Visit to Rio (Russ and Kara)

Kara and I spent a "week in the life" with Jeremy, Jason, Kristin, and baby Jacob recently. We had an incredible time enjoying the beauty of Brasil- from the views from Corcovado and Sugarloaf to the beaches of Ipanema, Leblon, and Barra. But the greatest beauty in Brasil is without a doubt its people. Whether it be playing soccer with students from the nearby communities, sweeping floors and cleaning out trashcans at a local widows home, or walking the streets of Rio, you can see in these people a zeal for life that you just don't see in the States. Looking through the warped lens of our lives in the US, your initial impression is to see a people who have so little, but after just a short time around them you begin to understand that we are the ones who are deprived. In Brasil you find true community, people connected to each other and committed to each other. You find joy in the most unlikely places and generosity unheard of in our "me first" culture. It occurs to me that it makes sense that our hosts have become so ingrained in this culture. Their daily decision to die to themselves and live their lives in service to the people of this city is challenging to us- and inspiring. It causes us to look outside of ourselves and consider what our community could be like if that attitude were prevalent here. Thank you Jeremy, Jason, Kristin, and Jacob for opening up your homes and opening up our eyes.

Off Road (Jeremy)

It’s 7:30 on a Saturday evening, and I’m driving 12 kids home after a visit to the mall. We’re heading down a narrow dirt road, bordered by trees to the left and a drainage ditch to the right. We drop two kids off at their aunt’s house and are looking to head back. I try a three point turnaround, but only make it to point number two. The VW van is a lot longer than my VW Gol, and I’ve backed us into the drainage ditch. The front two tires are about two feet in the air. Some of the kids scream in panic; others in delight. We get the kids out safely, and the neighbors begin to congregate around the van. I don’t even try to explain. There are certain acts of stupidity where you lose your right to excuses. But instead of just standing around and taking cheap shots at the gringo, the locals got right to work. The men started pushing on the back of the van, while the women put rocks under the rear tires to generate traction. Two guys put on their knee-high rubber boots so that they could get down into the ditch and push more effectively. They refused to let me do the same, concerned that I would get my clothes dirty. Meanwhile, more people are streaming in from the community to help, as some of the older women have got the story in circulation. Six strategies and thirty minutes later, the van surges from the ditch, amidst a shower of rocks, mud and applause. Embraces are exchanged, and I’m invited to visit more often - under different circumstances. The crowd still lingers in my rear view mirror as I consider what it is like to live among people who need each other.

Passion (Jeremy)

Due to the generosity of several of you, we were able to attend the Passion Conference in São Paulo. It left a real impression on Paulo and Claudinho, who had the chance to worship with some of their favorite musicians and hear the gospel recontextualized. The event seemed to give these guys a new concept of God-centered youth. Here are some pictures from the conference. The Crowder one isn't ours. Once again, thanks to all of you who made it possible.

Widows and Orphans (Jeremy)

Every other Saturday morning, Claudinho, Felipe (a potential house candidate) and I volunteer at a home for widows. We spend our time sweeping, washing windows, sanding furniture, etc. But, the intrigue of these mornings lies in the fusion of our world with theirs. With the older women, life is unhurried and calculated. One lady took a swipe at another with her cane the other day, but the blow was so sluggish that we didn't even notice. Someone actually had to explain to us that they were fighting. Life for the guys, on the other hand, is all potential and passion at terminal velocity. In these Saturday mornings of overlap, the two groups appear to thrive off of one another. The women jump into the playfulness of the guys, a few of them even dropping some one liners. The guys, in turn, submit to the silence and weight of significance that seems to pervade the house. The one becomes the lens for the other. But, these ladies need to give up on trying to get these guys to sing hymns.