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Aningas- A labor of love!

August 4, 2011 By Leave a Comment

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

Filed Under: Aningas, Galpao, Vá Livre Update

Gospel at Galpao

February 19, 2011 By Leave a Comment

The wooden benches are in rows and the little kids pile in to listen to another gospel message. Some of the older girls come in and sit on the benches, leaning back against the cement wall of the Galpão. Curious faces peek in to see what’s going on.  Soon there’s a group of about forty kids and a few adults ready to listen. They sing songs from the booklets that Mark and Lori put together. They pick some of their favorites, “Foi Assim,” and “Jesus é Meu Amado,” songs that speak of the Savior who loves them and died for them.

Mark prays and Lori translates. She introduces her brother, Paul, as he steps up to speak to the kids.

“I have a great secret,” he says smiling. He leans in toward the front rows. “Can I share it with you? Can you keep a secret?”

Gabriella, a nine-year-old girl with full cheeks and warm brown eyes nods her head in response. She wants to know the secret. A few kids volunteer to go up to the front as Paul and Lori whisper the secret in their ears.

“Does everyone want to know my secret?” Paul asks. “Jesus loves me!” He reads Galatians 2:20. There’s a group of young boys sitting on one of Mark’s worktables in the back. They’re poking each other and laughing, but Paul keeps speaking. A dog wanders in, there’s music from the bar blasting next door, and there are people milling in and out of the door to the Galpão. But in the back row, there are middle-aged women listening. The little kids sitting on the wooden benches are listening, facing the front, waiting to hear why this verse matters.

“So many times people tell us that they love us,” Paul says, crossing his arms tight across his chest. “Sometimes they say that they will love us forever. But … they leave us heartbroken.”

Joab and Niete have their fingers curled around the edge of the bench. They’re both watching Paul. A little boy in front of them is playing with the edge of his shorts. Lori is translating while Paul continues.

“I look into the faces of young boys and girls and they want more than anything to know that someone loves me. What a disappointment when there is no one to love me.”

He doesn’t stop there. The little faces are still waiting to hear the truth of the verse. They want to know what fills that emptiness when everyone else leaves. When everyone else disappoints.

“That’s why it’s so wonderful tonight, my secret,” he says. “Because the very Son of God, Jesus, says He loves me. Not to love me and to leave me. Not to say He loves me only to hurt me. But when Jesus says He loves me, He will never leave me.”

When the lesson is done, the little girls sing the songs they’ve learned, standing up in front of the group to do the hand motions along with them. Then they clamor for juice and crackers before heading out the door.

Mark and Lori present a lesson every Sunday night around 7:30 in the Galpão. Younger kids make up a large percentage of the audience, and so the presentation has become much like a Sunday school lesson. This past Sunday night, Mark spoke about the serpent lifted up. He made a snake out of rope and wrapped it around PVC piping. Stephanie and I went around with another rope snake to “bite” the kids, squirting ketchup on their arms as blood, wrapping the “wounds” with old rags.

“Just look and live!” he told them, and Stephanie wiped the “blood” from their arms as they looked toward the snake on the pole.

Despite the distractions, the kids who decide they don’t want to sit through the message in its entirety, and the dogs that meander in and out, the gospel is preached faithfully every Sunday night in Aningas. During the week Mark and Lori can help in practical ways; Mark working with his guys, Lori making house visits, or preparing the recent Christmas feast. But come Sunday night, it’s always the clear gospel. Whatever else these men and women and children may need, they need Christ. Pray that as these messages continue, the interest they show will prove life changing in their acceptance of the Lord Jesus as Savior.

Filed Under: Aningas, Galpao, Gospel Tagged With: , ,

Sunday School Lessons

February 19, 2011 By 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: , , ,

The Cabinet Shop

December 21, 2010 By Leave a Comment
Working with the boys in the cabinet shop
Some of the product we’ve built
This is a box built to fit in a pickup truck bed. I told the little kids to fill it with plastic and we
would bring it to the recycle yard and any money they earned would be theirs. 

Trying to get the village to start recycling.
Filed Under: Aningas Tagged With:

The Gospel in Aningas

December 17, 2010 By Leave a Comment
The Gospel being presented to the folks in Aningas

Neldete showing us one of the three new machines that the women were able to purchase!
Filed Under: Aningas, Gospel Tagged With: , ,

Gospel in the Galpão

July 6, 2010 By 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: ,

The English lessons continue to grow…

June 24, 2010 By 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: , , ,

English For Aningas

June 16, 2010 By Leave a Comment
“Errrfah” she says slowly, her little face pouted in concentration.  It feels funny on her tongue so she tries again, “Earfeh.”
“Earth,” Stephanie says. Slower. “Ear-th.”
She laughs at the way it sounds and tries again. 
Tomorrow is the third English lesson Stephanie and I will have in the little village of Aningas. When we told the kids about the classes they were thrilled. There were eight older kids (14-16) in our first class and few younger ones. By the next lesson we had eighteen kids. We’ll see what tomorrow brings…
We plan the classes kind of like Sunday School lessons. We’re just as excited as the kids are that we can help them learn a few words in English, but more than that we want them to learn about a Savior who loved them enough to die for them. 
So far, we’ve read through the stories of Noah and Jonah. Stephanie (who is studying Portuguese at school) reads through the verses in Portuguese so we can be sure they understand the story. The kids applaud her valiant efforts at tackling their language every time she finishes. I draw little pictures to go along with words that we pull out of the text for them to learn. We say the words aloud in Portuguese and then in English.
Their pens move quickly along the lines of the makeshift notebooks we gave them as they take diligent notes. Nadine comes up to ask specific questions. “Why do you use “we” here and then “us” over here?”
Evanoel is a quick learner. He listens, leaning toward us in concentration as we say the words slowly in English and then repeats them back to us. “Hain-bow.”
“RRainbow,” I say.
“Rainbow,” he says smiling and then laughing at his own mistake.
After going over the words we play a few games. The kids start off sitting in a circle around one of the big wooden tables in the sewing room of the Galpão. By the time we get to the games they’ve all moved closer, abandoning their chairs to get a better look at the tic-tac toe board.
“How many people were in the ark?”
“Cinco.”
Then they remember that Shem, Ham, and Japeth were married.  “Ooh ooh! Oito!” Maria blurts out, “Oito!”
“Eight. That’s right!.” Cheers erupt from the winning team.
To end the lesson we go over the verse of the day. Some of them recognize the scripture in Portuguese. They copy the words down to see if they can memorize it for the next class. They’re still struggling to remember the English words in the verses, but a lot of them can rattle off the Portuguese. As long as they’re remembering the verse we don’t really mind that it’s not in English. 🙂
Tomorrow we’ll be jumping in with David fighting the Philistine giant. We have pictures to go with words like “sword, “ “stones” “helmet,” and “valley” and prizes to hand out to the guys and girls that participate and really listen. We have about five more lessons to go and we’d appreciate your prayers that these kids will not only continue to enjoy learning, but that they will recognize the truth in the stories and verses that we read with them and accept Christ as their Savior. 
Kate
Above: Classroom front on our first day: rules of the class, the story board and the verse of the day.
Above: English words for the kids to learn.
 
Above: Some of the girls in class, left to right: Maria, Natalia, Lizandra.
  
Above: Manoelhio taking diligent notes.
  
Above: Copying the verse.
  
Above / Below: At the lake on Saturday. 
  
Above: Photo break during the 20 minute walk to the lake.
Filed Under: Aningas, Gospel Tagged With: , ,

Tables and Benches and Eternal Siblings

May 30, 2010 By 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: , , , ,

Prayer Update

May 26, 2010 By Leave a Comment

We just got home from the hospital. Michel is doing well; the surgery went without any problems, thank God! Right now, he is in ICU, where he will stay for two days, Lord Willing. After he had his surgery, Sara had the same surgery, and it went well. Both moms were relieved and really happy to have each other to talk to. João is in his room, waiting for his surgery tomorrow.

Thank you for sharing this burden with us in prayer. Just thinking of you at home, praying for Michel, Sara and João and their moms, made us long to see you and give you a big hug of thanks. But because we’re too far away for the hugs and such, we’ve done better; we’ve thanked God for you and we can count on Him to warm your hearts with His love.
Mark&Lori,
Caroline and William
Filed Under: Aningas, Prayer Tagged With:
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