Everyone has a story…
this was a random thing someone asked for me to write…
stories about verses that changed my life. or someone i knew. and then to write a SHORT thing about who i was. have you ever tried to do that? briefness and me are not good friends.
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I leaned over the sink to wash the snot off my face. I had only been in Brasil for two weeks. I was only 16. I’d been home for three months. Why didn’t the feelings go away? The emptiness. The “something isn’t quite right” feeling. I turned on the water faucet and heard it. “Brasil is yours.” What? Was that you God? Talking to me? Or was it a feeling in words. Or something…bigger than me? What did that mean—Brasil is mine?

Five years later I sat on the tile floor of Nazare Da Mata, Northeast Brasil, with my Bible open to Matthew 5. I read it again. Who hasn’t read the Sermon on the Mount. This time it stopped. Verse five took me back to the sink in the bathroom five years ago. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” Inherit the earth? The earth was pretty big. My part was Brasil. Brasil was mine. But I wasn’t sure about the meek part. A good definition of meekness is “Strength under control.” Control. I wanted control. I didn’t want to give it up. Even to inherit a country.

The past five years of my life have been more of weakness under control, than strength. There is nothing like daily life in a third world rural town to show you that you have no control. Over anything. And that you might as well give the illusion of control you have left to God. He takes care of it better. Sometimes God puts us places where meekness is not an option, to give us things bigger than we ever imagined.

 

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I don’t know where they hide the dirt in America. Under grass and asphalt, I guess. In Brasil I walk down the street and all the dirt finds my feet. Sweeping the floor is a multi-daily task. It never stays clean. I thought being a missionary was about telling people about Jesus. I am spending more time washing the dishes and sweeping the floor. I came to help and teach and share what I know and the I arrived. And I found that things were taken care of. That God is already here and alive and working…and life goes on with or without me. In fact, what I can do best, and is the biggest help is often just that: washing the dishes and sweeping the floor.

Luke 16:10-11 “He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much…If therefore ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches?”

Me: Please God, can I go now? What can I do?

God: The dishes.

Me: The dishes? Why the dishes?

God: Because that is where you are now.

Me: The dishes. Forever?

God: No, not forever. Today the dishes, tomorrow the world. Or maybe the dishes again.

Me: Again…why dishes?

God: Because you need the dishes.

Me: When will I need something else?

God: When you are fine with just the dishes.

 

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I met Mika at camp, spending her first two weeks out of the inner city. She was not born with mental problems, but due to lack of training and care, at 14 she had trouble reading, concentrating, and doing simple tasks. She also had a problem wetting the bed. Every night. At one chapel service, Mika came forward to talk to me. She asked if I could save her. I said that wasn’t possible, but I knew Someone who would. Mika gave her life to Jesus that night.

It was a long two weeks. She shouted before she thought, she erupted before she understood, and she fought before she listened. To get her attention I would hold on to her shoulders and turn her to look at me. We talked about things. “Is this what Jesus wants for you?” I asked. “No.” she would sorrowfully reply. “Let’s pray then,” I suggested. Silence prevailed. “I never know what to say.” She confessed.

The only verse I could remember…and not even a whole verse, was Psalms 12:1 “Help, Lord…”and so that is what we prayed. “I have a verse for you Mika—a prayer—“Help, Lord.” And He will. He will help you remember. He will help you listen. He will help you forgive and will forgive you.”

We had a lot of “Help, Lord” prayers those weeks. Soon after, school started and I lost track of Mika. A year later someone mentioned that she had been in a house fire and was in the hospital. After I visited her, we closed our eyes to pray. “Ms. Rachel, I remember…”Help Lord!” “

This verse stayed with Mika, and with me. God is mighty, great over all—but He is also simple enough to fit into where we are. Into two words. To come near when we fall so short and can go no more. “Help, Lord.” And He will say the rest.

 

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(As told by my friend Aninha.) The doctor told my mom to come back in three days. Her blood has serious problems clotting, and more tests needed to be done. “Let’s not take the bus just yet. I want to talk to God about this.” We walked the couple blocks to the beach and took off our sandals while Angela told God all about it. She stopped and looked down, the waves stopping just before her toes. “You shut up the sea with doors,” she said, “You said it could come, and go no further,” Quoting Job 38:8,11. “If You can do that, then You can take care of my blood.”

And that was the end of my mother’s prayer. We took the bus home and waited for the next series of tests. In the office, the doctor took longer than usual. I took this to be a bad sign, but tried not to show it. She came in and said “Dona Angela, you have a lot of faith in God, don’t you?” “Yes, I do.” Mom replied. “Because God is doing miracles for you,” The doctor said, “You are free to go home, your blood is as healthy as mine.”

 

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(As told my by friend Daniel) “Fret not thyself because of evildoers…” (Psalms 37:1) It was easier said than done. My father was a spiritist, and demonically involved. I could see it in his eyes when it wasn’t him looking back at me—when it was something else. He would have super-human strength, and you would never know what he would do. “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him: fret not thyself because of him who prospers in his way, because of the man who brings wicked devises to pass.” (Psalms 37:7) I was meditating on Scripture, but it was hard when my father came into the room and grabbed me. I said nothing, but looked into his eyes and thought “For the arms of the wicked shall be broken: but the Lord upholdeth the righteous.” (Psalms 37:17) and my dad instantly let go. He grabbed a knife and started to tear up things around the house, but wouldn’t come near me. I continued meditating on the Psalm until the last verse “And the Lord shall help them, and deliver them: He shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in Him.” My father looked around, as if seeing things we could not see—spiritual things. He cried out “Stop! Stop! Don’t call the angels on me!”

I hadn’t said one word out loud. I dropped down and cried. It was as if God touched me and said, “See? I am real! I am here with You!” That day, the Bible was no longer a book to me, it was living and alive and NOW. Those words were mine.

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Brief description of my vision and heart:

Over the past 5 years I have spent 3 years in Northeast Brasil, teaching English, learning Portuguese, and living life with God and the people He has brought into my life. My heart is to help those who need help, especially children. Since the simple words “Brasil is yours” when I was 16, God has taken me many different places involving many different ministries, always including a lot of dishes, cleaning, and lack of control. At the end of the day, I find myself receiving much more than I could ever give, and more satisfied with not knowing the future than with having things defined. 

My vision is to work with the local churches in the small, impoverished towns in Northeast Brasil to provide a program that reaches the poorest children in the community. Like many of our after-school programs in America, the church doors will be open for kids to come and receive love, tutoring, friendship, fun, and food. Unlike most of America, this will often be the only food they eat, and hopefully they will learn to read before they drop out of school to work to provide for their family. I believe that knowing and loving Jesus is reason for our existence, and the only way we can find true happiness and fulfillment. My goal is to live this and share this with those who don’t know.

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Look at me

And see that I don’t have the answers

But I am trying

And my tries are valuable and necessary

 

Look at me

Maybe you know

That this is nothing good

Maybe you believe

That I will just hurt myself

Maybe you see

I am fighting against myself

 

But can you look at me

And tell me you love me

And believe that I will make the right choice

And even if I don’t

Your love will never change

Because it was never based on

Something that I do or don’t do

 

That when you look at me

My heart is true

My heart is good

And God will finish the work that He began

Even if it looks different from what you thought

 

Look at me

Imagine the worst thing that could happen

And still say your love will be the same

No matter what secrets

What sins

What weaknesses

I have or do or say

 

Maybe you think

I should be past this

Maybe you think

I should have moved on

But this is where I am

And no matter how it looks to you

It is real and deep and difficult to me

 

Look at me

You do not have to pretend

To understand

But don’t belittle where I am

Don’t question who I am

Don’t doubt my intentions

 

I listen to what you say

I value it more than you know

So please look and see me

Instead of this problem in the way

 

Look at me

I am neither an innocent nor a pervert

Not  a saint nor a savage

My victories are not consistent

But my failures needn’t be permanent

 

I believe in a God

Who’s mercies are new every morning

And I am traveling His road

But some places I must travel alone

 

Please be there waiting

For when I arrive

i still have more to say. just wanted a new post.

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I went jogging to the feira, where I took one dollar and got a bag of fruit. I like Brasil. 6 small apples, 4 oranges, a passion fruit, and a banana. There was a gerimu in the fridge going bad, and so I cooked it. It looks like a green pumpkin. Unfortunately, I have never cooked a green pumpkin before. Or an orange one. There are so many things in life I have never done. So I figured it must be like most other vegetables—you cut it up and cook it in a pan with water. It tasted alright. I cooked some green beans too. I love the familiar crack/pop sound when you are breaking them…they remind me of all my summers when Dad would grow green beans and we’d sit and prepare a big pan full. Amazing where sounds or smells will suddenly take you. away from you. 

 

I was riding the bus back from school and we entered the villa, the street that leads to my drop off. You can see all the red roofs and telephone poles and children running around. This is me. This is where I am. And I like it.

 

Rafael’s dad (one of the Living Stone’s children) has leprosy. Yeah, like the Bible plague disease. There are eight people living in Rafael’s house, and even though leprosy is a permanent disease, the government will only give disability support if he is taking the leprosy medicine. But the medicine is such that you can only take it for so long before you have to stop. Or the medicine will kill you. So Rafael’s dad had to stop. And so stopped the money. To try to help provide for his family, he goes out to harvest fruit. The last time he went, on his way home he stepped on a thorn that went four inches into his foot. He didn’t feel a thing. He went to Recife to get it removed, and now has a gaping hole in his foot. please pray for them.

I asked Patricia what she would say to you if she could go to the USA and stand before you and speak. she said something like this:

“It is not just the kids that are here, needy and needing. It is the whole family. and even if you don’t help us, do something. anything. God is always showing us something we can do for someone else. Take the step in front of you, and see where it takes you. Maybe to big places, maybe not. But don’t stand still.

We are working with what is considered and treated as the trash of the world. the unwanted. the child that is dirty and sticks his hand in your face and asks for money, making you feel uncomfortable. those that everyone else has thrown out, of mind and of heart.

It is not about money, it is about action. Doing what you can where you are. Whatever comes to your mind when you ask God honestly, “Whay would you have me do?” Do it and then go from there. It is about taking responsibility. If you see a need, go and do it. you see it because God has put it on your heart to do something about.” 

(ok. i added and edited a bit. but translating loses so much….)

Pastor Assuario`s father passed away on Thursday. Please keep their family in your prayers. He said “It wasn’t a good feeling to leave my dad there, alone, in that cemetary. But if i could say just one more thing to him, it would be only be to say thank you, for teaching me the ways of God.” and that is a good place to be.

Roberta is getting married today.

the girl next to me at college tried to copy my notes. i let her cheat all she wanted to: she was trying to copy my thoughts about Living Stones. i was letting my mind wander during class. which never gets called out because i write everything in English. there are some benefits about living in Brasil.

So Rio vs. Chicago. i love them both. shall celebrate with Rio, and lament with Chicago.

Thank you for those who prayed! on Wednesday, we had a mother’s tea. All the mothers, grandmothers, caregivers for the kids at Living Stones were invited.

Patricia and Cacau went all out…we cleaned and decorated for hours. i dunno how they manage it. For example…they made these flowers…out of two liter bottles. they cut, painted, glued, painted again…the stems are straws. everything is made my hand around here. These boxes–over 50 of them, were given to us by a resturant. wine bottle boxes. We cut and stapled and glued and covered them until they didn’t look like wine boxes, they looked like nice containers that we gave to all the women…inside was a towel, hand painted by the kids (a project they have been working on since March), and then crocheted around the outside. and then a bar of soap. It might not seem like a big deal…but it was.

These are the faces of those who give so much…

Pastor Celso gave a short message, and a lady shared about how the government project works, to make sure all the women are signed up for food assistance. We had a power point show of pictures of the kids, and i sang some songs (in Portugese). The women came up and daintily put a piece of cake on their plates and went and sat down. when everyone went through the line, Cacau announced that they could come and take the rest home to their families. I have never seen food disappear so quickly…cake and crackers and cookies piled high. It is always the mothers who take one for themselves…but no limit for their family. for those they love.

We gave each mother an envelope of all the worksheets/activities/art project their child had been doing, and lots of hugs and food along with their box with soap and a towel. something special to say we saw them. we valued them. we loved their children, and we loved them. it was a great time.

“Every stereotype can be broken with a face, and every face has a story.” –Andrew Marin