World Vision has 49 groups in Brazil, 3 of which are in Alagoas, the poorest state in Brazil (Pernambuco, my state, follows close behind). They sponsor/assist 85,000 children through 300 workers all over Brazil. At the group we visited in Alagoas, they have 27 workers for 3,500 children in 98 small rural communities.

(map of the 98 stations. Koral is pointing to the town we were in)

They started in 2007, after assessing the great need. Along with World Vision, they partner with Vivo, a telephone company that wanted to support a good social project: this doubles their resources and children that they can support.

Alagoas is part of the Sertao, the dry, desert-y area filled with rocks and a very hard life. The main problem is a lack of water. In the past, the government would only invest in putting in wells and water for large land owners, which created a political dynamic where only the rich got water and the poor spent all day (the woman and children) carrying water home on their head. In the late 80s and 90s, over a million Northeastern Brazilians died of a lack of water, food, or diseases that accompany deep poverty.

Fifteen years ago, some developmental groups got together and used updated technology and understanding to create household cisterns, collecting the water that falls off the roof for drinking water. They also developed other systems for gather water in fields and filtering it enough to use for animals and plants.

(the white tee-pee like thing is the cistern)

Unfortunately, the Sertao has not received the amount of rain needed to survive since 2006—continuing this year, it makes it the worst drought in 30-50 years (depending on the place). Cattle are literally dying in the middle of the field (we saw and smelled them), and no one will buy them because there is no food or water to give them.

World Vision is doing many things to help the community in integral ways. With the children, they have a wonderful literacy program, computer program, music and dance program, celebration parties, and Bible story/study time. With the women, they are teaching them some different trades working with sewing and art, such as decorating towels to sell at the farmers market.

They have a wonderful chicken program, where it costs less than $2000 to set up a family with enough chickens to provide a minimum wage income from the eggs—that they then pay back for the next family to receive. Same thing with goats (milk). They have organic farming tips and assistance, as well as a farmers market set up for all the families to come and sell their products. It is amazing to see the pride in the faces of these families that are now able to provide for their families!

Two especially interesting ideas I liked were the fruit cooperative and the seed bank. The women came together in a community and they bought things to make fruit juice and popsicles to sell. They bring their own fruit (which would have gone bad) to make products for themselves and the farmers market. The seed bank makes sure that the families will have enough corn and bean seed when planting time comes—and then they pay it back at harvest time.

When you support a child through World Vision, the money goes to provide these programs and support for them and their family. During times of emergency, like now, they also may come in with food baskets, until the people can plant and again be self-sufficient. It is so important to help the people be independent and find their own solutions.

(Ronivon is on the left)

Our tour guide was Ronivon, who himself had grown up as a World Vision sponsored child. His family had been a part of the goat program, allowing him to go to school instead of work on the farm. At school, the educational programs assisted him enough to be able to pass the hard college entrance exams. After that, he became a field worker with World Vision, and is now one of the regional workers—a true success story.

Our trip began with a bus that dropped us off in the middle of nowhere at 3:30am. As Ronivon picked us up (I had only met him on the phone), I had the fleeting thought of “Oh dear, what if he isn’t really with World Vision?” But he was and we were dropped off at the local “pousada” (family style hotel) to rest and have breakfast. Four hours later, he picked us up and took us to the World Vision office to meet everyone. They had a special presentation and power point that ended in a snack the size of a buffet. They also invited Jane, a missionary from England who was doing an internship nearby, to help translate.

 (Jane is in the green shirt next to Koral)

Everyone was overwhelmingly kind. They took us to the town center, where they have a beautiful literacy program (that I can only dream of having one day with my kids), music program, and computer program. In the city, they offer the kids a class every week for 2 hours. Each day there are four classes, so about 300 children a week. In the more rural areas (they have a total of 98 “stations”) they go once a month to provide these services, with the field workers (hired locally) visiting more often to make sure the families are getting all they need.

We then visited two chicken farms, where they also explained to us different water systems and agricultural advancements they had brought in to help the community.

(the picture to the left is the cistern for the animals and plants–water collected from the large skating rink like cement put in a field. The picture on the right shows the water collected (for drinking) from the roof.

After lunch and a siesta, we went to visit Koral’s two sponsored children. This young family lives in the middle of nowhere down roads our 4×4 truck could only slowly pass. They kindly invited us in and we talked and laughed for almost an hour with this couple and their children who work so hard to make the barest of living off of planting corn and beans.

(their field to plant/supply their livelihood)

The day we arrived was the first good rain of the season, so while we were wet—everyone was rejoicing. Now, if the rain continues, they can begin planting. We then visited (and ate at) the juice and popsicle coop—delicious!

Our last stop was the organic farm of one of the families that brings their produce to the farmers market World Vision has set up. In a dry desert, this place was a beautiful oasis where Koral saw her first “sanguine” (spider monkey). We ate oranges off the tree and saw her many different plants, as well as her obvious joy and love of planting and being able to provide for her family.

(this cactus-like plant is used for cooking and animal food)

The next morning, Ronivon picked us up and took us to the bus station for our nine hour trip home, but not before offering me a job with World Vision.

It was so encouraging to see so many programs working—solutions in progress. Many ideas I had heard about, but it is so much better to see in person. Many of the things they are doing I hope we can offer one day through Living Stones. If I had another life to live, I’d be very tempted to take Ronivon up on his job offer. But for now, I have my own 300 children to take care of.

From Koral:

Brazil has been a wonderful experience so far and I’m learning and seeing new things every day. We broke from the normal schedule this week to take a trip to the next state over to see two children my family sponsors through World Vision. It was nine hour trip, but worth every moment of it. Not only did I get to meet two of the most adorable children that have ever walked the earth, but I got to see a way of living that is different than that even back here at Living Stones.  

That area is suffering from one of the worst droughts in over forty years and driving down the road you can count at least a dozen different animals in an hour that have simply dropped over dead from the heat and lack of water.  You can hear about droughts and famine and a single farm loosing over 100 cattle, but nothing makes it quite as real or makes you realize just how good you really have it than to see a field of dry bones dotted with a few….more intact remains.

In other news, I want to kidnap at least half the children here, or at least hug them until my arms fall off, and I almost die of an adorableness overload at least twice a day. I FINALLY made a basket while playing basketball with the children from Guadalajara, an accomplishment I never thought possible –insert cheers and standing ovations here, accompanied by a marching band and confetti-. I’ve also learned I fail at bubble blowing, but the kids forgive me for that and have a good time laughing.

From Cyndi (also known as my mom):

Having slightly twisted both ankle in a fall last Wednesday night, I am keeping things to a minimum of getting out right now—but enjoying a wonderful retreat with the Lord in Rachel’s lovely apartment. What I have been able to do has been to watch her ministry in singing, serving, and teaching character, hygiene, and English all over the area.

The first thing I attended was where she helps with a World Renewal Community English class outreach where Tele Moraes preaches as his son David interprets, and they all singing before they teach English to the students in their classes. During the week she works in both Guadalajara and Carpina (like everything else, a long bus ride and a walk) various times a week with Glory Sports, where first the girls get over an hour of basketball training and a character lesson with Rachel, and then the boys are treated the same. They are a part of the Living Stones program, but the main projects are continuing at Mussurepe (at Grandma Bel’s, who makes them lunch) and Cajueiro Claro (the church where Flavio pastors and lives in the back, and where Marlene—the mom of the home where Rachel stayed some—does the cooking).

They all sing together and then Rachel takes the girls (Pastor Flavio takes the boys) for lessons. There are more intact families at Mussurepe, so they are able to do more teaching with them: Flavio and his wife, Mercia, have the awesome responsibility of showing the families of Cajueiro Claro what God can do in a marriage and family.

Her other Living Stones ministry is with Massa Humana at the dump, where she (and other volunteers) sing, tell a story, and do a craft with all the kids while Washington drives back for donated soup to pass out into all the pots the kids bring to take back to their homes.

In the city, traffic is contained by using “Lombadas” (giant speed bumps everywhere), but at the end of town they—and all the houses, streets, and pavement abruptly end. The families that live at the dump are Brazil’s “recycling program”-using and selling out of all they pick through, often even making a place to live.  Some do have normal, Brazilian homes right there and even travel in boots, but most have sandals at best, and not even gloves or any protection from the potential disease, buzzards, or smell of the place. But the children generally notice none of that, smiling and creatively making toys in it all.

In keeping up our account of the days, April 18:

Mussurepe

Guadalajara (home of Koral’s infamous shot)

April 19th:

Koral’s first experience of playing soccer in the rain. I find it funny that Gustavo did the same hand gestures as I did.

Church in Cajueiro Claro and passing out the presents

April 20th:

An amazing time at the dump

April 21st:

traveling to Amaxias for church and (not eating) the decapitated Tanajura

April 22nd: After traveling all night by bus, getting to Alagoas, where Koral’s World Vision children were:

The workers–27 works helping 3,500 children in 98 small rural community groups (on the map)

They have incredible agriculture assistance for the families, making sure they get water in this dry area, can be a part of a seed bank, fruit/vegetable cooperative, raising chickens and goats, and many other programs. For the children, they also have great literacy, music, and computer classes.

Koral’s World Vision sponsored children: such cuties!

April 23rd: A nine hour bus ride back to Recife where we went to the new (largest in South America) mall:

When you have two worlds

And someone comes from one into the other

It feels a bit like breaking the rules

The rules you wish no one wrote

 

It feels a bit like magic

and you wake up in the middle of the night

To pinch yourself

Is it really true?

 

The things you wait for the longest

When they finally happen

Leave you in half a daze

Trying to reconcile the new reality

The present that has never been before

And the unknown futures this creates

 

They are experiencing layover

And I feel a bit hung over

With the happiness of a dream

Come true

I asked Koral and my mother to give you some of their thoughts about their first 5 days in Brazil:

Koral: Brazil is beautiful, as I’m sure many have said before me.  The landscape is breathtaking of course, but for some reason I find the towns with their depilated houses and cracked roads and leaning fences more beautiful still. It wasn’t until yesterday looking out the window on a bus that I figured out why. Back home we strive to take the struggle out of everything, to hide the imperfections and remove even the smallest flaw. We have towering skyscrapers of convenience and precision, but that’s not life. The beauty in life comes from struggle and those who overcome it. Every crack and crumbling wall and patched roof is a testament to this hardship.  But this is alone is not where the beauty comes from. An abandon ghost town has all of these things, yet it gives off a feeling of foreboding and unnaturalness. It is the people who make all the difference. They’re everywhere, working, playing, fighting their circumstances. They haven’t given in, they haven’t given up. Life goes on despite the extra effort it requires. There are still smiles on their faces, still a laugh in their soul. It is from the people that the beauty comes.

Cyndi (Mostly called Mom or Grandma here): What a wonderful time we have had! So many firsts (trying more than 12 new fruits, a manicure, flora, fauna, and friends here) and things I haven’t done in years (push my way out of a bus, ride a motorcycle, try to understand sermons based on the reference and the half dozen words I understand)!

God has multiplied and blessed from the plane coming directly to Recife and their trying so hard to get me through in the wheelchair that we never even did go through customs, to my occasionally tearful excitement at finally seeing so many people that have meant so much to my daughter. And it is only day 5…

Day 1 (Saturday): Arrived safe in Recife, rested, and went to English class where Rachel shamelessly kept introducing us to everyone. Then met big frozen fish at the grocery store.

Day 2:

 Sorting over 312 presents for the children and 50 for the mothers

 Church at Paudalho

Cheers with good friends

Day 3:

 Meeting the children in Mussurepe

 Finally meeting Karine and Edward

Day 4:

 the girls from Guadalajara

The boys from Guadalajara:

First manicure for mom:

Day 5:

How we get to Cajueiro Claro

 teaching the kids some English

 

 

 

 

 

I just watched “New Girl” and ”Modern Family” instead of working on blog postings. It has been a long day, and I am tired. This morning Pastor Flavio’s car broke down so I went to Mussurepe alone and ran the program with 20 kids. I got a free ride over the bumpy long ride into the small town, but had to walk the rest of the dusty way. I visited Arthur, who broke his leg and so hasn’t been to Living Stones in a couple months.

My feet turned brown and I’d forgotten sunscreen this morning. Getting a ride home was another problem. After walking the long way through the town, there were no motorcycles to be found. I was glad I’d brought a book. Until it started raining. Then I was glad I’d brought a poncho. The men sitting at the bridge with me had never seen a plastic poncho: congratulations, the American just got weirder. But, she stayed dry as she rode the motorcycle in the rain. 30 minutes to wash my feet and eat lunch and off to Guadalajara.

20 girls is fine, but almost 40 boys for two workers? A mess. And it was one of those days when they just can’t stop dribbling to listen or pass the ball that doesn’t smack someone in the nose. And Daniel, with Downs, kicking everyone he could reach. The boys I had to ask to leave didn’t, they threw rocks at the door instead. And I have to act all tough with them and sometimes I need to stop and listen but it is hard to know when and I made the one little boy cry instead.

And I want to relax and do nothing but I feel guilty. I want to do so much more. I want to be so much more than this girl sprawled out on her bed, tired. It has been a good week, working with almost 300 children now, planning ahead to have things just right when my mom and friend come. Who am I fooling? I can’t plan anything! Just the other day the Kombe stopped and they told us to get out. This is what I saw:

 

The main road cut off by protesters because there were no doctors or supplies at the hospital. It was a royal mess that ended up with me getting a popsicle and then walking through town until I found a motorcycle to take me around and through side roads since all the main ones were blocked. After going on trails you couldn’t even call roads, we got through to the other side where I got a ride from someone else who had given up trying to pass through the city. Hum. No, I can’t control things. And sometimes, I just get tired.

 

 

I love that I don’t have to know what time it is or what I look like. At the beach there are no mirrors and no watches, just endless waves that make my stare at them hypnotically. What am I looking at? I haven’t seen it yet, but it isn’t my reflection, and I am glad.

I watched a video that said we know 3% of the ocean. THREE. We know more of the moon than of the ocean. And every time I get in that ocean, I wonder about that 97%. Mostly, about if it will eat my toes. I have an irrational fear of being toe-eaten, probably a combination of one scary movie, one dad who would bite my toes when we swam in the lake, and one jellyfish that stung me last year.

That and cows. I’m also afraid of those big beasts that loom on street corners and low at you menacingly. One passed by the beach house twice last night, lowing extra mean. These are not your average black and white pretty-eyed cows; they are the tough Brahmans, the get-out-of-my-way cows that have chased me before. Enough said.

The sky never stops thrilling me-the morning colors, the actual appearance of the sun, the diamond rays it casts early morning, the heated afternoon hidden by sunglasses, the blinking twilight. And then the moon. Rising out of the ocean, it has made no less of an impression than the sun. The full circle glows orange until you see Saturn rise above it, and then it regains its grey/white composure.

David has this computer program to identify the stars from your specific location and time. Click a button, and you transform the night into myths and legends. My two faithful constellations in the southern hemisphere—southern cross and Orion, have now been joined by friends as I find Gemini from Orion’s arrow, and Cyrus from his feet. The main star of the Southern Cross (which reminds me of a kite), is actually the crotch of the centaur, and above it all is a huge ship constellation—the body of which is called Carina.

Dancing in the moonlight—not knowing what I looked like and not caring. Forgetting I am made of different pieces and legs and awkwardness—I was suddenly one: movement and wind and water kissing my ankles coming in and out. The rhythm of waves and music pulsing in me and I was free—free from self-consciousness, 100% whole. No motives or effects or perceptions or expectations. And it left quickly, I couldn’t hold it long.

I returned to thinking of my posture and individual parts that make a whole and what song was this and all the scattered normalness. And I miss it already.

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

The song of ages past

The song of future light

The song of what can be

The song of all things right

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Whispers of what’s to come

Peace that fills the soul

Beauty that overwhelms

Love that makes me whole

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Good things come

To those who wait

And anything good is

Worth waiting for

 

It’s not about what you must not do

But about all you’re free to give

To open up the space inside

For the sweeter song to live

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Of promises fulfilled

Of sacrifice and denial

A life hard and untraveled

But always is worthwhile

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Of commitment that lasts a lifetime

Built on holy information

When you listen to deeper desire

Over instant gratification

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

You know the notes and the tune

You find yourself singing along

Don’t forget the price you’ll pay

If you forget to sing the sweeter song

 

The pain in choosing the narrow

The price in saying no

The waiting for tomorrow

The sorrow of letting go

 

All makes the song sound sweeter

For the pressure of the present

Makes the beauty of reward

And a joy effervescent

 

He makes all things beautiful

He makes answers for our problem

He makes sweeter songs to be sung

For the glory of fulfilling them

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

 

 

I get more out of watching TED talks than in going to college. Yet another good one is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qp0HIF3SfI4&list=PL70DEC2B0568B5469.

“People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it…The goal is to do business with those who believe what you believe…people will do things that prove what they believe.”

Living Stones is in the hump. I have all the resources, I am putting the information out there; we have a solid program, and are doing a wonderful job at completing our objectives (we are providing over 1000 meals and reaching over 150 children a week on a monthly budget of $1000). But for some reason, we have our faithful few givers, but are barely receiving $500 a month. How to get over the hump?

“What you do is just the proof of what you believe.” What do I believe?

• I believe God loves children, and the poor, in a special way
• I believe children are more open and ready to hear about Jesus
• I believe prevention and early intervention are the only ways to end generational poverty

And this is why I am working with impoverished children.

• I believe God chose to work through the local church and discipleship
• I believe lasting change comes through community
• I believe that to really make a difference you have to be in community with the people you are serving

And this is why I am working with churches/Alcance.

• I believe the proper self-esteem to succeed in life is found through your identity in Christ
• I believe it is vital for children to know that God made them and has a plan for their life. That God sees them.

And this is why I do the $10 FOR THEM birthday parties (www.wribrazil.com/10forthem)

• I believe that reading and education open up a world of opportunities
• I believe that every child should be given the opportunity to read God’s Word for themselves

And this is why we have the LITERACY FOR LIVING STONES program (www.wribrazil.com/literacy)

• I believe that basic physical needs (food, shelter) must be met before someone can open up to hear about Jesus
• I believe that trying to help someone spiritually without caring for their basic physical needs is wrong

And this is why we make sure the children are receiving basic nutrition through the $5 FOR 5 program (www.wribrazil.com/5for5)

• I believe that life is better with Jesus—now and forever

And this is why I am giving my life to telling other about Him, currently doing this through Living Stones. And we need faithful donors: www.wribrazil.com/foundationbuilder.

• I believe that for every person who needs to receive in this world, there is someone who needs to give
• I believe God uses, and will provide for Living Stones because (as long as) we are being His hands to these children that He loves
• I believe that God loves these kids more than I do, and so somehow, He will provide for them

And this is why I unashamedly ASK. Ask you to be a part of Living Stones. Ask you to give of your time, money, and energy for these children. Because I know it will bless you, and it will bless them: and it will make a difference.

 

As I walked up to the church, Jaciara was washing her clothes in a wheel barrel. She looked at me sheepishly before I could ask why. “The water has been out.”

In Northeast Brazil, smaller cities are used to not having water. Many are set up on a one day on, couple days off system. Anyone who can afford it has a huge plastic water reserve, perched on top of their home like a chimney.

For Jaciara to have to bring all her clothes to the church to wash meant the water had been out for at least two weeks.

With the World Cup in 2014, Brazil is stepping up to look good. A new stadium was built 45 minutes from my apartment, and everyone is in a frenzy to keep up. The “highway” that connects all our smaller cities with Recife is being doubled (which means TWO lanes going each direction, instead of one). This might not sound like much, but it has been almost 20 years in the making, and has made me swallow more dust than you can imagine.

Brazil takes a long time to get things done, but once they finally do, they do it well.  They have been bulldozing and building and digging for the past couple years, with overpasses and bypasses and roundabouts where previously had only been semi-paved roads with potholes the size of meteors. And the Brazilian people have been rerouted and waiting in stop-and-go traffic daily—this is the one road that connects them to the bigger cities.

Most Brazilians have the patience of Job when they see progress being made. But not me. I grumble and complain about the dust and mud and extra walk since the road suddenly moved or is closed. I complain about the higher prices now that more people are moving into town, and the pollution the extra vehicles are making. Never in America, I tell myself, would they wait this long or pay this much for progress.

To double this road, they had to take out part of the water system in Guadalajara. So they gave money to the local government to build another pump to supply water to that area. This money, just like the pump, was never seen or heard of again. Jaciara lives in this area of Guadalajara.

Before dawn the people in Guadalajara, fed up by now, gathered a bunch of old tires and made a barricade. They stood around it in strike. No water, they said, no road.

I sat on the bus on my way to Living Stones this morning. “I’d like a ticket to Cajueiro Claro.” I told the ticket man. “No. We can only take you to Paudalho.” I thought he was joking. No, he said, the road is closed. I called Pastor Flavio, and told the ticket man to explain the problem, as I was in disbelief. Flavio told me to go home, I couldn’t get through.

Brazil confuses me. They go so long with nothing, or being exploited, and then explode in all the wrong places. It isn’t the fault of the people using the road that they don’t have water. They need to take their tires and strike to the local government that lined their pockets with the money for the pump. Instead, they wash their clothes in wheel barrels. Instead, the road is closed down, the people rerouted or sent home, and everyone just comments, “Eh, it’s Brazil.”