October 13, 2011
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Reunitaria
I love “Reunitarias,” the reunion for the community churches. Seeing all these people that I have met over the years, seeing all the fruit of what God is doing in the different cities in Northeast Brazil…it is overwhelming. This is why I am here—this is a miracle in a picture.
I found out a couple days ago that I would not only be helping with the children’s program, but that I would be in charge of lunch for 15 kids—11 growing boys included. I walked up and down the aisles of the grocery store, trying to figure out what to bring. How much to bring.
15 packages of cookies. Three loaves of bread. Ham and cheese. Pop, cups, and napkins. 9 packages of crackers. Bananas. I got twice as much as was suggested. The reunitaria was at Word of Life, a camp complete with pool and waterslide.
After the kids put on swimsuits, I jumped into my mom duties with a big thing of sunscreen, squeezing it into everyone’s hands and rubbing it on noses. I told them it was super powerful sunscreen since it was from America.
I ended up being the slide monitor at the pool for most of the morning, because my boys were the troublemakers. Basically, if there was anything loud going on, I could know it was one of my kids. How they got their hands on the drum sets, I will never know.
Rogerio gave each one of the kids a pair of shoes (some of them didn’t have any—just flip flops) and a toy, and while we were eating lunch, some of the families around us saw all the hungry boys and helped out with feeding them. Not only did we eat all of the food I brought, but we ate everyone else’s leftovers as well.
I told the boys not to run around like little lost boys without their shirts on, so they would carefully put on their shirts anytime I made them take a break from swimming. Whenever they got the okay to go back swimming, their shirts would be off and flying at me with “I love you Rachel” as they ran and dived in again.
There is a river in Cajueiro claro, so like any rural boy, these guys swim like fishes. But this is their only chance to swim in a real pool with clean (ish) water. They won almost every race, and we all cheered them on.
Being mom to 15 kids is draining. I do this for three hours a day and special activities, and then come home and plop on the couch. I can’t imagine being a full-time mom. No breaks. You live with the little buggers. And this is my job. I write about it and people say “good job—that is great what you are doing with the kids.” And I love it. But I also like coming home to quiet aloneness. A mom is so permanent. So for now, I am just a part time mom. God knows I am not ready for more. Not yet.
