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. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.