Month: March 2007


  • Making fruit salad stuff…see the twins in front? beware of twins…most of the time they are great…


    The Amexias team (L to R): Miram, Assuario, Lorena, Maninho, Tiago, Esras, and Gilson


    The church…pretending they didn’t see me sneak up and pull out a camera…


    I really don’t like taking pictures at church. it makes me feel like a tourist. so i snapped one while they were praying for the kids…they always have the kids up front and pray for them before they go to Sunday school (which was on Saturday–Saterday–oh well.)

    It was a great time in Amexias. Pastor Assuario and his family are amazing people and i love them. It is about 2 hours straight into the interior of Brasil–past 5 cities–to a little town of about 2000. The school lets them use the building, but only on Saturday nights. so that is when we have church. We went early, Esras then teaches guitar and Maninho teaches piano to whoever wants to learn…we eat a WONDERFUL meal, and then have the service. I enjoyed traveling back with the guys–they entertained me with crazy old Brasilian songs the whole way. I am going again tomorrow, with a bus full of friends from Paudalho. oh happy day. :)

    ***
    my combie adventures continue. FIVE in a row that is supposed to fit three…and then we got stopped by the police who talked to the driver and who knows what happened next…10 minutes later we were on our way…i wish i could read lips in Portuguese and know what the deal was…

  • Disneyland

    i was thinking about cutting and pasting something from Nate’s xanga. instead you can look at it if you want. it is about boys and girls and church and messed up relationships. dude. scariness. i don’t know how to do links, so go to www.xanga.com/debouch

    I taught the kids the days of the week and months this week…unfortunately, i taught them all to spell “Saterday.” i woke up last night realizing that was wrong and it made me laugh. that is what happens when someone who can’t spell ends up teaching English in Brasil 50 hours a week…

    i just got off the phone with Kathy. Kathy from Disneyworld, who was calling to interview me for Disneyland. Interesting. so…i decided to apply to work there. i will find out in a couple weeks if it will work out, and if it is really something i want to do, and if God is leading…if you wanna see what it is like, go to http://disney.go.com/disneycareers/disneycollegeprogram/

    Please pray for my mum. i didn’t get the whole story–only the very exciting version from my sister, which included guts everywhere, and the very boring version from mom, which included playing an piccolo (spelling? that high little flute). But she may be having minor surgery as the result of all this. I got to see everyone on the webcam today. including my Aunt and Uncle and a sister with blue fingernail polish.

    food. i am officially Brasilian. i today i had lettuce, carrots, and tomatoes mixed in with my  rice, beans, mashed potatoes and macaroni. yes me, the girl who never let anything touch on her plate growing up. it is amazing how well food mixes here. i just end up piling it up  in the middle of my plate…yum. in the US you put food on your plate by sections. in Brasil it is by layers.

    The school is big on eating healthy. Today it became a rule that everyone needed to try alittle bit of everything…like at least one piece of vegetables…i didn’t think it would be such a big deal…but as i put ONE bean. ONE BEAN on Cecilia’s plate…the uproar begins. and roar it was. the girl started screaming like i’d killed her. and beans are pretty common here. really. i only eat them EVERYDAY. amazing. i guess the US does not have a monopoly on spoiling kids…

    The door to my classroom won’t stay shut. it randomly opens itself. We (the fourth grade and i) have decided there is a ghost living in the English classroom and have named it Harry. So everytime the door squeaks open, the girls would stand and say “Welcome to the International School Harry!” (It is our thing that whenever a visitor comes in the classroom, they are officially greeted–it sounds really cool–you should come visit my classroom and get an official welcoming sometime.)

    a frog the size of a football was found in the park during recess. it was the big news of the day after all the girls ran away screaming down the hall. i found one of the workers who got a shovel and scooped him out, but he kept hopping around…then us girls (Juliana and i) kept begging the guy not to kill it…

    Another evening of studying. Grrr. Today was another good
    day of school. God is really blessing me. it is just a nice thing to enjoy what
    you are doing all the time. It really helps things out. So teaching all day and
    then studying all evening. Some moments I sit back and say AHHH! What am I
    doing? Working my life away? And yet…I like this life. Does that make it even
    scarier? i think i am pretty sure that i won’t do this again–the whole working 50 hours a week and then being a full-time student…i can handle 30 hours a week while being in the US, but the whole Brasil factor is different…i feel like i can’t really live and get involved here because i have school…can’t do half the ministries i want, and can’t simply have the time i need. but it is hard to walk away from getting paid to go to school. yikes. only four more weeks to freedom–aka–the end of the semester.

    I find it funny and wonderful that I don’t know any cuss
    words in Portuguese. It makes me feel…fresh and innocent in some ways. Other
    times, it makes me laugh. Like when Adna came up to me and told me that someone
    had said a “palavrao” and I looked at the offender and tried to figure out what
    the heck he could have said. It was useless, and so I simply told Adna to tell
    one of the other teachers about it later. (heh, the things I will do to avoid
    responsibility. Shameless Rachel, shameless.) and yet, I still find it hard not
    to grin when so often Brasilians mispronounce “beach” and “ship.”

     ”Take up your cross and follow me.” Is this
    telling me to go to church more? To buck up and do my devotions like a good
    girl? To stop the self-pity and give more time to others? Sometimes I think
    wrong interpretations of this verse guilt people into Christianity. Guilt
    people into church or ministry…up to a tremendous cost. The cost of their
    personal relationship with Christ…or maybe the cost of their family (if they
    are a pastor or something). How many pastor/missionary kids have been
    sacrificed for the sake of lost souls or the “greater good.” (this is where
    that line from the Incredibles hits me “Greater good? I am the greatest good
    you’ll ever have!” or something like that…)

    Did you know that teen pregnancy has actually gone down since
    1960? The only difference is, back then, they made you marry the guy and now
    they don’t. My psychology book says so. It also says that people over 65 are
    overall satisfied with their lives—and on average, happier than any other time
    in their life over 25. Maslow’s hieracrchy of needs is interesting if you ever
    have to study something in psychology.

  • no, i didn’t really get a tattoo

    but i think just saying that i got a tattoo made my mom worry enough so that if i ever did, the shock is over. sorry mom. i should have known you would catch that little blurb i put in there and then forgot about…

    I got a letter from my man today. BEAUTIFUL artwork Johnny boy! i miss you! and you are writing really well–all by yourself? and you used the super-special magic pen…i feel special.

    “Fretting springs from a determination to get ones own way” –Oswald Chambers. Fretting sounds like a guitar word. i am just plain worrying. about everything. dumb.

    Balaam. a man who talked with God. Who’s life was getting in contact with God. he got to talk to a donkey for goodness sakes.  “…fall down, with eyes wide open.” Numbers 24:16 sounds like the name of a good CD. don’t steal my idea. it is copywrited.

    “There is no want to those who fear Him.” Psalms 34:9 Sometimes it is hard to believe verses like that. What about Sudan?

    “Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.” Ps. 34:19 Nice. i am promised MANY afflictions. sure, the delivering part is good–but wouldn’t it be easier for God to just eliminate the problems in the first place rather than rescue me in them?

    “Never allow the thought “i am of no use where i am” because you certainly can be of no use where you are not.” –Oswald Chambers

    Luke 1:46-49 Paraphrased by me

    “My soul is a mirror that reflects and shows the world my amazing God within me. My spirit is happy for nothing less than God who saves me and walks with me. In the great heavens, God looked down and saw my face through the clouds–not as one of a billion, but as a beloved. And now everyone else for al time will stop and know that the eye and heart of God is looking upon me–because the Perfect one, the Great One, spends time with me and loves me individually.”

    Last weekend was the Vaquejada. a sport where you chase the tail of a cow to pull the cow around. seems to me to be saying “please poop on me” fun. and like half the city was there watching. yuck.

    You know those zingy bugs that do that high note in your ear? by 11:30pm last night i was swinging around madly and praying those prayers that go something like “God, if you love me at all–kill that bug!”

  • So…after our first field trip to the orchard, we got seeds and are now making our own orchard. Duda is showing the kids how to plant them.

    I’ve been making up little songs for the kids to make it easier for them to learn the verse of the week. What was funny was to see Mateus (a student from last year who is 5) helping out Gabriel (who is 10) learn to pronounce “Hebrews” correctly. 


  • Here is Feliphe and his 20 merits. Heather wrote about his story and it is on this xanga site somewhere…


    My boys–aren’t they lovely? David, Christopher (who normally does not have red eyes), and Johnny


    Karine and i got to stay in Recife (at the apartment in Candeis) over the weekend. Just us. went to the mall by bus…cooked our own meals…got matching tattoos…
    this was a random picture i took while we were walking through the mall.

  • Got my computer working…

    and so i finally have the MOUNTAINS of pages i wrote February 13. here they is:

    We all just want to know we are irreplaceable. That we are
    special enough to have a space just for us that no one else can fill. That it
    is worth getting up in the morning. That sweating and running and grinning and
    looking people in the eye and going the extra mile and doing things right when
    no one is looking…adds up to something. We all long for someone we respect and
    look up to to stop and notice us and put their hand on our shoulder and say,
    “you did good. I saw that. It made a difference. Keep going.”

    I met this guy named Chad. We were both sitting at the
    computers at the hostel in the everglades. After a couple sentences he asked
    me, “are you a Christian?” which led to sharing “God stories” for the next
    while. It was good. Connection of two people with the same dad. So the night
    before I left he asked if I had anything good to read on the plane. I didn’t,
    so he said he had a book for me. What a book.

    I sat alone in Costa Rica, tears running down my face,
    looking at the world and being overwhelmed with the beautiful and the pain and
    the wretchedness.

    “The Irresistible Revolution” by Shane Claiborne

    MUST READ.

    Karine took me to a special place today after school. A
    field in the middle on nowhere. Where the wind blows and you can see the
    “lonely tree” and the hills and the cows and…lovely. I’d read Karine some
    excerpts from the book and we were inspired.

    Karine: I want to roll down the hill, but the grass is sharp
    and will cut me and there is cow dung everywhere

    Me: but if you really wanted to you could. What is stopping
    you? What really is stopping you?

    (Long pause. listening to the wind)

    Me: I bet the author of that book would roll down
    it—scratches and dung and all

    That’s the kind of book it is. And it hurt me that I didn’t
    roll down the hill. What stops us? What REALLY holds us back? So I will give
    you my highlights. Do what you will. But DO something.

    In the Authors note: “If you have bought this book, dear
    reader, I thank you. If you have borrowed it, I honor your frugality. If you
    have stolen it, may it add to your confusion.”

    He grew up like me: “I discovered a Christianity that
    entertained me with quirky songs and Velcro walls.” (I did the Velcro wall too.
    Yep.) “I call it spiritual bulimia…I developed the spiritual form of it where I
    did my devotions, read all the new Christian books and saw all the Christian
    movies, and then vomited information up to friends, small groups, and pastors.
    But it never had a chance to digest. I had gorged myself on all the products of
    the Christian industrial complex but was spiritually starving to death.”

    “I used to be cool. And then I met Jesus and he wrecked my
    life…Mark Twain said, “It’s not the parts of the Bible I don’t understand that
    scare me, but the parts I do understand.”

    “ (John) Wesley’s old saying, “If I should die with more
    than ten pounds, may every man call me a liar and a thief,” for he would have
    betrayed the gospel.”

    So this guy went to college in Pennsylvania and had this
    weird friend who visited and befriended homeless people. They started going out
    and spending the night with them. “On the streets of Philly, we experienced
    miracles…it’s enough to say I just wanted to be safe for God to trust with
    those little secrets that God seems to reserved for the weak and the destitute.”

    OH SWEET PAIN. I WANT THAT.

    “I met a blind street musician who was viciously abused by
    some young guys who would mock her, curse her, and one night even sprayed Lysol
    in her eyes as a practical joke. As we held her that night, one of us said,
    “There are a lot of bad folks in the world, aren’t there?” And she said, “oh,
    but there are a lot of good ones too. And the bad ones make you, the ones, seem
    even sweeter.”

    They read in the paper that these homeless mothers and kids
    had gone to a condemned cathedral for some place to stay and went in droves,
    picketing and helping and loving and standing up for the fatherless. They had a
    sign in front that said “How can we worship a homeless man on Sunday and ignore
    one on Monday?”

    ““I think I’ve lost hope in the church,” I confessed,
    brokenhearted, to a friend. I will never forget her response, “no, you haven’t
    lost hope in the church. You may have lost hope in Christianity or Christendom
    or all the institutions, but you have not lost hope in the church. This is the
    church” At that moment, we decided to stop complaining about the church we saw,
    and we set our hearts on becoming the church we dreamed of.”

    (In an old comic strip he saw) “Two guys talking to each
    other, and one of then says he has questions for God. He wants to ask why God
    allows all of this poverty and war and suffering to exist in the world. And his
    friend says, “Well, why don’t you ask Him?” The fellow shakes his head and says
    he is scared. When his friend asks why, he mutters, “I am scared God will ask
    me the same question.”

    “I gave up Christianity in order to follow Jesus.” So what
    did this guy do? He went looking for a real Christian. He called Mother Teresa
    (this was early 90s). And went to Calcutta. Yep. Really. When working with the
    street kids he said: “Some of the kids just wanted to be touched with love, and
    some confessed that they cut themselves or scraped their knees just so they
    could be seen in the makeshift clinic, to be held and healed.” He met this guy
    named Andy, a German businessman who read the Bible, and it messed up his life.
    He sold all he had and went to Calcutta to help. He’d been there 10 years. The
    author then said, “I had finally met a Christian.”

    From Mother Teresa he learned “We are not called to be
    successful but to be faithful…the discipline of doing small things with great
    deliberation.” “Following Jesus is simple, but not easy. Love until it hurts,
    and then love some more” “Calcuttas are everywhere if only we have eyes to see.
    Find your Calcutta.”  FIND YOUR CALCUTTA.

     “Over and over, the
    dying and the lepers would whisper the mystical word namaste in my ear.
    We really don’t have a word like it in the English. They explained to me that namaste
    means, “I honor the Holy One who lives in you.” I knew I could see God in
    their eyes. Was it possible that I was becoming a Christian, that in my eyes
    they could catch a glimpse of the image of my Lover?”

    (Single girls reading this…don’t wait up for this guy; he
    also took a vow of celibacy)

    “Jesus raised his friend Lazarus from the dead, and a few
    years later, Lazarus died again. Jesus healed the sick, but they eventually
    caught some other disease. He fed the thousands, and the next day they were
    hungry again. But we remember His love. It wasn’t that Jesus healed a leper but
    that he touched a leper, because no one touched lepers. And the incredible
    thing about that love is that it now lives inside of us.”

    Then he came back, going to Wheaten and working at Willow
    Creek Church. Culture shock. He happened to meet Rich Mullins (This book
    is a trip) even though he can’t sing a note. He heard a message Rich gave in
    chapel “You guys are all into that born again thing, which is great. We need to
    be born again, since Jesus said that to a guy named Nicodemus. But if you tell
    me I have to be born again to enter the Kingdom of God, I can tell you that you
    have to sell everything you have and give it to the poor, because Jesus said
    that to one guy too…But I guess that is why we have highlighters, so we can
    highlight the parts we like and ignore the rest.” (Then the author says) HA! If
    Rich hadn’t died, he probably would’ve joined the list of notorious blacklisted
    chapel speakers.”

    YES! For years I read my Bible and get this guilty sensation
    over some parts. I ask different people about them and always get a nice answer
    that tells me I don’t need to change—that God meant so and so in such and such
    context—so NO, I don’t really have to be that radical…of course not! POOP ON
    YOU. Let me bleed. Let me feel guilty. Let me do something. Let me roll down
    the hill thought the scratchy grass and cow dung. Let me go…why do I hold back? 

    So if you’ve gotten to the third page of this endless
    novel…don’t stop. Please. Don’t reconcile. Don’t write off this guy as
    sentimental. Don’t look down your nose at his love of Catholics and Gandhi and
    words against war and money. For once…just once…let the questions come into
    your life and don’t try to answer them. Let them grow. Let them chase you to
    the heart of Jesus.

    “Have we even begun to be Christians?”

    “People always want to define you by what you do. I started
    saying, “I’m not too concerned with what I am going to do. I am more interested
    in who I am becoming. I want to be a lover of God and people.” When asked for
    autographs he stopped and decided to write this instead: “This is not an
    autograph, because there is nothing special about me that is not also special
    about you. Never forget that you are beautiful, just like everyone else. And
    never forget that you are a fool, just like everyone else.”

    “I had come to see that the great tragedy in the church is
    not that rich Christians do not care about the poor but that the rich
    Christians do no know the poor…I truly believe that when the poor meet the
    rich, riches will have no meaning. And when the rich meet the poor, we will see
    poverty come to an end.”

    “Few people are interested in a religion that has nothing to
    say to the world and offers them only life after death, when what people are
    really wondering is whether there is life before death.”

    “And the people who have changed the world have always been
    the risk-takers who climb through windows while the rest of the world just
    walks in and out the doors.” “One friend was asked by a skeptic, “You all are
    just a little group if radical idealists. What makes you think you can actually
    change the world?” and she said “Sir, if you will take a closer look at history
    you will see, that’s the only way it has ever been done.” 

    So then he and some friends got this house in the poorest
    area of Philly and live there. In community. Spending days painting murals,
    turning trash heaps into gardens, tutoring kids, driving people places,
    welcoming people in to live with them when they are homeless…and God. It is
    called “the simple way” –a label given by a journalist that came and wrote a
    piece about them. In their first newsletter they wrote this. Which sounds
    something exactly like my amazing sister would write. I love you Anna.

    “Once, there was a small group of kids who decided to go to
    a park in the middle of the city, and dance and play, laugh and twirl. As they
    played in the park, they thought that maybe another child would pass by and see
    them. Maybe that child would think it looked fun and even decide to join them.
    Then maybe another one would. Then maybe a businessman would hear them from his
    skyscraper. Maybe he would look out the window. Maybe he would see them playing
    and lay down his papers and come down. Maybe they could teach him to dance.
    Then maybe another businessman would walk by, a nostalgic man, and he would
    take off his tie and toss aside his briefcase and dance and play. Maybe the
    whole city would join the dance. Maybe even the world. Maybe…Regardless, they
    decided to enjoy the dance.”

    www.thesimpleway.org
    “my pants have special holsters for bubbles and sidewalk chalk, and one of my
    housemates wears a tutu. Where else can you find that?

    “Charity wins awards and applause, but joining the poor gets
    you killed. People do not get crucified for charity. People are crucified for
    living out a love that disrupts the social order, that calls forth a new world.
    People are not crucified for helping poor people. People are crucified for
    joining them.”

    And get this (Anna and Carina), There are these people who
    converted their RV to run on old, used vegetable oil! So they’d stop at
    restaurants, get the old oil, and then do a little circus show to earn their
    dinner. AHHHHH! Check www.psalters.org
    and www.mewithoutyou.com

    “The true atheist is the one who denies God’s image in the
    ‘least of these.’” “Don’t call us saints; we don’t want to be dismissed that
    easily” “Love is a harsh and dreadful thing to ask of us, but it is the only
    answer”  –Dorothy Day

    “Tithes, tax-exempt donations, and short-term mission trips,
    while they accomplish good, can also function as outlets that allow us to
    appease our consciences and still remain a safe distance from the poor.” DON’T
    LET IT! Two weeks in Brasil is not enough.

    “Ask the poor. They will tell you who the Christians are”
    –Gandhi

    “The early Christians used to write that when they did not
    have enough food for the hungry people at their door, the entire community
    would fast until everyone could share a meal together” WHAT WOULD HAPPEN if we
    did that? WHAT? WHAT?

    “I am convinced that God did not mess up and make too many
    people and not enough stuff.”

    AMEN. What can you say to that?

    “Jesus was not simply a missionary to the poor. He was poor.”
    “I used to always say,  “Jesus was
    homeless.” And while there is truth in that, I believe the deeper reality is
    that Jesus had homes everywhere he went.” He goes on to talk about community.
    The FAMILY of God. Where you need the people who just get on a bike and ride
    around the world sharing about God—as well as—just as much—the homes that open
    the door, wash his feet, and give him a good meal and bed to sleep on at night.
    What do we do now? On a good day, we might give someone some McDonalds or set them
    up in a hotel. But my house? My home? My space? My coveted free time? What?
    Open my life to a stranger? But that is dangerous! What if they are fake? What
    if they come in and rob me? May I suggest we could “what if” ourselves right
    into hell?

    So he goes on a trip to Iraq. Why? “A love for our own
    relatives and a love for the people of our own country are not bad things, but
    our love does not stop at the border…in our rebirth, every life lost in Iraq is
    just as tragic as a life lost in New York or D.C. And the lives of the thirty
    thousand children (or as my amazing friend Becky would say—of the countless
    unborn) each day is like six September 11ths EVERY SINGLE DAY, a silent tsunami
    that happens every week…we are free to imagine a revolution that sets both the
    oppressed and the oppressors free…I truly believe we can overwhelm the darkness
    of this world by shining something brighter and more beautiful…may we stand by
    those who face the impending wrath of empire and whisper, “God loves you, I
    love you, and if my country bombs your country, I will be right her with you.”

    A doctor in Iraq helped him when he was hurt, after the US
    had just bombed the hospital. He looked at him and said “Violence is for those
    who have lost their imagination. Has your country lost its imagination?”

    I don’t know what I think about the war. I get that same
    guilty feeling about the war and politics as I do when I read things in the
    Bible like selling all your stuff…I don’t really know what to do about it. I
    push it aside and pick up the comics instead. But this is good. I am reading
    something real. That looks at the problems and doesn’t HIDE. It hurts, but it
    is a good feeling for once.

    “If they come for the innocent and do not pass over our
    bodies, then cursed be our religion” –one of the saints (ok…I couldn’t find who
    gave this quote, but I WANT it on my wall—this one too:) “So live real good,
    and get beat up real bad. Dance until they kill you, and then we’ll dance some
    more. That’s how this thing seems to work.”

    I am a hypocrite. How can I even write words like this? Who
    am I? What am I doing? That is the problem with dreamers…they sound so good but
    where do they go? Don’t think this is written to preach at you. I am simply
    recording my thoughts on this book. How I was inspired. Will I do anything
    about it? You tell me after you see my life the next month, year, 5 years…

    It reminds me of something that hurt me so badly. My pride
    was wounded. In Brasil I shared about things I’d learned. Some “golden
    platitudes” that I so easily and quickly cling to. About struggling with
    problems and poverty and pain. Someone read what I’d written and laughed (ouch)
    they looked at me and said, “What do you know about poverty and pain?” yuck. I
    recoiled and thought all my meanest thoughts about the person, like “well, you
    don’t know either, so meh.” But it is true. What do I know? But I want
    to know. I want to learn. I want to live and give and love…please?

    One of his professors said, “All around you people will be
    tiptoeing through life, just to arrive at death safely. But dear children, do
    not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip, or dance, just don’t tiptoe.”

    “Bored? God forgive us for all those we have lost because we
    made the gospel boring…it’s because we don’t dare them, not because we don’t
    entertain them. It’s because we make the gospel too easy, not because we make
    it too difficult. Kids want to do something heroic with their lives.”

    “When we realize that we are both wretched and beautiful, we
    are freed up to see others the same way.” Wow this hit me. Because I normally
    see one or the other. Some days I am too busy to see the beauty. Some days I am
    a cynic and all is wretched. Some days I fly over everything and only see
    beauty, followed by disillusionment when something wretched happens. It’s both.
    It’s God.

    So this guy has an old hippy friend who smokes lots of weed
    and likes to debate him. “One day he said to me, “Jesus never talked to a
    prostitute”…I grabbed my Bible and was ready to spar. Then he just calmly
    looked at me in the eye and said, “Listen, Jesus never talked to a prostitute
    because he didn’t see a prostitute. He just saw a child of God he was madly in
    love with.” I lost the debate that night.”

    “True revolution is when…the oppressed are freed from being
    oppressed and the oppressors are freed from being oppressors.” –Bishop Desmond
    Tutu. So…I find it easy to love the raped woman, but what about the man who
    raped her?

    “If I can’t dance, then it is not my revolution” –Emma
    Goldman

    “Welcome to the irresistible revolution, a new an ancient
    way of life that is so attractive, who would settle for anything else? Welcome
    to the revolution of little people, guerrilla peacemakers, and dancing
    prophets, the revolution that loves and laughs. The revolution begins inside
    each of us, and thought little acts of love it will take over the world. Let us
    begin to be Christians again. Jesus, give us the courage.”

  • Drivig to Recife. David set u the comuter
    ad i am listeig to music ad for some reaso, it wot tye a letter—the oe after m.
    heh. so fuy how life turs out. without the letter after m. or the letter after
    efore q. or the letter after a… Last ight i laid o my ed.. i heard a quiet
    ivitatio. To meet with my fried, my lover, my kig, i wet out siletly o the
    ourch. i saw some stars. saw the lights. ad i saw the frog. ye. quietly,
    siletly hoig/walkig across the footall field. vulerale. oe. willig to risk it
    all for what…a walk i the moolight? the whiser…e vulerale. e oe. quit eig
    ashamed of your thoughts, emotios, ai, tiredess…this is all art of you—ad i
    love you. all of you.” (and here David fixes the computer)

    Are emotions right or wrong, or only what
    we do with them? is it wrong to feel tired and sick of doing something, or only
    wrong if i let that attitude affect my day? Is what is really wrong when we
    hide what we think and feel and then try to be something else? or when we let
    the guilt of feeling those things stop us from living today? 

    i can feel the waves of the beach already.
    the eternity running farther until my eyes fail me, let me down, and the horizon
    fills me with a ache. that i cannot see. places i have not been and cannot go
    to.

    why do i want to cry right now? why is
    everything so beautiful out my window? why cant it just leave me alone. if i
    dont see the beauty i wont have the pain. i wont know what i am missing. i will
    have the bliss of ignorace. which some days, is the greatest gift.

    Trees are a call to the wild. They are a
    calm innocent symbol of all that is good and lasting and pure. sitting in one
    is good therapy. higher up where the wind always calmly blows. rest your ear
    against the cool bark and hear the gentle movement. close your eyes and
    disappear. 

    God? how did you think of this? this whole
    thing. living. life. waking up one morning and everything changing. or other
    mornings never changing when all you want is some kind of movement to know you
    still have feeling. how much of this stuff is your idea and how much of it is
    our warped selves creating?

    Things iĺl never say—Averil

    im tugging at my hair

    im pulling at my clothes

    trying to keep my cool

    i know it shows

    im staring at my feet

    my cheeks are turning red

    searching for the words inside my head

    feeling nervious

    trying to be so perfect

    because i know youre worth it

    know your worth it

     

    they dont do me any good

    just a waste of time

    what use it is to you

    whats on my mind

    if it aint coming out

    it aint doing you any good

    so why cant i just tell you that i care

     

    CHORUS:

    if i can say what i want to say

    say i wanna blow you away

    be with you every night

    am i squeezing you too tight

    if i can see what i want to see

    i wanna see you down with me

    marry me today

    yes im wishing my life away

    with these things ill never say

     

    whats wrong with my song

    these words keep slipping away

    i stutter

    i stumble

    like ive got
    nothing to say

     

    i really like that song. whew.

    so i am pretty hot stuff at school. grin.
    turns out the fifth grade boys were having a deep discussion on how i looked
    better with my hair down during Geography class.. 

    i know what i want to do. paint murals all
    over Recife. everywhere. spread beauty. i really really want to do murals.
    maybe if i get good, i can paint them all over the world. wherever there is
    ugly blankness. i want to fill it up with beauty. with hope. with a smile. God.
    i want to give. even if it will be gone tomorrow. forgotten. i want this moment
    to count. to touch someone. break me out of my little cage. my little box that
    i call life. grow me!!!

    live today. do what you will. love with
    abandon. and dont look back. love is never wasted. and if you fall, fall
    running fast, running strong. then dont feel guilty, just get up and keep
    going. screw all those people who want to make you feel guilty for trying your
    best. for making honest mistakes. for rocking the boat. shed their opinion like
    the tree lets go of its leaves.

  • McDonalds

    I am sitting at the internet station in McDonalds. Yep. if you buy the food, you get half an hour free internet time. They have Maracuja (passion fruit) McFlurries here. so i went to order one and got a funny look. then the lady was like `mc-fu-he?` (since you don´t pronounce the Rs here, that is what comes out. heh. i tried hard, but it was impossible. i couldn´t stop laughing. something about the irony…

  • So i go around telling everyone i like bolo de rolo (jelly roll) and don’t like chocolate. i didn’t really think it would be a big deal. EVERY DAY this week one of the kids brought some bolo de rolo for me. heaven. lovely. except then Amanda brought me the WHOLE roll. and then i sat down, read Princess Bride, and ate HALF of it in one sitting. and got sick. and so now…they keep bringing me more, and my stomach does a little dance of rejection every time i see it but my face must smile and appriciate it…funny.

    It is raining. Imagine a combie full of people. wet people. five in a row where three are supposed to fit. interesting smells float past my nose. and “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt hits my ears on the radio. huh. life brings interesting moments.

    This week was the “School” theme. so we learned all these words like scissors and crayons and desk…and i had them make a book of things they liked about school. i have to admit i was secretly very thrilled to see little stick figure versions of me smiling back on the page…funny how the kids can capture a likeness–my black skirt, red polo shirt, ponytail, and glasses. Heitor got creative and said how he was going to draw me with a belly full of bolo de rolo. oh dear…i think i am going overdue this whole “bolo de rolo” phase thing. probably won’t like it for the rest of my life. would serve me right.

    Today i had the kids play teacher. Lorena is a natural. She actually took up 20 minutes teaching the other students their numbers…and the kids really learned! Rebeca said perfectly “What color is this?” and Carol tried to give hints when one of the kids didn’t know the answer–the same way i always used to help her out last year. grin. teaching is so rewarding. especially while i am staring at a three day weekend ahead of me. Monday is some holiday…the local saint in Carpina holiday…and i don’t feel guilty, sacreligious or anything to be happy for that dear old dead saint. so there.

  • “I’m good at dead.”

    hotmail isn’t working. so i cannot check or read my e-mails. and somehow this one things has just made me feel so grumpy and like a little girl who sits in the corner and throws a temper tantrum. i really really want to throw a nice one. so i will think about something else.

    “…i was watching some kids play badminton and the Ed had just shellacked me, and as i left the court for the porch, he said, “don’t worry, it’ll all work out, you’ll get me next time.” and i nodded, and then Ed said, “and if you don’t, you’ll beat me at something else.” I went to the porch and sipped iced tea and Edith was reading this book and she didn’t put it down when she said, “That’s not necessarily true, you know,” I said “How do you mean?” And that’s when she put her book down. and looked at me. and said it: “LIFE ISN”T FAIR BILL. We tell our children that it is, but it’s a terrible thing to do. it’s not only a lie, it’s a cruel lie. Life is not fair, and it never has been, and it’s never going to be.” …It mean so much to me to have it said and out and free and flying–that was the discontent i endured the night my father stopped reading, i realized right then. That was the reconciliation i was trying to make and couldn’t. And that’s what i think this book’s about…This book says “life isn’t fair” and i’m telling you, one and all, you better believe it…There’s alot of bad stuff coming up…there’s death coming up, and you better understand this: SOME OF THE WRONG PEOPLE DIE. Be ready for it. okay. enough. back to the next. nightmare time.” –Princess Bride

    “We need a miracle; it’s very important” the skinny guy said from inside. “I’m retired” Max said, “Anyway, you wouldn’t want someone the King got rid of, would you? i might kill whoever you want me to miracle.” “He’s already dead,” the skinny guy said.” “He is, huh?” Max said, a little interest in his voice now. He opened the door a peek’s worth again. “I’m good at dead.” –Princess Bride