i got a tattoo. just a lil’ one.

is this picture showing up?

my peeps

i wrote my first children’s story. hopefully the first of many. Karianne and i have decided that writing children’s books is the highest and nobelest calling.

i hadn’t realized what a miracle the International School was until recently. i rode the van to Timbauba, which drops off the kids to their homes. i had known that alot of them had alot of money, but dang. these houses were huge. walled in neighborhoods, maids, nannies, gardeners…we also have quite a few children on scholarship. children whose parents are in ministry and/or working their butts of–at least six days a week–to give their children something more.

And today, at the Parent/Teacher meeting, today these parents sit side by side. these men and women that if they passed each other in the street, one would not look down and the other would not look up to see the face of the other. Men who would never work together, women who would never socialize. They sit side by side today, and talk about their children–their children who are swinging side by side, playing and laughing and never noticing how much change is jingling in their pockets.
*
Thursday night i fell apart. delayed reaction, i guess. Friday was a battle to talk to anyone. i ended up doing my responsibilities and then closing the door to my room. i hate closed doors. but i needed it. the thing is, i feel broken…so broken inside. some of it is just needing time to grieve. to say “it hurts, and that’s okay.” but there is also something more.

so i read some from “Waking the Dead” (John Eldredge) the chapter on Deep Restoration. and then some of “A Grief Observed” (C.S.Lewis).

because it is like every time someone i love dies…it pulls off the same scab to the same wound which never really heals. and there was something else too–another wound, and another scab pulled off. the wound that hits me every time evil, wrong, ugly things happen. it just doesn’t seem fair. something is wrong about it…and then my resounding yell out to God “There is always going to be something, isn’t there?”

i want to be able to stare down the ugly evil things in the world and say “look at this–look at my Beautiful Jesus!”
but sometimes…
God: i don’t seem enough? i am enough.
Me: i know you are, but…
God: but what?
Me: i want more
God: more what?
Me: More of my way.

oh. God? am i broken because i am stubborn enough to hold a grudge if you don’t play the game with my rules?
i guess i am.
I give up my rules. we are not even playing my game. You are the hero and i am Yours. Come in and set me free–heal me.
welcome home.

Faramir: “What does the king command?”
Aragorn: “Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!”
Faramir: “I will my Lord, for who would lie idle when the king has returned?” –J.R.R.Tolkien, Return of the King

Today a star was born
and left us here on earth
to wander in the small light
of silver mornings
and golden nights
the beauty with a sword
that kills us willingly
*

i just recieved news that Daisy went through with the abortion last Friday.

*
i wish it didn’t hurt. the hurt makes me wish it didn’t happen in the first place. now there is a hole–a hole with this little baby snuggled deep down inside. it wasn’t just any baby, yes, of course i don’t have room inside for all the babies, the children–and i was never asked to take that responsibility. but now i have a space. and what do i do with it?

*
please pray for Daisy. please pray for her family. Please pray for the father of this baby and his famliy.

i love passing the kitchen and talking to the cook. she knows just three things in English: “yes banana,” “no banana,” and “You’re welcome.” these are in responce to my two daily discussions: “Do you have any bananas? (for morning snack)” and “Lunch was delicious!”

i love how every class had to sing me “Happy Birthday” in English and in Portuguese. i love their hugs and my soda pop can lid present from Gabriel.

The youngest kid in 3rd grade–very shy to boot–brought me a present for my birthday. unfortunately, his mother wasn’t thinking and put the present in a plastic bag. on the plastic bag it said in nice big pink letters–”ropas intimas” (intimate clothing). poor guy. to make it worse, he asked me NOT to open it in front of everyone, because he was shy. So of course, it went around school that i was recieving intimate clothes from Luiz. it was a brown purse.

My friends took me to Lago Orar in Paudalho, where we met up with other friends who had a boat, and we boated around the lake. The lake connects to various rivers, which when you travel down them, look much like i am sure the Amazon looks like–with exotic birds flying up, bright red flowers lining the liquid green black water. there was an abandoned house, classic style from the 1920s. i was engulfed with beauty. it also chose to rain the whole day. a very dreary, wet, cold (for Brasil) day. but it matched the abandoned house perfectly. and i was happy.

i was then kicked out of the kitchen while a scrumptous VEGETARIAN meal was prepared…a huge salad, fruit by the bundle, and the most glorious, most soft and fluffy and perfect BOLO DE ROLO i have ever had in my life (jelly roll with guava, lightly sprinkled sugar on top). very happy indeed.

for class, i figured since i plan the class, i can change it. so i had all the kids help me out with a special project. after meeting a really amazing girl named Rachel (heh) at Cornerstone, she gave me this idea to write a letter to your future self. then after awhile you get to start reading them (she had started when she was like 13, so i am alittle late, but oh well). i figured to make up for lost time, i will write one to my future self (in five years–31????!!!!) and a letter to my past self (21…yeah). and i asked the kids to write one thing they would say to their past and future selves. here are some good ones:

Johnny, age 8. “When i was six, i wish i knew everything. when i am 10 i hope i go to Disneyland.”
Nicole, age 7. “When i was five i wish i knew how to talk to God. When i am nine i hope i read many books.”
Guilherme, age 7. “When i am nine i hope i am a book” (i think he meant to write something else, but when i asked him, he was tired of writing in English and said “no Teacher, that is what i meant–i want to be a book because then i will know lots of things.” and the little guy was so creative i just had to let it slide. heh)
Lukas, age 7. “When i was five i wish i knew to come to this school (he started last year). When i am nine i hope to have the car of the future.”
Tiago, age 13. “When i was eleven, i wish i knew not to cry when i fall. When i am 15 i hope to visit my uncle in Germany.”
Igor, age 15. (who i had to take to the principles office afterwards…bleh) “When i was 13 i wish i knew to study. When i am 17 i hope i will be working.”
Jonathas, age 14. “When i was 12, i wish i knew how to wait. Wheni am 16, i hope to travel the world.”
Rebeca, age 10. “When i was 8, i wish i knew to play and live more with my friends, and that i needed to love my family more. When i am 12, i hope i continue to be beautiful, obey my mother and father, and have good luck in the future.” (Rebeca is rather advanced in English and in thoughts. she makes me smile.)
Lorena, age 11. “When i was 9 i wish i knew i did not need to be afraid when we went to Africa. When i am 13 i hope i will be beautiful.” (Lorena’s family are missionaries to Africa)
Manuelly, age 11. “Whe i was nine i wish i knew to love my father more. When i am 13 i hope to be something in the future.”
Debora, age 9. “When i was seven, i wish i knew English. When i am 11, i hope i am very happy.”
Guilherme, age 9. “When i was seven, i wish i knew to respect my father and mother more. When i am 11, i hope i don’t fight my brother and talk bad with my mother and father.”
Luiz Mario, age 8. (the unfortunate bearer of pink plastic bags) “When i was six i wish i knew to always come to this school. When i am 10 i hope i go to New York.”
Eduarda, age 11. “When i was nine, i wish i knew not to argue with my sister. When i am 13, i hope i am pretty.”

makes you think, doesn’t it?

this is my church. in Paudalho. this is a picture from the very first sunday we had power point projector words on the wall, so everyone could sing along. and it just…is so very good. to hear everyone join in. to be a part of this.
amazing how many problems can come up…
*my computer didn’t have power point
*we needed a convertor for the projector
*the convertor had round plug holes, the projector had rectangle plug holes
*The cord wasn’t long enough
*we needed a table
*i can’t spell in Portuguese to type the songs in
*my keyboard doesn’t have Portugese accent marks
*I didn’t know how to use Power point

and yet…it all came together, with only a few spelling mistakes and confusions in the middle of the songs as to where we were at…

Good thing the projector itself was so easy to run! Everyone was ohhing and ahhing when i found the on switch. and everyone sang. even the guy next to me who really can’t sing…
it was wonderful.
thank you so much for giving.

wow.

my Brasilian family and me.

what is up with my fear of cows? i don’t really think about it until i am walking down some random path in some little town and the road narrows and i suddenly have to brush past one of those big animals. you would be surprised how often this happens in Brasil. once it happened in the dark. scared the poop outta me. i didn’t see the cow until i was blocked in. but nothing scared me as much as when Carina and i had to make a run for it. i promise those cows were hungry for woman flesh.

Aninha hired a guy to weed the yard around their house. he is an older man that looks like Frodo. wait…frodo is a hobbit…i mean the hunchback guy from the hunchback of Notra Dame. anyways, this guy had a very big growth something on his back. but really kind eyes. Aninha tried to pay him with a check…but he didn’t know what it was and didn’t trust it. and he was an older gentleman. must have lived off of petty cash from odd jobs his whole life. can you imagine never seeing a check before? let alone a credit card…

i tried to explain how dryers work to Cacau. and how those who didn’t have washers and dryers didn’t wash their own clothes either–they went to the laundramat. try explaining that to a mother who has washed her family’s clothes all her life.

i like working with children because they have something really special in them. i guess my goal is to try to grab that something special in them and show it to them. to have them see themselves, for all the good and the bad, but mostly…for what God can do.

Apocalipse 21:6-7 “Aquele que estava assendado no trono disse: “Estou fazendo novas todas as coisas!” Disse-me ainda: “Esta feito eu sou o Alfa e o Omega, o Principio e o Fim. A quem tiver sede, darei de beber gratuitamente da fonte do agua da vida. o vencedor redara tudo isto, e eu serei seu Deus e ele sera meu filho.” (Apocalipse is Portugese for Revelations…if you would like to follow along.)

i feel saudades falling upon me. a sadness in beauty that balances under my eyes and the left corner of my lips.

ok. either people started writing really cool things on xanga, or i have tapped into some amazing people who write on xanga. lets say both.

i just linked up to a buncha people who wrote me outta nowhere, praying for me and this darling baby. and then i recieve these e-mails of what they write and…am blown away. and blessed. and connected. it is really nice. normally i am like “TURN OFF the freakin computer and get me into the sunshine!” and while i still need my quota of outsideness, i just enjoy my time in front of the computer screen a little more lately.

so i would be a nice little girl and give you their links so you can enjoy them too, but am fessing up to the fact that i do not know how to create the whole link thing. as sad as that cop out is. so…just look at the people i am subscribed too. they are good ‘uns.

So the news is…Daisy has NOT gotten an abortion. yet. and nothing else is known. and school starts soon and…yes. so i dont know. and i cannot find the apostrophy button on this computer. oh well.

it is all in Gods plan. I guess i am just happy because at the moment, Gods plan looks like my plan. So please keep on praying, and every day is a new day. new choices.

i almost ruined my skirt because i was squashed in so close to the people around me, and the man next to me was covered with grease and oil. Kombes (vw vans). gotta love em. as i extracted myself from the mass of people sitting in the seat, a big spot showed up on my skirt. the man looked away, refusing to take responsibility. Brasil. huh.

Brasil likes to hit as many senses at once–and then overwhelm them until you are blown away. on Sunday we went to the center of Paudalho for a political speech (they vote October 6th here). The local Capoiera group was there dancing (Capoiera originated as a dance/fight sport the slaves played in Brasil). They formed a circle and cut in and out, dodging and kicking and twirling. The political flags were everywhere, high up on their bamboo sticks, weaving and fluttering right over my head, dancing across my shoulders as someone walked through. people constantly jostled my elbows as i tried to get a better view of the dancers. The Capoiera instruments ting out the time while everyone claps, trying to be heard over the loudspeakers, telling us the political rally will start in five minutes (while everyone knows no one shows up for another hour). i should have bought a bag of pipoca doce, and then all of my senses would have been occupied. but i was too busy watching and listening, as the rain began to fall, leaving its clean yellowness of the afternoon to drown me completely.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008;
Page A1

…(i cut out stuff…it was long.)

“But by Casey’s father’s standard of social justice for the unborn, Obama is badly lacking.

Obama has not made abortion rights the shouted refrain of his
campaign, as other Democrats have done. He seems to realize that
pro-choice enthusiasm is inconsistent with a reputation for
post-partisanship.

But Obama’s record on abortion is extreme. He opposed the ban on
partial-birth abortion — a practice a fellow Democrat, the late Daniel
Patrick Moynihan, once called “too close to infanticide.” Obama
strongly criticized the Supreme Court decision upholding the
partial-birth ban. In the Illinois
state Senate, he opposed a bill similar to the Born-Alive Infants
Protection Act, which prevents the killing of infants mistakenly left
alive by abortion. And now Obama has oddly claimed that he would not
want his daughters to be “punished with a baby” because of a crisis
pregnancy — hardly a welcoming attitude toward new life.

or decades, most Democrats and many Republicans have
hoped the political debate on abortion would simply go away. But it is
the issue that does not die. Recent polls have shown that young people
are more
likely than their elders to support abortion restrictions. Few
Americans oppose abortion under every circumstance, but a majority
oppose most of the abortions that actually take place — generally
supporting the procedure only in the case of rape or incest, or to save
the life of the mother.

Perhaps this is a revolt against a culture of disposability. Perhaps
it reflects the continuing revolution of ultrasound technology — what
might be called the “Juno” effect. In the delightful movie by that
name, the protagonist, a pregnant teen seeking an abortion, is
confronted by a classmate who informs her that the unborn child already
has fingernails — which causes second thoughts. A worthless part of
its mother’s body — a clump of protoplasmic rubbish — doesn’t have
fingernails.

Abortion is an unavoidable moral issue. It also has broader
political significance. Democrats of a past generation — the
generation of Hubert Humphrey and Martin Luther King Jr. — spoke about building a beloved community that cared especially for the elderly, the weak, the disadvantaged and the young.

The advance of pro-choice policies imported a different ideology into
the Democratic Party — the absolute triumph of individualism. The
rights and choices of adults have become paramount, even at the expense
of other, voiceless members of the community.

These trends reached their logical culmination during a
congressional debate on partial-birth abortion in 1999. When Democratic
Sen. Barbara Boxer was pressed to affirm that she opposed the medical killing of children after
birth, she refused to commit, saying that children deserve legal
protection only “when you bring your baby home.” It was unclear whether
this included the car trip.

Having endorsed partial-birth abortion, Obama has little room to
maneuver on the broader issue. But he does have some. He could take the
wise counsel of evangelical Democrats such as Amy Sullivan and come out
strongly for policies that would reduce the number of abortions –
support for pregnant women, abstinence education, the responsible
promotion of birth control. An organization called Democrats for Life
has proposed the creation of a “95-10 Initiative” in which states and
the federal government would work toward the reduction of abortion
rates by 95 percent within 10 years. That would be a unifying national
goal.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/01/AR2008040102197.html

Is ABORTION enough of an issue to decide who you vote for/do not vote for?

(that is a question. honestly.)

for lunch i just ate

leftover farofa stuff, which is basically flour from the manioc root mixed with…i think this time it was…carrots?
and leftover beans
with hot sauce and green olives.

and in Brasil, you layer food, not put it in it’s own corner. so i layered it.
and for dessert, a sour starburst. green.

a hoard these babies. ask Karine.

i brought down four packs of sour starbursts and they will last the year. hidden. in a sticky mass because they start to melt a little…

just thought you should know. this is why i won’t be getting married for quite awhile. this is traditional Rachel cooking.