of myself as the martyr missionary is when I have to force myself under that showerhead.

  
  

   

  
  

  Is it always in tragedy that we find beauty? Does love only bloom in adversity?

  
  

  Is.62:5b “As a bridegroom rejoices over His bride, so will your God rejoice over you.”

  
  

  Purity is absolute.

  
  

   

  
  

  I felt so dirty after reading that. So impure. And scared. I don’t want to fall again. It is so easy—at EVERY moment I could reach out and take sin in so many different forms. Sometimes I feel like a crazed cat that just wants to lock myself up in a straight jacked away from everyone so I can’t do anything bad…but even then I am sure I could. The problem is…no matter where I am…I am there.

  
  

   

  
  

  The spiritual fight is heightening. I have felt ready to give up in just about every area of my life the past couple of weeks. I started this “30 hardest days of your life” devotional. They were not kidding. And I don’t think it is really the book…I think it is more that I told God I wanted to do whatever it takes to step off…so He has started opening my eyes to what is really going on—what has always been going on I just was too busy or scared or distracted to see it before. But…it is incredible.

  
  

   

  
  

  I went to Recife to get my visa renewed for another 90 days. I was nervous and wasn’t hungry. When I loose my appetite, you know it is serious…so Heather was like “Well, God wants you here so there will be no problem.” And that was that. I was thinking, yeah, I know that, but does the FBI of Brasil know that? so we went to the Brasilian FBI (they handle the visa stuff for some reason) and…it was annoyingly simple. And after it was over? I hear a sigh of relief behind me and someone saying “whew. I was worried because you were here so long last year—I thought for sure there would me more problems…” yep—it was Heather. Smile. Good thing she didn’t show me her worry…I would have fallen apart.

  
  

   

  
  

  Love so incredible

  
  

  To know

  
  

  It’s never gonna go

  
  

  Love to impossible and true

  
  

  For anyone but you

  
  

   

  
  

  I think I am on the brink of something large

  
  

  Maybe like the breaking of the dawn

  
  

  Maybe like the match being lit

  
  

  Or the sinking of the ship
  let it go with the grip

  
  

   

  
  

  I am finding everything that I’ll ever need

  
  

  Gotta give it up to gain anything

  
  

  Falling for you for eternity

  
  

  Right here at your feet

  
  

  Where I wanna be

  
  

  I am yours

  
  

  Forever, and ever…

  
  

   

  
  

  Love so indelible

  
  

  To know

  
  

  Your never gonna go

  
  

  Love too unthinkable and true

  
  

  For anyone but you—Dave Chowder Band (they are…weird…deep…I like it.)

  
  

   

  
  

   “True love is wanting to be pure and good and perfect and beautiful because you know you are loved, not to keep or earn their love.” That’s an original Rachel quote. I think. But then again, probably not. Oh well. It was not intentional plagiarism.

  
  

   

  
  

  I want it to be real

  
  

  Or not at all

  
  

  I don’t have time for

  
  

  Playing games

  
  

  This nonsense living

  
  

  Without ever letting go

  
  

  Does not count for a day

  
  

   

  
  

  If either I am wrong

  
  

  Or God is wrong

  
  

  I know it is me

  
  

  But can I trust to say

  
  

  That I never see why

  
  

  That it is okay?

  
  

   

  
  

  It is hard to go to Laoga De Itaenga. I love all the kids and it is not like I am doing any work. I get in the car, pray for them, sit on the sidewalk and then attempt to teach a verse in Portuguese (I think Ivana has it out for me. she picked another long verse. One word I completely gave up on pronouncing correctly…). But it is hard because it refuses to let me forget. It puts in my face the hardships and pain of others. I walk into a smelly house with flies and open sewers and see the amazing people who live there—people with hearts and souls that should be living in mansions while their kids play in manicured yards instead of dirty streets with sewer covered flies landing on them. It is hard to go to Laoga De Itaenga because it means I must step out of my normal perceptions and what makes me comfortable and step into faith that God is still good when I don’t understand. We visited one of the women across town on Sunday. Her husband had suddenly returned after abandoning the family for a couple of years. He was always drunk, so life was easier with him gone. Ricardo asked her if she was alright and she bit her lip and tearfully said that he’d been beating her again. The good news was that he’d left again. For who knows how long. We sat down and prayed with her. She gave us each grateful hugs. When she hugged me I felt her shaking. I felt her pain. It is hard to go to Laoga De Itaenga. But God, never let me forget.

  
  

   

  
  

  Obedience or mere excellence? I read “Every Man’s Battle.” I always seem to get more out of the books written for guys than for girls. Probably because I always set out to fit everyone else until God reveals it was really for me all along. They made a point that pretty much summed up most of my Christian life. Excellence is doing enough to seem prefect, yet not paying the price to go on to all the way. It is finding the median of “Christian” standards and then making sure I am enough above that standard that I am lookin’ good and am nice and satisfied with myself. Obedience is going for God’s standard—it is remembering that God said “Be ye perfect, even as I am perfect.” It is going all the way.

  
  

   

  
  

  “A man once said to D.L.Moody, “The world has not yet seen what God can do with a man fully devoted to Him.” Moody responded, “I am that man!” wow. I want that. am I too scared to say I am that woman? Am I afraid that the path will be too lonely or too hard or too much to handle? Am I still holding on to the illusion that one day I will wake up and find that life is easy? Ain’t happening.

  
  

   

  
  

  I have a new student in the afternoons. 10 students are EVER so much more than 9 for some reason. Her name is Thalita. Her mother stopped by to check out the school…Thalita was her step-daughter and they had just moved. She had been going through a lot of problems and didn’t really like to leave the house except when she had too. Thalita looked in the classroom, saw Adna, her old friend, and asked her mom if she could start that day coming to school here. Needless to say, she’s really enjoyed her first week here. Wow. It seems to be like that with just about all the kids. It must be a God thing because I am no miracle worker. Feliphe was almost kicked out of his last school because he could not be controlled. You should see him smile when he sings “This little light of mine.”

  
  

   

  
  

  Neto showed me where his tongue was attached strangely in the front (a birth thing) today, so I asked him what happened. He said it was glue. God’s glue. Smile. To help the kids remember how to say “Happy Mother’s day” in English, we are singing it to the tune of Happy Birthday. The problem is that I’d already started teaching them “Happy Birthday” correctly. So they normally mix it all together. Who knows what their mothers will hear on Sunday.

  
  

   

  
  

  I love you mommy. And hope you fix the internet in time to read that I do. Even though you already know it. Thanks for telling me what you think and praying and respecting me as an adult. It frees me to be your baby.

  
  

  • 4:22 pm
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