Missionarying

I know, guys. I know.

I last posted at the end of April. Lame. Still trying to find a good way to get myself to blog regularly. The 1000 Words series worked for a while, hopefully I've drummed up something else that might work, might be more personal, might be easier/more fun to write, might make you more aware of what I have going on day in/day out around here.

Although I really have failed entirely as a blogger, it doesn't mean I have failed as a blog reader. Oh no. I'm all over those babies. Maybe that's why I don't blog often, because I read so many good ones I don't feel I can keep up. Who knows. But I need to share something with you.

For a few years now I have followed a blogger called Jamie, The Very Worst Missionary. You may have heard of her, you may not. The title itself should already indicate something. 1. She's a missionary (win). 2. She's self-deprecating (win). 3. She uses superlatives (WIN). So obviously I was a fan before even reading what she had to say.

Now, I would stop short of saying I recommend you read her blog. Although I do enjoy her writing and learn much from what she's contributed to the interwebs, her style might not float your boat. She uses some colorful language that I know might be too distracting or disconcerting for some of you to appreciate her perspective on God, missions, church, etc. And that's perfectly understandable, and to be honest, it distracts me a little, too.

BUT. 

What she has to say about God, missions, church, etc., is good. It's refreshing, it's honest, it's courageous, and it's firsthand perspective of what it's really like to be a missionary. I only remember one thing she wrote one time that I did not agree with, and it was that papaya tastes like feet. I disagreed with that. But what she wrote about the damage many short-term mission trips can do to a long-term mission? Gold. The series should be required reading for all short-term mission trip leaders. She started a conversation online that so needed to be had.

So why am I returning from a months-long blogging silence to blog about another blog? Because I found a video today of an interview with Jamie, VWM (as she refers to herself). I youtubed her because I was curious what she looked/sounded like, and what I found made me weep. This is an interview with JamieVWM about her experiences and missions in general. It's really good, and I've posted it below if you care about that sort of thing and have 15 minutes to spare. All of her answers about missions in general I would answer the same way...and often have when I'm asked about the same subjects.

There's one part that is especially beautiful that I hope all of my readers watch. The interviewer asks her how churches can support their missionaries better. I would like to point out here that I love both of my supporting churches deeply. I feel their love, support, and encouragement and am so, so blessed that God brought us together. So I'm not posting this video as an indirect criticism of my personal experience. I'm posting it because, as she points out, there's a lot more to the missionary-church relationship than overly positive newsletters and general questions met with general answers. I appreciate her call for all of us, regardless of the side we're on, to do better. Because we're all on the same team.

The whole interview is posted below, and the question I mentioned is asked at the 11:18 mark. If you want to only watch that question, you can also click here and it will take you right to that spot.

Enjoy!

Falsehoodenol

On the first Saturday of each month, our church gathers for its monthly men's and women's Bible studies. The topics vary and the two groups do not necessarily study the same subject.

At the April gathering, the women studied a verse in Matthew, where, quoting the prophet Isaiah, Jesus says "These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me." Matthew 15:8. We talked about how this might happen, why it happens, and how we can either avoid it happening to us, or fix the problem if it's already happened. 

The women were divided into groups and asked to "prescribe a medication" for this condition. We were asked to write up a package insert, that piece of paper that you get with your prescription medications that describes what the medicine is for, how it should be used, side effects, etc. 

The creativity of our sisters blew me away! We had several different medicine names, including Hypocrisene and Falsehoodenol. We were asked to specify the pharmacology, indications and usage, reactions, and dosage, all in order to cure the ailment of a heart that is far from God. 

When they were read aloud, so much laughter ensued! I grabbed one to share with you all because they were too creative not to share! 

If you are suffering from a heart that is far from God, I recommend the use of: 

Falsehoodenol

Pharmacology: prayer, Bible study, practicing community, fasting, worship. 

Indications & usage: for treatment of the heart, people with little faith, those who are discouraged and feel far from God. 

Reactions: grow closer to God and Christian family, spiritual growth. 

Dosage: use daily for a 15 minute minimum, for maximum effect use in the morning before starting your day. 

Wasn't this a great idea?!

JerryHall

In a recent email exchange with my mom, she said "Wow, Cris, you should write a book. Well, I guess that's what you have a blog for." I can take the hint.

If I were to write a book one day, the title would have to be Why I'm Blessed. Because any story I have worth telling is undoubtedly somehow connected to the many life adventures and sweet relationships God has allowed me to have.

What we were talking about in that particular email exchange was the funeral of a dear friend of mine, JerryHall (that's how he said it, with the two names running together and ending in a fabulous drawwwwwl that rhymes with Hawwwwwl). I am in Brazil, and I had just finished watching my friend's funeral in Texas. Online. In real time. Not singing along to "My God and I" and "The Greatest Commands" because I could hear the congregation singing so clearly and so beautifully that I much preferred to listen. Waving back through the webcam when Jerry's son, Mike, while speaking about his father, waved to me from the pulpit. Sniffling along with the people physically present during the beautiful and thoughtful closing prayer. This story would be a part of a chapter called "How God has Used Technology to Bless Missionaries in Ways You Might Never Imagine."

This was most definitely my first online funeral experience, and maybe it will be my last. It was made possible by the fact that Jerry's family knows just how much I loved him. They knew (and I told them) how I would have given just about anything to be able to be there. They knew that Jerry and I had a special friendship, although from what I can tell I wasn't the only non-family member whom he made feel precious and loved! He made me feel so precious and loved that his family generously called me an adopted family member, and made the arrangements to place me via computer front row at his service, with the best view in the house of the gorgeous arrangement of flowers placed over his casket.

So how did I get adopted into a cowboy family from Springtown, Texas? That would be another chapter called "That Never Happens." Jerry was an elder at the Springtown Church of Christ, who, in 2008, came down to Natal to visit the missionary family they were supporting at the time. Jerry came with his son, Mike, and daughter-in-law, Sabra, for a very quick visit. They came after Christmas and left on New Years Day. The trip to Natal is exhausting if you plan to stay a month, but such a quick turnaround surely wore Jerry right out. But he chugged along and did his elder business with utmost grace and love. He even took a four-hour road trip in an open Jeep to visit the family of one of our members in the interior of our state. He impressed the Brazilians by drinking Brazilian coffee straight, no milk or sugar (no one does that!). That's when I figured out he was pretty special, that and when he told me his wife's name was Tootie and he had met her on a blind date. I knew this Jerry and I should probably be friends.

So on the one Sunday Jerry was here, he spoke at our English worship service. He simply told the story of the gospel, because it was his favorite, and broke down in tears at the end and said "I can't get through this story without crying." After church that day, he came up to me, handed me a piece of paper with his name and phone number on it, and said "I hear you're going to be in the States fundraising for your work soon. Please look us up." An elder. From a church. Asking a missionary to ask them for support? That never happens.

A few months later I was bold enough to do just that. I drove down to Springtown for a fundraising visit and they had me make a presentation to the church then meet privately with the elders. I was in a dress and the elders were in cowboy boots. Previously that day, Jerry had taken me out to see his pasture/farm/land and it was the first time I'd ever been so close to a cow. He thought it was hilarious that I'd never been on a farm before. After my meeting with the elders, I left Springtown to have dinner with a friend in Dallas. During dinner, a mere two hours later, Jerry called to say they had decided to take over my monthly salary. That was all I lacked to return to Natal. I began to cry, and Jerry thought that was pretty great, too. He loved to tell that story. I had all of the support I needed three weeks after beginning my fundraising. That never happens.

Thus began a lovely friendship between the Halls and me. I was blessed to host Tootie on a Let's Start Talking project the following year. I've been blessed to visit them in Springtown several times on reporting trips, always welcomed into their homes and lives like a daughter/sister/granddaughter. When Franciney and I made our trip to the States last year, I was so excited for him to meet Jerry. What I wanted was for Franciney to know him. What I really wanted was for Jerry to know Franciney, and to give him a hard time, but ultimately, approval. Jerry didn't get to meet Franciney because a few days before we arrived in Springtown he got a call that there was a heart for his transplant and to drive immediately to Galveston for his surgery. So he did. He got in the truck with Tootie and drove himself to his transplant. That never happens....

I am so, so, so grateful I got to see Jerry one last time on my last trip. As his son, Mike, has said since his passing, he wasn't living like he wanted to. He held on for his family, but his health was not allowing him to live the way they had all hoped a new heart might afford. When I sat briefly to chat with Jerry in his living room in January, his first question was "How's the church? How's the work?" and was happy to hear that the church in Natal has grown by leaps and bounds and that the work here is being blessed by God.

I didn't love Jerry because he helped me get financial support. I loved Jerry because he supported me, personally, in ways he didn't even realize. There is no unit by which I can measure the amount of confidence Jerry gave me by believing in me. I didn't expect being a single female missionary to be an easy sell, but Jerry didn't seem to even notice that. I didn't expect him to pay much attention to what else was going on in our church when he came for a visit because it was so quick, but he cared enough to find out about the other ministries God was using and wanted to be a part of them. While he was in the hospital for his transplant, I didn't expect him to remember that he had even missed my visit, let alone who had been with me. But when I called him to say hello, he said "Now I hear I missed you in Springtown and that you brought a young man with you..." I told him I was sure he would approve, and he assured me that he thought so, too.

To me, that was JerryHall. Sweet, thoughtful, generous, committed to God above everything else. I've found a good measure for me when I'm making a ministry decision (and other decisions!) is to ask "Would _____ be proud of that?" I insert the name of any of the many elders and supporters I have in the States, but Jerry's is almost always the first one that comes to mind. I'll have to be even more careful now, because if I know JerryHall, I'm pretty sure he's pulled up a recliner for a front-row seat, getting to watch all of what the many people he loved so dearly are up to.

And I definitely want to make sure he's proud. 

I, regrettably, don't have any pictures of myself with Jerry. I suppose he'd be fine with a picture of me with his just-as-wonderful other-half, Tootie. 

Jerry's obituary in the Ft Worth Star-Telegram

Why I'm Here

I've mentioned several times before on this blog that a highlight of my week is my Monday night English class. As soon as I got home from furlough, I was anxious to get back in the Monday night groove. I had missed my students, and I had missed our fantastic conversations about scripture even more! In the year and a half that I've been with this specific group, it's been made clear to me time and time again that our time together serves a very specific purpose.

I was antsy to get back into our study of Acts, as we had stopped exactly at the lesson where Stephen is brought in to the Sanhedrin. My students knew what was coming, but had been waiting for two months to read the next part of the story! Talk about suspense!

After a two-month break I knew they would need to be eased into the English. (Although I did find out that three of my students had continued meeting weekly while I was gone, on Monday night, no less, to practice English and re-read all the lessons we had already completed!) Since it's a basic conversation class, where I do a lot of explaining in Portuguese, I figured they might appreciate more chatting and less study the first night. So last week I prepared several ice breaker questions about a variety of different topics to get them talking. I only threw in one Bible-related question and I was curious to see how it would turn out. I figured most of my students would be able to recall a favorite Bible story, and chanced asking about a favorite Bible verse, as well. My veteran students would definitely have a great bank of stories to choose from, as we have already read Luke and are halfway through Acts, and I hoped they might even remember a verse or two that stuck out.

Thankfully, the Bible question ended up with one of my students who has pretty decent Bible knowledge. He was quick to say that his favorite Bible story was about Joseph in Egypt. I was happy with that answer and asked if he had a favorite Bible verse. "No, there are so many," he said, "I can't think of anything right now." So we moved on. A few minutes later he excitedly said "Oh! I remember a great verse. When Jesus is in the temple and his parents come back looking for him, and he looks at Joseph, his dad, and says 'Dad, you should have known that I would be in my Father's house!'" A full year after reading that story in class for the first time, he still remembered!

One of the things that makes this group so special is that their English level really is pretty basic. They take a while to string their words together and often give me their answers in Portuguese and I help phrase them in English. But no one seems to care. We do the reading in English and talk about vocabulary, which is important, but when we leave at the end I don't think anyone remembers what we did or didn't talk about in English. We remember what we talked about, what we learned about the way God worked in the lives of those we are reading about and continues to work in our lives today.

Last night was our first class back in the study material. We had a remarkable discussion about Stephen's death, and what he understood that his killers didn't. We talked about how Stephen knew that dying for Christ was better than living without him.  At the end of class, one of my students, who was back for the first time after a semester-long absence, pulled me aside and said "Cris, this is why I came back. The English is great and all, and I appreciate the extra practice, but I'm here because of what I learn about God. I don't learn this anywhere else. I'll never forget the class where we examined the Lord's Prayer. It changed my life, I tell everyone about it. This is why I'm here."

And, once again, I'm reminded of why I'm here.

Furlough

You know your furlough was good when you are excited to get back home but not desperately so. That means your church visits went well, (great, actually!) your time with family was fulfilling and good, and you saw most, if not all, of the people who you've come to rely on as sources of encouragement for the work you are doing.

My interview/report to the Springtown church of Christ

In terms of the work-related part of this furlough, it was hands-down the best I've ever had. I got to know the leaders and members of my two supporting churches on a whole different level than on previous trips, and I got to share about the exciting things that God is doing in Natal, which is my favorite part of church visits! In terms of the personal part, this trip came in second to the trip I took last year for reasons that should be obvious to all who know me. :)

Gathering with a group from Westover Hills church of Christ
in Austin

At the end of my trip I was so ready to get home to Natal. Not because I was tired, because I was exceptionally well-rested (which, for those of you who know what furlough entails, is unusual.) Not because I so desperately missed my Brazilian family, because I face furlough as a positive and necessary break that contributes to the future well-being of my ministry. But, because after such a great visit, the only plausible next step was to get home and channel all of the encouragement, prayers, and new ideas into kicking off another wonderful year. And that's exactly what has happened! I have never been as ready to get back as I was this time, and it made me realize all over again how thrilled I am that God brought me to this place and continues to show me why.

Up next: a post about how great it was to get back in the groove of my Monday night English class!

Running in to one of our LST readers on the streets of NYC! What a coincidence! 

Where Have I Been?

Since the last time I blogged, I've...

...gone to a "youth retreat" in Fortaleza with 15 of our young people, ages ranging from 14 to 30. Yes, we all participated in the same retreat. No, it wasn't weird. I love that about Brazil!

Photo credit: Barbara Alves

...spent a week in São Paulo at the Continent Care Connection, a conference for missionary women working in South America. Adequate adjectives do not exist to describe this conference. It was my third time to participate (2008 and 2010) and, as always, it was life-changing. I am so blessed to have woken up to that view each morning, shared my life with these girls each day, and reconnected with Rachel McClure, a family friend who has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.  

...ridden a camel. Not much to say about that experience. It was a fun way to celebrate a birthday. :)

...celebrated Thanksgiving with dear friends by eating Mexican food and roasting marshmallows for s'mores over my kitchen stove.

...fallen more and more in love with the sweet personality of this little guy. He may look familiar...this isn't his first time on this blog!

...had the honor of being a bridesmaid for the first time in a Brazilian wedding. My dear friends, Robson and Maihana, got married after four and half long years of dating. Couldn't be happier for them!

...finished the book of Luke, started the book of Acts, and celebrated the end of a great semester with my Monday night English class!

Many other things have been going on, but these are the events I have photos of! It has been a busy but fulfilling semester. A week from today I'll be zipping up my suitcases to leave for my 6-week furlough. I can't wait to share, in person, about all God has done and continues to do in Natal. I am blessed.

5 Years

5 years ago, this happened:

September 4, 2007 - Natal airport

5 years later, this:

FriendsCamp kitchen

and this:

Not my children, 5 years in Natal has not changed me that much

I think 5 years in Brazil looks pretty good on me, don't you? If I were to sum up the past half-decade in one word, it would be blessed. And growth. And joy. And Portuguese. And home.

Okay, five words. Clearly, 5 years has done nothing for my verbosity. Oh well.

Here's to many more years filled with all of those words and so many others! I couldn't imagine my life any other way. 

Thank you, Lord!

The Best Kind of Party

Tonight in my Monday night English class, we talked about the parable in Luke 14 in which a rich man plans a fabulous dinner party and invites many guests. One by one the guests begin to bow out with extremely lame excuses for why they can't attend. The man tells his servant to go out into the alleys and highways and bring anyone he can find, including the blind, crippled, and poor. Everyone is invited, as he wants his house to be full.

As we discussed the parable, who the man represents, who the guests represent, and so on, I asked what the party represented. One of my students thought for a minute, then decided to get right to the point: "The party is following Jesus!"

Yep. Couldn't have said it better myself.

Culture

In two weeks I will be celebrating my five year anniversary here in Natal. Five years is a long time, especially when I think in terms of it being half as long as my parents lived in Brasilia as missionaries! I have now lived in Natal a year longer than I lived in Abilene, and a year shy of how long I lived in Edmond. It's safe to say this place is a part of me, and I'm as comfortable here as any of the other places I've called home.

But.

Culture is a funny thing. Culture is one of those things that can make you love and hate a place with the exact same intensity at the exact same moment. Culture is learned, culture is taught. It's obvious, it's subtle. Cultural gaffes have surely gone down in the annals of Most Embarrassing Moments for millions of people. Cultural idiosyncrasies are what call travelers back over and over again to beloved places.

Before I left for Natal five years ago, my mom gave me a crash-course in several cultural tips. Looking back on her selection, it's funny to see what she chose to include. "The way you refuse something you are being offered is by just saying thank you, rather than no thank you," she told me. I learned this the hard way at a dinner party a few months later where I was desperate for something to drink. As the waiter brought over a tray of soft drinks, I said thank you and reached for a glass. Before I knew it he had turned around and walked away, taking my drink with him. "Oh," I remember thinking, "that's what she meant."

So much of my cultural sensitivity today was not taught. No one made a list for me and said "learn this." I had to pay attention to the way those around me behaved in certain situations and try to remember to do the same the next time around. Some of what I've learned, I've learned begrudgingly. I don't always want to greet people coming in the door with a kiss on both cheeks or share my food just because someone walked in while I was eating. But the longer I'm here, the more I understand the implications of not following suit. You see, what to me might seem like low-consequence going through the motions, to others it's a matter of basic dignity and manners. A few times I've found out after the fact that someone felt slighted by me or thought I had something against them because I had not followed appropriate cultural protocol. My blunder was that I walked into a room full of people and didn't greet each person, one by one.

Learning culture is a process. Five years later, and here I am still feeling silly or stupid or deeply embarrassed  over cultural gaffes, large and small, old and recent. My friends claim me as one of their own, joking that I'm more Brazilian than they are. I love that kind of compliment, but know that I can't accept it, much less allow it to give me any kind of confidence. I might have learned to always offer a glass of water to anyone who walks through my door, but there's still a chance I will forget, as they leave, to walk them to the door and open it for them, thereby demolishing any kind of Brazilian cultural street cred I might have built up.

My five years here in Natal have taught me much. Perhaps the most important lesson learned in my cultural education has been that Brazilians are very forgiving. No matter how many times I mess up, they're willing to forgive, forget, and assume ignorance rather than impoliteness. And regardless of where I end up, that's the best cultural tip I could take.

FriendsCamp #2

(Since no one who reads this blog would expect two posts in two consecutive days, be sure to read the one that was published yesterday down below to understand what this is a part 2 of!) 

One of my favorite pictures from FriendsCamp. Our happy kitchen helpers! Look at those smiles!

No kitchen nightmares here with these two in charge!

I really need to brag on my Christian family for how they stepped up in a way I've never seen before. (Or maybe I just appreciated it more since it directly benefited me, strange how that works!) They made camp so easy. Two of them took care of the kitchen all weekend, getting breakfast and dinner ready and organizing everything that went along with it. It was not at all an easy job, getting 65 of us fed in an orderly manner, and they did it so well that every time I said "thanks" they said "you don't need to say thanks." And that made me want to shout THANKS and hug and kiss them even more. Others totally got what their purpose and role was and jumped right into the small group discussions, Olympic team games, and late-night card games. We even had a no-bedtime rule to foster friendships as much as possible. I later found out that on the last night, the last campers tucked away in their hammocks at around 3:30 am. I couldn't have been more pleased!

LST team performing "When the Saints Go Marching In"
on their kazoox

As I mentioned before, on the last night we had a campfire with s'mores that followed the talent show. It was general consensus that this was one of the best, if not the best, camp talent shows any of us has ever seen. We had a hilarious skit about learning English, (that, if I'm not mistaken, was scripted and rehearsed less than an hour before showtime,) an awesome and slightly frightening kung-fu demonstration complete with authentic nunchucks, a modern one-man dance routine, a magic trick, a few impressive guitar solos and duets, a beautiful dance presentation, a granfather/grandson duet of "I Love You Lord," a kazoo ensemble, and a family performance of "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." I mean really, can you beat that? The best part of the talent show, however, was the audience. They were so encouraging and so supportive of every act, even when it took a couple tries for the magic trick to work out! I was blessed to watch how this random group of 65 that had come together 24 hours before blended into a group that cheered and clapped and whistled just as loud for the kung-fu as they did for the kazoos.


FriendsCamp blessed all of us who were there. We know we were covered in prayer by many who were there, but mostly by many who weren't. We saw God working in the conversations that were had during the small group discussion times, we saw God working in the distribution of the small groups, we saw Him in the room assignments and Olympic games. We saw Him in the questions that were asked by readers who had never shown any kind of interest in spiritual things, but who were touched by something they saw or heard and wanted to know more. He was present in the kitchen in the servant-hearts of Catherine and Thalita, and He was present at the campfire when the hunger ran out before the marshmallows did. :) He was present in the friendships that were built over silly things like Cheeto-tossing contests and the not-so-silly things like conversations about what we must sacrifice to follow Christ.

Trying to fill Talis's shaving cream-covered head with Cheetos.

If you were one of the ones praying for us, thank you. You were as important to FriendsCamp as everyone who was there. Now if you could start praying about FriendsCamp 2013, I'd appreciate it. We have big shoes to fill. :)

How do you know it's been a good weekend? When this is where you find the 5 year old at 10PM.

FriendsCamp #1

It's hard to believe that this was only our second time to host a FriendsCamp. It has become such an important part of our church's LST ministry, I wonder what we ever did before it? Have a whole lot less fun, that's what!

Hanging out early the first morning, excited for what the day will bring!

Our first year was a great experiment that went exceptionally well considering many hurdles that might have scared off the faint of heart from ever trying again. Knowing about those hurdles this time around really helped us plan a weekend that we figured we could pull off without a hitch, but, in all likelihood, wouldn't. That's where God comes in.

FriendsCamp house

A boy and his tent

Hurdle #1 was the location. God blessed us with an absolutely gorgeous place last year that was a two-bedroom, three bathroom house to sleep 50 people. We did it, but the people who slept outside got wet and the bathrooms got dirty. Very dirty. Last year in my last-minute scramble to find a place I came across a house that seemed too good to be true. Turned out it was, since it was already rented for our dates. But you better believe I started making plans for FriendsCamp 2012 and early in the year I was able to reserve it. The house was absolutely perfect. It sheltered all of our 65 participants all weekend, and most of them got to sleep in actual beds! Provided by the house itself! We spread out between two floors, and among eight bedrooms and nine bathrooms (that also got very, very dirty.) Talk about the lap of luxury! Many chose to sleep outside in tents and hammocks, and they were able to do so and enjoy themselves because...

View from my bedroom Saturday morning

Hurdle #2: it did not rain! A single drop! Ok, maybe a few teasing drops right as we were getting the bonfire going for s'mores, the climax of FriendsCamp, but as if to say "just kidding guys, I'm not gonna do that again!" the rain let up and our campers had the most delightful s'mores experience they could have asked for. All weekend I was rather obsessively praying that it wouldn't rain, to the point that I started feeling like a doofus because the whole weekend looked like this. Thanks God!

The fact that it didn't rain allowed us to overcome Hurdle #3: the schedule. Due to the weather conditions and our space the first year about half of the planned activities were cancelled. Granted, the campers had such a delightful time they had no clue and couldn't have cared less if they did know, but with all the planning and buying and transporting that the team does, I really wanted them to be able to do all of the fun/hilarious/crazy/new/encouraging activities they had planned. Like this one:  

Dolphin Racing

Some activities on the schedule were cancelled, but it was because our campers had too much fun doing all of the other ones that they took too long and we ran out of time. :) Not a bad problem, if you ask me!    

Cutting hot dogs for dinner, not in their
job description but look at those smiles!

Another great blessings from the weekend was the exceptional team that God put together. We blended the team that had already been in Natal for six weeks with others who came in just for camp, many of whom did not previously know each other! Just like last year, this group blew me away. I learned so much from them about flexibility, (I don't actually know if they thought the location was as awesome as I did, it wasn't your typical American camp setting, but they sure played along if they didn't!) about servanthood, about parenting, about ministry, and about friendship, not to mention their stellar organizational and planning skills! Talk about hitting the ground running and not stopping until they boarded the plane to go home. I really just got to hang out at FriendsCamp and enjoy it, they worked the whole time and were still happy and fun the whole time. Yes, I get it. Lesson learned for the second year in a row about not complaining, ever.

And because FriendsCamp was too great to squeeze into one long post (or one post that you would actually read,) check back tomorrow for more. It includes a part about nunchucks, not kidding.

Peeking out of the black hole called June-July

Officially, LST 2012 is over. The Luke books have been closed, the FriendsCamp campers have gone home, the last team is buying their final souvenirs.

In some ways, this LST season has been the hardest I've faced in the 5 years I've been working as the coordinator here in Natal. In other ways, it's been the easiest. Never have I felt so much like we were under attack from the enemy, and never have I understood so well why he would feel the need to attack. As I worked with a team that is so LST-experienced that they didn't quite know what to do with a very hands-on missionary, and being a hands-on missionary that doesn't quite know what do with a team that is so LST-experienced, I was able to enjoy and savor every moment of their project, watching them invest many years of experience into the lives of the readers we have all so quickly come to love.

And FriendsCamp. Oh, FriendsCamp. I'm still decompressing from what I'm contemplating calling the best weekend of the year. All I can say about it right now is that I began to cry this morning at the moment it hit me that FriendsCamp was over already. I wasn't ready to admit that all of the planning, worrying, praying, stressing that was poured into this weekend had simultaneously succeeded and ended in one quick and wonderful 36-hour period. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to my new friends and family and accept that we had to leave our middle-of-nowhere tropical haven for the concrete and commotion of the city. I'm speechless and humbled over how graciously and mercifully God answered every single one of my very selfish prayers, and went ahead and answered others that I was too selfish to pray but know others were remembering on our behalf. 

When I really blog about FriendsCamp, I'm going to tell you about the amazing house where it was held, the amazing team that put it all together, my amazing Christian brothers and sisters who went above and beyond the call of duty to fill their role at camp, the amazing talent show, the amazing campfire and s'mores, and the cocky turkey that lived on the property and gobble-gobble-attacked us a surprising number of times.  

However, for those of you who remember what FriendsCamp last year was like , what you need to know is this: it did not rain once at FriendsCamp 2012.

Amen.

Dona Francisca's baptism video

Trust me...you want to watch this. Pay special attention to the post-baptism beaming!


Chiquinha's Baptism from Cris Carpenter on Vimeo.

Dona Francisca!

Several years ago when Roberto and Marisa Signoretti arrived as missionaries in Natal, Marisa immediately looked for special ways in which she might serve the church. Over the years she has led a variety of different ministries. When I first visited Natal in 2006, I remember vividly her Monday afternoon literacy class. A certified Portuguese teacher, each week Marisa gathered about five or six little old ladies from the neighborhood (in their fifties, sixties, and seventies,) around the table in our reception area and taught them how to read and write. They would arrive promptly at 2pm and leave promptly at 3pm, spending an hour sounding out words and tracing their letters on worksheets not unlike what you and I used in elementary school.

After I moved to Natal, I enjoyed seeing these women each Monday afternoon, eager to learn and come to "school"(as they called it!) I will never forget the day one of them excitedly came in wanting to tell Marisa some big news. She had gone to a doctor's appointment that day and, for the first time in her life, had signed her own name on the forms. Her joy was overwhelming and contagious.

For a variety of reasons, after several years Marisa's literacy class came to an end. Attendance had dropped significantly and Marisa began to focus more on evangelistic Bible studies and our English program. But she remained friends with the ladies from her class and visited them regularly in their homes, just across the street from our church building.



A year or two after the literacy class ended, one of the ladies from the class, Dona Francisca, began to show up at our worship service on Sundays. She'd show up every once in a while, but sometime last year we began to see her every Sunday. Then she began to come to Bible class beforehand and stay for worship. She always brought her Bible and let us help her find the passages being read. Then we found out she was coming back early from her family's ranch every weekend in order to be able to come to church!

Dona Francisca taking communion for the first
time after her baptism

Last week Dona Francisca decided she wanted to be baptized. She told Marisa that she would like to be in heaven with us. On Wednesday, our missionaries sat down with Dona Francisca and her daughter to talk about her decision and help her understand the meaning of her baptism. She was excited and ready for Sunday!

What a joy it was to watch Dona Francisca put on Christ in baptism this morning! She is only the second person over the age of 60 to join our church family, and we are excited to welcome her as one of our own!

1000 Words - Birthday

For all of these people to show up on a Monday night, the first day of a 100% bus strike, to celebrate your birthday...

that's love.

Even though 27 feels pretty old, it can't be too bad with these people by my side. 

*And yes, that is my daddy-o on the far left of the picture. My parents arrived yesterday in Natal with their LST team to begin their project. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday gift!

1000 Words - Fridays

A few weeks ago I told you about what I do on Mondays. Mondays are for my basic English students. We chat (very slowly) together in English and read the Gospel of Luke. They explain Jesus's parables to me and I tell them whether or not I agree. And a lot of times we eat chocolate, which, ironically, is always brought by the dentist.

(let's play a quick game of "guess the Gringo")

Mondays are one of my favorite days of the week, but Fridays are quickly catching up. You probably love Fridays because of what they represent. Friday is my day off, so I know all about what a good Friday means. However, my Fridays have taken on a new look recently, besides sleeping in and watching my favorite real-estate reality shows. This picture was taken at my apartment a couple Friday nights ago, around 9pm.

This is a group of single young women from our church. You've probably seen several of them in pictures on this blog before. Two of them are the daughters of my teammates, one is my roommate, and two are recent converts. Since I got back to Natal in February, we have been meeting monthly on Friday nights to study the Bible together.

Since the first study I made it very clear that all were invited, but the only ones who were welcome were those who really wanted to be there. Falling on a Friday night meant that often the girls would have other obligations and commitments, and I wanted them to not feel in the least bit guilty if they ever needed to miss our study. I wanted it to be something they looked forward to and enjoyed, rather than something where attendance would be taken.

What has resulted is turning out to be one of the biggest blessings of 2012. The girls were thrilled to spend their Friday nights once a month studying the Bible, and asked why we weren't meeting more often! We've met three times, and Catherine prepared the lesson at the last study. My dream was not only for us to study the Bible more, but for them to have the chance to prepare and teach those studies.

I don't know anyone who doesn't appreciate  Friday. But with these girls, we have a whole new reason to love a good Friday night.

1000 Words - Tiago Filho

I can count on exactly one finger (or maybe 10 teeny tiny ones) a good reason for me to wake up voluntarily at 5:50 am on my day off.

Meet the newest addition to our family in Natal. The last time a baby was this loved, kissed, squeezed, and drooled over...well, it was the last time someone in our church had a baby. :) 

I had the privilege of hanging out at the hospital with Tiago and his mom, Kelly, the morning after he was born. We had a blast, braving the new world of baths, blood tests, diapers, and staying awake through meals together. He and Kelly are doing great and are being very well cared for by his namesake, his dad, Tiago. 

I have fallen in love all over again with the beauty of the body of Christ. Kelly's roommate at the hospital must have thought we were nuts, because we just kept showing up! I love watching how we all care so deeply for one another and are ready to serve at a moment's notice, whether that be through giving rides or washing dirty clothes or preparing lunch.

This guy had no idea how many people are absolutely crazy about him. 

1000 Words - Jailza

This one really doesn't need an explanation.

 

Please pray for Jailza, a woman who has believed in Jesus for many, many years but just last week decided to proclaim her faith through baptism!

Fasting

Growing up in the church, I remember exactly one time that I participated in a fast. It was the summer before my junior year of high school and we were going through several months of preparation before a youth group mission trip to Mexico. We had several Bible verses to memorize, service project hours to complete, and even some essays to write. The preparation culminated in a (non-mandatory, I'm pretty sure) 30-hour fast. My friends and I faced it much as teenagers would, more of a survival of the fittest competition rather than an opportunity for spiritual growth. I made it through the 30 hours, praying often and consuming only water and juice, and celebrated with my friends at Wednesday night church by engorging ourselves on several 6-ft subs brought in by the youth ministry interns.

Fasting, to me, always seemed like one of those disciplines that was often talked about but rarely practiced. And those who practiced it individually were only the spiritual giants, maybe of the John-the-Baptist, eating locusts variety. Or, as was in my case, people fasted in community for a specific reason, more as an experience than anything else. (Note: I am merely sharing my personal impressions. It's quite possible that many people I knew fasted regularly and I just didn't know about it.) When I moved to Natal in 2007 I was intrigued to find a body of believers that included individual fasting in their regular spiritual diet.

Our church in Natal engages in two to five church-wide fasts per year. Usually they are included in a week-long prayer and fasting campaign, where we are given prayer partners and asked to pray together for a specific subject all week long, and then choose something from which to fast. Food is never emphasized, as it's become pretty obvious that many of us have idols whose absence hurts much more when removed than food. :) Some choose chocolate, some the internet, others video games, some choose meat (a daily staple in a Brazilian diet,) others, soft drinks, while others, full food fasts.

In addition to these church-wide fasts, however, it's not at all uncommon to hear our members mention their fasting on random occasions, never in a "look at me, I'm fasting" kind of way, but in a "really, stop offering me chocolate cake, believe me, I want it, but I'm fasting" kind of way. They always have a purpose for their fast, though we don't always know why. Most recently I've known of sisters and brothers fasting before the big college-entrance exam, fasting until a member who had left came back, fasting for the conversion of their parents, fasting to gain full confidence in God over a troubling situation.

Maybe it's nothing special to you, but I sure think it is. I'm so encouraged to be surrounded by people who take their relationship with God so seriously that they are willing to make these kinds of sacrifices for a greater purpose on a regular basis! And, it might be interesting to note, the specific fasts I mentioned above were all young people like myself, in their twenties, people who are learning very early on in their faith the importance of fasting as a spiritual discipline.

This past Sunday was the last day of one of our week-long prayer and fasting campaigns. The theme this time was "be," praying to grow in our being as God's servants. And...what's the best way to end a church-wide fast? With a church-wide breakfast, of course! So before worship we all came together to break our fast and celebrate the ways in which we had seen God grow us in our being throughout the week. After everyone had eaten and everything had been cleaned up, we shared together in communion to mark the end of our experience.


I feel pretty blessed to be a part of this family.

We have to love our people

Even though I'm younger than all but one of them, I think my Monday night basic conversation students are positively adorable. There's something about beginner English-learners that makes everything they say charming, and, often, hilarious.

I shared in this post last week that our "English class" is actually a Bible study. This past Monday we read the story of the Good Samaritan. At the end of class, after we had done the necessary translating to make sure everyone understood, I asked for them to tell me, in English, what the point of the story was. I wrote their answers verbatim on the board and couldn't bring myself to erase them at the end of class. Nor could I bring myself to erase them the next day, or the day after that. So, knowing that they'd eventually be erased, I snapped some pictures so that you could see what our class is really about.

What does the story of the Good Samaritan mean to you?

We have to love our people-- that we know and that we don't know, too. 

We have to love God with all our heart and soul. 

We must share our life/things with the people who need it. 

How about you? If you had to sum up the story of the Good Samaritan in one sentence, what's the lesson it has taught you?