Discipleship is relational. Maybe in the past many people were saved with the bang: preach and pray—but not many today. It is all relational. Living it day by day. Being. This is the first time I am teaching Bible studies. Sharing the gospel. Feeding the hungry. I have been in Brasil 3 years now and am just getting to this point. There are so many different faces of a missionary. Some are appreciated more than others. Some are more proclaimed and pronounced.

When I first came to Brasil, I would walk down the street—or anywhere—with a big smile plastered on my face. I would pray “God, let them see you in my smile because I have nothing else to give.” And they probably thought I liked to show off my teeth. They probably wondered if my teeth hurt. But I hope they saw something else too.

Now I can talk. I am still a bit shaky. I will be making a deep theological statement and then forget a word and say “you know….that redemption…thing…” But do you know why they listen? Why they sit even when I studder? Because I am here. With them. Handing out oranges. Making chocolate milk. Sweeping the floor. Washing the dishes. They walk home with me to see where I live, to see if I really live here, in their city.

I was gone for a day and they asked “Did you go back to the US?” “When are you leaving?” is always followed by “when are you coming back?” They ask so many questions like “Do your parents only speak English? Well, what about your grandparents? No Portuguese at all?” They don’t get the idea of me yet. Nor I them. I ask them things like “You don’t go to school anymore? How old are you? You don’t have a bathroom in your house?” I am scared to ask about toilet paper because I don’t want to know. Diane was so proud to tell me they now have a blender. Their first electrical appliance.

But it is about relationship. Gaining the right to speak. Earning the respect to be heard. And sometimes it begins with a smile.

I have met the rudest woman in the world. And she is sitting next to me. Again. And I am supposed to apologize. I am spending the whole bus ride summoning up love. It isn’t coming. She would sit next to me two days in a row. God is laughing at me. I saved a seat for Aninha on the bus. This lady picks up my books, sits down, and puts my books in her lap. I explain that it is saved for my friend. She says you cannot save seats. Bull. She doesn’t move. I explain again. She ignores. I speak English. She speaks Portuguese. Neither one listens to the other. I cannot believe her rudeness. She is no Rosa Parks. I tell her she has no manners and I am shocked at her behavior. She ignores. I fume. I haven’t been this mad in a long time.

Aninha says to let it go. I stew. Off the bus, the other girls contemplate her demise. She’s done this to many others. I feel guilty. Tonight a guy is sitting next to me. A guy who likes to talk so he can listen to himself. I am slightly bothered but have an incredible ability to tune out Portuguese and do so successfully. He stands to continue the conversation with the row across from us, and I feel a familiar heat rising—the rude woman is back, she slipped into his seat and doesn’t return it to him. She is tired and wants to sit.

 I speak in English, she speaks in Portuguese. We fall into this rut, because it is safer for me and normal for her. If she doesn’t understand what I am saying, do I still have to apologize? What? God, no, do I really have to forgive her? And apologize? I give a weak attempt. She ignores. Maybe I will see her on the bus tomorrow.

knock off.
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I can feel the popularity level rise and fall. I’ve never been the popular girl. I stick to myself and get what I want done. Much more efficient. Much less popular. Popular normally involves a lot of time doing nothing, and a lot of time gossiping. Or a lot of time doing everyone else’s work. Every once in a while I kick myself and say I should be more social. I didn’t explore the complexities of popularity growing up. I was homeschooled. There was church heiarchy, and I soon gave up on that. There were activities, but that popularity lasted only as long as the daylight hours.

So I am 27 and in a foreign country, beginning my experiments. I stand out in being unable to tan and speaking lousy Portuguese. Now I am in charge of this school fair project. And it is nice…people pass in the halls, stop, smile, and say hello. Notice me. Validate me. But it is fickle. If I stay quite and don’t say much…it fades away. You always have to be doing something to maintain the popularity. And I think that is too much work for me. I will be glad when the school fair is over. Easy come, easy go. One more thing to knock off my list.

and probably to be ignored…

Half way between Paudalho and Carpina he pulled the jeep over and bought a chicken. Then seller wraps its legs in corn husk and passed him through the window for 15 reis. The chicken was passed back from seat to seat until it disappeared in the back. And that is why I smiled today. Even if the driver turned around, looked at my legs and said “chicken feet.”

I like everything right now. The cockroach behind the sink. The rat that Junior killed and left in the middle of the yard until the turtles started to eat it and Aninha got disgusted and threw it out in the trash. And I took to the corner where the horses were eating the trash. That kind of mood. That likes everything. Especially Orion. I love him. He is my night connection. That tells me I am still me in Brasil or in the US.

My kids. Delicious, dirty children. They have decided they want to have a surprise Christmas party for Patricia and Cacau. They want my help. They have let me in on the secret. Some secrets bind you so closely together that even when the secret is gone, you are still glued.

The water misses my mouth and falls on my shirt. Two dark spots glare at me. I am so clumsy. And I never feel more clumsy than when I am wearing dirty jeans. They need to be washed.

I write without knowing where the words will take me. I have an idea of the depths they prodrude, but I do not hold my breath to touch the bottom. Because I would need both hands to swim to do that. And I still use one hand to hold my nose.

Alyssa came with me to Living Stones this week and we did a special “beauty day” for the girls. This month we are working on hygiene, from brushing teeth and washing hands to nail polish…

It was a lot of fun. i ended up the only one without any make-up on

healthy food is good too. 


Have a happy week everyone! and thank you…i received a couple e-mails that really encouraged me this week…and a couple money gifts that are going to provide for November activities for Living Stones. God bless you.

Last Sunday we took a trip to Bonito (literally…Beautiful–in a masculine form…so i guess it would be…Hansom. or something). Five different waterfalls and lots of walking (trilia) in between.

I told the guys that i was anti-sunga (speedos) and they should put on some shorts. but sungas it is in Brasil.

Sitting under the waterfall, with it all coming down on top of you…you almost desolve into pieces and forget everything else.

Each waterfall had itś own personality. especially when sideways. sorry about that.
 
Aninha and me.

Junior, Aninha, and Marcello


Beautiful dayz.