Hi everyone! Guess who’s still alive!
It’s a Tuesday afternoon and I’m sitting half inside, half outside the Galpão, hoping to catch a little breeze and escape some of the noise. My boys- Van, Leandro, and Canende- are busy on our latest project, an assortment of small storage cabinets. We’re hoping to find a buyer who will find the price attractive and give us a big order. We’re not looking to make a profit, just clear our expenses and put these kids to work. I’m in the village three days a week and it’s so hard to see so many able-bodied young men and woman hanging around with nothing to do. I’m asked constantly if there’s work for them, and for now I have to say, “no.” Please pray that God directs us to the right place where our product is desired.
The work here in the Natal area has evolved to the point where available time almost doesn’t exist. I was thinking Sunday, while putting together an object lesson for Aningas at night, that even Sundays are completely taken. I try to hold Saturday for the family, but last Saturday God brought one of the street kids to me that I’ve been after. He asked if today was the day. So, William and I were diverted from what we were doing and spent the rest of the day getting him to the rehab. Please pray for Jodson who has, since Saturday, made a profession of faith.
I’m up at five every morning, out by 6:30 to drop the kids off at school by 7:30 (trip to school takes an hour), and then I head off for the day’s events. Often I’m not back to the house until 7 p.m., absolutely exhausted. The thought of sitting in front of a computer–well, to be frank!– it isn’t a thought. I realize that no information has made its way back to the US, and I also realize the responsibility I have to make sure it does. With that in mind, I’m going to try something different, with the hopes of being able to be more diligent in updating the folks at home. First, I’m not going to try and cover all the subjects, but rather choose one. Second, I’ll try to stop in the middle of the afternoon, when my mind is still somewhat sharp, and do some writing then.
Seeing as I’m in Aningas presently, I’ll start today with the work we’re involved in here. I’m sure you all know that we’re here every Sunday night with the Gospel. It has evolved nicely and we have a good number out every night. The number of adults that now come regularly has more than doubled. And now, after a year of doing this, they’re starting to understand what’s expected of them and how to behave. If it’s raining–and we have had torrential rains for the last three months– we get maybe about 30 of the real faithful. If it’s a nice night, we’ll get at least 50 to 80 people. On special occasions we’ve had well over 100 people out, which makes things tight in the space we’re using.
One of those special occasions was Mother’s Day. We did a dedication to the mothers of the village. Lori and Caroline bought little gifts, wrapped them, and the children presented them to their Moms. Susete is a Christian friend of ours who is very gifted with the saxophone. She came and accompanied our singing, which was a real treat to the folks here. Lori bought a large sheet cake and we had a little party. Another Friday night, we had a sing and Susete came again. The special occasion was the one year “anniversary” of our little Gospel outreach here in Aningas. We served sandwiches and a very large cake, and enjoyed a fun evening with the folks. On both occasions, the Galpão was filled to capacity and spilling out the door. On the Sunday nights that followed these sings, the Galpão was packed, and the simple Gospel was presented to a captive audience.
Preta, (a mom who supports six children with no visible means of income) was looking for a little job. I offered her a job cleaning the Galpão every Saturday. I asked her to move all the work tables, sweep up all sawdust, and set up the benches for Sunday night. She has professed salvation as a result of our Sunday nights here. Pray for her, as she just lost her Mom. She comes every Sunday night and we’re looking for evidence of life.
Lori and Caroline have made up hymnbooks and we start our outreach with a lot of singing. They love to sing, so most nights we go through the whole book. We open in prayer, reminding everyone Who it is we’re talking to, then I give a simple object lesson, often getting the kids involved in some way. Many of the Saints at home have sent small gift items that we use as prizes–an awesome incentive here. We remind the folks regularly where these gifts have come from, letting them know that people back in the US have shown their interest in the work, and care for the people here by sending these gifts along. We close in prayer, then spend about half an hour socializing with cookies and juice. It’s usually at this time that we get our list of needs and try to decide what we can do to help, and who’s asking a bit too much.
One night, Nildete informed us of this square dance celebration/competition that was coming to Aningas the following Saturday night. The event was in honor of St. John. She seemed excited as she described the event. “Hundreds of kids and adults are bussed in for the evenings events,” she told us.
We saw this as a great opportunity to interact with the community and distribute Gospels of St. John! I spent the week with the boys making small items that I hoped would sell at this event, too. We set up a small kiosk to display our stuff. We encouraged the co-op women to cook and sell hotdogs and soda, to raise money for them to buy more material for sewing. We helped them to get a fire going, cooked hotdogs, and sold them along with a can of soda, for two dollars (if you bought a hotdog we threw in the bun for free).
The women of the sewing co-op worked the booth, knowing that all proceeds would go to buying material and sewing supplies for them. We set up a display of Gospels of John, with a sign explaining that they were free. Nine huge tourist-type buses came in and dumped a ton of people in the center of town, which filled this little village to almost standing room only. All the contestants were dressed in traditional Northeastern Brazilian Folk costumes, and the Square Dance music sounded like a cross between Polish polka tunes and the Italian tarantella. The music and dancing went on till well past two in the morning. Thank God for the rain that moved in or they would have gone all night. I moved through the crowd with boxes of Bibles and was able to pass out quite a few, while Lori stayed with the women in the booth. We sold enough to buy the woman quite a lot of material from a wholesaler in the city. The music was loud, the crowd was thick, and nobody wanted to go home except me and Lori. Overall, it was a good night to reach a lot of folks we otherwise would never have crossed paths with, and we were really excited to see a huge crowd out the very next night at the Galpão to hear the Gospel!
Friday’s a rough day here in Aningas, and folks tend to be very somber. That’s the day the little white Fiat, with the ladder on the roof, pays Aningas a visit. People hold their breath as the little car moves up the dirt road, all hoping it passes their house. The car represents the electric company, and they have come to–literally!– cut the wires to the houses of those who are way behind on their bill paying. I’ve been around to watch this happen. No amount of talking or pleading helps. If you’re on the list, you’ll need to get the candles out of storage. We don’t make a habit of it, but Aningas knows that in extreme circumstances they can come to us. We can’t pay all their bills, but we do try to help in some way if we can. I keep track of any whom we have helped, making sure this doesn’t become a habit.
The sick come to us always. Lori’s med box is stocked quite well. She is able to buy wholesale and has all of the basic items they need. If they’ve seen a doctor, we’re next on the list, and we need to visit them. They have no money and no means of transportation, so the little paper with the prescription on it does them no good.
One morning I pulled up to the Galpão to see a mother holding her child, waiting for my arrival. The baby had respiratory problems and couldn’t breathe. A ambulance would have taken over an hour to reach her, and by then it would probably be the Coroner’s truck they’d be needing. I stuck my blue flashing light on the roof–very cool!–got her and the baby in the truck, and made the forty-five minute trip to Ceará-Mirim in record time. I could have done much better if there weren’t so many speed bumps, and the road wasn’t made of cobblestone. The police stopped me at one point, but hearing the story, they were quick to wave me on. I waited while the doctors cared for the child, then took them to the pharmacy, purchased the meds prescribed, and brought the peaceful woman back to the village. I often ask what happened in the years before our arrival. The response is bone chilling. “They died,” I’m told.
Needless to say, that wasn’t what I had in mind for the day’s events. By the time we got back, a better part of the day was gone. That’s how it goes here–you can make plans, and I do, but you had better be ready for on-the-fly changes. I’ve also had the great privilege of rushing a young, soon-to-be mother to the hospital. As I made my way there, I was just thankful it wasn’t Lori.
Right now I have three boys working in the shop. We’re building a selection of products that we can sell inexpensively and quickly. The plan, presently, is to complete them and hand them off to Lori who will go to some of the stores in the city to try and sell them. The boys have come a long way. It’s impressive to watch them work, remembering that only two years ago they were afraid of sandpaper. They operate the machines with a measure of confidence, and seem to grasp concepts that, before, went completely over their heads. As a result of becoming close to them, I’ve also become close to their families and extended families, who now regularly attend Sunday night. We work the shop three days a week, then I take the boys with us on the street on Thursdays and Fridays. I’ll explain that in more detail when I cover the street work.
The sewing co-op is presently just a handful of women, but they’re very diligent in their work and are starting to turn out some nice stuff. They have orders to assemble pre-cut outfits for clothing stores in the city. They’re payed by the piece and it’s not much. Lori recognized the stores they were sewing for and knows what the product is being sold for; somebody’s making a killing. Oh well, at least the women are working.
We love this little village and have come to know so many living here. As you get to know them, you find that you develop a real burden for their souls. Please pray for Aningas. We know that we’re here because God brought us here. His desire is to claim these simple folks as His own and establish a testimony for Himself among a town that is presently lost.
This is my Aningas update–stay tuned for more to come, God willing. Once again, thank you all so much for your very obvious support, and the heartfelt prayers lifted to the Father on behalf of the work here.
Yours in Christ,
Mark, Lori, Caroline and William
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