July 26, 2006

• July 24

  I sat on my bed at 3:30am after seeing the group of
  American’s off. Their flight left at 6:30am. What are those plane people
  thinking? They remind me of the bat that flies around my room at 4:00am every
  morning. His name is Fred. His fate is better than the lizard that the boys
  caught in their room last week. His name was Lucius (sp?) and he got fed to the
  cat…after various other mishaps.

  It has been a couple weeks of fun, laughter, pain, work,
  smiles, dishes, conversations, and more dishes. They needed someone to
  coordinate the dish duty, so that was me. The first week was the medical
  clinic, which moved into the planning and preparation time…a deep breathe
  before the youth conference, English camp, and basketball clinic. And dishes.

  You know what? saying “I trust you†is saying that I’d
  rather be made the fool than play the guessing game of worry.

  We had an amazing time of worship one night. It was a total
  prep time for us to come together as Christians…as family…and confess, worship,
  and feel how beautiful God is. You can’t really explain times like those.
  Feeling God. Feeling clean. Desiring God. Wishing everyone you loved could be a
  part of it…and feeling your love purified for God and it turn to everyone else
  in your life. All the questions and negativity and worries washing away in a
  flow of submission.

  It was sorta weird being in charge of some stuff. Like
  helping run the games instead of playing in them. It made me feel like an
  adult. And I am not sure I enjoyed that. but I did like being able to help
  everyone. And being able to translate.

  The preparation for the youth conference was amazing. The
  kids got together in groups and put together presentations on different
  subjects such as finding your purpose and homosexuality. On Sunday it was all
  about purity. One of the ladies of the group shared about her life. I felt like
  she was telling the story of how my life could be. She shared about how she saw
  her plans and how people fit into her plans and how her plans could serve God
  and then she made them all fit. And God allowed it. He didn’t stop her.
  Sometimes the power of human choice scares me. because I know God would let me
  do the wrong thing…and make choices that I would spend a lifetime paying for.
  Often my biggest prayers are for God to physically stop me from doing the wrong
  thing. Because it is easier to just ask God to take responsibility for my sin,
  huh?

  The girls class was from the book “Captivating.†They had a
  skit that started with a girl slapping this guy across the face. Hard. We saw
  the finger marks on his face. It was talking about how we to that to God. Each
  time I complain or worry or seek fulfillment or rest in other things…I am
  looking God in the face and saying “You are not enough.†What kind of love is
  this?

  I became known as the Nazi of the kitchen. Poor people. I
  had to ushur them into the kitchen and then I would bring in pile after pile of
  plates to wash…we did have some good times singing though.

  It was an amazing group. Tele had said before that my big
  group—from ’99, was the easiest, most well behaved group. This group had us
  beat by a mile. They put everything into what they had, got along, got to know
  people, and worked their rear ends off.

  Besides two people going to the hospital for falling off the
  roof while playing “Mission Impossible†and one guy getting stitches from falling
  while painting, everyone stayed pretty healthy too.

  Christopher, Tele and Heather’s son, decided to join the
  group on Sunday, July 16^th. I am not a baby person, but I am
  confident that he’s a special one.

  English camp was amazing as always. I was the translator for
  the beginning adults, but it was amazing how far we could go in conversational
  English after building on the first day’s vocabulary.

  But I think my favorite was the basketball clinic. It was
  rather my first time “out.†The whole semester I’ve been busy teaching English,
  but the whole time has been set in a Christian setting, or at least an
  atmosphere I can control. I was the welcoming committee at the basketball
  clinic, as well as one of the only people around who spoke Portuguese. The facilities
  we used were in a rougher part of town, and we went at night (after a long day
  of teaching English and dishes). It was a rather tough crowd. Normally the
  basketball clinic is geared for kids, but there were only a handful of kids,
  and even fewer girls who would actually try to play basketball. There were a
  lot of teenage guys and men there, most of which just wanted to see what the
  heck these Americans were doing. It was the first opportunity for me…speaking
  good enough Portuguese…to really reach out and talk with people. People who
  weren’t so…polite. Who asked me what F*** meant and what kind of beer is
  popular in the US.
  They wanted to know why these people were so happy and why they didn’t want
  money and what the catch was. Brasilians sure are curious. I’m glad. I think
  American’s miss out on a lot of things because so often we are simply to busy
  to be curious about things around us. Quite a few people were saved from that
  ministry. I invited tons of people to church…and even if only one came…it was
  one.

  And as in all cases of doing a lot of work and having a lot
  going on, “iron sharpens iron.†I’d been going and going, pushing to get
  everything done and make everyone happy…and finding that is not always possible
  and there is always something else I could have done or someone else who was
  not satisfied. But suddenly, for a moment, it stops. I am not needed. And I
  wonder if there is any purpose to me at all. If I’d only become what I did and
  without it—who was I? What did I want? In the absence of people there is a
  sense of emptiness—a wild urge to run somewhere and fill it up with
  something—anything. So I sat still. And I wondered how long I would have to
  wait. To wait until I felt peace with stillness. Peace with myself. How long
  until I could understand this deep sadness, with no cause to be sad. I don’t
  know what I want the silence to speak to me. Perhaps the answers to the
  questions I don’t know how to ask. Of that I am afraid to give voice to.

  I need to work on the whole flexibility stuff in switching
  from working to resting. I seem to manage to only do one or the other well. On
  Saturday we got a chance to switch to the resting part, enjoying some time at
  the beach. I sat on the beach, listening to the waves, covered with the salty
  water, the wind brushing sand on my face and the sun drying me out. I peeked my
  eyes open to face the sun and saw the guy selling kites. It has been a dream of
  mine to fly a kite on the beach. I dunno why. But this day I looked and thought
  that today had been so great…why not save that dream for another day. That and
  the fact I’d spent all my money on touristy gifts. So I am counting on another
  beach trip.

  I had some great conversations with so many different
  people. I love talking about Brasil and the culture and the people. One of the
  girls asked me what I did when faced with so much poverty and problems and
  issues involved with serving in Brasil. And I realized that one of the most
  powerful lessons I’d learned all semester was a completely different answer. I
  think I’ve had more times of questions and falling on my knees broken before
  God asking “why?†this semester than I have any other time in my life. And when
  I look back on most of those questions, I have no answers to them yet. Maybe I
  never will. But what happens is best expressed in “Sacred Romance:â€

  “God is wild. How can you trust a Lover who is so wild?
  Answer: you could love Him if you knew His heart was goodâ€

  Sometimes it really looks like God is the bad guy. And what
  bothers me the most is that He does not come and stick up for Himself. He
  doesn’t zap anyone with lightening. But I wave my fist to heaven and dissolve
  into exhaustion after fighting and feel His heart. And know that He is good.
  Somehow I know that more than reality itself. More than the questions, the
  problems, or even myself. His heart is good. And that is how you continue on.

  *

  Where do my emotions end

  And the essence of me begins

  When do I fight

  And when do I lay my armor down

  When do I surrender all

  And when do I take my cross and follow

  When do I give up

  And when do I shoulder my responsibility

  I want to be the one

  That proves everyone wrong

  That sees the miracles happen

  Because I believed

  But sometimes I wonder

  If all I was supposed to do

  Was let go

  • 9:29 am
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