So I have been visiting PETI to see my kids:

It has been fantastic. Last Thursday I realized I had lost all of my dodgeball skills. I must have left them in the USA. But playing with the kids until my toes turned brown was…wonderful. GOODNESS I missed them!

Last week Patricia, Cacau, and I worked to put together a party for the kids. I was really glad that the bags that came to Brazil for the Christmas Party For Jesus hadn’t been given out yet, since the program was on break, and that I would get to be a part of that, after missing so much last year.

It was a bittersweet time, as we were also announcing the end of PETI (the government program) in connection with Living Stones, meaning that the kids would not meet at the church anymore, but at a different location.

Emily and Lindsay came and were a great help, providing the kids with s’mores–a first for the kids–and a success. 

Flavio came and we sang some songs

Patricia and Cacau made hot dogs and cake (I helped by licking out the bowl)

Celso shared an encouraging word

And don’t forget present time!

It was a wonderful time…

THANK YOU!

Cesar. Yep, my favorite. Yesterday I saw him for the first time since 2009. He, like all the kids, has changed, and is all 14 years of grown up. Last night I made him a card, because I wanted to let him know he was special. I went to the PETI program to visit this morning, but it was raining and by the time I got there, they had let out early. Shortly before I got there, Cesar had been playing soccer and someone pushed him. He lost his balance and fell, head first, into the edge of the fence about four feet high. He hit right between the eyes, the top of the nose. Cacau ran to him to see if he was alright, but he was already running home—he didn’t want anyone to see his face or his tears.

They had the kids go home while they found someone with a car to try to find Cesar and take him to the hospital. I went to go visit him in the emergency room, but they had just released him and taken him home because they car was needed elsewhere. Later, they finally got an ambulance to take him to a different hospital to do a face exam to see if anything was broken. It was a very emotional roller coaster for everyone. After the party we had today, Cesar was released from the hospital and came to the church to see me.

Cacau had gone to get him in the ambulance. When she got to his house his aunt was there, yelling at Cesar. Cesar’s grandfather, who was taking care of their family, passed away last week. His mother is in the hospital. His aunt, like his mother, calls his brother a saint and him a devil. Literally…”Satani” is his name at home. Cacau told him how much I was worried (I was very worried), and he smiled and said “She cares about me, really?”

So I was rewarded with a great big hug by my boy with a sore face this afternoon. I gave him my card, even though it was in English and I hadn’t gotten to translate it into Portuguese. I told him about the party and how I would bring pictures to show him on Monday. He said he would see me there. He said his face was fine, but I am sure that is the response all 14 year olds must give. Please pray for him and his family.

More information and pictures about the party are yet to come!

I got a ride to the airport with Jeff and Lindsay

tried to catch a bus to the Boa Vista mall

Found out I was waiting on the wrong side of the road

The old man tipped his hat to America

And said many other things I didn’t understand when I asked for directions

I am Queen of the world today

I sat next to a gentleman who’d traveled Brazil

The busses are bad in Manaus, he said

Everything is expensive in Fernando De Noronia

As I got off the bus the rain began

It beat against me as I ate Manioc cake

And shared the change with a begger

I am Queen of the world today

The bookstore is a heaven that I cannot share

I can only take with me a couple pieces

And chosing which ones…isn’t heaven anymore

Two bags of books to carry home–I feel successful from my treasure hunt

The rest can wait for another day

I am Queen of the world today

The sun beats down on my back as I write these words

I watch the trash float down the river as the man

Throws out his net to catch fish. Nothing.

The guy next to him pulls in twenty, boasting loudly

The other guy cusses even louder

Old Recife on one side, the road towards the mall on the other

I am halfway across, in the middle of the bridge

I am Queen of the world today

I carefully walk over bottle tops and tree roots that have taken over the sidewalk

I cross the street to the closely knit stores

All selling the same thing for the same price

They stand in the shadow of the majestic Catholic cathedrals

Coconut rings–whole strands for five dollars

I am Queen of the world today

Japanese tapioca for one Real

I balance my bags, the spoon, and my food with the jostling crowd

Amazon fruit juice before I get on the busride home

The women puts in powders and ingredients until I’ve lost count

Hoping to God they are all clean and legal

They always tell me not to buy from street vendors

I am Queen of the world today

I sit on the semi-express bus

Waiting to leave and wash off the dirt of a day in the city

Under the statue of the man and a chicken, the street girl

Has turned into a woman, sleeping through the day

I am Queen of the world today

Released from a cage of my own construction

I flutter from place to place

reveling in aloneness, sunshine, and two feet to walk anywhere

“Unrequited” by Ani DiFranco falls out of my earphones

I am Queen of the world today

I had this conversation with God awhile back. I asked Him why He didn’t just show me His will for my life. Like…all of it. The basic response was “Rachel, if I did, you’d never need to talk to me again.” oh. Yeah. That.

By the time I was 14, I know God’s will for my life had something to do with kids.

By 16, it was something to do with underprivileged kids.

By 21, it was something to do with underprivileged kids in Brazil.

By 26, it was something to do with underprivileged kids in Brazil through Living Stones.

Now it is helping 10 Living Stones in 10 towns in 10 years. And yet sometimes it still feels so vague. And I am still asking God what His will is for my life. It is good stuff.

January in Brazil. I’ve only been in Brazil for one other January–in 2008. My dear friend, Dona Angela, died early that January, and besides grieving, the only other thing I remember was reading the “English for Dummies” book, because I decided I should know a bit about English if I was going to teach it.

The thing is, January in Brazil is not normal for North Americans. It is like everything went on pause. It is like the “slow-mo” that you get in dreams when you are trying to walk but every inch is so heavy. Not much gets done. And my North American brain goes off the hook. It is not used to this much vacation at one time. So far I have gone through the guilt trip, the sigh of ecstasy, the scramble to try to plan ahead as much as possible, the prayer and fasting, the getting into a routine, the time wasting, the guilt of time wasting, the enjoyment of time wasting, and everything all over again–oh, and cooking. You know there is extra time when I cook. Willingly.

It is fun to laugh at myself. To calm down and remember that life is more than what I accomplish in a day. To enjoy the time with people. The time alone. The time with God. And the stuff will get done when it gets done.

Dang it is good.

Why Brazil? The country itself has this pull. I like it. I like the weather, the food, the riding on the back of a moto. That was enough of a pull to bring me back after a quick two week trip.

Then I met these people. I met this family that opened up their house and their lives to me. And I believed in what they were doing. I got excited about it. It connected with me. That was enough of a pull to bring me back after a three month trip.

Then I learned this language–learning another language is like building another life–And I met more people, and I found a spot with my name on it. I found something that I could do to help others–and it was something I enjoyed doing: Teaching English. That was enough of a pull to bring me back time after time.

Then I met these children. 147 of them. I saw this program that could reach out and into families and be God’s hands and love where no one else was. The people I had met have now become family. And as Frederick Buechner said:“The place where God calls you is where your deep gladness meets the world’s deep hunger.” That’s why I am here.

I used to think that receiving money was the hardest part about being a missionary.

I was wrong.

Receiving money is hard. You have to be humble–realizing you can’t do it alone. You have to trust God that if the money comes, it comes, if not, then not. You have to let go of worrying that “man, is that person sure they can spare this money?” or “What if I screw this up and waste their money?” thoughts.

Not easy. But there is the other side. The giving side.

Not only is there the question of what/where to give, but also when to give and how much to give. Responsible giving is hard work.

Giving is a beautiful horrible thing. Forget about money for a minute and think about giving your heart. Giving your heart and love to someone is the scariest thing in this world. Because as soon as you give something away, you can’t control it anymore. The act of giving is letting go. What makes giving powerful is you are giving the power of control to that person. The scary thing is, they can screw it all up. They can take your heart and stomp on it. Or they can care for it, and in a sense, expand it into something bigger than it ever could have been alone.

So back to money.

You click that little donate button and the money is gone. Out of your hands and into the hands of someone else. What about that guy on the side of the road? Will he use those couple bucks to buy food or beer? Do you really know? What if giving that guy a couple bucks is the ABSOLUTE WORST thing you could do for him right now?

The thing is, who knows how God works? He is much more creative than we are. He likes taking screwy cases and making them beautiful in weird ways. And maybe that guy NOT having money is what he needs right now. I don’t know. But He does.

I guess by now you have figured out that I worry a lot. I worry about worrying. Yes, I am getting help for this. But giving is a huge responsibility–and the way I look at it, the only way that I can really know how, when, where, how much to give someone, so that the money is a blessing and not a distraction or curse–is to tap into God’s knowledge of the situation. In other words, pray and then let it go.

And I don’t know. I won’t always find out. Ever. Maybe after I prayed and felt led to give a couple bucks to that guy on the side of the road, he goes out and gets smashed and is worse off than before. Maybe he didn’t listen to what he knew he was supposed to do. I can’t control that. But it is important for me to take responsibility to ask and give, the best I can, walking this life with God.

Ministries will always need money, and will always need money now. That is how things are set up. Living Stones will always have a project or an idea or a new town to start a new Living Stones. This is overwhelming. When/if the day comes that you read about a need and have the money to give, the need isn’t enough reason to give.

Maybe having the money isn’t what we really need. Maybe too much money would take us down the wrong path. Maybe someone else really needs the opportunity to give instead of you. I don’t know. And really, I probably shouldn’t be writing this: I am supposed to be encouraging giving, not discouraging. But please, for your own sake: practice responsible giving.

In my strong moments, I boldly say that I don’t want your money if you haven’t taken the time to pray about it and be sure this is the right thing: for you and for me. But then again, if you win the lottery and shuttle some money my way without thinking, I can’t say that I would frown…

Bottom line: Giving, the right amount at the right time to the right person is hard. It requires God’s wisdom. Here in Brazil, I have a heavy responsibility in giving at Living Stones. There are so many needs it hurts. Please pray for me. And you, as you read about needs, and I ask you to be a part of things in Brazil–well, I will pray for your wisdom as well.

God be with you.

Amazing how captivating a straight line can be, when that straight line is the ocean horizon.  Blue is always my favorite color at the beach.

Red. Is the color of my nose. First trip to the beach=SPF 15. Second trip to the beach=SPF 40. Still red. My freckles have freckles. I am going to have the best tan of my life next week, after I peel off another 5 layers of skin. Rachel with a tan doesn’t even get noticed in Brazil. Oh well.

Good Hair. Karine has good taste in movies—errr—Documentaries. With Chris Rock, this documentary called “Good Hair” really makes you think about the stereotypes we generate without knowing it. Did you know that in Brazil, a person is considered black or white not by skin color, but by type of hair. In Brazil, I am considered “blond.” Thou shalt not laugh. Some of the points brought up in “Good Hair:”

1.       Don’t touch a black woman’s hair. Ever.

2.       Relaxers are addicting like Meth

3.       Relaxers/perms are dangerous chemicals

4.       Blacks are 18% of the population, but use 80% of the hair products

5.       Less than 10% of black hair products are made by blacks. Most all that money is pumped into the Korean economy

6.       India’s 3^rd largest export is human hair. They have a ritual to shave their heads and give the hair to the temple. The temple makes big bucks off this hair.

Over 600 are confirmed dead in the mudslides in Rio. If anyone is worried about me, Rio is like Indiana to Florida. Not close to me. Please pray for those people and their families.

I saw a lizard as long as I am tall. And it was a baby one. Meh. Crawling outside my window. Good thing we are three stories up.

Apparently, waiting 30 minutes to digest before swimming is only applicable to the United States. I was smiled at and patted on the head when I told everyone they couldn’t go swimming after we ate. In Brazil, you go swimming after you eat (at least at the beach). So I did. No adverse affects. Hmmm.

*

The deaf man is there to greet me at the door as always. I still do not know his name, but he is always at the church, and always with a smile. I make the motion of a plane with my fingers, and smile and give a thumbs up. He is glad I am back.

I have missed church in Brazil. Two windows have been added, helping the six fans keep us cool during the hot summer. I get there early and listen to the band practice. The band is made up of whoever can—even me—who sang last Sunday. People slowly trickle in: there are new babies born, new people married, and new people in general.

The pastor calls us in as the last instrument is tuned and ready, and we calm our hearts in prayer. It is another world, another group of people, but this is my church, just as Horizon Central is in the United States. There are problems and secrets and meetings to try to straighten everyone out, but I love this group of people.

Worship in Brazil seems to require singing at the top of your lungs and swaying from one foot to the other—stationary is impossible. My favorite is the song where we go and hug people. I am sure there is an official name for it “meet and greet” or something, but in my head, in English and Portuguese, it is called “the song where we go and hug people.” I never managed to get to everyone, but I try, going up one isle and down the other. The one lady in the back always gives me a big hug that goes side to side like a metronome. Hmmm. I’ve missed this place.

“God’s covenant is always this: give all and take all.” –Andrew Murray

I think I have worked so long on the “give all” part, having that engrained in me from day one in church…I have forgotten the “take all” part.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr day! Which seems very far away at the moment.

Still working on Living Stone’s plans…running through plans with all the different people involved, getting their ideas and dreams, and working around all the road blocks…you will hear more about it soon. Two more weeks to plan and get things together before everything starts up.

Psalm 121:1-2 “I lift my eyes to the hills—from whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

Simplicity and basics, Strength and confidence.

1.      My relationship with God: trust

a.       Bible—read in a year, memorize

b.       Prayer—journal (talking and listening), intercession

c.       Sabbath—have one!

2.      My relationship with me: strength

a.       Confidence—invest in myself

b.       Exercise—gym

c.       Eating—natural

3.      My relationship with close friends and family: close

a.       Pray for and connect with every two weeks

b.       Prepare for future close relationships by being a good friend and journaling

c.       Be there for them

4.      My relationship with others: open and inviting

a.       Cook and clean and have a place to invite others home to

b.       Be a good roommate and blessing to those around me

c.       Listen to each person as if they were the only one there

5.      My relationship with ministry/work: a connector

a.       Blog every week, e-mail twice a month

b.       Living Stones blog, newsletter, and stories

c.       Get a student Visa (Falub and teaching English)

d.       Supplement money with teaching English

e.       Teach English as a ministry (pastors/community/teachers/inter. school)

f.        Living Stones in Paudalho and Cajuiero Claro

Something happened yesterday. I realized that I had never written a xanga entry to the people in the xanga world. Yes. Since 2005 I have written to a general audience. It started out as novelty and therapy, and ended up something between ministry and hobby.

In my xanga infancy, I subscribed to everyone I knew. This was before my social networking days, and the idea of subscribing to someone I didn’t know didn’t even occur to me. When I received those subscription e-mails, I could connect a face with blog entry. One by one they began to disappear. Boo. But others began to show up. Yea. Somehow a friend of a friend or just looking online they had read my blog and said something nice. They subscribed to me, and I did the same (as long as they didn’t look creepy).

124 subscriptions and over five years later, I am doing something else new: I hit the “Edit subscriptions” button. Going to each page (and deleting the ones that heaven knows will never write again) has been a walk down memory lane. Interesting to see the ones that have a friend’s lock (ohhhh), the one that is only for “Adults” (ehhhh), and the ones that were only started so they could comment on my blog (ahhh).

Here is a tribute to some of my xanga favorites of the past (I would make them turn BLUE if I knew how, but I don’t, so too bad):

1. Darn_it_danube: I liked your name. Your writing as well.

2. And_a_little_red_flower: great pictures. You got married and there went the blog. Tis what happened to most of my friends.

3. Destroymenot: I knew you in person, so reading your amazing thoughts was even better.

4. Hiccupingcows: kudos for the cool name.

5. Such_Were_You: honest and blunt. When I needed it.

6. I had two favorite reads, but don’t remember their names (curses): one had poetry I was tempted to steal (I restrained myself), and the other was a lady that always posted recipes and pictures that made me drool.

And here are some current reads that I enjoy. Does anyone know why I don’t get that nice “subscription e-mail” sent to me anymore? Boo. Makes sure you read these as well:

1. GreekPhysique: Great stuff. And he helps out my illiterate computerness. And really made me feel at home in the xanga world

2. spokenfor: Beautiful person and writing. Definately my sister in a previous life

3. trunthepaige: blunt. Yep. And very interesting.

4. Jomegs: I know her–so it is a great way to keep up–and she posts pictures of her family so I feel a part of things. In a very cyber way.

5. SlashoftheRedPen: teacherfood

6. My_HAT_is_older_than_you

7. TheTheologiansCafe: Tends toward the controversial, but has really perfected the short blog entry that snaps attention

Other honorable mentions are AvenueToTheReal, decembriel (lovely quotes), DearRicky (Who seems to be surrounded by controversy and adoring women. But is interesting nontheless), Levanna (go Supercamp!), nephyo, they_call_me_steffyjean (I think we would be friends if I knew her).

So many (from the little I read) are still prophesying the end of xanga. Changes? yes. But still here. And though I have not dedicated time to read, write, and really be a part of the xanga world (goodness, I didn’t even come up with an interesting name: “rwinzeler” my foot), I have enjoyed the little corner that I have gotten to know–and I thank you all, you beautiful-people-who-I-have-never-met, for being my xanga family.

Here is to weblogs! Cheers!

A rather uneventful flight to Brazil, sitting next to an older couple that had to frequent the restroom quite often for the 10 hours over the Atlantic. New Years Eve was spent with the Moraes family, and then January 1st I headed to the beach with my other Brazilian family: the Peres family (I lived with Junior and Aninha the last time in Brazil, as well as worked with their two sisters, Patricia and Cacau, who lead the Living Stones program.).

It is so wonderful to be back. Sometimes, I couldn’t believe I had ever been gone. Like the whole wrinkle in time thing (I have yet to read that book…). It wasn’t until I sat down at the dinner table with 10 different conversations going on, all in Portuguese, that I felt a little behind in my Portuguese–but I quickly caught up.

Going to the beach in Brazil is like another place: no phone, no internet, we didn’t even have any clocks or mirrors: so who cares that you don’t get any work done, you don’t know what time it is, or even what your hair looks like: eat, sleep, and sit in the water while the waves pull you where they will. A bag of mangos for 1$R–I successfully know how to “chupa” mangos now. yum. I felt like I was washing off all the stress I had gathered since being gone. Rest is beautiful. Well, it ended Wednesday, when sunblock 15spf didn’t help, being 7 degrees from the equator. I now have tan lines–but must rename them redlines. Crispy is my middle name.

Now I am working on getting settled in the apartment in Carpina, next to Jeff and Lindsay (an American couple who work at the international school with me). I will be living with Emily and another girl, both English teachers at the school. I am having fun cooking for myself (translation: eating as much fresh fruit and vegetables as possible). The good news is that my suitcases came in fine from the US, and all the books/English stuff I left in Brazil stayed safe. The bad news is rats ate/otherwise ruined almost all my clothes that I left here (which was most everything). Looks like Rachel gets to go shopping. Grin.

As far as what is going on beyond today, I really don’t know. Neither does most anyone else in Brazil. That’s what happens in January. It is summer break. I saw some of my Living Stones kids at the beach–they were there selling peanuts along the coastline. Eduardo came up to me and said “How are you?” in perfect English. I laughed and gave them all saltwater hugs. They are so big! It is the children that remind me that I was gone for a whole year.

Every time I come to Brazil it is like having a blank slate and wondering what to write on it. A lot of praying and hoping that I get things right–or at least do the best I can with what I am given. So still to come are Visa plans, teaching English plans, teaching at the school plans, and Living Stones plans. But tonight–just another layer of aloe vera.

Christmas Rowan and family

Happy first Christmas Rowan!

Miami Beach picnic. If you look closely, you see the pirate ship on the horizon. Really.

New Years Eve in Brazil! Top row: David, (his name is pronounced, not spelled) Hey-tee-an, Daniel, and Mateus

Front row: John, me, Karine, Raquel, and Marianna

New Years Day at the beach…just some of us having dinner

View from the beach house, day and night