“The cry that arises from behind all this decadence is clearly: “Is there anybody who loves me? Is there anybody who really cares? is there anybody who wants to stay home for me? Is there anybody who wants to be with me when i am not in control, when i feel like crying? Is there anybody who can hold me and give me a sense of belonging?”"–Henri Nouwin
Prayer requests: *Tables and chairs. We currently have one table and bench, three mini-tables and 17 mini-chairs, and 4 regular size chairs. and 76 children squished in corners and on the floor.
*November trip to Word of Life. They have generously offered to let us use their pool (many of the kids have never been to a pool). But we need $175 to rent a bus to get all the kids there.
*Community church teen retreat November 22. I am bringing the older girls from Living Stones to join the teens from church for this day long event.
*Christmas. enough said. all that kind of stuff.
*Food. currently, the government provided meat. Everything else for the past couple of weeks has been provided by the generosity of YOUS. This is most often a political issue, which makes me upset…but i will save that rant for another day. and just say thank you once more.
*Spiritual needs of each one of these precious children.
thank you for your prayers. love. kindness. smiles.
3 blocks down School is just out for the afternoon Children laughing the bell rings
2 corners away the man is Pentacostal preaching it sounds the same in any language
1 block over the neighbor is asking to borrow a pan to bake a cake the car drives down the street radio singing broken-hearted
The tree above me holds birds chirping I am sleeping in the hammock with the sounds of today below behind and together
Some of my current English students:). This is the cook/janitor/errand runner/whatever else we need. He brought his two nephews. Alexandra, Vera, and Alexandro. Mom is a prostitute. Dad is a drunk. Alexandra has a tumor irritated by lice, open sores all over her head. Most often, Alexandra and Alexandro live alone since their parents “go away” for work. We managed to have her take off her cap long enough for a picture. Vera was adopted by her aunt, so leads a better life, but is constantly reminded she was taken out of the trash pile. Alexandro works at the Feira, trying to stay out of drugs and not often succeeding. Cleyton’s nickname is “Principe Encantado” or Prince Charming, because whenever they do fairytale plays, they always make him play the prince. he is my sweety. Rafaella, in the middle, ran home last week “Risonaide! you need to get saved. Come to church with me.” it was more of a command than a request. Risonaide (left) and Rafaella both gave their lives to Jesus last week. I took 12 pictures of Eduardo (Right), and every time he managed to turn around. Then he cheesed for this picture. moody. Isac (Left) is the youngest of five. All of his older brothers are in jail for selling drugs. He loves playing soccer and always is bouncing something around his feet. Wedja and Joseane…and their crush, Josenildo, who was enjoying the attention. Alexanjela. One of our new kids. to put it bluntly, she is a terror. but, like most terrors, she is full of charm and hugs and kisses and makes it all better in the end. She is one of those that you have to sit down, put their face in your hands and make them look you in the face. You speak clear and slow and look her in the eye. Then she decides she can’t get around you or manipulate you…and you live much better after that.
hmmm. there are so many more stories.
“Wake up, Marcus” “Is it the party yet?” “No, just time for school.” “Oh.” This is Marcus Vinicius. He has been waiting for the Children´s day party for a long time now. a year. Last year Living Stones put on a party–the works–for the kids. October 12 is Childrenś Day in Brasil, but only for those with money to spend. This year, with the money YOU GUYS provided (all of you lovely people who donated for the jewelry I brought back from Brasil), we had the second Childrenś Day party. and, like so many other things in life, it isn’t just about the party. It is about being cared for. Loved. Noticed. Belonging. And maybe a little picture of Godś hands on earth.
Bounce house Ball pool “Pula-Pula” trampoline Clown Limitless cotton candy, popcorn, cake, and hot dogs. the whole week i was joking with the kids to leave four spaces in their belly. we talked about the fluffy sugar. we drooled over it. build up is everything. Even Patricia and Cacau couldn’t sleep the night before the party…
It was beautiful. Wonderful. Wish you could have been there.
The good news is, almost 120 kids are coming each day to Living Stones. the bad news is, almost 120 kids are coming each day to Living Stones. You ask God for something and then are overwhelmed when He gives it. yep. or at least I am like that.
Oddles of kids. squishin out the corners. 76ish in the afternoons. Including a couple of savory criancas that make life more colorful. interesting. and stressful.
But good. And a lot of games of dodgeball in between.
God has been providing food in wonderful ways, the church getting more involved, and different people at the school helping out. Food is coming in different paths every week it seems…but always coming.
Three mothers and ten new kids showed up today. Patricia and Cacau meet them with a smile. I must say…I tried not to cringe. I havent gotten down this whole ¨Serve¨ stuff yet. 70 kids at once is a lot. Three teachers. Without enough chairs. Without enough tables. Without enough cups and plates and spoons. There is always something to complain about, isnt there? I went around gathering plates and cups from the kids who received their food first, washed them quickly, and put food on them for the kids who hadn’t received yet.
I sat and listened to Patricia and Cacau tell me more stories of the kids. i tried to translate them correctly. quickly. without falling. I want to forget. to remain in ignorance. to know is to care and to care is to carry and to carry is heavy. I dont want to look into these faces and give them a hug and know that I am sending them home to a living hell.
And then I forget to see the light. There is so much light. and many more smiles. Thursday, the older girls planned a surprise party for Patricia and Cacau. They made a cake, bejinhos, crunchy cheesy things, and orange pop. And everyone managed to keep it a secret. that was the biggest part. all the lil’ ones kept quiet. i was impressed.
It was beautiful. Patricia and Cacau were so encouraged.
They are rather cute, arent they?
Special gifts from the International school that made our day…worksheets and coloring sheets…you can never have enough.
And another week goes by. oh. and I had mid–terms at college. in Portuguese. that is always fun.
He looked at me and found me lacking. “when I was 16, I started working. There was either school or work morning, afternoon, and night. And if I didn’t like it, it didn’t matter. That was the choice, and I did it because I had to. To put food on the table for my mom and sister. to get $100 a month. You have never felt that. Never felt the “have to.” You have made choices your whole life. If you work, it is because you want to—you want money to come to Brasil, to buy things. If you go to school it is because you want to—you want training to do things better. If you come to Brasil, it is because you want to—you want to help and serve. Deep down you know that if you ever really didn’t want it, you could leave. Leave Brasil. Leave your job. Leave school. Leave whatever project you have—because Rachel, you always have projects. You work hard, and you do a good job. But it is because you chose to, not because you had to.”
It is true. If I wake up this morning and JUST HAVE to go to the USA, I can. I have a house, family, car, money in the bank…not a lot, but enough. I will never go hungry. I will never have no place to sleep. I have never felt that pressure. And it made me sad. Silly me. I think my generation, in the USA, is missing this. Feels empty in some way, because they have missed something. Never had to. It is always about what we feel like doing. Sure, I try to follow God’s will. I follow my parent’s wishes and wise counsel. I do plenty of things I don’t feel like doing. But I do them because I choose to. I still know, in the end, that there were other options. Opportunities. The golden doors open to the world. It is beautiful. and yet…perhaps missing something. Something deep. Something that forges the gold.
I think one day I will arrive at this place. After I have more responsibilities. When it is my turn to take care of my parents. When I am married, but don’t want to be. When I have children. For everything there is a season. And when my time comes, I hope I am ready.
Until then…i freely admit my selfishness. I am grabby about my clothes, my food, my possessions. Ask first, please, and give me the opportunity to say NO. life doesn’t always work like that and I get upset. Upset that someone ate my banana. That someone used my computer. Or my shirt. And ruined it. I spend ungodly amounts of time weighing out the options. Figuring out what are the options…because I make the choice. All of them. When do I feel like getting up in the morning? Do I feel like jogging? What to eat? Bananas or mangos? What to wear? Pink or green? Feel, feel, feel, want, want, want…and most of the time…I get my way.
This time of my life is a gift. And with all gifts come responsibility. I was born in a land of opportunity. I was born to a family who had the means to give me a good education, and then let me go and do whatever I wanted. Most of the world does not have this. I am off and running, doing what I want to do. Doing what makes me happy. What I choose to do.
One day I will have “Have tos” in my life. Responsibilities that tie me so a place or a person or a situation. Right now I do not. And yes, this is a gift, but yes, I am also missing out on things. And I feel that too. I am at the inbetween time, when I see both sides. And maybe tomorrow it will change. Nothing is sound. But here it is today. And to me, the struggle is real.
So maybe it is about the little things. Because the big things fall into place rather quickly. After a long wait. But the little things…the getting up in the morning, the going where you need to go, the doing the dishes, the small exchanges with those you live with, those you love, those you don’t love so much.
Today is today. This is the day I’ve got. What am I going to do with it?
They are everywhere. I walk to the store, and I hear “Tia! Tia! Tem PETI hoje?” yes, yes, I reply, we have Peti today. I had slipped away. I thought it was unnoticed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there, it was just that I didn’t want to be anywhere. I hit one of those middle spots. Where you are neither here nor there. And just haven’t figured it out yet.
Being. Makes all the difference. Anywhere I go, there is one of the kids. Jogging. Buying juice. trying to be alone because I am tired, and I wish I wasnt feeling that way…but sometimes I do. And the next day they sneak up beside me and say ¨Tia, I saw you yesterday at the bakery.¨ And I smile and say ¨Yes, yes you did.¨ They like to walk with me to my house. because they want to know where I live. I think they are still trying to figure out if I am for real or not. I think I am too. Still trying to figure things out.
My uncle said it was about being. here. I know that. He reminded me of that. Not what I do, but what I am. But it is just so nice to see results. To do things, and see fruit. That doesn’t always happen, and so when it does, I get so happy. But the happy doesn’t last long. The high dies down and I wait for the next thing to do.
Because being is hard. So vague. So uncontrollable. And it is underrated. And lonely. Being is very alone. Very personal. Who are you when there is no one else. When there is no conversation. When there is no laughter. Most often, being is not noticed. Because in this world, you are valued by what you offer, what you have, what you can give me. I am weighing my relationships in my mind—do you have something I want, making this friendship worthwhile? Or are you just going to take, take, take, and drain me empty?
found an old picture from way back when…stars were just the holes to heaven.
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I was sitting in statistics class. Taught by a teacher who is freaked out there are 100 of us. She knows she is outnumbered. And she teaches easy. So I bring a book. I am always reading. Above the edge of the book I see trash. Seven pieces of candy wrappers. It bothers me. I sigh. Who’s the pig who doesn’t know to use the trashcan? Stop, I say to myself…You be the change you want to see. You make the world that you want to live in.man. Quit being the person who complains about become the person who does. So I did. i stood up, picked up the wrappers, and put them in the trash. “Parabens!” I hear as I take my seat, “You deserve a congratulations” said my classmate, who then looked condemningly at the perpetrator until she looked convincingly guilty. I felt pink. I hadn’t expected to be noticed.
I took out the trash. Trashbags are the size of a McDonald’s value meal here. So I take them in a wheelbarrel and wheel them down to the corner. I left the gate open and when I returned the turtle was almost down the street. I swear that little guy waits until I open the door and makes a dash to freedom. Good thing his dashes are slow. At the corner, I dump the bags. Our little trash corner. Normally visited by the stray dogs. But today it was horses. At the dump corner. I slowed down with the wheel barrel. Three horses and a foal. They eyed me warily. One stomped the cobblestones. Horses are nice. Sweet. I collected horses on my shelf for years. Loved the things. Today I was just scared. They are big. But I had to dump the trash. I went around to the side, where one horse was munching on old corn meal from a neighbor’s breakfast. Slowly, I tipped the trash out into the pile. I couldn’t look them in the eye. They would smell the fear if I did. and then I walked back to the house. You never know what will happen to you when you take out the trash.
We play Uno. a lot. anyone want to donate a game of Uno to a kid for Christmas? we can buy it in Brasil now for $6USD.
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“A good missionary means having really good eyesight. Or maybe it means teaching people to use their eyes to see things that have always been there; they just don’t realise it. You see God where other’s don’t. and then you point Him out”–Velvet Elvis
“God is in this place, and I wasn’t aware of it.” –Jacob in the Bible
My eyesight is still lacking.
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Emerson came to Living Stones with a maze on his head. At age 8, the guy already has three strikes against him—he is dirt poor, dirty (hates to shower), and likes to play with dolls. I don’t know what his mom was thinking. She took scissors and cut, in every direction, as much hair as possible. Leaving chunks and spikes and spaces and a big mess. The kids erupted with laughter when he came in. I had to work hard not to stare. Emerson and I went for a walk to the nearest barber shop. The barber looked at me “Did you do that?” and I said no with a shrug, and asked if he could help us out. Emerson was an angel, giving me smiles from the mirror. Ten minutes later we walked back.
I think being a missionary is about being there, where the need is, when the need is, and then being able to give what is needed…service, time, money. Often this is money. Unfortunately. To be able to apply the right money to the right place at the right time. It takes a lot of energy. More than you would think. Today, for $1.50, a need was met. For a little boy who would have had to endure weeks of laughter until his bad haircut grew out. Now granted, me getting here to be able to put that $1.50 at the right place was a more costly venture. But that $1.50 was beautiful.
Cacau asked me if I wanted the good news or the bad news. Good news was the food arrived from the government. The bad news was the rice and macaroni was so old and full of bugs that they had to throw it out. So I asked how much was 15kilos of rice. $15. The exact amount in my wallet at the time. That felt good. I really wish you all were here—all of you who support me financially or prayerfully or with your words of encouragement. I wish you were here to SEE the need and then POW—be equipped, by the generosity of others—to meet that need.
I told Cacau the money was from the generous people in the US of A, and felt bad that she couldn’t see your faces, and that you couldn’t see hers. I felt bad that I alone stood and received the gratitude that belongs to you. That belongs to so many. I feel unworthy. Because I am only here because of the investment of my betters. And so here, I am sending her thanks to you—and add my own thanks to it. God bless you.
We took a trip. To this famous old Catholic church with a big empty field. We played in the big empty field.
the girls won.
This is the begger guy who joined us. The kids started making fun of him…he was rather drunk. very drunk. and i told him i had a piece of bubble gum (that purple thing in his hand), and i would give him that and he should ask someone who had money, because none of us did. He proceeded to propose to me and tell me what a wonderful wife i would be. The kids thought it was great.
We had fun. it is impossible not to have fun with these guys. Cacau is the one with the black shirt. This is the first picture of her i took that she actually likes. This is Marconi, my deaf boy. We tossed the ball around. for a long time.
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“My understanding is that to be Christian is to do whatever it is that you do with great passion and devotion.Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God has made you to be. And anything else you do is sin and you need to repent of it. The goal isn’t escaping this world but making this world the kind of place God can come to. And God is remaking us into the kind of people who can do this kind of work”–Velvet Elvis
Roberta got married. she is one of those sweet people. i only know a few of them. and they are amazing. Ze American women. well, Karine was born in Rio, but still. L to R: Emily, Karine, Lindsay, Alyssa, me, and Mrs.Hood. Mr. and Mrs. Hood are here until the end of the semester. they are great. eating on the back porch
