The Giggle Worthy Parts of Culture Shock

So, I've been in the US for a couple days now, and I've definitely had some moments of culture re-adjustment. Here are lists of how the cultures have surprised me over the last few days.

Surprises in America

• Self-flushing toilets. They surprise me everytime. I didn't even realize that Brazil didn't have them until the first time I used the bathroom in the Dallas airport on my way back to Hawaii. So surprised. And they haven't stopped surprising me yet. 
• Hot water coming out of the sink faucet. What's a water heater again? You mean I can choose the temperature of the water I want to wash my hands with? That's weird. 
• Beverages are HUGE here. I guess I got used to the small size of drinks in Brazil and I'm amazed at the size of cups for all things: coffee, soda, tea, water...it doesn't matter what it is, the cup will be huge!

When Brazilian Culture Has Taken Over

• I want to give everyone I see a kiss on both cheeks. It's ridiculous. Even my parents. I was so looking forward to all the hugs and real, warm embraces that I didn't realize how much it'd become second nature to kiss people's cheeks. 
• I miss speaking Portuguese so much! It's only been a few days and already I'm missing the language so much! 
• I don't automatically dislike talking to strangers anymore. I've gotten used to talking to people I don't know at all, and now I actually do it without thinking about it. It's starting to come naturally, which is crazy, especially if you remember my previous dislike for strangers. I mean, I talked to a random guy at Radioshack the other day and it was totally comfortable. Before Brazil I would have been super awkward and all flustered to talk to a random person. Not anymore.

So, those are just a few things that have stood out to me the last five days. I hope you can understand the shock that happens in my head each time. There really isn't any way to describe these things except for culture shock. 

deciding what you want

There are a lot of expectations that come with the life I've chosen for myself. There are academic expectations, that I will be prepared for class, readings, assignments, add to discussion, think critically about my life. There are missionary expectations, the ones that I hear even though no one says them to me...you should do more evangelism, why aren't you starting small groups, where is the fruit of your work, what do you think this financial support is for if you can't show us tangible results. Then there are also the local expectations, that I learn the language, that I have some definable project.

But really I cannot actually meet any of these expectations. While I am a student, my life simply does not allow for me to always be prepared for class. Missionary work, especially with the length of 18 months, rarely, if ever, allows enough time to see the fruit of the work you do. As far as explaining to locals why I'm here in an intelligible way, well, I struggle to do that even in my first language, so there really isn't any how in Portuguese, no matter how much I keep learning.

This inability to meet expectations, for a while, was very disheartening to me. I felt as though I was literally unable to do anything well. I was failing at all the things. During this time of supposed failure, many people, myself included, tried to encourage me with the idea that we only have to please God, we don't have to live up to all these expectations that other people put on us. But then we get into the really philosophical discussion about what it means to please God, because simple answers to questions like this haven't satisfied me for a long time. Coming from a highly individualized culture, pleasing God always meant one thing. But being in a more community oriented culture, pleasing God means something different. In both cases they reflect the values of culture. I am left confused and without answers, yet again feeling like some kind of a failure because I have absolutely no idea what it means to please this God I follow.  (I mean, there are some general principles that are definitely clear, but they leave a lot of room for variation when it comes to prioritizing my daily life as a student/missionary/ex-pat).

So, unable to meet the expectations of other people and mostly unsure of what it means to please God in day-to-day situations, I was left only to evaluate my choices based on what I wanted. Why do I want to be in this program? (Not why did God send me to this program? or Why can other people see that this program makes sense for me?) What am I hoping to learn? At the end of this, what experiences do I want to have had? Being able to answer these questions, giving myself priorities and guidelines, has allowed me to make decisions that aren't about pleasing anyone but myself (and hopefully God, but again, confused about exactly what that means, a discussion for another day, for sure). And those decisions, those are the ones I am terribly excited about following through on. An excitement that I have not felt for some time now.

the man on the bus

It had been an interesting day. For a number of reasons, I was on the bus home by myself, though that was not normal. The week before had been full of heartache as I learned to be vulnerable and real giving myself permission to not like things and to be ecstatic about others in this (still) new culture. My heart was fragile.

I got a seat on the bus home, which wasn't a guarantee at that hour. I was sitting in the middle of the bus, but right behind the space in the middle left for people in wheelchairs, across the aisle from the exit door. I watched as everyone got off the bus.

It was like most days, people got on and off at nearly every stop. Every seat was full and there were plenty of people standing. I was about halfway between when I got on and when I'd get off when it happened. A man got on the bus through the exit door (meaning he didn't pass by the trocador to pay the bus fare). He got on quickly, and without evening standing. He sat on the first of two steps and hugged the side of the stairwell. The bus driver saw him and yelled something back at him, but he just stayed there, pretended not to hear. He was a frail man, probably in his late thirties/early forties (although he could have been younger, just worn down by life). He had a well used backpack that wasn't overly full but definitely contained what this man deemed necessary for his trip. He was a little ragged looking. He was thin, with well used muscles visible. His hair was dark and curly, his shirt, shorts, and sandals weren't new by any means, but they were well taken of.

What stood out the most to me though, was the effort he put into making himself as small as possible while sitting on that step. He hugged the wall, leaning even further into it as people passed him to get off the bus. He didn't look at a single person. He was utterly defeated. Everything about his posture and the vacant look that stole his face away from the world told me so.

I know nothing of his story. Was he homeless? On the way there? Had he lost his family? Was it drugs? Was it a horrible misunderstanding? Did he just need someone to really see him for the first time in a long time? Was he unemployed? Did he sneak on the bus because he couldn't afford the R$2.75 fare (which I am inclined to assume, though really I have no idea)?

As I sat there, staring at this man's back I was overcome. The well of emotions deep within me didn't know how to feel but knew that this man was deeply loved by his creator and no one was telling him or showing him that. But I was paralyzed. How do you show someone like this, in a matter of an instant, that their creator loves them? When they actively avoid looking in anyone's eyes? And what if I did talk to him and something bad happened? Would he take advantage of my kindness and expect more help from me that I couldn't give? Would I offend him by offering him money if he doesn't actually need it? Would all the warnings people had told me for the last nine months become tragically real in this one encounter?

So I prayed for him. I knew there was no way to mess that up. So, paralyzed in body by my fear, I refused to let my soul be silenced in wanting more for this man's life than what he currently had. I prayed, desperately wishing I could have done something more like James 2 encourages us too. But alas, I am not called to meet every need I see, but to place them before my Father knowing that only he has the solutions and provisions needed.

12 days shy of 9 {matul}

I've been doing a lot of reminiscing lately. Thinking back to the first time of things that I do every day here.

Like the first time I took a city bus. I'd been here for five days, it was Carnaval weekend, and we were going to hike Sugarloaf mountain with a Brazilian friend who didn't speak any English. The bus was packed! I didn't understand anything that people were saying around me. The city felt huge and mysterious, like I would never figure it out.

Or like the first time we drove to our community with our city coordinator, and then were shown around the community. It was dreadfully hot, and there were hills. We went in a circle, up the hill one way and back down using a completely different path. I couldn't even begin to piece together how the two routes related to each other. I was confused and uncertain, a little terrified but really excited about moving into this community. I still didn't understand what people were saying around me, and my brain was getting super tired from trying to figure it out.

It was a grand adventure that I was embarking on, and the adventure part is my favorite. I like exploring and discovering my way back after venturing into a new territory. Now I walk these streets like this is my community. And I take the bus everyday without even thinking about it because I have to. It's lost a bit of the adventure aspect. And I've been sad about that. It doesn't feel fun and exciting anymore. But instead, it's becoming home. I am, slowly but surely, making this place my home. Sometimes it is a fight to make it a good home for me, but I'm working on it, and I have to believe that God is working on it too.

I love adventure, I've always known that. But I'm discovering how much I love having roots. It's something I never realized about myself before. I'm working on giving myself roots here, making this place comfortable and really like another home to my soul.

when we are accustomed to choosing

So, I was recently given the advice to "Do whatever God puts in front of you." It's a good little piece of advice. One that I like to tell myself I'm always doing, that a lot of people like to tell themselves they are doing. The hard part for me has been figuring out what God puts in front of me and what I put in front of myself.

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Being of the privileged white-american background that I am, I have been afforded choice in nearly everything I have ever done. College, Jobs, Church, Eating, Shopping, you name it, I have had choices. Choices that a lot of people in the world simply don't have. This even finds it way into how I serve God.

Whenever I think about serving God, I always want to serve him the best possible way. The way that I have always defined the word "best" in this case, meant the most needed way. When I look at the scriptures and the world around me, what is most needed by the world from the people of God. Is it compassion? Justice? Is it combatting the sex-trafficking industry? Or urban poverty? India? Haiti? Nairobi? Brazil?

I was doing my normal thing, observing all that was around me so that I could figure out how to best contribute to the situation. I wanted to be as helpful as I could be. The more I looked around the more I realized that there were countless ways that were incredibly needed. I kind of went through that paralyzed phase where everything feels hopeless. Then someone else told me to just choose something, because it's better to be moving and going than to just there.

So, I got up and I choose to be a part of the MATUL, a program that pushes me into the doing of ministry, when I'm so much more comfortable thinking and theorizing about ministry. It was a good choice for me and I have a learned so much from it.

But that choice, that option to pick from a myriad of options in how I serve God, displays my privilege. I have become so accustomed to my privilege that I often don't even see what it is that God puts in front of me. This is a lesson I am learning from my community. They don't have the privilege and the opportunity that I have. Serving God for them, has only ever been about doing what God puts in front of them. 

Often times what God puts in front of me doesn't make sense. It seems miniscule in relation to all the other ways I think I could be serving, ways that my logic tells me would be more helpful or beneficial to the world. But that, right there, is the problem. I am trying to play God, by observing and basing my work off of my own logic and conclusions, I am trying to do God's job. When in reality, the things God puts in front of us will rarely make logical sense in the grand scheme of things. But he is God, and he works all things together through us in mysterious and (seemingly) illogical ways. Our job is trust. Our job is to be faithful to the work God has put before us. 

the Interconnectedness of the Kingdom of God

In high school, I took a European History Class. It started during the Renaissance and moved toward present day, the course ending (I think) around 1850. I had an amazing teacher who made course material that could have been very dry into something that intrigued me. The book we used talked about everything in terms of social, political, economic, and religious contexts. This often infuriated me, because throughout most of history, it was nearly impossible to separate these things. The official Roman Catholic Church was involved with government and social realities and how money was spent. Kings and Princes held powerful sway within church politics. How money was spent and on what was affected by politics and religion.

This is not how we often see our world today. We have separated these things in our mind. Politics should not impact religion, and vice versa. We are satisfied (at least in practice, even if we disagree intellectually) with our capitalist market. We disregard the social realities of how our policies and systems affect the most vulnerable among us.

When I think about the world today, I realize how much of an impact my high school history class had on the way I see the world. It was the starting point for me in realizing that the world is not neatly separated in these boxes. Our social lives affect how we spend our money and what our politics looks like. Our political views and the policies of our elected officials impact the social and economic realities. Our religious views change how we perceive the world around us, what is right and wrong, why the world is the way it is and how it should be. All of these things are interconnected.

This interconnectedness is what allowed me to see the Kingdom of God as both a future thing and a present reality. When I read "Thy kingdom come, they will be done, on earth as it is in heaven" I see that the Kingdom of God is a place where all things, social, political, economic, and religious, are brought under the reign of God. But it is not a kingdom of power and might, for Jesus did not come in power and might establishing his reign through force. So neither should we.

We see Jesus as a servant, declaring that the Kingdom of God has come. He literally feeds hungry people. He heals people. Following him meant changing how you related to money, how you spent your time, how you treated the ostracized of society. They already had a list of moral duties and church attendance and an air of superiority. If that was the religion God sought, he wouldn't have needed Jesus to come and die for us. That was already had in the Pharisees and the law.

But the Kingdom of God is wherever God reigns. He reigns in the hearts of people. When we say our hearts though, we cannot separate that as some spiritual thing. Our physical hearts are what keep us alive; without them we die. So, when we say he reigns in our hearts, that means he reigns in our lives, because if he isn't interwoven into every part of our lives, the parts without him will die. It is the same physically; if our hearts stop pumping blood to part of our body, it dies. If he is not entirely integrated in how we treat people (the orphans, the widows, the voiceless, and marginalized in our society), if we don't think about the unintended consequences of our market economy and how our money is a part of that, if we don't wonder at how politics never seem to address the real issues of our society, then those will essentially be dead weight upon us that drag us down because we didn't allow them to be given life that comes through Jesus.

Ramblings on Life in Brazil (or "on Courage") {matul}

Yesterday, with the help of a couple internet sites, I completely disassembled my laptop in order to clean the fan in it. And then I put it back together and it still works!  In fact, it works better than it did before I cleaned the fan! I'm pretty freaking proud of myself. My host mom called me courageous for doing something that I'd never done before that had a potentially disastrous outcome (like my computer not working anymore). For me, it was just what needed to be done, since no on I knew could point me to a computer store that also cleaned laptops here in Rio.

I've found a renewed sense of purpose being back in Rio. My month in Sao Paulo taught me a lot things, without any explicit lessons. But one of them was that I needed to take better care of myself, and not to call that selfish. One such way I take care of myself is by living my life by a fairly rigid schedule.  I go to bed earlier than the people I live with, I have to say no to things that are extremely normal here. I have to be, sometimes, entirely different than those around me. 

Courage, I'm reminded isn't necessarily about doing great things. It is about doing difficult and sometimes risky things. What I'm learning is that following God's call always takes courage, because it will always be difficult to stand outside of the norm, which the call of God always is. It doesn't always have to look like my call, which involved moving to a country I'd never been to before and taking part in a program that few in this country or my own seem to understand. But, I know that the call of God never asks us to toe the party line or be satisfied with the status quo. Whether in our churches, our jobs, or our neighborhoods, we are called to be courageously different. 

on Prayer

In every time of spiritual growth and renewal I am reminded of turned back to the primacy of prayer in all things. It is always my soul recognizing the place of a mystical unknown, a thing which it has yet to fully grasp, and yet longs to know desperately. 

It is more than the ACTS method taught in evangelical Sunday School (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication) or the prayers of the church fathers I find in my Book of Common Prayer. It is more than the prayers of the Spirit groaning within me of incomprehensible utterances or the quiet cry of "Lord, I need you" in moments of desperation. Nor is it just the loud clamoring of a congregation praying together, though not in unison. 

It is somehow none of these and all of these wrapped into one. If we could somehow put each of these sentiments into one act, that, I suspect would come closer to what the depths of my soul longs for in prayer. 

I also have sneaking suspicion that is has something to do with the prayer the Christ gives his disciples in the gospel stories. I have not read many commentaries or heard many explanations of it. But yet again, that which I have heard falls marvelously short of what my soul tells me to expect from the Messiah. 

Yet another ache in my soul leads me to think of prayer as more than words in my heart, in my head, or my mouth. That it is more than words, but has something to do with how I live. That somehow prayers are made manifest in the ways we act and choose and exist. That if our prayers and times of communion with the LORD in his presence are not somehow changing how we live, then they are not really prayers at all, but something we do to make ourselves feel better, to mark something off our spiritual checklist. 

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Unfortunately, though this, as a theory and idea, comes back to me over and over again in my life, I have yet to do anything about it. I find myself in the same spiritual cycles which never include any alteration in how I pray. I often attribute this to my lack of understand of what prayer really truly is. However, in my heart of hearts, I know it is because I lack discipline to be faithful in figuring out more of this thing called prayer, of discovering the various ways I've to touch it. 

I make excuses, all of them, about time and wanting to pray alone (something about where two or three are gathered). I want to pray aloud, because it seems to impact my heart more, but I don't want my chance that I might be heard by someone who is not praying with me. I'm waiting for the right way and the right situation and the right time. But really, those things, if "right" even exists when we're talking about prayer, can only be discovered in practice, not in waiting around for everything to be "right". 

what the Lost Son teaches me

we have never been worthy to be his children

and yet we are

we make ourselves his servants every day

because he asks us to

we have the mindset of a servant

we have the privilege of heirs

holding them together

without losing either

he celebrates us, and we along with him

we do all that he asks, in faithfulness

though we are broken, he triumphs

The 4th of July

I've never been much of a fan of holidays....just in general. I would have just let this day slip right past me without even noticing if I could have (with the exception of my good friend's birthday today, she most definitely would have gotten some of my recognition). But my host dad, well, he watches a good amount of television. And he knew what today is for this country of mine. He started planning a party about a month ago. Mostly he was concerned with the food. Hamburgers. French Fries. I decided to make homemade chocolate chip cookies too. And we're gonna do coke-floats (don't worry not the kind with cocaine, the kind with Coca-cola). 

But really, I got myself thinking today. Independence Day. American's sure do like their independence. We are a nation that values, above almost anything else, our independence. That's why we are the only ones who still don't use the metric system, or celsius (much to my chagrin now that I am in a country that does).  But originally, what were we declaring independence from? From Britain? Did we just hate the British? No. We were declaring our independence from an unjust system, from the oppressive way that Britain had decided to rule over us. We were declaring our independence and our freedom from oppression. 

I have almost no patriotic spirit, and I will likely never cheer for America. But this idea of freedom from oppression, this I can get behind. This is a message Jesus would agree with. So in celebrating our freedom, lets not forget those who are not free. And (maybe more importantly) lets try our hardest not to oppress others, not to subject them to the very thing we declared freedom from. We are not the only ones who deserve this freedom, because, remember 'all men are created equal', which means that everyone deserves freedom from oppression. 

What it really means when the Bible is non-negotiable

Yesterday there was a lot of talk going around about how the SCOTUS just changed the country forever. There were lots of Christians talking about how the Bible is a non-negotiable thing. We can't compromise on what the Bible says, on what God says. People keep saying this, and while I can say I agree, I also have to respond with " You keep using that word [phrase]. I do not think it means what you think it means." (Inigo Montoya, The Princess Bride)

You see, I respect the Bible, and hold it in far higher regard than I do your opinion on what it says. And I know you think that you know exactly what it means and what it is trying to tell us. But quite frankly, that certainty tells me you have likely put God into your constructed box and ask him to play nicely with your beliefs. And this is far bigger than just the current hot topic of homosexuality, it's about everything you think God to be like.  Your certainty shows me that you either don't understand the limits of your own mind or don't appreciate just how incomprehensible God is. You are not open to wondering if maybe the Church has gotten it wrong, for a very long time. That maybe we misunderstood what God has asked of us, or how he asked it, because he asked a few millenniums ago in a culture extremely different from the one we find ourselves in. The bible is not as black and white as you think it is. Figuring out how to live this life in a way that truly glorifies God is a lifelong quest, and not a behavioral checklist. 

Stop and wonder at the God who is outside of time.

Surrender to him all that you think you know about him and what he says. 

See what happens. 

Make space for him to change you. Again and again. Everyday. 

Hot Water vs. Water Pressure...

or "Where I am Still Very Aware of My First-World Problems"

Okay guys, I'm here to tell you about some of the small peculiarities I have. You see, I have this thing about water pressure. I absolutely love showers that have good water pressure. I notice this in every place I take a shower. Just ask my roommate (who's not really my roommate anymore, but will always have that title), Emily.

But what do you do when you have to choose between having hot water or having good water pressure? Because, showers don't always feel like showers when they are cold, am I right? But lack of water pressure means you never really feel like all of the shampoo is out of your hair. I think of Emily everytime I take a shower, well, because for her, hot water is about as important to her as water pressure is for me.

So, let me explain why this happens. You see, people don't have hot water heaters here, like no one, except for maybe the super rich people. Even the middle class people don't have them. So, how then would you ever take a hot shower? So, they invented this electric shower heads, which heat the water right before it comes out of the shower head. In order to have better water pressure, you have to push the water through that shower head a lot faster, but this means that it goes through whatever water heating process to quickly, and thus does not get very hot.

It creates quite a dilemma for me, wanting both hot water and good water pressure. But I probably shouldn't complain, as there are far worse circumstances to be in. But I don't think I will ever stop wishing for both at the same time.

So, which would you choose, hot water or good water pressure?

On being an introvert and wanting deep relationships

Okay guys, it's another post that was an online discussion post for my class where we talk about culture learning. What can I say, this teacher asks questions that really make me think and then articulate well. Enjoy! 

Let me tell you a little story. So the other day, Josh and I went to our Site Coordinator's house, just for a little rest and to hang out with him and his wife. They teach a free community English class on Saturdays and were telling us about one of the boys in the class. They kept commenting on how strange he was, though they seemed to like him a good deal. Apparently, what made him strange was that he like to spend time at his house instead of going out with his friends everyday. And one day, when his mother forced him to go outside. He walked up the hill their house is on, and stayed at the top, watching the clouds and reading the newspaper. They were in awe at how strange he was. And all I could think about was that those two things sounded absolutely lovely and I wanted to do them. You see, this boy is an introvert. And this story is a perfect example of how Brazilian culture has absolutely no idea what to do with introverts, except to call them strange. So, in my attempts to learn this culture, to fully embrace it, I am faced with the fact that I will forever be considered strange and out of place because I often prefer to spend time by myself. 

The double whammy to this is that, though Brazilians are highly relational, most relationships remain at a fairly shallow level, at least how I evaluate relationships. Deep friendships outside of your family seem to be very uncommon. This makes things even more difficult because I can't stand shallow relationships. I honestly don't know how to function in them.  So, the way I view my new friendships is very different from the way my Brazilian friends see them. They feel like we are great friends, and I feel like I barely know them. It's a difficult path to navigate, wanting to be equally as excited and committed to a friendship, but also wanting to be honest in how I am engaging people. 

According to this article about culture stress, these issues are the causes listed as Temperament and Values, definitely. It manifested in basically all the ways listed under results, except for illness, fear of germs, and distrust of food (but don't worry, Josh covered those, so Team Brazil's got them all covered) :). I was tired and didn't want to get out of bed. I felt helpless. I wanted to move back home. I felt like a failure. I got mad at the culture for not having a way to understand me. 

But, don't worry guys, I'm definitely on the way out of all of this. I still have my moments (okay maybe whole days sometimes) but I don't think they are supposed to go away completely. This article says this process can take up to five years. So, ya, I'm totally normal. Some of the ways I've started to deal with it is with a Gratitude Journal, helping me focus on the things that I love and value in this culture and in this experience and place. Also, Josh and I have made a schedule with goals (because I need to have some sense of accomplishment, yay American values) that have been super helpful in motivating me on a daily basis. Also, we've started to actually schedule in real breaks in our life on a weekly and monthly basis. Which, though we've only gone twice, has been super helpful and gone a long way in making me feel like me. 

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The one idea from this article that I am kind of struggling with from this article is the idea of Identity. 

• Identity. Know who you are and what you will allow to be changed about you. Acculturation inherently involves changes in your personality, so determine the unchangeables.

I've always been a big fan of knowing you are and walking confidently in that. But in re-listening to a lot of my favorite worship songs and re-reading of some scripture, I've started to question this idea of "unchangeable". If I am dying to myself daily, as Luke 9:23 calls us to do, if I'm being transformed by the renewing of mind, as Romans 12:1-2 instructs us to do, and if we are clay in the potter's hands, as Jeremiah 18:6 reminds us we are, does he not have the right to remake and reform us? Does he not have the ability, and every right, to ask me to change things that I consider part my "unchangeable" identity? I think it will be (and has been) insanely difficult and challenging, but I think it is a part of becoming all things to all people. 

I also think we over-use the idea of being "healthy". Not that it's not valid, but I think maybe we use it as a crutch or an excuse not to change in ways God is asking us to, or to not even consider that God would ever ask us to change in this way. I don't know. I don't have any final thoughts or conclusions on this yet, but I'm pondering these things because I feel like characteristics I've considered to be "unchangeable" about me for a very long time are things God is asking me to change. Your experience confronting what you've held to be true and real will cause you to ponder a bit. 

thoughts on culture and transformation

Below is something I wrote for a forum post for school. We were talking about culture and learning and transformation. These are thoughts at the root of so many of the other things going through my mind. 

"Every culture is imperfect and, in fact, a prison that holds people in bondage, each one is at the same time the integrating point of reference by which people comprehend themselves and others.  We must understand that transforming a society does not mean moving people from their prison into ours but rather helping them to know Christ and be transformed personally and communally into people and communities of the Spirit" (Lingenfelter, Ministering Cross Culturally: 120)

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When I stop to reflect on this two things stand out. The first is that the goal is transformation. The second, that the means is knowing Christ. When I stop to think about my own transformation and how I long to see culture transformed I recognize that these things started when I, after spending 19 years (my whole life at that point) in the church, actually read the bible to see what it said it about God. Up until that point, I had just believed everything other people had told me. While it wasn't wrong (well, at least not all of it), it wasn't the kind of knowledge that brought about transformation of heart, mind, soul, and life. Now, I was actually looking to see what it said, not just to affirm or prove all the things I already thought.

 

My fear is that there are countless people who think they have been transformed in the way this quote speaks of, but, in fact have not. They have never stopped to notice how their own culture does not agree with the way God would have his followers live. How then do you help people who think they are entirely transformed actually be transformed? Even when you live with them, they still see what you are doing as a "special calling" which allows them to stay just the way they are thinking they have been transformed in this way.

 

I say this from experience. I, for many years, thought I was transformed, in the way this quote uses the word. But I wasn't. And the only way it happened to me was through making bad choices and realizing they were just as empty as the subculture I came from. But maybe that there is the key, to recognize that even the supposedly transformed subcultures are still, in fact, prisons.

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I took a class in undergrad that taught me something I’ve never forgotten. It was in regards to the Wisdom Literature of the bible. My professor taught us that these books were meant to expose the reader to the darkness of their own soul, the places where they fell short and needed to improve. For many of you, that might seem obvious. But up until that time, whenever I read these books, I always left feeling as though I had everything under control; they confirmed just how wise and wonderful I was.

 

I read this quote with that same caution. Because, no matter how hard I try, there are still ways in which my own culture, or subculture, is a prison to me, in ways that I can’t even see. In what ways have I not been transformed? How does that affect the way that I help others know Christ, as this author encourages his readers to do? 

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(And now some new thoughts) 

This is the trap that I found myself in, I think one of the ways that I ended up so low in recent weeks. Most missionaries get accused of trying to impose their home culture on to the one they are entering. I was keenly trying to avoid this downfall. So much so, that I ended up trying to put myself into another prison. A prison that didn't allow me to thrive, because it still is not the culture God sent his son to give us. I cannot exchange one prison for another and expect that to be the solution to be relevant in a culture that is not my own.

growing pains and changes

Sorry I kind of went MIA there for a while guys. It's been a busy month and a really rough month emotionally. I've been told by those who have done this before that this stage is normal. You get to the point where you've learned enough about the culture not to like it, and you likely haven't developed the kinds of relationships that make it worth it. So you get bitter. And you don't know what do with yourself. And you feel like a failure for feeling that way. And should missionaries always be filled with love and joy and God's light? Nope. We're still human too. Which means we have crappy days where we don't feel like getting out of bed in the mornings. Struggle with me as we go, will you?

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I think this blog will mostly take a different shape soon. Instead of thoughtful posts, with ideas that have been all fleshed out, I'll likely be asking more questions. Putting forth thoughts that are brought to mind by the world around me. Some of them may not be things you agree with. Some of them might make you uncomfortable.

But what I'm learning, now more than ever, is that SO MANY of our conceptions about God really aren't accurate. We've made God in our image. So this is me trying to give him back his immense-ness, his incomprehensible-ness by saying that I don't know and what if this other way that we've completely missed is actually the way it is. Instead of immediately reacting to the ways I may offend all the things you've always held as true, stop to really consider it. Stop long enough to realize that maybe we've understood God completely wrong. It's not that God is wrong, just that we've missed the point in understanding the messages he left for us throughout history.

Being Lost

Hello internet world! I know it's been several weeks since I last wrote anything. Believe me, I started, didn't finish, and then deleted several posts in that time. You see, I just didn't know what to write. I knew something was wrong, something was missing, but I didn't know what. But it kept me from really living life. I guess maybe you could call it a very mild time of depression, which had no real logical explanation. I'm gonna go ahead and say that the chemicals in my body forgot how to be normal.

I didn't know what to write. 

I didn't know what to do. 

I didn't know what to pray. 

I didn't know how to process life.

I just didn't know anything. 

So I slept in a lot. I spent several days in my house without leaving. I read an entire young adult fantasy book series. Let's be honest, I probably ate too much. I didn't want to see anyone. When I tried to read my bible, I felt further from God than I have in a while. My soul had become like a small child scrambling around grasping for something, anything, that made sense.

But then I went to church this morning. And while the pastor was talking I started to write out a prayer, a common practice for me. I just started declaring who God was back to him. Things that he's told me he is through scripture.

And then I remembered a class session last semester as I and many other prepared to move to another country. We were talking about spirituality. What does spirituality look like in the face of hard realities? Like the person who takes care of an invalid for their entire life? For the mom whose child commits suicide? Big, huge, hard questions.

The only answer I ever had was to remember the promise of God, continually go back to who God is. Because that is the only thing that is constant, no behavior norms, no feelings, no pastor or church, no christian living book  can speak to every situation. But the person of God can. The triune, father, son and holy spirit, God can. The creator of the universe. The one who gives us the same power that raised Christ from the dead. This God, he speaks intimately to the hearts of all, if only we would listen. His promises are true for all time, even if our understandings of them change over time.

So, in an effort to not feel so lost or purposeless in reading my bible, I'm going to read to find the promises of God and the character of God. Who is he? What does that mean for me? I'm excited to see what happens with this. You will likely get some blog posts about what I find.

What I [Unintentionally] Gave Up For Lent

I've been contemplating this last six weeks a bit. I read some super meaningful quote the other day that reminded me how we often need to reflect on our experiences in order to actually learn something from them. So I decided to reflect on Lent this year.

At the start of Lent, I figured I'd given up enough already (what, with moving to another country and all...language, culture, friends, etc), so I thought I would add something. I bought two books to journey with. One a daily bible study around the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi  (bible reading, quote from St. Francis , accompanying thoughts and a prayer) the other a book of daily readings for those who are not accustomed to the Lenten season. I didn't exactly know where I was at the start of the season, or what I needed, so I went for both. They were wonderful books, and a source of great encouragement and comfort at times through the process. But I'm realizing I lost something else. Something I couldn't have chosen to give up.

I stopped remembering. 

Not in the little day to day things, like brushing my teeth. Or even in the slightly bigger things like remembering the language I was/am learning. But I forgot to remember all that I knew to be true. Things about God. About my passions. About all that gives me life.  In the midst of forgetting truth, I lost so much comfort and hope (though there was an undeniable, though strange, sense of peace). I forgot how to set boundaries on my time. I forgot how to be me for while.

Whether it was the newness of moving into the community (which happened just two days after Ash Wednesday), my desire to really understand and experience the season of preparation which is Lent, or something else entirely that I am still unaware of, I do not know. I likely never will.

But what I do know, is that this seems to feel appropriate. Lent is a season of preparation, of sacrifice, or dying to self. This happened to me, however unintentionally. However, I am excited about the next season. Though many don't realize it, on the traditional church calendar the Easter celebration lasts for five weeks. We are supposed to celebrate for five weeks. It mirrors the 40 days Jesus remained on earth with his disciples after his resurrection. Being with Jesus should make us celebrate for five whole weks.

And the last few days have been filled with a renewed spirit. I found myself unable to fall asleep the other night as my head was flooded with ideas for my time here, for my church back in LA, for future dreams of jobs and possibilities.

I'd forgotten just how crucial true community is in the ongoing part of redemption. I couldn't help but think of new possibilities for creating and fostering community here, alongside believers. 

I forgot just how much I love the body of Christ, his Holy Church. I couldn't help but imagine ways of helping churches in LA focus on the redemption of place in the city. 

I forgot how much I yearn to equip people. But ideas for classes and an actual desire to create biblical curriculum flooded my mind and soul. 

I'd forgotten just how much I loved to learn things, especially theology. I couldn't displace the list of books about theology that I'd found on the site of a blogger I love for how he challenges me to think better. 

The refreshing and rejuvenating sense of life was found.  Which is the same grace of God to the world on Easter. We were dead to sin. Without hope. On that fateful morning, we were given life again.

Hospitality {matul}

Before I started the MATUL program last September, I heard a sermon about hospitality. This preacher mentioned that, in America, we often misunderstand the true nature of this word. But if you look at the word itself you might be able to grasp a slightly fuller understanding. Within the word HOSPITALITY is the word HOSPITAL. We go to hospitals for healing, to be made well again. This is what Christian hospitality is to look like.

I've had to learn a lot about hospitality since being here in Brazil. People are constantly inviting you over for lunch and welcoming you into their home. To refuse is highly offensive. And while it is wonderful to be forming relationships and getting to know people and being welcomed as family, there is so much more to hospitality.

Hospitality is more than welcoming someone into your dwelling. It is welcoming them into a place that is healing and life giving. Since being in Brazil, hospitality hasn't been quite what I expected. It's more than the hugs and kisses exchanged or the meals we've shared at other's tables. It's not even, necessarily, the home and family with whom I've taken up residence. For me, right now, it looks like the grace that's extended when I butcher the language in my attempts to communicate. Those who speak slowly and are willing to repeat themselves, who seem to work just as hard to understand and convey a message as I do.

I call it grace and hospitality because it can be nothing else. It refreshes and heals my soul, when the only thing I've earned here is the label of "crazy" for moving to a country where I don't know the language. I'm the one who chose this; communicating should be hard work for me. But these people, full of grace and hospitality, with a character that reminds me of Jesus, have willingly entered into my world of strained communication. They, with each word, communicate to me an abundance of grace and worth and love.

Photo Credit: Alicia Nelson

When I Wish I Could Draw

Sometimes I really wish I could draw. That I could sketch. Sit down with my pencil and a notebook and create something beautiful, that I am proud of.

This is because I have an assumption (whether right or wrong I don't know) that drawing, for those who are passionate about it, gives them the same kind of release/gratification/feeling that I get from singing. Or I guess it could be writing poetry, as well. Or really just writing anything.

You see, to sing requires more than writing or drawing. To write or draw you need a pen and paper. To sing you don't need something you hold in your hands, but space. A space to yourself, a space where other things are not going on, a space where your singing won't be wildly distracting or rude because something else is already going on. 

You see, last week I found myself in a lecture with about 100 other people. I'm sure the lecture was wonderful, but it was in Portuguese and it started at 8pm. My mind was tired from a day of translating and it just couldn't handle any more, especially when I couldn't stop the speaker to ask about certain words. I wanted to sing. I want that sweet release of tension and anxiety. I wanted to feel free. But I couldn't, because that most definitely was not the place/time for singing. 

But I wanted it so badly. I'd read an article recently about how creativity can help deal with depression and anxiety. While not a cure for clinical depression, it has definitely helped lift my spirits in difficult times. But I couldn't. I tried my hand at writing a poem. I thought about drawing something. But for me, nothing is quite like singing. 

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i dream of a way

to sing with pen and paper

to feel a sweet release

of worship, adoration

the stroke of a paintfilled brush

the snap of a patient photo

the rhythm of poetic words

the poetry of prose

each thoughtful line of sketch

the sweet sound of melody

the grace of a body in motion

the perfectly rendered act

a pot so perfectly formed

there is release

unlike any other

to create

as we were created too

we simply cannot express it in another way

Want to know where I live?

So many of you may have seen the video I posted on Facebook several weeks ago. If you didn't, you should go watch it. It's a TEDtalk by the mayor of Rio de Janeiro. The talk is interesting. Not sure I'm on board with all that he says, but good things to think about nonetheless.  From 7:48 to 8:18 he shows pictures of my community's center! It's the gathering place for all. There are parties there on the weekends, and always kids are playing. So cool!

Want yet another way to get a better idea of where I live? Follow these simple directions!

Go to maps.google.com.br
Type in the search bar on the page: Rua Nova Brasília, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Zoom in some.

This is the main shopping street in my town! It's maybe about a seven minute walk from my house to the bottom of the street you searched, where it meets Av. Itaoca. In satellite view, the picture is a little old. It's before they built the plaza the mayor talked about in the video above, so it's looks a little different now.

But this is just to give you an idea where I am within the very LARGE city of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Also WAY too many people have been asking about my address. I've been hesitant to give it out because well, things just work differently down here. But finally, I have it for you!  I am able to receive all types of mail at the Seminary we are partnering with. The address is below. Letters and presents of all kinds are welcome! :) And I absolutely LOVE getting mail!

Seminario Teologico Betel

ATTN: Kimberly Farnham

Av. Mal. Rondon, 1020 - Rocha

Rio de Janeiro - RJ, 20950-006, Brazil

Clumsy As Ever

Okay guys. I want you all to think back to the beginning of your relationship with me. For most of you, I'm guessing that within the first few months of knowing me I had a slightly real injury. One for which I had to go the doctor's office for. Or perhaps it was a series of mishaps that mark that time. I remember when I was almost 14 years old I spent a week in Mexico on a mission trip. 10 days. I literally spilled something ever, single, day. My sister constantly makes fun of my lack of spatial awareness. I just never seem to know where my body is in relation to all that is around me. I run into walls and doors all the time.

Well, it finally happened here. Exactly one month after arriving in Brazil, I had a slightly real injury occur, for which I needed to go to the doctor. 

A couple nights ago I was walking back home with some friends after a birthday party. It had been a splendid evening. Lots of singing, dancing, learning new words, and making new friends. Walking back, I was definitely feeling VERY tired. I almost fell once,but my friend Aline caught me. I mean, the streets (which are more like alley ways here) aren't always the best constructed places to be walking. So we were walking. I was looking down, well, because I have to. There are countless stairs, of varying lengths and depths, an abundance of cockroaches, the occasional mouse, and many more obstacles to overcome when walking. So, I was looking down. 

Well, this means I didn't trip on anything or have a bug run across my foot. Instead, I hit my head on a metal electrical box mounted on the wall. And it had sharp edges. Really sharp. So sharp, in fact, that I got a good-sized cut. I didn't think much of it when it first happened (I never do when these things happen) but then my friends reacted with far more concern than I though appropriate. Turns out I had blood running down my face. This cut was worse than I had thought. 

So, we get back to the house, rinse my hands, face, and head from blood. I get a wet rag, and apply some pressure. We all (six of us in a car for  five people) head to the 24 hour family clinic. We get there and only one person can come inside with me. Ultimately it ends up being Josh,my teammate because I figure it's a good idea to have someone can communicate with both myself and the hospital attendants.

They say the cut doesn't need stitches because it's not deep at all. It bled a lot because, well, that's what head wounds do, no matter their size. They clean me up with their special hospital wound cleaning materials and send me on my way. They said I could come back the next day at a normal hour to get a Tetanus shot, but I've already one, so I don't need another.

I'm entirely okay now. It's only a bump on my head with a little scab. It only hurts if I hit it with my brush the wrong way when I'm brushing my hair. So, congratulations Brazil! You've helped me keep my reputation as a clumsy girl who is often entirely unaware of her immediate physical surroundings!

English Class {matul}

The other day, Josh and I visited a local public elementary school. We have a friend who works for an after-school program. She is hoping that we will be able to help out with the English part of their program. So, we went and visited to see what it might look like for us to be involved. 

When the normal teacher told the students that there were two Americans here to talk with them, they didn't believe her. They called her a liar. When we walked in, it was like we were celebrities. They were SO excited. No one has been this excited to meet me ever. 

At first they were really shy and scared to speak. Then things warmed up a bit when Josh asked about which soccer team was everyone's favorite. (Soccer is like a national religion down here. Literally everybody has a team.) Then they pulled out their phones and started taking videos of us talking. Then they wanted to take pictures of us. And then they started asking for autographs. 

It felt really strange. There is literally no reason they should be this excited to meet me. I am just a person from another country. My mind couldn't quite handle it. I couldn't figure out what would have been a correct response.

On the one hand, maybe American's are too nonchalant about people from other countries. We don't really get excited about anyone moving to America. Maybe we should be more excited to meet people in our home towns who are from distant lands? It's exciting!On the other hand however, we are all just people. And American's should not be idolized by these kids like they seem to be. It perpetuates the "the USA is better than us" mindset, which is just false. And yes, there is a proper level of excitement about meeting a native speaker of the language you are learning, especially if it's the first time. 

Can you feel my tension? I'm glad that our encounter will encourage them to keep studying. Education is so important, and something I've often taken for granted. I mean, I'm in a Master's program and most people in my community barely finish high school, if that. I am beyond privileged to have this level of education.

I don't really know what point I'm trying to make, if there even is one. So often in the last three and a half weeks I've encountered things about which I don't know how to feel. Things here are simultaneously beautiful and concerning. It will require much more thought and prayer to fully understand all that surrounds me. 

Those Moments

Have you ever had those roller coaster days? At some point you have really great moment and you feel wonderful about all that your doing. Then, something mostly unexpected happens and it hurts. (If you're a girl you likely cry. I don't know how guys respond.) And the only option you have is to say, "God, it's yours. If I try to make this better, it won't work. I look to you to make it better. I'm giving this whole situation to you." It's partly out of desperation, partly out of faith, and partly an ultimatum.

Well...that was my today. And God answered in the strangest of ways. He didn't fix the situation. But he reminded me why I'm here. Instead of sitting and sulking and asking why (like I wanted to do) he gave me the opportunity to go out into the community. To talk with people. To meet a high school girl who plays soccer. (Finally a girl who likes soccer!) To remember that people everywhere need the grace and power and love of God. He responded by showing me the big picture. Difficulties come along. And yes, they are hard and require dealing with. But we cannot let them take center stage in our minds, in our hearts. We must always remember the bigger story we are a part of.

I looked to God and he reminded me. He answered my prayer in an unexpected way. Which seems to be his style.

Brazilian Flirtations

Well guys...it happened. I've been asked SEVERAL times if I have a boyfriend. When I say no, people feel compelled to tell me that I will find one in no time at all. They don't seem to understand that I just don't want a boyfriend right now. Some people have even gone as far as to tell me that I will marry a Brazilian man. One of them even thought I would get married before the end of my time here, in two years. It is definitely not normal here to have removed yourself for the romantic realm for a bit. And at this point I don't know the words (literaly, I don't know them in Portuguese) to really explain that I'm not allowed to date for a year, MATUL rules. (Which I'm totall okay with by the way, they have very good reasoning behind it, and I could see myself falling into all the reasons why they made it.)

And, as the cherry on top of these delightful comments, I've already experienced a bit of Brazilian flirting. To be fair, I think this guy is pretty flirtatious in general. He's a schmoozer in the best possible, and Christian, way. I tried my hardest to give the clearest non-verbal cues that I wasn't not okay with it, while not wanting to come off as rude. It's a hard line to walk when you can't speak the language. Our site director had very wise words on this subject when he said that dating in the beginning doesn't really make sense. The kind of person who is attracted to someone they can't communicate with isn't really the kind of person you want to be with in the long run. Good advise, right?! Suffice it to say, I don't think this will be my last experience with this topic. ;)

It's funny though. I was talking wtih a classmate of mine in India and she pointed out something. I had mentioned earlier to her how beautiful people are in Brazil. And they are freaking beautiful! All of them! I think it has something to do with how much they've mixed people of different heritages: Italian, African, German, whichever people group is native to Brazil (I really should know this piece of information), and many more. Anyway, they area all super beautiful. Add that to the fact that this is also a super touchy culture. They kiss on both cheeks everytime you greet someone. Hugs are common place among friends. And there simply is no aversion to touching people. For example, on the bus, no one cares if their leg is touching the leg of the person they don't know who is sittiung next to. They just don't.

So...Super beautiful people + Super touchy culture. Got that. It's a perfect mixture for someone like me. Physical touch is most definitely my love language. And I like beautiful people (really though, who doesn't?). I'm sure there will be plenty of times where I have to tell myself that it's not okay to date someone right now. Maybe just as many as I have to tell other people. ;)

Public Transportation

Have you ever been in a place where you had to take public transportation? And was the system easy or difficult to navigate? Were stops clearly labeled? Did the routes make sense?

That has not been my experience thus far! Public transportation here is crazy. I can barely tell where I am most of the time when I'm on the bus.

The first time Josh and I tried to take the bus by ourselves, we got on the wrong bus, but figured it out within seconds. The bus we wanted (the same number, just going the other direction) happened to be passing by right at that moment. The bus drivers talked to each other and we were able to switch buses easily. Then we ended up getting off the bus too early. Oops. Once we figured that out, we had to wait at the bus stop for another bus to come and take us further.

The next time we tried to take the bus by ourselves, we got on the bus going the wrong direction! But this time we didn't figure it out. Until we reached the very end of the route and we were not anywhere near where we wanted to be. Which we only figured out after a very difficult conversation in broken Portuguese. It didn't help that the part of the city we were in was Rocha Miranda and we wanted to be the part called Rocha. Here's a hint, they aren't anywhere close to each other. Once the bus driver understood where we were trying to go though, he said the best option at that point was just to stay on the bus we'd been on and wait for it to get where we actually wanted to go. We eneded up being on the bus for 2 hours and 15 minutes. And we missed one of our classes in the process. Oh the joys of city life!

Trying to get back home that same day though we did perfectly! We got on the right bus and stayed on it until we actually wanted to get off! Looks like the third time really is the charm.

If I'm being honest though, I blame our host brother for all the problems. Both times we got on the bus going the wrong direction he was with us to make sure we got on the right one. And he said he knew. When he wasn't there Josh and I figured it out. Hahaha, I'm just joking...mostly. He's a great host brother and has been very helpful so far! I've just decided that no one really knows how to navigate this bus system entirely. It's way to huge and confunsing!

Yay for public transit!

The Faithfulness of God {matul}

I

Being in another country is difficult sometimes, for so many reasons. Especially when you know that this is your new reality for two years. So you better get used to it. In many ways the last two weeks have been really difficult. I experience all of my emotions every day. About to break down in tears because I'm so overwhelmed with everything. Really excited about the little thing I just communicated in Portuguese. Frustrated that I don't understand anything. Laughing at the joke that I miraculously understood most of. I'm not used to so many emotions in one day. It's been a little trying on my heart and mind and soul. But I'm getting used to it, and finding a new normal for daily expectations.

However, on the days that end with frustration, or helplessness is taking hold of my heart, I have experienced the incredible faithfulness of God.

II

I bought a book to go through during Lent. I needed a little something extra right around when this season started, and decided this was good idea. It has daily readings, complete with reflections from St. Francis of Assisi and passages to read from the Bible. On the second day of this book, all three of the passages I read were three of my favorite passages of scripture. Each has played an important part in my faith at different times in my life. The timing of it all had to be God, because that day had been mostly overwhelming and on the verge of tears. It was God reminding me of where I'd been in the past, what he'd taught me that brought me to where I am today. If you're curious, go read Deuteronomy 30:11-20, Psalm 51, and Luke 9:22-25.

III.

This past Sunday, in evening church, the pastor preached on a passage in Hebrews. It ended up being a quote from Jeremiah 31. I went and read that chapter and then kept reading onto Jeremiah 32. It's a crazy  chapter. Most if it is about how unfaithful Israel has been, how they've done evil since they arrived in the land God had promised to them. God asked Jeremiah to buy a piece of land from his kinsman, so he did, but then he wanted to know why. You know what God said?

He said [paraphrasing, of course] "I know how awful my chosen people have been to me. They haven't loved me. They've rejected me and worshiped other gods. Basically, they've done everything I said not to do and haven't done anything I've asked them to do. So Babylon is going to come and burn down the city and carry the people away. You bought this piece of property, though, because I will use it as a sign that I will return these rebellious people to this land. They will live here again in peace, buying and selling property as you have done today.

Um...What? I was reading this and was so surprised by God's grace! They don't deserve any of it. And to those who think they do deserve the promises of God, him giving it to these unworthy people is offensive. These people had been just awful to him, and he was still going to treat them with kindness after they'd been exiled for a while.  And then I remembered that I live in this grace every, freaking, day! And even if I have a frustrating couple of days or feel like I'm not doing anything that is worth anything right now as I learn the language, even though I feel like I'm in some kind of exile right now, God is faithful. And he will fulfill his promises to me, no matter what. That is the crazy, scandalous, offensive grace that I live in every day.

IV

And this, this faithfulness in foreign lands, is one of the reasons I am overseas right now. I know this grace. It's the closeness, faithfulness, grace that I experience when I am abroad, serving the Lord. I've known it in Mexico. I've known it in Cambodia. When I think about the times when I have most enjoyed life, it has been in these places, these times. This is one of the reasons I chose to do MATUL, because I feel like I flourish in these environments, however difficult at certain times. Like I was made for this. 

Going Green

I've never been one who is much concerned with recycling and doing things in a way that is good for the environment. Sure, we have limited resources and what not. But I'm really only going to do anything about it if it is easy.  I'll bring my own mug to Starbucks or use re-usable bags at grocery stores (mostly motivated by the $0.10 it saves me; bonus that it helps the environment). Know that I am never going to grow my own food in the backyard (I mean, I'm not even sure HOW this helps the environment.) Mostly, I just don't understand how the environment and pollution really work and I don't really have a desire to know.

So imagine my surprise when I realized how much I cared that Rio is so very NOT a green city. Plastic bags are everywhere. And because you bag your own groceries here, people use far more than I think is necessary, double bagging every bag. There are more cars on the road than LA sometimes. There is trash on every street. And this actually concerned me! I finally have come to appreciate (though I'm not entirely sure how) the environment.

All of this is without conclusion. I know there are a myriad of reasons Rio has not had the opportunity to  focus on the environment yet because it has issues that have far more immediate consequences to deal with. But I noticed. And it surprised me.

Playing Tourist

A few days ago Josh and I played tourist and went to Pão de Açúcar (Sugarloaf Mountain) with one of our housemates, Adilio, playing guide. It's a popular tourist spot for those visiting Brazil. And it was plenty busy with all the tourists in the city for Carnaval. Here are a few pictures of the adventure!

 

You see that little building at the top of that hill/rock thing? That is our final destination! First we had to hike up the hill to the left of it. It was a crazy hard, straight up a rock kind of hike, so I didn't take any pictures of it.  For my APU friends, it was kind of like hiking Garcia Trail, but a little more humid.

This is a picture of the same plaza in the previous picture, but from a slightly different angle, the top of the small rock/hill. 

Josh, me, and Adilio after the crazy hike. Halfway there!

The only way to get to the top of the next hill/rock is via cable car!

I was really excited to go, so I made the boys take an excited picture with me!

The view from the cable car! 

We are up so high!

Our fellow cable car riders!

The view from the top...it really is better. 

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AND

One last little bonus! 

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These guys!

 

These guys were at the top with us! Don't worry, I'm just as curious about what they are wearing as you are. It's apparently pretty common to dress up in the strangest ways for Carnaval. Guys dress up as women, couples dress up as flinstones (there were actually several of these) and these guys put on these skin tight onesies. I just had to share this with you. We were at that same lookout for a while, so I learned that they are definitely American and one of them has watched at least one episode of Glee! I know you wanted all those details. ;-) They were definitely a highlight. You know my love for all things ridiculous!

Bom Dia {matul}

I've gotten a few requests for some basic details of my time in Brazil so far. I'm not always super good at that, but this is my attempt at it anyway. I hope you enjoy!

Comida (food)
Breakfast is usually fresh french bread (pão do francês) with cream cheese and jelly. Oh, and coffee. Can't forget the coffee. :)
Lunch is the big meal over here. It pretty much always includes beans (feijão), rice (arroz), meat (carne), and salad (salada). You might also find potatoes or pasta. Followed by coffee.
Dinner is similar to what you have for lunch. Not to much different. Again, followed by coffee. And likely dessert (sobremesa) as well.

There is no shortage of dairy (leite), carbs, fruits (frutas), vegetables (legumes), protein, or sugar (açúcar) in this place. I have all parts of the nutrition pyramid. The trick is only eat as much as you need, and not more (which can be hard because it is SO delicious).

Língua (language)
I took three weeks of Portuguese lessons before leaving LA. They have proved to be very helpful. Though I still spend most of my time listening and processing. I don't speak much yet. It still takes to long for me to form a thought in order to get it out in the natural flow of conversation. Plus my brain is busying interpreting, so there isn't much space left for, ya know, actually coming up with things to say.

But, I have become a far better listener/interpreter in just a few days. And I've also started to fall in love with this language! It's freakin' beautiful! I can't wait to actually be able to participate more seamlessly.

Casa (home)
As you probably already know, part of the point of being down here is to live in a favela. But when I got here it wasn't quite ready for me yet. Things move slower here. Outside of the kind of work you get paid for, there is very little that operates with any kind of urgency. So, until then I am living with our city facilitator and his wife. He is an American who has been down here for almost 10 years. She is a wonderful Brazilian woman whose father is the director of the seminary we are partnering with while here.

Coisas (things)
Also, this is a picture of all that I brought with me. It weighed a total of 45.6 kgs. I'd like to say I'm proud of myself for only bringing what I need. And I am a little bit. Though, I've already found things that I should have brought and things that I didn't need to bring.

What other specifics do you want to know? I would love to tell you more, I'm just not sure what people are looking for in this area!

Assurance {matul}

I know I made the big announcement several days ago, but I have finally arrived in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil!  It's been a peaceful few days. While waiting for Josh to arrive I've been staying with our contact here in Brazil, Jeremy, and his wife. They are wonderful people, so friendly and inviting, and super helpful!

Already I've had several Brazilians tell me the same thing, "If you are sure this God's call for you, it is good." But always it is preceded about how life in the favelas can sometimes be, well, less than kosher (not their words, though they have the same hesitation in their words).

It's left me with so many questions about how we can be sure of anything? For me it always boils down to this indescribable peace, a feeling that is often hard to remember in times of questioning. However, it's strong enough to make me continue even when I can't remember.

That's where I'm at. My senses on are overload and my mind is tired from having to try so hard to understand anything that is said. But I remember a time of indescribable peace as the first steps toward this journey I've taken. That is where I take refuge when flickers of doubt enter my mind. When I begin to feel unworthy of this call. When my struggle with inadequacy creeps up yet again.

I rest knowing that he has called me here, even if I can't remember what that certainty feels like.

THANK YOU!

I don't know how many of you know, but I worked at APU in the Office of Undergraduate Admissions - Processing as a student worker during my junior and senior years of college and as a temporary worker for a year after I graduated. It was an amazing place to work. I learned so much for the people I worked with about grace, prayer, and love (tough love, sometimes) and really just about doing life well.

(I'm sure they probably all hate me for
putting this picture on the internet.)

Though I haven't worked there for a good six months now, I went by the office today to say one last goodbye before heading off to Brazil. They knew I was coming and had planned a little surprise for me. You see, they find any occasion to have a party, and I was a perfect excuse. They'd set up a table with little servings of tropical trail mix, made a tower of disposable champagne glasses (that we used for sparkling cider, of course), and made a sign post with the miles to different places. Little did they know it was too all of the placed I'd been in the past month. It perfectly summed up the period of waiting that I wrapping up. 

Kihei, HI 2,522 miles       Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 6,293 miles

Los Angeles, CA 20 miles         San Diego, CA 107 miles

San Fransisco, CA 356 miles      Pomona, CA 10 miles

It was perfect, and they had no idea they did it. 

But, as if all this wasn't enough already, they'd written me 22 cards (a combined effort) and put dates on each of them. They chose dates, some at random and some with meaning, spread through out the next year and a half while I am in Brazil. It is the gift that literally keeps on giving. And to top it all off, as an office they have committed to supporting me financially on a monthly basis. 

Suffice it to say, I was overwhelmed by their generosity and love. 

Because I know they'll ready this, thank you all! Gina, Laura, Brenda, Kristin, Elaine, Lynnette, Jeanette, Deb, John, Pam, and Lynette. I am beyond blessed to have you all care for me so deeply. I love you all!