Galpao – Page 2

Sunday School Lessons

February 19, 2011 By KaitlynB Leave a Comment

Layane’s sitting in the roped off section of the Galpão where we’ve hung a picture of pigs. She’s playing the part of the prodigal son, pretending to munch on cornhusks while lamenting the fact that all of her friends, Nadine, Cassio, and Manoelhio abandoned her when her ten reais inheritance was gone.

When the prodigal repents and comes home, Layane kneels in front of Rita, playing the father, who promptly tells her to stand up and wraps a robe (a blue towel) and a beautiful ring (one we borrowed from Caroline) on her finger.

For our English lessons this time around, Stephanie and I decided to focus more on the Bible stories. Instead of just telling the story in Portuguese and then having the class learn twenty new English words, we had them act out the story. This was much more engaging and entertaining for the kids and they were able to remember the story and the message in greater detail.

To start, we asked volunteers to come up to play the parts. Then Stephanie read the story from the Bible while I went around passing out the props and the lines for them to read as it went along. Even the shy kids were surprisingly enthusiastic, going so far as to vigorously throw the net over the side of our makeshift boat in the story of the disciples and the catch of 153 fish. After performing the little “teatro” we would go through the worksheet with them and practice a few English phrases that went along with the story for the day.

In the story of O Filho Perdido (the prodigal son) they learned the words run, spend, come, and forgive as well as how to use them in a sentence. For O Bom Samaritano (the good Samaritan) they learned hurt, help, and heal. For each lesson they also learned a corresponding gospel verse. By the end of our final week many of them were able to recite multiple verses from memory. We even offered five reais to someone who was willing to try and they all shouted “não quero, não quero cinco reais. Só os versículos!” They didn’t want the money. They just wanted a chance to try reciting the verses!

Again, we’ve been amazed at how receptive these kids are to listening and learning from the Bible. They see the truck coming through the main road in Aningas and five minutes later they’re all lined up on the benches ready for the lesson to begin. Some of the kids who were coming to the lessons last time we were here brought the little notebooks and paper to classes this time. They keep all of the worksheets and even some of the older kids (around 15 and 16) tuck the coloring pages away for later.

This month has flown by and it seems like we haven’t had enough time to spend with the kids in Aningas. Despite our looming departure in two days, we’re looking forward to going back one last time to say goodbye and to give the kids individual picture collages of memories from our time together.

These are smart kids, kids that hope to leave Aningas and do big things. Some of them want to come to the United States someday. But for right now, we have the chance to share our love of Christ with them. Please pray especially for some of these older girls who have shown an interest in the lessons and in learning more about the gospel on Sunday nights. We hope the lessons have been entertaining, but more importantly that they might bring spiritual blessing through the messages and verses they have learned.

Filed Under: Aningas, Galpao, Gospel Tagged With: aningas, galpao, gospel, teaching

Gospel in the Galpão

July 6, 2010 By KaitlynB Leave a Comment

It smells like firewood and dirt and hot Brazilian air. We stop for ice, load the cooler and continue down the road to Aningas. We pull up to the Galpão and Mark backs in so the juice and the music face the open door. Hymns play in Portuguese and people come to see what’s going on. They move into the lit room and we spread the wooden benches into row.

Cold juice attracts a crowd and they come for a sip and a chat. Then slowly they come to sit. The kids pile into the front rows. The older guys stand back by the worktables and some people stay outside. Mark and Lori pull up a chair. Informal. Comfortable.

“We’re here to tell you about God.” He says.

Eyes forward, benches full. The kids whisper and poke and laugh, but we keep praying anyways. Adults walk in and out and talk out loud but we listen and close our eyes and talk to the Lord.

Last night we sang a hymn in Portuguese. Nildete’s voice leading, strong and sure. “E numa cruz por mim derramou sangue tão puro (and on the cross He shed his pure blood)…”

It was the second night that we packed up the juice, crackers, speakers, and bibles and drove to the village. The first time we came to Aningas (When Paul T and Andrew were still here) some of the people thought we were going to have a meeting. Mark’s guys have questions. Lizandra wants to know if she has a debt to clear with God. Can we have a bible study? Why are Mark and Lori here? Why do they come here and care anything about our mud huts and searching hearts?

“How can you be in Heaven?” Mark asks. Lori translates and we strain to hear over the whirring fans and whispers and noise outside.

A few mouths move with shy answers.

“Jesus Christ died for your sins. My sins.”

“Jesus Cristo morreu para seus pecados. Meus pecados.”

Fifty souls are in the Galpão. Fifty hearts needing a Savior. More stand outside, some peeking in, listening to the brief message.

We give out the bracelets. Gospel in a nutshell with the nutshell gospel verse printed on the key. Yellow for the streets of gold in heaven. Black for our sins that keep us from it. Red for the blood that cleanses. White for washing pure and spotless. Blue for clothed in robes of righteousness. Green for walking with new life. They read it, flip it over and read John 3:16. They tie a knot and the beads hang from their wrists reminding them of the message of salvation.

We give out crackers and more juice and the music plays again. More people come and talk and stand and listen. We give out all the bracelets to the 85 people who have come and they ask for more.

“Two weeks. Two weeks and we’ll be back again.”

7 pm. Sunday night. Crackers, juice, music, and a message. They’ll be waiting to hear it. Pray that ears might be opened, hearts might reach out, and lives might be changed.

Bracelets with a gospel message

Lori and Clessio – We visited him at his new location. It’s a smaller,

quieter area of the rehab down the street from the main center.

He likes it a lot better because there are fewer guys and it’s

easier for him to get alone and read his bible.

Some of the group from Aningas holding up their

new bibles that we gave them on the last day of class.

Baby Michel – He had a checkup today and is

healthy and strong. Lori bought him an outfit and

a little soccer ball so he can root for Brazil in the cup too.

Filed Under: Aningas, Galpao Tagged With: aningas, gospel

The English lessons continue to grow…

June 24, 2010 By KaitlynB Leave a Comment

We drive down the bumpy dirt road, avoiding the massive holes, crumbling edges of the bridge, and a bicyclist. We pass the mud huts, the small cement houses, and the abandoned church on our way to the Galpão. Natalia and Layane wave from behind the shade of a green tree. Nadine and Janaina stand by their door, peering out to see who is coming down the road. By the time we pull up in front of the building, the kids are piling up around us ready for their next lesson.

Each time we have a lesson the crowd of kids seems to grow. We started splitting the class up into two parts. Anyone ten and under colors pictures from Bible stories in the back of the room while the older kids stay up to participate in the lesson. I’ve never seen such excitement over a few printed coloring sheets and boxes of pencils. Today midway through the lesson ten more little kids poured in to join in the fun. Greens, blues, reds, and yellows spread out all over the table, some spilling on the floor. Content little faces, proud of their work, proud to hang them on the wall.

Yesterday four of the girls recited their verses in Portuguese. Natalia and Layane each said three, and Lizandra and Maria each recited one. They hugged their prizes for a picture, cuddling the beanie babies like precious treasures. We have another lesson planned for Friday Lord willing with the story of Joseph. We’ll have to print more coloring pages for the little kids…I ran out today when they kept pouring in, peering shyly around the corner of the door, wondering if there were pencils and paper enough for them.

Sometimes between coats of paint, Mark’s guys will wander from the other half of the Galpão to listen. They hear the group repeating the verse, first in Portuguese, then in English. They stop to watch the kids color and tape their pictures on the wall. Then sometimes when Stephanie and I are done we get to see their handiwork. We wander over to check out their tables, chairs, and their most recent project- bunk beds. Yesterday they were sanding them when we left and today we came in to find them primed for painting.

The Galpão is more than just four cement walls. It’s a place for learning, working, and creating. The kids, the guys, the women who come in to sew- they’re proud of what they do here. They’re excited to see what they can learn next, create next. Stephanie and I just wish we had more than one week left to be here with them.

Kate

Above: One of the guys’ finished products

Above: Advertising for Aningas furniture

Above: Building the bunk beds

Above: The girls who recited the verses

Above: Taking their first quiz

Above: Girls with the highest quiz scores

Above: Proud little artists

Filed Under: Aningas, Galpao, Gospel Tagged With: aningas, gospel, sunday school, teaching

Tables and Benches and Eternal Siblings

May 30, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Hi everyone!

I’m checking in with you, to touch base with my eternal siblings at home. I wanna let ya know we’re all fine, and spend some time updating you all on the events of the past few weeks.

Did you just shudder at that “eternal siblings” expression I used? Don’t worry, I’ll have my perfect body then, and be much easier to get along with. Don’t forget we’re going to be together forever. Thank God He’s going to fix all the flaws, and we’ll be the person we’ve always wanted to be in life. And besides that, we won’t be occupied with each other.

I just came across that passage where the religious rulers thought they had backed the Lord Jesus into a corner by telling that story of a woman who married a whole family of brothers. He told them they were narrow-minded fools, who had no idea what heaven will be like. He told them that they thought with the typical, small mind of a human, who can’t get beyond the familiar, flawed relationships of earth. He told them that they will have a partner in heaven, towards whom they can show all their affections. This One will fill every relationship void we’ve ever had. We’ll constantly long to be in His presence, all of our affection focused on Him. It will be a perfect relationship, just the way He always intended relationships to be on earth. We will find absolute loyalty, faithfulness, pure and flawless love, and He will be the spouse we’ve fallen in love with. He will be our better half. Our marriage vows will contain words like forever, no one else, never separated, and everlasting love. I guess that’s why we’re called the Bride of Christ.

I’m finding it difficult punching these keys, with one very important finger fat with bandages. I’m slated for surgery on Wednesday, to re-attach a nerve severed this week while working in Aningas. It happened on a Monday morning and I was delegating jobs to the four boys who are now working alongside me in Aningas, learning how to work with wood and make simple furniture.

One of the jobs I gave out was very unpleasant, so being a thoughtful boss, I went out to help the boy complete it. There was a large, unsightly pile of trash, that had evolved as a result of our remodeling the Galpão, and I wanted it gone. We built a large fire pit out of cement blocks (about six feet by six feet by four feet tall). The idea is to allow the trash to accumulate throughout the week, than burn it on Friday. The present pile was a mixture of flammable and non-flammable waste. We had no gloves, so we began sifting through the pile with bare hands (very foolish). It wasn’t long before my hand came in contact with broken glass and came out of the pile with a large gash. I immediately knew serious damage was done, because I lost all feeling in that finger. I stopped the bleeding, wrapped it up, and finished off the day.

That night I met Lori in the city, and we went to the emergency room to get the cut assessed. The doctor on duty looked at the cut and told us we would need to see a hand surgeon, because he suspected that I had cut through the nerve. They cleaned the cut, bandaged it, and gave us the name of a hand surgeon to visit the next day. The following morning, Dr. Hélio looked at the cut and confirmed that the glass had gone deep and severed a nerve. “I can’t guarantee success,” he said “but the nerve needs to be re-attached.”

With that, an appointment was made at the hospital for the coming Wednesday, and I got ready to go “under the knife.”

We finished our first project, in Aningas, and the boys are so proud of their accomplishments. I decided to start with a simple 60″ trestle table with two matching benches. Considering that it’s the first thing the boys have ever built, and the first time they have ever used a table saw, power miter box, nail gun, screw gun, and a router, they did an awesome job. We made six sets and I think we have sold them all.

It is complicated here because everything is sold in the form of payments, and I mean everything. You buy a week’s worth of food at the supermarket, and the first question they ask is if you want to pay once or if you would like to make payments! The savings for those who make one payment is about ten percent, but most folks can’t go that route.

I gave one of the boys the responsibility of keeping track of these payments for me. We want to move a lot of product at a tiny profit, rather than make a huge profit on lesser volume, so the boys can stay busy, continue learning, and more boys can be given the opportunity.

Covering all expenses I can sell the table and bench set for R$278.00 or about $150.00 US. That’s a good deal, no? We had a local bar approach us after seeing the finished product and ask if we could make several round tables for them. I showed the boys our next planned project and they were all excited. I’m also thinking to create a bunk bed system that can be configured several different ways, and added to, as needed, with a selection of accessories available, as well( dressers, desks, trundles). Most of the folks in these villages sleep on the dirt floor or swing from hammocks, and I’ve been asked several times if we could make them beds. Many of the kids have health issues because their mattresses are on the dirt floor, which is rife with all kinds of unhealthy living things.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been taking my boys into the city, which to them is a real treat. Eliel, my friend and language teacher, owns a small house on the south side of the city, that for some time he has rented. The rent from this house covers the rent on the house his family presently lives in, north of the city. His tenant moved out after running up a huge water bill. He left the house trashed and a mess, and left Eliel responsible for his mess.

First and last months rent as a safety precaution, ha! Security deposit, ha, ha! Signed lease, Ha ha ha, no!

Everything here is based on verbal agreement, and people live month to month, or in many cases, day to day.

With no money coming in, no money to repair the damages, and no one to help him get back on track, I raised my hand, jumped up and down, and begged Eliel to pick me. I leave our house at about seven-thirty, drive the forty minutes to Aningas, get the boys, drive the hour and a half to the city, work till four-thirty, and get the boys home in time for school which starts at seven o’clock.

The school bus leaves the village about five-thirty, and I missed it last Wednesday night, getting the boys back about six. Paulo thought he had wiggled out of school for the night, and quickly lost the grin when I told him, “No, no, I’ll drive you in,” insisting on the importance of education. These boys are accountable to no one here. No one makes sure they’re at school, no one calls their home if they don’t show up. If you’re not self- motivated, you’ll never get an education. Vaughn, one of my boys, is pushing thirty, with a family to support, and is unable to read or write.

So, that Wednesday night, I waited while Paulo showered and dressed, and collected him along with his pretty, sixteen-year-old wife, and headed off to their school. Forty minutes into the ride, we passed the bus he missed. It was chugging along, making stops and collecting kids as it went.

“Where is this school?” I asked. He smiled and pointed farther down the road. It was a good hour when finally we arrived at the high school that servers the surrounding communities. One hour, driving straight from the village to the school, or an hour and a half ride, on a bus that makes stops the whole way.

“What time does school get out?” I asked.

“We finish at ten o’clock,” said Paulo.

“What time do you finally get home?” I asked.

“We’re back in the village by midnight,” he said.

It was very late when my day finally ended. I made the trip home deep in thought, trying to enter into the hard life these people live just to survive. Paulo’s day starts about six in the morning, he works all day, cleans up, and heads out for school. Then, he finishes the day on a dirt floor for a few hours of rest, only to start it all over again.

I’m getting close to these boys, they look up to me and respect me, and they have even brought me to meet their families. Please pray that I honor God as I work beside them each day. I envision sitting with them someday, as together we remember the Saviour Who died for our sins. I envision the day when, by God’s power, they grow to be leaders that are shepherding the small flock that God called out of Aningas, to honor Him. Please pray that God helps us to let our light shine in Aningas, so men will see our good works and acknowledge and glorify the God of creation. What a privilege to be the ones chosen to bring them the message about a life so distinctly different than the one they’re presently living. This life I’m telling them about is eternal in nature, available to them, and they are being pursued by the great God of love.

Aningas may be an invisible village to the folks in Natal, who know nothing of its existence, but it is a village that has been singled out by a God who has great plans for these very humble people. The people in Aningas have welcomed us into their homes, and by doing so, have welcomed God. That’s the kind of folks that see God’s blessings.

God is now a property owner in Aningas! That’s kind of a funny statement considering it’s all His to begin with. With the permanent visa in place, we were now able to purchase the six and a half acre parcel of land that, God Willing, will be the site of an orphanage. So, we went back to talk to Iranilton and his dad, owners of the land. Maybe he was affected by all God has done in the village to date. Maybe his thinking was that as Americans we were rich, and thought we should be sharing the wealth with his family. Whatever the reason, when Lori approached him on that Friday afternoon, he had raised the price of the land to fifteen thousand reais, from the originally agreed-upon ten thousand reais. Lori told him we would need to pray about this and came home to tell me the news.

We spent the weekend bringing this to God and asking Him how we as His servants should proceed. By Sunday night it had become very clear to us what God wanted. If this was God, if He had a great work for us to do in Aningas, if He had in fact called us to rescue these children off the streets and provide them a home where God could care for them, then the land would be sold, to God’s work, for ten thousand reais.

We found him working in his garden Monday evening, and approached him with this answer. I did the talking and, once again, explained our reason for being in his village.

“We love the property,” I said.

“We have no doubt that it’s worth all of fifteen thousand reais and we think that you should get as much as you can for your land. But this is not our money, it is God’s. This won’t be our land, it will belong to God. We are here as representatives of the buyer, and He is able to make the land available for the original price, if it is His will. And if it is not His will, we do not want the land.”

“Antonio offered me considerably more,” Iranilton responded, “but I don’t like him and wouldn’t even entertain his offer. Your family has brought blessing to our village since you first arrived, the plans for this property will only bless my people more. I want you to have the land and will sell it to you for ten thousand.”

The next day we received this news from one of our many co-workers at home:

“It is time to purchase the land; we will wire the funds into your account so that they’ll be there and ready to use when the moment comes. God bless you both.”

Did you ever go down a city street full of traffic lights, and time it so that all the lights turned green just as you approach? And you think that’s just the coolest thing and aren’t I lucky today? It took us five weeks to buy a car and I was dreading this process of buying the land thinking it could only be worse. Within three days and two trips to the town hall in Ceará-Mirim, the document was in our hand, and the land belonged to God. Lori did what she does so often, blowing a kiss to heaven, because she’s just been reassured that God is still with us, and He has things well in hand. I enjoyed the run down Main Street watching God turn each light green, just as I approached it.

There’s a window-washing squeegee in the garage, that now stands as a memorial to a very heart-wrenching day on the streets. Lori originally bought it for João, who had asked us for a new one. Every Thursday we made sure it was in the truck as we left to spend the day feeding the city street kids. João was never at his stop, so the squeegee rode back home with us, to be stored with all of the Thursday paraphernalia, waiting for the next week’s feeding.

Frank was good guy. He always had a big smile on his face, and was always so happy to see us. He seemed so out of place living on the streets, and in my mind and heart, I had hopes of seeing him as living evidence of a God-transformed life. We prayed for God to use him to bring the message of life to his street companions. I remember watching him one day as he pulled on this very cool shirt, that I found among the donations and saved just for him. He was so excited at the way he looked in it, and I thought how heart-warming this would be to the saints at home, who had taken the time to make sure Frank had a shirt. If we arrived at his stop and he wasn’t around I’d go find him. I knew where his piece of cardboard was, under a big tree behind a local street vendor. He would be taking his afternoon nap and he was never annoyed that I had reached down and shook him awake. With that so-happy-to-see-me smile on his face, he’d jump up and walk with me back to the truck for some lunch.

I put the squeegee into the back of the truck a few Thursdays ago, with Frank on my mind. I knew he’d be there, his window washing tool was on its last leg, and João was never around.

“I’m giving it to Frank,” I concluded.

We pulled up to the intersection, jumped the curb, parked on the median as always, and started exiting the car. Lori was met by one of the kids waiting for our arrival. I could tell by the look on her face that the news wasn’t good. She started to weep uncontrollably and I couldn’t get any information out of her. Finally, I made out what she was trying to say:

“Frank is dead.”

At eight o’clock, either at night or in the morning-we have heard both-Frank was on his corner in Petropolis, washing windows. A motorcycle drove up, with two men on it. The driver pulled a gun delivering two shots. One shot went to the head, one to the chest, and Frank slumped to the ground, breathed his last, and went out into eternity. Edivan, alias Meio-Kilo, alias Rafael, told us the story.

“I was standing right beside him, I saw it all, and ran for my life,” he said.

The kids all wanted us to believe it was random; they told us that the two men on the moto were drunk. It may have been, but most of the time these shootings are for one of the following two motives: the victim owed money, some as little as R$5, or US $2.75, or the police, on or off-duty, were “executing” a random street kid “purging.” Edivan claims that the second bullet was aimed at him and he narrowly escaped with his life.

After much time, with Frank’s body lying in the street, the polícia arrived, went through the motions, and took his body to ITEP and no one is expecting to hear anything more about this. With no Identification or documents, Frank technically never existed, his body will be buried with other unknowns and forgotten, and life will go on.

It started to pour rain as we climbed back into the truck and made our way to Igapó, the last stop. Lori pulled out her i-Phone and played some hymns and quietly we listened, as through the music, we were reminded of our only responsibility:

“Tell them, even if they won’t believe you,

Tell them, even if they won’t receive you,

Just tell them for me. Tell them that I love them,

And I came to let them know.

Tell them on the streets

And on the high ways

And tell them, even on the bi-ways

Tell them I can mend the broken heart…

And I came to let them know.

We arrived at Igapo, our last stop. It was dumping rain and we just wanted to go home and end, what had turned into, a very sad day for us. We knew we had no right to let the kids down and skip this last stop, so Lori and I stepped out into the pouring rain just wanting to get this stop over with and leave.

Adriano was waiting for us. His clean white button-down shirt was drenched and sticking to his skin. He had ridden the fifteen miles on his bike once more, wanting so much to see us again. He was so thankful that we had been sent by God, who had reached and saved his soul. He stood beside us in the rain. The kids poured out of their shelters, running for their food and drink and then dashing back to any overhang they could find. Adriano spoke to any willing to linger in the rain, telling them of God’s power and the great transformation that had taken place in his life. We stood in the rain till all the sandwiches and juice were gone, hugged him goodbye, and parted company.

As we walked back to the truck, I saw Lori kiss her hand again and raise it towards heaven. To a God who is so good that He sent Adriano to be a comfort to us. With a God this kind and this loving, we can trust Him to always do what is right and what is just.

We drove home and we went to our bedroom. Lori threw herself across the bed and I listened to the quiet sobs. Frank had seen God, in our care for him; we know that because he told us. We had put the gospel in his hands, he had heard it from our mouths many times. He was always respectful, and he bowed his head and closed his eyes as, often, we prayed for him and his street buddies. He told us, on more than one occasion that he “had Jesus in his heart.” He’s beyond help now and only God knows where his soul is. Our prayer now is for his tragic death to be the means of reaching the hearts of his companions.

I would put him in his forties, with the ruts of a very hard life carved all over his body. His hair hadn’t been cut, his face hadn’t been shaved, nor had his clothes been changed, in what looked like years. He had one tooth left, and that one was was hanging on for dear life. We had never seen him before, but that’s not unusual. He lives under the stadium and he hadn’t eaten in a very long time. What caught our attention was how quickly he recognized our being there as God speaking to him and showing him His love. It’s a busy stop, and we did our best to listen to him, while handling the crowd around the truck. He just kept thanking God over and over, and as he did, he began to weep. I turned towards him and he put his head on my shoulder, as if finally God had provided a moment of relief from the pain of what was his life. I held him as he wept, loaded him with food for later, and made sure he knew we would be back next Thursday, God Willing.

Lori and I looked at each other and and she put into words what I was thinking:

“This just isn’t right, this is not what God ever wanted, nobody should have to live this way. If the circumstances surrounding this man’s life touched our heart, how heavy the heart of the Savior must be, as He daily sees the pain and hunger and thirst and injustice, that sin has brought man.”

We were getting ready to leave the Ponta Negra stop last week, after feeding a record number of boys. I was putting everything away when I saw Lori off talking to Luiz-Eduardo. He’s a regular at this stop, along with his wife, four-year-old son, and one-year- old baby boy. When I looked again they were praying, which told me something was up. I made my way over as Lori looked my way with an expression of unbelief on her face.

“He borrowed seventy reais (US $36) from one of his buddies and was able to pay off a drug debt,” she said.

“Monday was the deadline. If he didn’t have the money, he, along with his wife Luciana, and both children would have been shot to death”.

This is a tough street kid who was now standing with tears in his eyes, well aware of how close tragedy had come to his family. The threat was real, and the death sentence would have been carried out. These heartless dealers would wipe out a family and never think twice. His heart was now open to the gospel, and he wanted nothing more than our cries to God on his behalf, and the well being of his family. It was good to see the little family this week safe and sound. We piled them all into the truck and took them to the supermarket for food and some milk for the baby.

The highs and lows of working with these kids leave us drained. Just the experiences we have with them each Thursday leave us spent. After the tragedy of Frank’s death, we are filled with a sense of urgency. We’ve come to know many of the kids by name and they have shared so many painful stories with us about their lives. Our hearts go out to them as we do the only thing we can: show them the love of God and make sure they understand that, in a city, teaming with people who have no interest in their well-being, God cares, He sent His only Son to die on the cross for their sins, and He sent us to make sure they know.

The editor gets this next, and I know she’ll add anything I may have left out while correcting my many mistakes. I’ll close now thanking you all again for your support through prayer and e-mails. It’s such an encouragement to our family knowing of your burden for the work God has given us to do here. Our prayer is that these updates will help you see just how much you are a part of the effort here as partners in the work of God in Natal, Brazil.

We love you all in Christ and look forward to seeing many of you soon,

Mark&Lori,

Caroline and William

Filed Under: Aningas, Galpao, Street Work, Vá Livre Update Tagged With: aningas, galpao, hunger, poverty, preaching

Pictures and More!

May 3, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

This post contains over 40 pictures, some with captions below them explaining the photo. If you subscribe to the blog via email and the photos do not come through, please visit the blog online at:

http://valivre.blogspot.com

Enjoy!