i live where goats interrupt my English classes, rather than cell phones. we had to stop class so Cleyton could catch the stray goat that wanted to learn to count in English.

Eduardo came up to Patricia and said “i am saving all my money. All of it. because i am going to buy some band-aids.” because band-aids are the new cool thing at Living Stones. i used up my first box in two weeks of finding scrapes and burns. They wear them with pride. i wonder how long Eduardo will be saving up…

I heard Rodrigo talk for the first time this week. he said “Thank you” to me…in English…after i filled up his cup with water. Rodrigo doesn’t talk. he doesn’t play. he stays to himself. out of the way. always. i don’t know all the deep psycological implications going on…but it made me really happy to hear him talk.

Cacao told me the story of Diego. and it must be repeated. Diego got kicked out of the PETI government program a couple years ago. but Patricia and Cacao asked him to keep coming to Living Stones, and he did. him and all his trouble-making. For over a year and a half they patiently loved this guy, until he turned 16, got a job, and couldn’t come anymore. They were sure…this was one that fell through the cracks. and you want to forget that sometimes they do…but it happens. it is true. and they left it alone. Three weeks ago Diego shows up at church. with his bermuda shorts and baseball cap (typical beachwear, not churchwear) and attitude. And when then the invitation was given, Diego raised his hand. And Patricia and Cacao didn’t have words, but Diego gave his life to Jesus that night. Diego is now attending discipleship classes…and didn’t fall through any cracks. it just wasn’t on the same time schedule as we were.

We have a new project at Living Stones. saving aluminum popcan tabs. if we get a kilo (2.2 pounds), it can be sold for $150R. a kilo is A LOT. but the kids decided they want to save up for a pizza party. half the kids have never had pizza, and the other half want to have pizza again.

Breno climbed up the coconut tree outside the church and picked me a coconut. i told him that when i grow up, i want to be able to climb up coconut trees as well. he gave me my first lesson in how to. but i only made it two feet off the ground. all the kids were surrounding the tree yelling “Forca Mulher! Forca!” (Strength, Woman, strength–or…put some power into it…kind of idea…).

We had all the food we needed this week. lots of food. the cook/janiter got pink eye, and his replacement only stayed long enough to cook the food…not help serve or do dishes or what not. so Cacao, Patricia and i juggled serving, dishing out, and washing for 40 plus kids. i get more convinced every day that my spiritual gift is really just doing dishes. We will also have enough food for next week. and…i am beginning to grow in faith…and think we might have enough for the next as well.

Please pray–next Wednesday we are having a parents tea. not really with tea, but that is what it is called. we will have cake. and there will be special presentations of all the work the kids have been doing…in English (my class) and art (Zeca’s class) and health (Patricia and Cacao’s class). The kids have been working since March to make these nice decoration hand towels–with hand painted fruit on them, and fancy crochet (*i looked up how to spell it on google. be very proud of me) outlining. So each mother will recieve a box (we are still decorating and making those) with the towel and a soap. i am amazed at the patience and persistence and personal effort that Patricia and Cacau are putting into doing this. i. would. not. and that is why i am learning from them.

Patricia and Cacao are doing a class and health, and talking about the food pyramid. so before we eat, we go over which part each food is in. I decided to get the kids some Tapioca, a very healthy, very yummy tradicional snack. The kids loved it. and it was about $10US. those kind of opportunities…pop up and you have to grab them. the best ten bucks i ever spent.

“I am nothing and have nothing: make something of me. You can do it, you’ve got what it takes–but God, don’t put it off.” Psalm 40:17 the message

Fasting. yeah.
i need something in my life. different. more focus. more something. and less complaining.
“Ramadan is coming up soon. why don’t we do it?”

Ramadan…”is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar. It is the Islamic month of fasting, in which participating Muslims refrain from eating, drinking, smoking, and indulging in anything that is in excess or ill-natured; from dawn until sunset ^[1]. Fasting is meant to teach the Muslim patience, modesty and spirituality. Ramaḍān is a time for Muslims to fast for the sake of God (Arabic: الله‎, Allāh), and to offer more prayer than usual. During Ramaḍān, Muslims ask forgiveness for past sins, pray for guidance and help in refraining from everyday evils, and try to purify themselves through self-restraint and good deeds. As compared to solar calendar, the dates of Ramadan vary, moving forward about ten days each year. Ramadhan was the month in which the first verses of the Qur’an were revealed^{[Qur'an 2:185]} to the Prophet Muhammad.”

As the great Wikipedia says.

they have five pillars of faith, and this is one of them. it is a big deal. and it is one twelveth of a year. and i always respected that. and wondered how many Christians had given up things for God like that. i wondered if i would.

If i didn’t have to do it alone…a whole month…including my birthday? what about celebrating?
yeah. i want this. i need this. and i have a fresh new journal that i want to fill with a new project. and this is it.

So August 22 it began. no more eating (and other things) from 5:05am on. until 5:53pm. trust me, it comes down to the minute. the sun goes down and food, glorious food.

at 5:30pm Alyssa asked me to help with the cookies. i now had cookie dough on my fingers, and the warm, gooey smell taking over the kitchen. but 5:53pm it was.

part of this is, and always will be, a set up. figuring out how to best get around things. YES, i do wake up at 4:30am to eat breakfast. and yes, i feel like a hypocrite about it…but it is better than only eating in the evening. brummmmmp.

but it isn’t about food. not really. it is about using that time in prayer. about remembering why your stomach is growling and being like–oh yeah–it isn’t about me. Muslems stop five times a day to physically bow down and pray. maybe you are better at remembering than me…but do you stop five times a day to pray–really pray? not just the little “dang, God, could you help me out here?” kinda stuff.

so i picked five things i need help on. to focus on. to…reevaluate. and am focusing on them. trying to stop five times a day and remember them. it is harder than it seems.

Lindsay fasted Ramadan last year, praying for the Muslem people. Junior is giving food to needy kids each day because he doesn’t want it to just be about giving up things, but about others recieving. and i…thought it was a cool idea. a new thing to get excited about. (that sounds bad. it is bad. tough.) i like fasting because i feel like i am doing something instead of just complaining about it.

it is hard sitting at the table with friends while they eat and i drink water. even if I wasn’t hungry, you just feel left out of something. and the other choice is isolation–ignore the food altogether…but then you ignore the people as well.

and it isn’t about losing weight either. Emily said she did a study and talked to many Muslems…and most of them said they GAIN weight during Ramadan. because every night they get together and FEAST when the sun goes down. party time. They are MORE social than before. interesting. although thinness would be a nice bonus.

The first week has gone well. I feel very full…with life. Life is little things like doing the dishes. like sitting on the cool, white, tile floor at 10:42pm eating fried cheese and molasses with your best friends, laughing as it drips down your chin. life is sitting in the middle of 40 children who own one set of clothes and are playing like they owned the world.

Week 2

Sneaking around the kitchen at 4:30am isn’t so great. but i haven’t had the guts to go without breakfast. yet. the main problem is, i like juice for breakfast. and juice is made from frozen pulp in the blender. the blender at 4:30am isn’t fun. nothing is very fun that early.

i received the most beautiful maracuja cake as a present for my birthday. (late present) it was store bought and gooey in all the right places…ahhh. and it sat in the fridge, waiting for 6pm to be eaten.

Ramadan reveals hoarders. i thought i had gotten better on my food hoarding issue when i did my month long living off of $2 a day experiment. apparently not. the cake disappeared quickly. eaten and given to those who are allowed to eat during the daylight hours. and 6pm would come and reveal a much smaller cake. very sad indeed.

my friend who is doing Ramadan with me lost 6 pounds. not me. nothing.

This week i had to stand at the door of the church and hug my kids goodbye…and send them into the streets to find some food to fill empty bellies. it made my stomach sick. because i know what it feels like to go without lunch. and i choose this.

it makes a world of difference when you choose things. They have it forced upon them. The government has red tape everywhere, holding up the delivery of food for the children at Living Stones. it is so ugly to see that government corruption–or just laziness–trickles down to nothing less than letting the children suffer. the innocent.

i got angry at first, and knew SOMETHING could be done–somewhere…you just can’t have a whole government with a whole stockade of food one mile away and no way to get it to these kids who have nothing. but my anger quickly lapsed into dispair. the whole fatal sigh. what was it i learned in Psycology? the lotus of control and learning what you can and cannot control…all that. Violence and guns. That’s what I need.  

or God. there could be that.
which is what happened. yeah. God set up this whole thing to where three days later the kids were sitting down to crackers and milk. and it was one of those goosebump stories. where you know it is God. i like those stories.

but as happy as i am…i still wonder what will happen next week when the food runs out. Will He do it again?  Stupid food. everything in life seems to be about food. or the lack thereof.

Ramadan is easier than i thought it would be. a couple of hunger pains here and there…but 6pm comes and i sit down to food, glorious food…and everything is better. and it makes me slow down. enjoy food. choose wisely because i get full fast–so only eat the best food. 4:30pm when i get hungry–to start cooking food, and do a good job…that kinda stuff. half-way there baby.

Week 3

Not eating lunch gives me time to do other things. like wash my clothes. by hand.

since i go to college right after dark, i have a 15 minute gap between the sun going down and walking to the bus stop. Making dinner when i can’t taste anything is interesting. i am always not so sure if i got the food right. because God forbid i actually use a recipe.

Amazing how your body can adjust to just about any schedule. even one like Ramadan. it feels almost normal to not be eating. almost. but i have been afraid to skip my 4:30am breakfast. Junior gloats about not doing this…but i am on to his midnight snacks. so we are even. But some days are not worth getting up at 4:30am. even for food.

Last Sunday was trial by fire. we went to Recife, to the mall. and you know what you do at the mall? you eat. lots. we sat and drank water. while friends ate. and it really was not that bad. except 6pm came around and we were stuck on the bus. wanting food. allowed to have food. and very far away from food. luckily, bus stops sell pipoca doce and oranges.

i have been eating toooooo much at dinner. it is not that i am so hungry…it is just i miss eating. i like eating.
and so when 5:58pm rolls around, i start eating and want to keep going. because eating is nice.

When i first read that during Ramadan women are exempt from fasting during their period, my first thought was…weak…that was before i remembered that you can not take meds on an empty stomach.

no pain killers + empty stomach = very unhappy Rachel. i did not hold out long. grabbed a banana, and downed the pills. weak.

so Ramadan wont end on September 20. i am doing penance. September 21st.

The Last week

I am officially a food hog. I want to save the world and share everything with the world and give everything to the world. But when you take the last banana that I was hoping to eat…and I get upset. I made cinnamon rolls and Junior ate 5. for dinner. and I got mad. Because that meant 4 more than I thought were gone and soon they would all be gone, and I was hoping to eat at least a couple more…..

I think my tummy is shrinking. So when I finally can eat, I think “AHHH! Hurry up and stuff food in before the tummy says it is full!” and then I sit around, waiting to get unfull, so I can eat some more. Because food is so lovely. Like cinnamon rolls…

Water and I have become close. Really close. Because all day, every day, it is all I get. Sometimes it feels like food is everything. Like life has no pleasure without it. Sometimes, especially around 4pm—when I have 2 hours left—I just feel weak and blah. I want to sleep or tune out or SOMETHING to make the time pass quickly and get to the part of the story where I get to eat. I find myself back with Maslow, on the bottom level of the pyramid of needs. Food. Food. Food. It pulses in my brain and clouds out the rest. No wonder hungry kids find it hard to concentrate.

but most of the time this ain’t so. this is just the whiny half that yells louder. the majority of the time i like it. i like having more time during Breakfast and Lunch to do…anything but eat. i like knowing i am doing something different. i like having a goal. i like being self-disciplined. i like that one day i can tell people i did this. for a month.

I discovered there are more uses than phone calls for my cell phone. i am a little slow in this area. Junior’s idea, actually. it does a little alarm reminder for you…so for the past week, during the five prayer times, my little alarm goes off and reminds me to focus. get back on track. i only wish i’d thought of that the first weeks. because it is just hard to remember. unless you live in a Muslim country where the whole city blasts music and chants five times a day. i like my cell phone alarm better.

and the grand total result? at best, i lost one kilo. 2.2 pounds. so don’t do Ramadan if you are trying to lose weight. that isn’t the point. i am glad that wasn’t my point. but man…it would have been nice…

What do I do with myself now? I am free to eat…anything. Whenever I want to. The options rush at me…and all I want to do is walk in the sunshine with a popsicle. Coconut popsicle. life is better with popsicle dripping down your hand.

Thank you…

so many who have been praying.

so many who have given.

so many who have stepped up done something.

i am overwhelmed. and really wish i would have had the faith to not be so surprised.

The Monday meeting with the church leaders at Paudalho was wonderful. We got some things worked out…since the original Living Stones had to stop temporarily (because of finances) a couple of years ago, all the children in the program were then enrolled into PETI, a government assistance program, and the same women (Patricia and Cacau) were put in charge, and the communication of what was the governments’ responsibility and what was the churches’ responsibility was lost. During the meeting, it became clear that names are important. The thing is, this is still Living Stones. The only difference is that God has provided the government to work along with us to provide for the food and teachers. (well, sometimes the food. And some of the teachers.) It was so exciting to see God move the hearts of these men as they realized—re-realized what an opportunity we have…here, sitting in the church every day, are children hungry to know more of God. Children who need to be touched, played with, listened to, and loved. And this is much more than two women can do. They are going to come and play some dodgeball…and talk with the kids. The pastor has already worked out for next month to have three computers, so the kids can have a simple computer class. and ideas and excitement is flowing.

 

Tuesday was a great day, and Wednesday, when we would have run out of food, everything was closed down for a day in something called a “Parada” where the public education sector stopped for a day as sort of a mini-strike/protest. And during this day, God provided the money for food for the rest of the week and next week. So Thursday was back on like normal. How could I have doubted? But I did…a great deal. Somehow I am surprised every time God comes through. Shame, Rachel, shame.

Friday was our second annual lice-killing day party:), made possibly by some friends in the USA. thanks!

After soaping up and combing out and waiting, we had a picnic of crackers and bananas while we waited for all the dreaded piolo…lice…to end their short little lives. The kids who had other siblings at home brought some medicated soap home to finish the job.

 

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7:15am

I take the short cut to church, up the hill that has steps cut out of it. Steps that wash away every time it rains. I walk by people’s houses and hear them singing. Funny, women cleaning always seem to have the same voice. I get to the cobble stone street that runs by the cemetery and turn right. The metal gate is half open as I make a right into the church “parking lot”—the dirt/grassy area that serves as our playground. I greet everyone with a  “good morning” and their names. I can remember almost everyone’s names now. Most of them say good morning back to me, some with a proud look, some with a mumble.

They come in and sit down at the tables. Our long table is a board balanced on two A frames, and two little wooden tables with matching kiddy chairs. If there are more kids, we get the plastic chairs from the church, which is in the building next door. We meet in a small converted house with a front porch, main room, two side rooms (the pastors office and the nursery room, which stays locked up), then a small transition room with our storage cabinates (yes, OUR…they made two shelves just for me), and then the kitchen, food storage room, and musical instruments storage room. And two bathrooms. Out the back kichen door there is always a cool breeze and the big drop off—we are on top of a hill.

Before snack/breakfast, Patricia says “1, 2, 3, absolute silence.” Which, to my amazement, normally works rather well. She shares something simple…one day was about being thankful. Another was about finding that place in our hearts made just for God. Mostly, it is something like “God loves you. He sees what you need. He has provide this food for you.” And then she prays a simple prayer we repeat, thanking God and so on. There is simple, basic food, but healthier than they normally have at home, if they have any at home. When I bring their plates or fill up their cups with water, I ask “what do you say when you receive something?” and most everyone remembers “Thank you” in English. And they look around smartly after they say it, checking to see if anyone noticed.

After we eat, the boys who have soccer class walk to town to the soccer field. Sometimes there is music or dance class, but not that often. The government pays the teachers $250USD a month, but that doesn’t include any curriculum or resources for the class. Most days the art teacher comes, and the kids divide into small groups, one with the art teacher: painting or croshay or some other fun project…which he buys all of (normally including candy, which is very endearing). Another group is with Patricia and Cacau, learning about health and family (right now they are doing the food pyramid), and I have a group that goes next door to the church and learns English.

Patricia and Cacau each have a day where they take a group and have a Bible study, and I have part of a Bible lesson each day.

In my group, we work on flashcards (colors and numbers right now) then look at some books in English, then sing a simple song I am teaching them. Sort of. If anyone can then remember a certain amount of vocabulary words, they get a sucker. Bribery works in any language. Then I have these pictures of the life of Jesus, and we talk about one each day. So far it is mostly question and answer. We talked about what Jesus taught, who was listening to him, and why the Pharassies didn’t like him. Today we talked about how the sick man couldn’t do anything for himself—but he had four friends who wanted to take him to Jesus…but he had a problem—they couldn’t get into where Jesus was. We also have a problem—we can’t get into where Jesus is in heaven—because of sin. Heaven is perfect, and for perfect people. How can we get in? We will do the next page tomorrow. Then we play a game or I have a worksheet paper for the kids to color/fill in.

By this time everyone is cheio de aprendendo, so we have time playing, where the kids will jump rope or play marbles or dodgeball. Often we will sit under the tree and talk and watch the others play. I use this time to work on my books. I am putting together a book with a page for each child. I take and put their picture in the corner, and if they can write, they sign the middle of the page. Slowly, I am filling the pages in with information. What is your favorite color? Favorite animal? Favorite food? How old are you? When is your birthday? How many brothers and sisters do you have?

I have learned a lot. Most of the kids like dogs. One boy was original and said an eagle. But they are not used to questions like these. they normally have to stop and think. they ask for suggestions. The food question was the most interesting. The most popular food chosen was lasagna, a normal dish in Brasil. What I didn’t know is that many of the kids have never had lasagna. It was just something they said because they’d HEARD it was good. Only a few named desserts like cake or chocolate as their favorite food—most said a main dish or fruit. A couple said cuzcuz, which is sorta like cornbread, and something we eat often at Living Stones, and one girl, after I asked her if she could pick any food in the world…simply said “Rice.” Rice doesn’t seem like the most exciting food to me…but it was what this girl knew. Rice.

I bandage up a few cuts and bruses daily, now that the kids understand and have gotten used to the idea of band aids. Anderson came this morning with horrible blisters and sores up his belly. I asked him what happened, and he said his brother had burned him. I asked him why and he looked up at me, all of six years old, and said “Because he wanted to.” Most of the burns had already blistered over, but I carefully put band aids on the open parts. Leandro wanted a band aid for his leg, which had already scabbed over, but was a couple inch long wound. I told him my band aids were not big enough.

By this time it is time for lunch (10:30am) and we do the same thing as breakfast and then dismiss for the kids to go home, change their clothes, and go to school.

The same thing happens in the afternoon—lunch at 1:00pm, and then snack at 4:00pm. But there are a lot more kids in the afternoon—a lot more older boys and a lot more little kids. And the number is growing…we had 9 new kids come this week. The other six PETI programs are closed, and the kids have no where to go. Or the kids bring their friends, who are not signed up for the welfare program, but have needs just the same. The church doors are never closed. When one of the kids says “but they are not from PETI” Patricia says “They are the same in our hearts.” And they come in and stay.

these are on the side things that add up to random posts on xanga…

i am in charge of 46 ladies at college, putting on a weekend school-fair tent all about teaching children English the fun way. Now I remember why I spent last semester at FALUB sitting in the same chair and not raising my hand. Because once you say something, you have a lot more work. I gave a suggestion for a theme, and was elected director, coordinator, organizer, and general person in charge of everything. This is getting interesting. instant popularity in a glass. i’ve never been good at popular.

 

Sunday mornings the sea calls to me. And two hours, two busses, and $6R later, I am at the beach. I get whammed against the head with days like these—where I just have to be alone. Where people bother me. Where my soul feels empty and I need to REFILL it. And this requires aloneness. (this is why I am very not ready for marriage, let alone kids. Too many days like this.) I wasn’t sure which bus I needed at the transfer, and so asked a nice older man for help. He showed me the right bus and then told me his life story in the ten minutes we waited for the bus to come. His wife cheated on him. Twice.

 

Junior and I got lost in a sugar cane field. They are so big and rolling that the city gets hidden quickly. They are harvesting now. I am not exactly sure how this works, but it involves a lot of men with big knives and then huge trucks about to topple over. And then they burn the fields, which makes it rain little flakes of black over the city. The bits float and smudge when they land. Smudges everywhere. It floats in doors and windows and makes it impossible to keep a clean white tile floor. Junior and I went jogging, following one of the many wandering paths through the fields. We just picked the wrong one that went to nowhere. We got to a clearing, ran down one hill and up another, over the ravine, and found our way back to the dirt road behind the city. All with the twilight sun blinking behind us. Sublime. Adoro.

I slept all night in a hammock…for the first time.

I bought what I thought was green beans at the feira. They were not green beans. They were red beans. And everyone laughed at me. Because they are not green beans.

Tortillas have finally arrived in Carpina. And the Americans have bought them all. Hopefully they will restock.

(pause for a moment of reverent silence of this glorious news.)

 

“What if our goal should not be to get (20 somethings) into the church? What if the same energy could be applied to mobilize them to BE the church? We’ve discovered a short window of time during the teenage years when students need to experience something beyond church as a spectator sport. If a young person is not challenged by hands-on, personal ministry, their faith will likely be sidetracked and even sabotaged.” –Reggie Joiner

 

“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” C.S.Lewis

ok. i admit it. i sit and think about what things to put on my facebook status. like “Rachel Winzeler is running away” or something. now you know.

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and phase three of learning…or is it phase four? http-equiv=”Content-Type” content=”text/html; charset=utf-8″> name=”ProgId” content=”Word.Document”> name=”Generator” content=”Microsoft Word 12″> name=”Originator” content=”Microsoft Word 12″>

I want to make something clear, in the middle of all the amazing things that have happened. I went through the wrong chain of authority. Two weeks ago, when we did not have any food at Living Stones, it was simply the problem of the government—as the church and Living Stones have an agreement with the PETI program, making it so they provide for the food and some salaries. The program is organized and put together well, but there is a problem…people. People and corruption. They seem to go together, especially when mixed with government. Especially in Brasil. After talking with the church leaders, and talking with Tele, we have figured out a system—a backup system—to hopefully make sure that the kids never are put in this situation again. When the food doesn’t come (and this isn’t something we can plan because we never know), we will first go to the church leaders, see if there is anything they can do, and then go to Tele, and see if there is anything else that can be done. Perhaps it is just talking to the right people. Sometimes it is then providing the food in the meantime.

I caused many people pain and even worse, some people actually believed that it was Tele’s fault that money didn’t come through for the kids. THIS IS NOT TRUE. There was no way anyone could know this would happen—we didn’t know until that day. That day I came and wrote for you to pray—Tele wasn’t there to talk to at the time. As soon as he found out, as soon as everyone else concerned found out—actions were immediately taken to make things right—to get food to the kids as soon as possible. And now that the need is known—it has been taken care of—so many people have stood up and made sure the need was met…I am overwhelmed.

I am also ashamed. To me, I was sending up a prayer request to heaven and to you, who read and pray with me. I never meant to cast doubt on anyone, or to blame anyone. While it is important for you to know what is going on, it is also important for me to go through the proper chain of authority, and speak to those nearest first.   

Prayer requests:

Monday Patricia, Cacau and i are meeting with the Paudalho church leaders to discuss how they can be more involved. this is an answer to prayer, and please pray that communication between church and this ministry can flourish even more.

We will run out of food on Tuesday. and i am not sure where the food will come from after that.

Wednesday we are going to do some home visits

Someone stole the DVD player. luckily for us, it was NOT one of the kids (it was stolen on a Saturday), but unlucky…no more DVD player…which also worked as our CD player to listen to praise music during lunch (the kids loved it).

next week, some time, we are going to have the second annual lice-killing party. new group of kids-new lice. special thanks to my American friends who are making this possible! i’ll get good pictures. we were going to do it last Friday, but a water pipe busted, leaving half of the town without water all day. Brasil. it is normal.

September special project: we are going to make picture frames out of old dvd covers (they’ve been saving them for the past year) and then have a special tea party for the parents to come and see all the artwork they’ve been doing, as well as recieve the pictures. (many of the kids don’t own any pictures of themselves. it is my ongoing project to have a picture of each kid that comes. it is harder than it sounds.)

October special project: October 12 is Children’s day. Last year, because of a special donantion from a friend, we were able to have a spectacular party for the kids. i posted pictures and all…we are hoping to have the 2nd one of the these.

November special project: Word Of Life is planning on letting us use their pool for a day to go swimming. but we need to raise $150 for transportation, to get all of the kids there and back for a special day. most of them have never been to a pool before.

December special project: early Christmas communion celebration. This was also started last year–where the table was all decorated, each child had a cup, plate, silverware, and napkin on a nice table clothe. The pastor gave a powerful but simple presentation of the gospel and of taking communion, and then they had fresh grapes and bread.

Thank you for your prayers.

 I bought band-aids. my idea of first aid (after my mother’s high hopes of me becoming a doctor one day) is neosporine and band-aids. so i brought some to Living Stones, so i could take care of minor boo-boos. The first casualty came quickly–Anderson’s thumb. so out came the band-aids and out came all the eyeballs. aparently, none of the kids had ever seen band-aids before.

“What is that? What does it do?” and the big question for the neosporine: “does it sting?” the crowd around ohhhed and ahhhed and asked for their own band-aid as well. i told them i had to see blood first. bad choice of words. i was worried they would get hurt just to get a band-aid.

It hits you in the little things. it makes you ask what kind of life they must live–a life without band-aids. without beds. dressures. toilet paper (the program uses 8 rolls of toilet paper a week…for 100 kids. which means most of the kids are NOT using toilet paper). showers. food.

Patricia wonders why i am alway surprised at these things “Didn’t you know about pobreza before?” i did. i thought i did. i’ve been working in the inner city since i was…14? i’ve read books and studied about poverty since i was little. but it is different being here…and realizing that many of these kids have never eaten pizza. Three years ago, Patrica and Cacau did a special program and made pizza for all the kids. They looked at it, not wanting to cut it because it looked so pretty round.

I’ve been asking the kids to write their name, tell me their favorite color, animal, and food, and their birthday. about 20% can’t write their names, and about 65% don’t know when their birthday is. and i think i am the first one to ask them their favorite color, animal and food. because they sit and contemplate it like they’ve never thought about it before. pink? no…green. Most every likes dogs. they’ve seen dogs. and food? they shrug and i asked “imagine you went to Recife and could pick any food you wanted–what would it be?” one girl said rice. RICE? imagine a life where the best food you’d ever had was rice. and she meant it too. Most of the kids said lasanga. when i asked Cacau, she said that most of them had never had lasagna, they’d just seen pictures and been told it was good.

of course these kids could never have afforded a luxury like band aids. i just had never followed the thought through that far. you don’t normally travel that far down until you are there. with them. day to day. and today…this is what hit me hard. band-aids.

I missed my chance. we were standing at the bus stop in Recife, buying our tickets home. A man selling drinks and pipoca was roughly talking to a girl, about 12, who was stubbornly staring back. i wasn’t sure of the situation. he shoved her against the wall.

my thoughts raced. i wondered if he was her father and i should look the other way and hope that at home it wasn’t worse. whatever. home–in secret–is always worse. why should i play blind? Then i saw she was begging and hee was telling her to stay away from his customers. She mocked him, the thin girl in a sports bra, miniskirt, dirty hair and barefeet. she mocked him with her eyes and said nothing. she walked away, on her own terms, and i watched her go.

the man continued yelling after her “you dog! dirty scum! infecting everything you touch! get out of her you animal!”

and i hurt. i felt frozen to the ground. our bus pulled up, hiding the girl forever from my view. i has missed it. the opportunity. the something. i could never know for sure exactly what i lost–but i had lost a chance to do something other than nothing.

so often, i do nothing. why?

sometimes because i don’t see any options. opportunities. i see no girls, no hurting, no emptyness–i only see me. other times i am not ready. not prepared, and so time passes me by. but mostly…from fear. what if i had said something? what would i say? my normal reason why kids shouldn’t be mean? “God made that girl, and loves her, and so she has value–don’t treat her like she doesn’t.”

I was scared of the man’s laughter. his insistance of my naievety and “surely you cannot live your life like that.” but i was even more scared that he would call me out and ask what i was doing to help the girl. how i would change the situation.

because i didn’t want to. i didn’t want to help. to become involved. i wanted to get on the bus and go home. i was tired. and in the end…the girl wasn’t worth it. i ached for her. i know i should not have let that man treat her like that–treat any human like that. but i was tired. i lost the opportunity. i lost something beautiful that could have been mine.

i am sorry God. forgive me. i want to be the kind of person that steps out and speaks out and takes the time to stand up for those who do not have a voice.

September 7. my first time to Disfila…march in the parade.

Monday i got up and did something i have never done before. washed the front porch/garage area–Brasilian style. put soap on the tile, scrub it down with water, and move the water around until it is drained off and then wipe it down with a rag. i had fun siding across the bubbles.

11:00am i went to the church to start doing hair for the girls at Living Stones. I had Annaś old half broken (seriously, the hande is half off–you have to hold it by the top) straightener and a curling iron. Patricia had a girl sit in front of me who had the biggest mass of hair i have ever seen. thick, thick masses of waist long hair inherited from Indians, Europeans, and Africans until it was not sure what it it was anymore and became its own identity. An hour later she had semi-straight masses of hair and i had burns all over my hands. then she decided she wanted her hair braided after all.

now there is a long line of girls. i told them i would try cirls. they had never seen a cirling iron, and looked at it warily. The next girl had so much grease in her hair, that it kept slipping out of the the iron. i did what i could…until Dayane. very short, kinky hair. and she wanted it straight. i parted her hair. i almost lost my comb. i whispered to Patricia…are you sure a straightener works on her hair?…she said it did. i would comb it out and grab the hair quickly to get it into the straightener. but i didn get the comb out of the way fast enough, and left a blue streak of melted plastic in her hair. she was really nice about it. i felt horrible. by 2:30pm my hands were red and it was time to walk to town. we marched through until around 5pm. we were the lucky ones. some schools were still there at 9pm. they take this stuff very seriously.

Leo

Marconi. the kids always call him mudo (deaf). i tell them his name is Marconi, not mudo. so then they yell for him ¨Marconi!¨ when the point is…he is deaf. yelling does not work. he was so proud to carry the trophy.

Patricia and Cacau have worked for weeks–seriously–weeks–to make sure all these kids could EACH have something in their hands to carry/show off for the parade. Cezar was happy.

This one must be photographed. i want one of these.

Uniforms! it has been four years since they have gotten new ones. the conditions to getting them were that we show them off. look at that–i got one too:). and dont i feel special. this is me and Glabison. he shared his umbrella with me.

Leandra. she walks with me in the mornings. we have talks. about stuff like being the oldest. i am the oldest of three. she is the oldest of 7…almost 8.

Our little Indians–Iasmine and Guilherme

Maria. shewas a great help…did the make-up for all the little girls.
 
Marching through town. for 2 hours. in the sun. i carried a water bottle and poured water into the kids mouths. and a perfume spray bottle…because the girls wanted to smell pretty.

Whereś Rachel? i am hidden in this picture somewhere

PETI…Program to Erradicte Trabalho (work) of Infants (children)

the whole town watches

Leandraś mom asked we get a family picture. because she doesnt have one. two were missing here..and one more is on the way. beautiful family.

The teachers. wonderful people. please pray for them.

me and my sister, Aninha

me and my brother, Junior

They are serious about celebrating. dang. it like a mini-carnival.
i went to bed early.