It's been quite a year and so there have been fewer blog posts than usual. In April we received the news that we would be returning to the UK and now here we are surrounded by boxes and embracing a new ministry in North London. This will be my last post on this blog and so I thought I would share with you our moving song. I think all Pastors kids should have a moving song. A. and I composed this together a few weeks before we moved and I sang it to him so much that it drove him mad - it helped me and I think it helped him! The words should be sung to the all too familiar tune of, 'Let it go', from the film Frozen. I wasn't brave enough to post a recording of me singing it so here are the words:
The sun shines on the apartment tonight
It's almost 30 degrees.
A city full of people and we've been here for 6 years.
God told us to come here and we just had to obey.
Could not say no, heaven knows I tried.
They let us in, they gave us visas, CPF-e and RNE.
We ate the rice, feijao and pao.......de queijo But we have to
Go, got to Go
Got to go back to England now.
Got to go, got to go
I really have to go.
Here I stand, but not for long
Gotta get that plane
- I never liked mosquitos anyway.
(music)
It's funny how travelling all this distance
Makes everything seem small.
The fear that once controlled me can't stop me anymore.
Jesus, we've seen what you can do when we give our life over to you.
The Spirit makes us free in Li......berdade.
Got to go, got to go
Got to go back to England now.
Got to go, got to go
I think I might just cry.
Here I stand, but not for long
Gotta get that plane...(music)
I really want to stay because I could be
The most amazing footballer you have ever seen.
There's Neymar and Kaka but I'll never play
In the World Cup, for Brazil one day.....
Got to go, got to go
Gonna arrive at the break of dawn
Got to go, got to go
Following God's call.
We love Brazil but we love God more
So we're moving on.....
We're glad that we came anyway.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Monday, March 9, 2015
DENGUE OR NOT DENGUE - THAT IS THE QUESTION.
There are about 50,000 cases of dengue fever in Sao Paulo at the moment and I may be one of them. I have all the symptoms of dengue and so I either have it or a virus that is exactly like it - it really makes no difference to me as either way I feel ill. I am writing this from my bed of sickness in the hope that what I have to say might help someone and encourage you, if you find yourself living in a high risk area, to smother yourself in insect repellant day and night in order to avoid this horrible disease.
There are two essential health related items that all overseas missionaries in hot countries must carry with them at all times; sun cream and insect repellant. We had a whole bunch of vaccinations before we came to Brazil but there is no vaccination available for dengue fever. The only precaution that anyone can take against catching this disease is to avoid getting bitten by a mosquito. Generally speaking, I don't suffer from insect bites as often as my husband but we have both been bitten regularly in the last two weeks as the hot weather has continued and mosquitoes have had perfect breeding conditions. Like most people I have always thought that it wouldn't happen to me.
I was feeling so ill last Saturday that my husband, P, had to drive me to the hospital. I was put on a drip for about half an hour (it could have been longer) containing fluids and pain relief. A blood test showed that I have a virus and the doctor is treating it as if it is dengue. If I develop abdominal pain and start feeling confused (...how would we know...?) I must return to the hospital immediately. However, for now, the muscular and joint pain, intense nausea, red, itchy rash and headaches are enough for me to deal with. After an impressive 2 hours in A & E (on a rainy and quiet Saturday evening) I returned home with the instructions to take a prescribed painkiller every 6 hours and drink 4 litres of fluids every day.
Looking back I can see that I started feeling unwell 2 weeks ago. On the Sunday evening I preached in our church and I seem to remember feeling fine. I woke up Monday morning feeling very tired and out of sorts but I just got on with the day thinking that I was probably feeling tired from the weekend activities - as a Salvation Army officer my busiest day of the week is always a Sunday. I continued to feel tired all week and although we had planned to have a family day out the following Saturday, neither P. nor I felt well enough to go far and our plans to take A to the beach changed into staying at home and watching a film on TV - we couldn't even manage a game of monopoly! I found it a bit harder to get going on Sunday morning and was 10 minutes late for Sunday School but I was able to get through the day and complete my responsibilities. Monday came and went and on Tuesday I spent the afternoon at the area called 25 de marco, in the centre of Sao Paulo, buying material and stuffing for the cushions that we would make at the Home League (Ladies meeting) on Wednesday. It was a very hot day and I felt quite dehydrated whilst out shopping and was very grateful for the bottle of water that a friend gave me when I popped into his shop having finally discovered where it is. That evening at about 10pm I felt like I had been hit by a juggernaut; I was completely exhausted, every muscle, joint and bone in my body was in pain and I just couldn't do anything else. I got into bed and slept. At that point I was still thinking that I was very, very tired and I didn't think about the possibility that I might be ill.
I woke up on Wednesday feeling ill but well enough to get up and get dressed. I had planned a busy day which included Home League followed by an important visit to a member of our congregation. I pushed my way through the day with a hope and a prayer. Things seemed to go well and I continued to work through Thursday with more visits and some time in the office. I continued to feel dehyrdated and accepted all the offers of water throughout the day. Thursday night it hit me again, the same as Tuesday, my whole body shouted 'Stop!', every muscle and joint was in pain, I couldn't move but now I had a major headache as big as any migraine I have ever had. I got into bed at about midnight and slept until 4:20am. I got out of bed and took a migraine pain killer, had a drink and got back into bed but I couldn't get back to sleep until 6:30am and then woke up again at 7:30am with the rest of the family. Friday was the World Day of Prayer and I had promised to organise the decoration. I could have given it all to P. to take with him and someone else could have put it together but I was still thinking that I was just suffering from tiredness and now I was able to move again so P. took A. to school and then we both went to the church for the World Day of Prayer meeting. When I arrived there I discovered that the two other women that live in the same building as me were also feeling ill and one of them was wondering whether she had dengue. I have no idea how we all got through the day but prayer is a powerful thing. Once I got home I realised that I wasn't really very well and for the first time considered seeing a doctor.
On Saturday I stayed in bed until 2pm and then had a shower. After that I was completely exhausted and decided that I couldn't continue like this - I started dreaming of anti-biotics that would remove this nasty bug from my system. P. had to go to the front door of our building and while he was there he met the two other women living in our building - they were on their way to the hospital and by 6pm so were we. One of the reasons it took me so long to decide to go to see the doctor was the prospect of sitting in a hospital waiting room whilst feeling so ill but it was a rainy night and the hospital was not busy - we were home by 9:30pm and had only spent two hours in the hospital.
I suppose my purpose in writing about this experience is to share this knowledge and encourage you to seek medical help if any of the symptoms I have described have been experienced by you or a member of your family. I thought that I was just feeling tired and my husband thought I was dehydrated because I wasn't drinking enough fluids. However, the dengue virus affects the bloodstream and the dehydration is actually caused by the effect of the virus on the white platelets in the blood. I didn't receive the anti-biotics I was hoping for as the treatment for a virus just involves treating the symptoms and waiting for it to take it's course so I have painkillers and the instruction to drink 4 litres of fluids a day. The painkillers seem to bring their own side effects and it is almost impossible to drink that amount of fluids in one day - it is about 4pm and I have only managed to drink 1 litre so far. I have been asleep for most of the day and after writing this am feeling exhausted. And that's it - I haven't got an interesting way of ending this blog so I will just leave it there.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
FIRE IN LIBERDADE
On Wednesday morning one of our Junior Soldiers phoned the Sunday School leader, S, and told her there was a fire in her road. 'It is it in your house?' S asked. 'It's coming', she replied. S. wasn't able to go so she phoned me and E and we arrived at the street about 4pm. We didn't know what we would find and we imagined that the main drama would be over by the time that we got there. However, the street was full of people and police. Two fire engines were parked in the road and other police cars and vans were parked at various intervals up and down the street. Many of our Sunday School children live in this street and practically all of our Junior Soldiers live there too.
The first person we saw was a 12 year old girl who no longer attends our Sunday School. She looked very shocked and upset. When I returned the next day I discovered that she lived in the building that burnt down. Then two little girls that had been enrolled as Junior Soldiers just 2 weeks ago came running up to me and I gave them both a big hug. They looked really pleased to see us. We talked with some Mums that we know and discovered that the fire had started in the building that was a well known drug den. We praised God that the fire had not spread into the buildings where our Sunday School children live. One mother said, 'God was looking after us - again.' I remembered that in October last year, in the very same street, a shooting had taken place and three people were injured but our children had been kept safe. I smiled and placed my hand on her shoulder but I wasn't sure that I could agree because we soon learned that two people had died in the fire. The fire was probably caused by an electrical fault and had started in the room where they were living. Why would God look after one family but not another?
We were told that when the fire began everyone who was inside the building ran outside screaming and their loud shouts brought everyone out into the street. The flames were climbing high into the sky and someone must have alerted the fire brigade. The news reports say that 24 families lived in the building - 84 people altogether - but when we spoke to the local people they said that the number was much higher than that. In these buildings each family lives in one room and they share a toilet and shower with the other families. There is a shared sink in the corridor which they use to wash clothes and prepare food. Somebody realised that there were two people still in the building - an old lady of 94 and her great grand son aged 6. The boy's grandfather ran back into the building to rescue them but he was pushed back by the flames and he is now in ITU fighting for his life. Sadly, the old lady and little boy died. There was a story going round that someone had told the boy to run but he wouldn't leave his great grandmother who was too ill to walk and he died in her arms.
While we were there we watched as the police positioned a white van in front of the building and I realised that they were there to remove the bodies. E, moved away and I followed her. We crossed the road and continued talking to people that we knew. We walked down the street in the direction in which we had come and about 500 yards from the scene of the fire we saw a small group of women sitting outside a small warehouse on the opposite side of the road. I assumed they were just onlookers but these women seemed more distressed than anyone else we had seen. Their eyes were red and raw. E. placed her hand on the shoulder of the lady sitting at the end of the row and said, 'Ok?' The lady just looked at her and I said, 'It looks like she wants to talk', so we stopped and discovered that it was her mother and grandson that had died in the fire. Her name was G. and E. knew her because she always talked to her when she came to collect the children for Sunday School (our church does a walking bus every Sunday morning to bring children to Sunday School). The little boy who had died had attended our Sunday School for the first time three weeks ago and E. had walked him there and back.
People were asking G if she wanted to go and see the bodies as they were taken out but she didn't want to. A tall, thin man came and shouted his own version of 'comfort' at her, 'It's done now', he said, 'Don't cry, I've lost people, we've all lost people - be strong. God will make you strong,' and then he walked off. I looked at her and said, 'You can cry if you want to' (if she couldn't cry then, when can she cry?) I held her hands and prayed as the bodies were taken out of the building and loaded into the van. I prayed that God would receive her loved ones into His hands and that He would bring comfort and peace to her in this devastating moment. After we prayed a man with a notebook came and asked her questions. He was a reporter and the story appeared in the newspapers and TV that evening. I noticed that G. was still holding a plastic bag in her hand with a bottle of coke and other bits and pieces that she had bought at the shop that morning after taking two other grand children to the nursery. She showed us a piece of paper that she had been given by the local council - it entitled her to 2 food parcels, 2 blankets, a mattress and something else. Every person displaced by the fire had been offered a bed in a hostel but no-one wanted to sleep in a hostel. G. told us that she would be sleeping in the small warehouse on a mattress that night. E. and I had to leave but promised G.we would return again soon.
P (my husband) and I returned to the road the next day and we brought with us two people who work for The Salvation Army Social Project (Tres Coracoes) that is based in the same building as our church. I wondered how we would find G. and we planned to ask the people on the street to help us but it was easier than we had imagined because when we arrived G. was sitting in the exact same place as the day before. She took us into the small warehouse where the families were storing their furniture and belongings that had survived the fire. We took information from her and another man who had also lost his home and a Project worker took G's son and the man back to the Project building to have a shower and collect clothes and a mattress and other things they might need. I collected contact details from 7 families and the Project worker gave out slips of paper to the families to authorise them to enter the Family Project. This will entitle them to help and assistance starting next Saturday and will continue throughout the next year.
This is the second fire that has affected our Sunday School families. The first one occured in a different road at the beginning of January but was also caused by an electrical fault. Fortunately, no-one was injured but many families lost everything they owned including their home. Our church has tried to help them the best we can and some of the families have taken part in the Tres Coracoes Family Project this year.
The children living in these slums are more likely to drop out of school, be abused or die in a fire because of the conditions in which they live. Not far from these slum dwellings there are children living in high rise apartments in gated communities, with 24 / 7 security, a swimming pool, games room and so much more. I feel uneasy about this - not that some children are living in comfort because that is a good thing but that some children are not. I wonder how we can tolerate this inequality? I am challenged to consider what it is that motivates me in life - am I striving to create a comfortable life for myself or should I work to improve the unacceptable conditions that many children live in? Inequality in society has raised these questions throughout the centuries but I find it sad and strange that in these modern times that this inequality and injustice still exists. I don't believe in a meritocracy where it is said that those who work hard receive greater rewards. I believe this is a myth created by those who want to perpetuate the inequality which works in their favour and I believe that society often rewards those who have not worked as hard as those who remain in poverty. I am fully aware that both the problem and the solution to the issue of poverty is complex but I would like to suggest that the solution will only come when we all agree that we cannot tolerate the existence of poverty any more. Every child deserves to have food, shelter, clothing, access to health care and good education in order to give them a good start in life and I think their parents and other family members deserve their basic human needs to be met too.
The first person we saw was a 12 year old girl who no longer attends our Sunday School. She looked very shocked and upset. When I returned the next day I discovered that she lived in the building that burnt down. Then two little girls that had been enrolled as Junior Soldiers just 2 weeks ago came running up to me and I gave them both a big hug. They looked really pleased to see us. We talked with some Mums that we know and discovered that the fire had started in the building that was a well known drug den. We praised God that the fire had not spread into the buildings where our Sunday School children live. One mother said, 'God was looking after us - again.' I remembered that in October last year, in the very same street, a shooting had taken place and three people were injured but our children had been kept safe. I smiled and placed my hand on her shoulder but I wasn't sure that I could agree because we soon learned that two people had died in the fire. The fire was probably caused by an electrical fault and had started in the room where they were living. Why would God look after one family but not another?
We were told that when the fire began everyone who was inside the building ran outside screaming and their loud shouts brought everyone out into the street. The flames were climbing high into the sky and someone must have alerted the fire brigade. The news reports say that 24 families lived in the building - 84 people altogether - but when we spoke to the local people they said that the number was much higher than that. In these buildings each family lives in one room and they share a toilet and shower with the other families. There is a shared sink in the corridor which they use to wash clothes and prepare food. Somebody realised that there were two people still in the building - an old lady of 94 and her great grand son aged 6. The boy's grandfather ran back into the building to rescue them but he was pushed back by the flames and he is now in ITU fighting for his life. Sadly, the old lady and little boy died. There was a story going round that someone had told the boy to run but he wouldn't leave his great grandmother who was too ill to walk and he died in her arms.
While we were there we watched as the police positioned a white van in front of the building and I realised that they were there to remove the bodies. E, moved away and I followed her. We crossed the road and continued talking to people that we knew. We walked down the street in the direction in which we had come and about 500 yards from the scene of the fire we saw a small group of women sitting outside a small warehouse on the opposite side of the road. I assumed they were just onlookers but these women seemed more distressed than anyone else we had seen. Their eyes were red and raw. E. placed her hand on the shoulder of the lady sitting at the end of the row and said, 'Ok?' The lady just looked at her and I said, 'It looks like she wants to talk', so we stopped and discovered that it was her mother and grandson that had died in the fire. Her name was G. and E. knew her because she always talked to her when she came to collect the children for Sunday School (our church does a walking bus every Sunday morning to bring children to Sunday School). The little boy who had died had attended our Sunday School for the first time three weeks ago and E. had walked him there and back.
People were asking G if she wanted to go and see the bodies as they were taken out but she didn't want to. A tall, thin man came and shouted his own version of 'comfort' at her, 'It's done now', he said, 'Don't cry, I've lost people, we've all lost people - be strong. God will make you strong,' and then he walked off. I looked at her and said, 'You can cry if you want to' (if she couldn't cry then, when can she cry?) I held her hands and prayed as the bodies were taken out of the building and loaded into the van. I prayed that God would receive her loved ones into His hands and that He would bring comfort and peace to her in this devastating moment. After we prayed a man with a notebook came and asked her questions. He was a reporter and the story appeared in the newspapers and TV that evening. I noticed that G. was still holding a plastic bag in her hand with a bottle of coke and other bits and pieces that she had bought at the shop that morning after taking two other grand children to the nursery. She showed us a piece of paper that she had been given by the local council - it entitled her to 2 food parcels, 2 blankets, a mattress and something else. Every person displaced by the fire had been offered a bed in a hostel but no-one wanted to sleep in a hostel. G. told us that she would be sleeping in the small warehouse on a mattress that night. E. and I had to leave but promised G.we would return again soon.
P (my husband) and I returned to the road the next day and we brought with us two people who work for The Salvation Army Social Project (Tres Coracoes) that is based in the same building as our church. I wondered how we would find G. and we planned to ask the people on the street to help us but it was easier than we had imagined because when we arrived G. was sitting in the exact same place as the day before. She took us into the small warehouse where the families were storing their furniture and belongings that had survived the fire. We took information from her and another man who had also lost his home and a Project worker took G's son and the man back to the Project building to have a shower and collect clothes and a mattress and other things they might need. I collected contact details from 7 families and the Project worker gave out slips of paper to the families to authorise them to enter the Family Project. This will entitle them to help and assistance starting next Saturday and will continue throughout the next year.
This is the second fire that has affected our Sunday School families. The first one occured in a different road at the beginning of January but was also caused by an electrical fault. Fortunately, no-one was injured but many families lost everything they owned including their home. Our church has tried to help them the best we can and some of the families have taken part in the Tres Coracoes Family Project this year.
The children living in these slums are more likely to drop out of school, be abused or die in a fire because of the conditions in which they live. Not far from these slum dwellings there are children living in high rise apartments in gated communities, with 24 / 7 security, a swimming pool, games room and so much more. I feel uneasy about this - not that some children are living in comfort because that is a good thing but that some children are not. I wonder how we can tolerate this inequality? I am challenged to consider what it is that motivates me in life - am I striving to create a comfortable life for myself or should I work to improve the unacceptable conditions that many children live in? Inequality in society has raised these questions throughout the centuries but I find it sad and strange that in these modern times that this inequality and injustice still exists. I don't believe in a meritocracy where it is said that those who work hard receive greater rewards. I believe this is a myth created by those who want to perpetuate the inequality which works in their favour and I believe that society often rewards those who have not worked as hard as those who remain in poverty. I am fully aware that both the problem and the solution to the issue of poverty is complex but I would like to suggest that the solution will only come when we all agree that we cannot tolerate the existence of poverty any more. Every child deserves to have food, shelter, clothing, access to health care and good education in order to give them a good start in life and I think their parents and other family members deserve their basic human needs to be met too.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
THROUGH THE EYES OF AN OLD LADY
Yesterday morning I woke up feeling a little sad. I had been dreaming about my Dad who died earlier this year. As I slowly gained consciousness from my deep sleep, I could still hear his voice in my head. It wasn't a ghost - I don't believe in ghosts - just a very strong memory of his voice and the way he used to greet me with a big sloppy kiss on the lips. I know, not appropriate, but it was his way of making up for the 10 years that we were apart. So, I woke up feeling loved and cared for by my Dad and then I remembered that he isn't here any more.
November has crept up on me and here we are now at day six. On Monday my sister sent me a message suggesting that we should have the stone on Dad's resting place inscribed in time for his birthday on 22nd November. That is a lovely idea - but then, that would be finally admitting that he has gone, wouldn't it? Since 26th April there has been a whirl of activity to take my mind away from these personal feelings. First, there was the three weeks spent in England organising the funeral, sorting, cleaning and clearing Dad's house, closing bank accounts, stopping pensions etc etc. Three frantic sleepless weeks which ended with a day out at Drusilla's Park with A, courtesy of a kind officer at THQ. Then the flight back to Brasil and a pile of work waiting for us when we arrived. We did have a holiday in July but P. was ill and so there was no time to think and ponder.
I thought it would be easy to forget about my dream but the emotions came flooding back when we visited an elderly member of our congregation in the afternoon. A. is 86 years old; three years older than my Dad when he died. I felt a little resentful of the fact that God had allowed her to live a little longer than my Dad - a silly childish thought, borne out of grief, that didn't linger for long as she told us her story and showed us a small book of photos with Amigos (Friends) written in biro on the back. As she showed us each photo (my husband was with me) she pointed to a person and said, 'She has died', and another, 'That was my best friend, she has died', 'That was my son - he died aged 36', 'That was my husband - he died 8 years ago'. I looked into her eyes and she looked sad. I said, 'As we get older, we see many people we love die, don't we?' She nodded silently. I could have moved the conversation on but I wanted to stay with her in the moment and acknowledge her sadness. I wanted her to know that someone else understood her sadness and her feeling of loss.
She gave us each a bowl of raisin and vanilla ice cream and then I shared some verses of scripture with her. Ephesians 3 v 14 - 21 - we used this passage of scripture during our Corps Anniversary weekend in October - it's one of my favourites. I had no idea what I would say to this lady but when I finished reading I found the words just flowed out of my mouth. 'You live in this beautiful apartment alone, but actually the truth is that you are not alone. When you wake up Jesus is here and when you go to sleep at night Jesus is still here, watching over you and waiting for you to wake up so He can walk with you through another day. His love is so wide and long and high and deep that it absolutely fills this apartment and this is our prayer for you today, that you would be surrounded and uplifted by His love'.
As I had read the scripture her eyes had lit up and as I shared these words of encouragement her face seemed to shine. She had seemed so sad when we were looking at the photos but now she was smiling and shining. You might think that I am exaggerating, but for me, at that moment I could feel the presence of Jesus fill the room. This old lady was inspiring me and I could feel my own spirit lifting as we both shared the same hope in Jesus.
I am so glad that my Dad met Jesus before he died. When I was a child he used to say, 'Once you're dead, you're dead', which is why he fought so hard to stay alive, I think. Then, one night, in his early 70's, lying close to death in the ICU of the N.H. Hospital, he prayed a simple prayer, 'God, if you get me out of here, I will go to your house'. I love the grace of God. He accepted that prayer. Dad survived his aortic aneurism and after two months in hospital he returned home. God had answered his prayer and so Dad started to attend the church nearest his house. I am not sure which was the biggest miracle!
I had the amazing privilege of praying with my Dad just a few hours before he died. It was my sister's sudden inspiration that she should put her mobile phone against his ear while I spoke into my computer in Brasil - the magic of skype! I really wanted to be there with him and for that moment I was. I prayed that God would heal him in body, mind and spirit, that angels would surround his bed and watch over him and that he would know the presence of Jesus. Dad died 12 hours later.
So, maybe God has inspired my sister once again. Maybe we should get his stone inscribed for his birthday. All I've got to do is choose some words, write a cheque - and accept that he is no longer here.
Yesterday was a special day for me. It was a busy, working day, but Jesus stepped into my busy schedule, surrounded me with His love and gave me hope through the eyes of an 86 year old lady.
November has crept up on me and here we are now at day six. On Monday my sister sent me a message suggesting that we should have the stone on Dad's resting place inscribed in time for his birthday on 22nd November. That is a lovely idea - but then, that would be finally admitting that he has gone, wouldn't it? Since 26th April there has been a whirl of activity to take my mind away from these personal feelings. First, there was the three weeks spent in England organising the funeral, sorting, cleaning and clearing Dad's house, closing bank accounts, stopping pensions etc etc. Three frantic sleepless weeks which ended with a day out at Drusilla's Park with A, courtesy of a kind officer at THQ. Then the flight back to Brasil and a pile of work waiting for us when we arrived. We did have a holiday in July but P. was ill and so there was no time to think and ponder.
I thought it would be easy to forget about my dream but the emotions came flooding back when we visited an elderly member of our congregation in the afternoon. A. is 86 years old; three years older than my Dad when he died. I felt a little resentful of the fact that God had allowed her to live a little longer than my Dad - a silly childish thought, borne out of grief, that didn't linger for long as she told us her story and showed us a small book of photos with Amigos (Friends) written in biro on the back. As she showed us each photo (my husband was with me) she pointed to a person and said, 'She has died', and another, 'That was my best friend, she has died', 'That was my son - he died aged 36', 'That was my husband - he died 8 years ago'. I looked into her eyes and she looked sad. I said, 'As we get older, we see many people we love die, don't we?' She nodded silently. I could have moved the conversation on but I wanted to stay with her in the moment and acknowledge her sadness. I wanted her to know that someone else understood her sadness and her feeling of loss.
She gave us each a bowl of raisin and vanilla ice cream and then I shared some verses of scripture with her. Ephesians 3 v 14 - 21 - we used this passage of scripture during our Corps Anniversary weekend in October - it's one of my favourites. I had no idea what I would say to this lady but when I finished reading I found the words just flowed out of my mouth. 'You live in this beautiful apartment alone, but actually the truth is that you are not alone. When you wake up Jesus is here and when you go to sleep at night Jesus is still here, watching over you and waiting for you to wake up so He can walk with you through another day. His love is so wide and long and high and deep that it absolutely fills this apartment and this is our prayer for you today, that you would be surrounded and uplifted by His love'.
As I had read the scripture her eyes had lit up and as I shared these words of encouragement her face seemed to shine. She had seemed so sad when we were looking at the photos but now she was smiling and shining. You might think that I am exaggerating, but for me, at that moment I could feel the presence of Jesus fill the room. This old lady was inspiring me and I could feel my own spirit lifting as we both shared the same hope in Jesus.
I am so glad that my Dad met Jesus before he died. When I was a child he used to say, 'Once you're dead, you're dead', which is why he fought so hard to stay alive, I think. Then, one night, in his early 70's, lying close to death in the ICU of the N.H. Hospital, he prayed a simple prayer, 'God, if you get me out of here, I will go to your house'. I love the grace of God. He accepted that prayer. Dad survived his aortic aneurism and after two months in hospital he returned home. God had answered his prayer and so Dad started to attend the church nearest his house. I am not sure which was the biggest miracle!
I had the amazing privilege of praying with my Dad just a few hours before he died. It was my sister's sudden inspiration that she should put her mobile phone against his ear while I spoke into my computer in Brasil - the magic of skype! I really wanted to be there with him and for that moment I was. I prayed that God would heal him in body, mind and spirit, that angels would surround his bed and watch over him and that he would know the presence of Jesus. Dad died 12 hours later.
So, maybe God has inspired my sister once again. Maybe we should get his stone inscribed for his birthday. All I've got to do is choose some words, write a cheque - and accept that he is no longer here.
Yesterday was a special day for me. It was a busy, working day, but Jesus stepped into my busy schedule, surrounded me with His love and gave me hope through the eyes of an 86 year old lady.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
ANOTHER MIRACLE
Last Sunday (13th October 2013) we enrolled 4 new Junior Soldiers (junior members of our church); my son, A, and three girls from our Sunday School who live in S, a road that is a 20 minute walk from our church. When I share with you this story you may agree with me that it is probably a miracle that the girls were there on Sunday.
The girls come from three different families and along with many other families they live in the same building. Each family lives in one room that has a bed, cooker, fridge and other belongings and they all share a shower, toilet and sink which are situated in the corridor. The families pay an extremely high rent to live in this unsuitable accommodation. Next door to this building is a place that has a steady flow of young men coming to and fro from it all day long - you would probably call it a drug den. This year we have conducted open air services in this road and I have made visits to the families during the week. Every Sunday morning two members of our Sunday School team go to S. at about 9:30am to walk the children to and from the Sunday School which begins at 10am.
Last Thursday (10th October 2013) at about 5:30pm, an hour of the day when the road is usually full of activity - Mums picking children up from school, people walking to the shops, children playing out on the road and one or two people selling things from tables on the pavement - two men, dressed all in black with their faces covered drove a motorcycle with no licence plate into the road and began shooting outside the building where our three newest Junior Soldiers live. One mother said to me, 'God was protecting us because usually the mothers are all sitting on the doorstep but on that day most of us were inside.' One of our oldest Junior Soldiers was standing at the door and when her mother heard the gun shots she called her inside. All the mothers called their children into their rooms. They said the shooting lasted 10 minutes.
Our Junior Soldiers were safe but sadly there were casualties. One mother had been taking a shower and her two year old, who has attended our Sunday School, wandered out into the road and was shot in the neck. He is now seriously ill in hospital. It seems that he will survive but may have problems in the future with his voice. A 14 year old girl, who I was told was involved in drug dealing, was shot in the stomach twice and a woman who sells things on a table was also shot.
What was the reason for the shooting? It was reported on the UOL news website as an, 'alleged attempted robbery in the centre of the city, ' and according to the police, 'the two suspects fled the scene.' I cannot comment on that but the people living in the road have a different point of view.
Three casualties is very, very sad, however, no-one was killed and it really could have been alot worse.
I learnt the details of this story while at our day trip with the Sunday School last Saturday and the two girls in our car gave me most of the details. About 15 minutes later, I suddenly realised that I had once again experienced the protective hand of God on my own life. I turned to P, who was driving, and said, 'I was supposed to be there last Thursday afternoon'. You see, we needed to ask the mothers to sign a certificate to say that they gave permission for their children to become Junior Soldiers and we still had two signatures to get. E, L and I had agreed to meet at the church at 2:30pm and walk to S and visit the families as we had done on other ocassions. However, the Sunday before, E suggested that instead of going on Thursday we could just talk to the mothers when we saw them on Saturday during the Sunday School trip. I was a little disappointed that our family visit had been cancelled and I had considered going on my own but I realised that as the girls had said their mothers would probably not be at home that E was right and it would be better to talk to the Mums on Saturday. Even if we had gone at 2:30pm it is possible that we would have left S. before the incident happened but once again God made sure I wasn't anywhere near at the time.
I thank God for protecting our Junior Soldiers and that the children and woman who were injured were not killed and we are praying for a full recovery of each of the victims.
The girls come from three different families and along with many other families they live in the same building. Each family lives in one room that has a bed, cooker, fridge and other belongings and they all share a shower, toilet and sink which are situated in the corridor. The families pay an extremely high rent to live in this unsuitable accommodation. Next door to this building is a place that has a steady flow of young men coming to and fro from it all day long - you would probably call it a drug den. This year we have conducted open air services in this road and I have made visits to the families during the week. Every Sunday morning two members of our Sunday School team go to S. at about 9:30am to walk the children to and from the Sunday School which begins at 10am.
Last Thursday (10th October 2013) at about 5:30pm, an hour of the day when the road is usually full of activity - Mums picking children up from school, people walking to the shops, children playing out on the road and one or two people selling things from tables on the pavement - two men, dressed all in black with their faces covered drove a motorcycle with no licence plate into the road and began shooting outside the building where our three newest Junior Soldiers live. One mother said to me, 'God was protecting us because usually the mothers are all sitting on the doorstep but on that day most of us were inside.' One of our oldest Junior Soldiers was standing at the door and when her mother heard the gun shots she called her inside. All the mothers called their children into their rooms. They said the shooting lasted 10 minutes.
Our Junior Soldiers were safe but sadly there were casualties. One mother had been taking a shower and her two year old, who has attended our Sunday School, wandered out into the road and was shot in the neck. He is now seriously ill in hospital. It seems that he will survive but may have problems in the future with his voice. A 14 year old girl, who I was told was involved in drug dealing, was shot in the stomach twice and a woman who sells things on a table was also shot.
What was the reason for the shooting? It was reported on the UOL news website as an, 'alleged attempted robbery in the centre of the city, ' and according to the police, 'the two suspects fled the scene.' I cannot comment on that but the people living in the road have a different point of view.
Three casualties is very, very sad, however, no-one was killed and it really could have been alot worse.
I learnt the details of this story while at our day trip with the Sunday School last Saturday and the two girls in our car gave me most of the details. About 15 minutes later, I suddenly realised that I had once again experienced the protective hand of God on my own life. I turned to P, who was driving, and said, 'I was supposed to be there last Thursday afternoon'. You see, we needed to ask the mothers to sign a certificate to say that they gave permission for their children to become Junior Soldiers and we still had two signatures to get. E, L and I had agreed to meet at the church at 2:30pm and walk to S and visit the families as we had done on other ocassions. However, the Sunday before, E suggested that instead of going on Thursday we could just talk to the mothers when we saw them on Saturday during the Sunday School trip. I was a little disappointed that our family visit had been cancelled and I had considered going on my own but I realised that as the girls had said their mothers would probably not be at home that E was right and it would be better to talk to the Mums on Saturday. Even if we had gone at 2:30pm it is possible that we would have left S. before the incident happened but once again God made sure I wasn't anywhere near at the time.
I thank God for protecting our Junior Soldiers and that the children and woman who were injured were not killed and we are praying for a full recovery of each of the victims.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
A lovely moment which could have happened anywhere in the world.......
A little while ago I was walking home from school with my 6 year old, A, when we both shared a rather lovely moment. A. was walking very slowly and not being very co-operative. Not something that happens every day but not unusual for a tired and hungry little boy. I was getting very frustrated and beginning to get a bit cross, so he said, 'I don't love you any more'. So, I said, 'Well, I love you, now come on!'.
I don't know why, but at that moment I decided to elaborate. 'In fact, 'I said, 'I never stop loving you'.
A. stopped where he was on the pavement, looked at me and said, 'Really?!' I was surprised by his reaction; surely he knew that I loved him. 'Yes, ' I replied, 'I never stop loving you. When you are very good I love you, when you are naughty I love you, whatever you do, wherever you are, I always love you. It never stops'. 'Oh, 'he said, 'I never knew that,' and he gave me a big smile and held my hand.
'So, did you think that every time I get cross with you that I stop loving you?' I ventured. 'Yes!' was his answer and it really did shock me. If we had not had this conversation A would have gone through his life thinking that I turned my love for him on and off according to how he behaved and that just isn't the way it is. All mothers and fathers will probably agree with me when I say that this feeling of love is so strong, so profound, so deep that it can never find an end. It never stops. It's just there - all the time.
I did, of course, ask the obvious question, 'So, when I get cross with you, do you stop loving me?'
And the answer was, 'Yes'.
I don't know why, but at that moment I decided to elaborate. 'In fact, 'I said, 'I never stop loving you'.
A. stopped where he was on the pavement, looked at me and said, 'Really?!' I was surprised by his reaction; surely he knew that I loved him. 'Yes, ' I replied, 'I never stop loving you. When you are very good I love you, when you are naughty I love you, whatever you do, wherever you are, I always love you. It never stops'. 'Oh, 'he said, 'I never knew that,' and he gave me a big smile and held my hand.
'So, did you think that every time I get cross with you that I stop loving you?' I ventured. 'Yes!' was his answer and it really did shock me. If we had not had this conversation A would have gone through his life thinking that I turned my love for him on and off according to how he behaved and that just isn't the way it is. All mothers and fathers will probably agree with me when I say that this feeling of love is so strong, so profound, so deep that it can never find an end. It never stops. It's just there - all the time.
I did, of course, ask the obvious question, 'So, when I get cross with you, do you stop loving me?'
And the answer was, 'Yes'.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Lost in a world of the Booming Bass and Booze
On 8th February, after a very long and arduous day, we travelled by car from Sao Miguel Paulista to our new appointment in Liberdade, in the centre of Sao Paulo. At about 10pm, P. stopped the car and said, 'This is our road', but we couldn't turn into it because it was heaving with students; they were on the pavements, in the bars, maybe some of them were even in lectures in the university building which we discovered that night was situated at the end of our road, but more relevant to us on that night, they were also all over the road. They were having a street party and this was no Diamond Jubilee Celebration.
A student had parked his car outside a bar, opened his boot wide to display two loud speakers that the Wembley Arena would have been proud of and people all around him were dancing to the funky beat. With a pint of beer in one hand and a spliff in the other, these students were celebrating the beginning of term - in our road.
We wondered how we were going to reach our new place of residence but slowly we drove through the partying crowds who seemed surprised that anyone would want to drive down this particular road at this time of night. Eventually we were able to park outside the Salvation Army Hall and were greeted by the outgoing Officer. We carried a sleepy A. up to the first floor apartment and discovered that the noise was almost as loud inside the building as it was outside due to the heavy bass beat and crowds of students walking past our windows.
Rua Tagua is well known in Sao Paulo, perhaps even Brazil. It has been featured on the television because of the problems that are caused by the students during term time. The students not only celebrate the beginning and end of term with a party, but every Friday night they celebrate the end of the week and on other nights, although not as loud or as crowded, the road is still noisy. I have been told that it is not as bad as it used to be. About 10 years ago there was a bar situated directly opposite the Salvation Army Hall and Officer's apartment. The noise was unbearable and officers with young children had to move. Further back than that, so I have been told, people would dance naked in the street. I thank God that things have improved since then, however, it is still a problem for the residents of this area.
Jesus told His disciples to, 'Go into all the world and make disciples of every nation..' Well, we do not have to travel too far because the world comes to us every night. Soon after we arrived I began prayer walking the street, putting Rumos (the Brazilian War Cry) through each door and talking to as many people as possible. In this road there is a University, a Seventh Day Adventist Church and School and The Salvation Army building which houses our church, a Social Project, Divisional Headquarters and three apartments with residents (which includes my family). My vision is that these establishments work together to restore order in this place and my first step is to try to arrange a meeting with the Principals of the school and university.
There have been evenings when I have left the comfort and security of my apartment to talk to the young men (it's always a young man) who are playing their music so loud that the walls of our apartment are vibrating and my head is thumping with the incessant bass beat. So far, I have been received with politeness and all but one have turned down or turned off their music. They are students and they are studying subjects like Radiography, Law and Physical Education. They are doing what most students do in countries all over the world - but whereas most students have a Student Union Bar they can go to - here they party in the street.
In every group there is a leader and so I prayed to God that He would touch the lives of the key people in this group. After the winter break and a quieter period of four weeks, the students returned and celebrated the beginning of term in their usual style. The music was so loud and the base beat so depressing that I had to go out and find where it was coming from. I walked to the other end of the road and was amazed by the sight of about 200 students doing a kind of funky line dance in the middle of the road. The music was pumping out of the back of a red car parked outside the bar and I asked who the car belonged to. A tall, young man with no shirt and a gold chain around his neck introduced himself as G, the owner of the car. I explained to him that I lived at the other end of the road but we could hear his music inside our apartment and it was very difficult for my 6 year old to sleep. We agreed that he would stop at midnight and in fact, the music stopped half an hour earlier. An ex-student, F, friend of G, was keen to practice his English and at that moment I realized that an opportunity had just been presented to me. Surrounded by students partying I shared the gospel with him and told him that God had called me to work in Brazil and God had told me to walk down the road and talk to him and to tell him that God loves him and he needs to change his life and follow Jesus. F's eyes opened wide and he was eager to listen. He told me that he had attended a Catholic School and was now working as a Lawyer. I offered to pray for him on the street and he accepted but do you know what, at that moment, another car parked up beside us and started pumping out music in competition with my new 'friend' G. I bellowed my prayer as loud as I could and I doubt very much if F heard anything but I know God did. I will never know if he opened his Bible when he went home or if he even remembered our conversation the next day but I keep praying for F and G - I am sure I am going to see them again. In fact, last Friday the party was in full flow when I spoke to G at 11pm once again. These students are very determined and the music didn't stop until 12:30am that night.
It is obvious that I cannot continue this ministry on my own so I am praying that we can find some way in which our church can develop a ministry with these students. In the meantime, please pray for my friends G and F. I believe God gave me an opportunity to speak to them and I pray that they will respond to the work of the Holy Spirit in their lives. God is on these streets; He owns them and He wants them back!
A student had parked his car outside a bar, opened his boot wide to display two loud speakers that the Wembley Arena would have been proud of and people all around him were dancing to the funky beat. With a pint of beer in one hand and a spliff in the other, these students were celebrating the beginning of term - in our road.
We wondered how we were going to reach our new place of residence but slowly we drove through the partying crowds who seemed surprised that anyone would want to drive down this particular road at this time of night. Eventually we were able to park outside the Salvation Army Hall and were greeted by the outgoing Officer. We carried a sleepy A. up to the first floor apartment and discovered that the noise was almost as loud inside the building as it was outside due to the heavy bass beat and crowds of students walking past our windows.
Rua Tagua is well known in Sao Paulo, perhaps even Brazil. It has been featured on the television because of the problems that are caused by the students during term time. The students not only celebrate the beginning and end of term with a party, but every Friday night they celebrate the end of the week and on other nights, although not as loud or as crowded, the road is still noisy. I have been told that it is not as bad as it used to be. About 10 years ago there was a bar situated directly opposite the Salvation Army Hall and Officer's apartment. The noise was unbearable and officers with young children had to move. Further back than that, so I have been told, people would dance naked in the street. I thank God that things have improved since then, however, it is still a problem for the residents of this area.
Jesus told His disciples to, 'Go into all the world and make disciples of every nation..' Well, we do not have to travel too far because the world comes to us every night. Soon after we arrived I began prayer walking the street, putting Rumos (the Brazilian War Cry) through each door and talking to as many people as possible. In this road there is a University, a Seventh Day Adventist Church and School and The Salvation Army building which houses our church, a Social Project, Divisional Headquarters and three apartments with residents (which includes my family). My vision is that these establishments work together to restore order in this place and my first step is to try to arrange a meeting with the Principals of the school and university.
There have been evenings when I have left the comfort and security of my apartment to talk to the young men (it's always a young man) who are playing their music so loud that the walls of our apartment are vibrating and my head is thumping with the incessant bass beat. So far, I have been received with politeness and all but one have turned down or turned off their music. They are students and they are studying subjects like Radiography, Law and Physical Education. They are doing what most students do in countries all over the world - but whereas most students have a Student Union Bar they can go to - here they party in the street.
In every group there is a leader and so I prayed to God that He would touch the lives of the key people in this group. After the winter break and a quieter period of four weeks, the students returned and celebrated the beginning of term in their usual style. The music was so loud and the base beat so depressing that I had to go out and find where it was coming from. I walked to the other end of the road and was amazed by the sight of about 200 students doing a kind of funky line dance in the middle of the road. The music was pumping out of the back of a red car parked outside the bar and I asked who the car belonged to. A tall, young man with no shirt and a gold chain around his neck introduced himself as G, the owner of the car. I explained to him that I lived at the other end of the road but we could hear his music inside our apartment and it was very difficult for my 6 year old to sleep. We agreed that he would stop at midnight and in fact, the music stopped half an hour earlier. An ex-student, F, friend of G, was keen to practice his English and at that moment I realized that an opportunity had just been presented to me. Surrounded by students partying I shared the gospel with him and told him that God had called me to work in Brazil and God had told me to walk down the road and talk to him and to tell him that God loves him and he needs to change his life and follow Jesus. F's eyes opened wide and he was eager to listen. He told me that he had attended a Catholic School and was now working as a Lawyer. I offered to pray for him on the street and he accepted but do you know what, at that moment, another car parked up beside us and started pumping out music in competition with my new 'friend' G. I bellowed my prayer as loud as I could and I doubt very much if F heard anything but I know God did. I will never know if he opened his Bible when he went home or if he even remembered our conversation the next day but I keep praying for F and G - I am sure I am going to see them again. In fact, last Friday the party was in full flow when I spoke to G at 11pm once again. These students are very determined and the music didn't stop until 12:30am that night.
It is obvious that I cannot continue this ministry on my own so I am praying that we can find some way in which our church can develop a ministry with these students. In the meantime, please pray for my friends G and F. I believe God gave me an opportunity to speak to them and I pray that they will respond to the work of the Holy Spirit in their lives. God is on these streets; He owns them and He wants them back!
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
All change!
Yesterday I had a good experience travelling to pick Andrew up from school. I now have to reconsider my opinion of the Sao Paulo metro and the people who use it. Given my previous comments regarding the metro, it is only fair that I share this with you.
As I arrived at the metro station in Sao Joaquim I could see that there was a train waiting on the platform, so I pelted down the stairs as fast as I could and ran towards the open doors. As I got near I heard the beeps which warned that the doors were about to close and so I stopped in front of them and made a kind of, 'Oh well, I will just have to wait for the next train', kind of face to the three men standing in the doorway. However, the three men beckoned me on and so I jumped onto the train and found that not only had the men cleared a space for me to get on but they had actually been holding the doors back for me. I said, 'Obrigada', and we all settled into our journey without another glance or word. However, I noticed that one of the men was wearing a silver cross around his neck and I wondered if I had been helped by one of God's angels....
It has been a while since I have written on this blog. Things have been a little hectic since October. I had an unexpected stay in hospital and then two weeks later P and I received Farewell Orders from Sao Miguel Paulista. Working for The Salvation Army often brings surprises but this was the biggest surprise of all!
The Salvation Army operates an appointment system whereby the leaders at Headquarters will decide where each officer willl work and when they will move. As The Salvation Army graciously provides a house or an apartment for each officer to live in it means that officers can move from one appointment to another with a certain amount of ease. In the UK there is a process of consultation and each year everyone knows which day the new appointments will be announced and whether or not they will be moving but here in Brazil, in November 2011, no-one knew who would be moving or when they would find out.
The email said that we were to be the Corps Officers of Corpo Central which is in Liberdade, a tourist area in the centre of the city and not far from Avenida Paulista, the main commercial hub. So, on February 8th 2012 we said a fond farewell to the people of Sao Miguel Paulista and handed over the work to two experienced Brazilian officers. We were sad to leave but we realise that this is not our ministry, it is not our work and the Corps at Sao Miguel Paulista was not ours to keep. The work is the Lord's. He was working in that place before we arrived and He will continue to work long after we have gone. When we arrived in Sao Miguel Paulista in August 2009 we had little knowledge of the culture or language and wondered how we would be able to lead a church without these basic skills. We were amazed at how the Lord went before us and enabled the work to be done and we are grateful for the patience and encouragement of the people there.
And so now we are at our second appointment in Brazil; Corpo Central. Our apartment is in the same building as the church hall, Divisional Headquarters and a Social Project called Tres Coracoes (Three Hearts). There are exciting things happening here and many opportunities for urban mission. However, before I write about this I am going to have a holiday - after almost three years in Brazil we are coming home for a long holiday and we are looking forward to spending time with family and friends. I am praying we will be renewed in body, mind and spirit so that when we return to Sao Paulo in June we will be ready to work in the centre of the biggest city in the southern hemisphere because we have signed up for another three years.
As I arrived at the metro station in Sao Joaquim I could see that there was a train waiting on the platform, so I pelted down the stairs as fast as I could and ran towards the open doors. As I got near I heard the beeps which warned that the doors were about to close and so I stopped in front of them and made a kind of, 'Oh well, I will just have to wait for the next train', kind of face to the three men standing in the doorway. However, the three men beckoned me on and so I jumped onto the train and found that not only had the men cleared a space for me to get on but they had actually been holding the doors back for me. I said, 'Obrigada', and we all settled into our journey without another glance or word. However, I noticed that one of the men was wearing a silver cross around his neck and I wondered if I had been helped by one of God's angels....
It has been a while since I have written on this blog. Things have been a little hectic since October. I had an unexpected stay in hospital and then two weeks later P and I received Farewell Orders from Sao Miguel Paulista. Working for The Salvation Army often brings surprises but this was the biggest surprise of all!
The Salvation Army operates an appointment system whereby the leaders at Headquarters will decide where each officer willl work and when they will move. As The Salvation Army graciously provides a house or an apartment for each officer to live in it means that officers can move from one appointment to another with a certain amount of ease. In the UK there is a process of consultation and each year everyone knows which day the new appointments will be announced and whether or not they will be moving but here in Brazil, in November 2011, no-one knew who would be moving or when they would find out.
The email said that we were to be the Corps Officers of Corpo Central which is in Liberdade, a tourist area in the centre of the city and not far from Avenida Paulista, the main commercial hub. So, on February 8th 2012 we said a fond farewell to the people of Sao Miguel Paulista and handed over the work to two experienced Brazilian officers. We were sad to leave but we realise that this is not our ministry, it is not our work and the Corps at Sao Miguel Paulista was not ours to keep. The work is the Lord's. He was working in that place before we arrived and He will continue to work long after we have gone. When we arrived in Sao Miguel Paulista in August 2009 we had little knowledge of the culture or language and wondered how we would be able to lead a church without these basic skills. We were amazed at how the Lord went before us and enabled the work to be done and we are grateful for the patience and encouragement of the people there.
And so now we are at our second appointment in Brazil; Corpo Central. Our apartment is in the same building as the church hall, Divisional Headquarters and a Social Project called Tres Coracoes (Three Hearts). There are exciting things happening here and many opportunities for urban mission. However, before I write about this I am going to have a holiday - after almost three years in Brazil we are coming home for a long holiday and we are looking forward to spending time with family and friends. I am praying we will be renewed in body, mind and spirit so that when we return to Sao Paulo in June we will be ready to work in the centre of the biggest city in the southern hemisphere because we have signed up for another three years.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Doing Something: Reaching out to the Homeless (2)
There has been a breakthrough recently in regard to reaching out to the homeless. Not something initiated by our own church, sadly, but another church has started a regular soup run on a Friday night. Our church has agreed to work in partnership with them and P. has gone out on a Friday night on several occasions with a team of young men that changes each week. Now that he is familiar with the routine he intends to take other people from our church with him in the future. Not only has P. been able to help with the giving out of soup but he has been able to pass on donations of food for the church to use in preparing the meals and more recently, blankets.
The Salvation Army received a massive donation of brand new blankets to be given out to the homeless, particularly needed in the winter months. Our own church was given 40 blankets to distribute and P. took some of them with him the last time he helped with the soup run. As he had permission from the men to take publicity photos I feel I can share them with you here (see side bar). You will notice from the photos that some of the men have large wooden carts with them. These are used to collect cardboard. P. learnt that they can sell 1kg of cardboard for 30 centavos (that is about 10p). How much cardboard do they need to collect in order to buy a loaf of bread which is about R$ 4,00 (about £1.45)? No wonder I see these men walking up and down the street throughout the day - they seem to be the hardest working men in Sao Miguel.
P. had more success in giving out the blankets than I did. I saw the lady with the blanket (see previous blog) walking along the street opposite our church hall so I quickly grabbed a blanket and crossed the street to give it to her. Her own blanket was grey and dirty and I was holding a brand, new, clean pink blanket. She had stopped to beg food from the bar opposite our church and when I offered her the blanket she refused it. I asked the young girl from the bar to explain to her in portuguese that the blanket was a gift and I wanted her to take it and I left the blanket with her. I don't think she managed to give her the blanket either and of course, she did not return it to the church. In fact, later that evening while I was giving out Rumos ( the Brazilian War Cry) in the street, the owner of the bar came and asked if I had any more blankets. I explained that the blankets were only to be given to the homeless and he said that he would, indeed, be giving them to the homeless! I found it very difficult to believe him and said that The Salvation Army would be distributing the blankets and I could not give any to him. I then took the opportunity to invite him to our meetings but he began to wander across the road back to his bar.
We are so pleased that a neighbouring church has begun this soup run because it gives us a stronger link with the homeless on the street. We have plans to develop this work further but we know we will need to do alot of planning before we can put it into action. In the meantime, we will continue to support the work of the Friday night soup run and pray that God will open more doors of opportunity for us.
The Salvation Army received a massive donation of brand new blankets to be given out to the homeless, particularly needed in the winter months. Our own church was given 40 blankets to distribute and P. took some of them with him the last time he helped with the soup run. As he had permission from the men to take publicity photos I feel I can share them with you here (see side bar). You will notice from the photos that some of the men have large wooden carts with them. These are used to collect cardboard. P. learnt that they can sell 1kg of cardboard for 30 centavos (that is about 10p). How much cardboard do they need to collect in order to buy a loaf of bread which is about R$ 4,00 (about £1.45)? No wonder I see these men walking up and down the street throughout the day - they seem to be the hardest working men in Sao Miguel.
P. had more success in giving out the blankets than I did. I saw the lady with the blanket (see previous blog) walking along the street opposite our church hall so I quickly grabbed a blanket and crossed the street to give it to her. Her own blanket was grey and dirty and I was holding a brand, new, clean pink blanket. She had stopped to beg food from the bar opposite our church and when I offered her the blanket she refused it. I asked the young girl from the bar to explain to her in portuguese that the blanket was a gift and I wanted her to take it and I left the blanket with her. I don't think she managed to give her the blanket either and of course, she did not return it to the church. In fact, later that evening while I was giving out Rumos ( the Brazilian War Cry) in the street, the owner of the bar came and asked if I had any more blankets. I explained that the blankets were only to be given to the homeless and he said that he would, indeed, be giving them to the homeless! I found it very difficult to believe him and said that The Salvation Army would be distributing the blankets and I could not give any to him. I then took the opportunity to invite him to our meetings but he began to wander across the road back to his bar.
We are so pleased that a neighbouring church has begun this soup run because it gives us a stronger link with the homeless on the street. We have plans to develop this work further but we know we will need to do alot of planning before we can put it into action. In the meantime, we will continue to support the work of the Friday night soup run and pray that God will open more doors of opportunity for us.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
An unexpected visitor
A few weeks ago, during the last ten minutes of the Thursday night holiness meeting, a man ran into the church whilst people were praying for each other in pairs. He lent on the back bench and in a breathless voice said, 'Someone help me, please'. I asked the Sergeant Major, G, to speak with him and G took him into another room.
Some of the women stopped praying and became very concerned. The man was obviously running away from someone and we wondered if someone else or a group of people were going to follow him into the hall. I asked C if we should close the doors which are always wide open during every meeting but she said that we should leave them open because we do not know what this man might do.
After the meeting was over, I locked the church and came to the front gate where two of the women were laughing. They told me that the Sergeant Major had taken the frightened man home. I asked them why they were laughing and they said that the man had been running away from his wife!
Some of the women stopped praying and became very concerned. The man was obviously running away from someone and we wondered if someone else or a group of people were going to follow him into the hall. I asked C if we should close the doors which are always wide open during every meeting but she said that we should leave them open because we do not know what this man might do.
After the meeting was over, I locked the church and came to the front gate where two of the women were laughing. They told me that the Sergeant Major had taken the frightened man home. I asked them why they were laughing and they said that the man had been running away from his wife!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
A tragic event on the Avenida.
It is not very often that you can thank God that you were ill but half way through last week I realised that it was probably good that my family and I were in our apartment at tea-time last Saturday and it was because I was feeling unwell.
We had planned to visit some friends and have a meal together but I had felt very flu-ey since Thursday and by Saturday morning I just couldn't get out of bed. So, reluctantly P phoned and cancelled. I slept until 4:30pm and P and A went to the market. They were back by 5;00pm and I joined them to watch a DVD. I prayed that I would feel well enough on Sunday to go to church because I had lots of people to talk to and the new Bible Study groups were going to have their first session.
When I woke up on Sunday I still felt unwell but all the flu-ey symptoms had disappeared and I felt well enough to go to the hall. During the morning meeting the Sergeant Major spoke to me. He told me that on Saturday evening the father of the man who lives in the house next to the hall had been shot and killed on the Avenida. When I had the time I googled the news story to find out the details and it was true. The 68 year old business man had left his Auto Parts shop at 6:30pm on Saturday and got into his Corsa. As he drove up to the traffic lights a man on a motorbike stopped and shot at him through the glass of the back seat window. The shot killed him. This happened on the Avenida, very close to where we live. If we had visited our friends that day we would probably have been arriving home at that time.
I cannot say if God saved us from witnessing or being involved in this tragedy but I do know that because I was ill we were all safe in our apartment at the time that it happened and for that I can thank God.
How can a person cope with the sudden, traumatic death of a loved one? The man who was killed had lived in Sao Miguel for 38 years and was well known in this area. His son, daughter in law and 7 year old grandson live in the house next to our church. I prayed that God would open the door so that I would have the opportunity to offer some love and support. My first few attempts bore no fruit but on Sunday I asked G to come with me and together we rang the bell. The son came to the gate and opened it to us and we talked together at the entrance to the house. He gladly received the card and plant that I offered to him on behalf of the church members and he said that he would give them to his mother who is 64 years old. As I struggled to speak in Portuguese he told me that he could speak some English and so the door was open for me to bring words of support and comfort to him.
We don't know why this tragedy has happened and why the man on the motorcycle would want to kill a 68 year old businessman but we do know that we do not want it to happen again. So, not only are we praying for the family who are bereaved, but we are also praying that God will bring peace and safety to this neighbourhood.
We had planned to visit some friends and have a meal together but I had felt very flu-ey since Thursday and by Saturday morning I just couldn't get out of bed. So, reluctantly P phoned and cancelled. I slept until 4:30pm and P and A went to the market. They were back by 5;00pm and I joined them to watch a DVD. I prayed that I would feel well enough on Sunday to go to church because I had lots of people to talk to and the new Bible Study groups were going to have their first session.
When I woke up on Sunday I still felt unwell but all the flu-ey symptoms had disappeared and I felt well enough to go to the hall. During the morning meeting the Sergeant Major spoke to me. He told me that on Saturday evening the father of the man who lives in the house next to the hall had been shot and killed on the Avenida. When I had the time I googled the news story to find out the details and it was true. The 68 year old business man had left his Auto Parts shop at 6:30pm on Saturday and got into his Corsa. As he drove up to the traffic lights a man on a motorbike stopped and shot at him through the glass of the back seat window. The shot killed him. This happened on the Avenida, very close to where we live. If we had visited our friends that day we would probably have been arriving home at that time.
I cannot say if God saved us from witnessing or being involved in this tragedy but I do know that because I was ill we were all safe in our apartment at the time that it happened and for that I can thank God.
How can a person cope with the sudden, traumatic death of a loved one? The man who was killed had lived in Sao Miguel for 38 years and was well known in this area. His son, daughter in law and 7 year old grandson live in the house next to our church. I prayed that God would open the door so that I would have the opportunity to offer some love and support. My first few attempts bore no fruit but on Sunday I asked G to come with me and together we rang the bell. The son came to the gate and opened it to us and we talked together at the entrance to the house. He gladly received the card and plant that I offered to him on behalf of the church members and he said that he would give them to his mother who is 64 years old. As I struggled to speak in Portuguese he told me that he could speak some English and so the door was open for me to bring words of support and comfort to him.
We don't know why this tragedy has happened and why the man on the motorcycle would want to kill a 68 year old businessman but we do know that we do not want it to happen again. So, not only are we praying for the family who are bereaved, but we are also praying that God will bring peace and safety to this neighbourhood.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Brazilian Beggars
Last Wednesday was a cold day in Sao Paulo so when I went to my portuguese class at Mackenzie University I wore the jacket that P gave me for my birthday last year. It made me a target for beggars who tend to ask the more smartly dressed pedestrians for money because they assume that they have more money than the less smartly dressed pedestrians.
As I walked back to the metro from the university I was stopped by a small, middle aged woman who told me a long story about her daughter who was sick. I explained that I couldn't understand everything she was saying because I only speak portuguese a little. She summed everything up for me in one English word, 'Money'.
In these circumstances I always follow the example of Peter in the New Testament and I said, 'I can't give you any money but I do have Jesus. Can I say a prayer for your daughter?' The woman walked away as soon as she realised that I wasn't going to give her any money but her son and daughter looked surprised and a little interested. The teenage girl was wearing a face mask and her brother explained that she had a problem with her stomach. I don't know if that was true but I said I would pray for them in the street if they were willing. So, as I was praying for the young girl her mother continued to beg from other passers by and her brother stood beside her in support. The young girl closed her eyes and I prayed a very simple prayer in my simple portuguese that God would heal her and that she would know the power of the Holy Spirit in her life. I left her with a hug and a promise to continue to pray for her which I did as I continued to walk down to the metro.
As I was praying I asked God if I had done the right thing and I received a challenge. I have prayed with alot of beggars in the past two years who, I suspect, humour me while I am praying in the hope that they will receive something at the end of the prayer. I felt God saying it is good to pray for people but instead of just witnessing to Jesus why not ask them to put their own faith in Jesus? What really brings life changing power into a person's life? It's when they themselves put their trust in Jesus, repent of their sin and accept His forgivenes and love. When they are fully given over to Him then He is able to work in their life in an amazing and powerful way. I can be absolutely sure of that because that is what Jesus has done for me.
As I walked back to the metro from the university I was stopped by a small, middle aged woman who told me a long story about her daughter who was sick. I explained that I couldn't understand everything she was saying because I only speak portuguese a little. She summed everything up for me in one English word, 'Money'.
In these circumstances I always follow the example of Peter in the New Testament and I said, 'I can't give you any money but I do have Jesus. Can I say a prayer for your daughter?' The woman walked away as soon as she realised that I wasn't going to give her any money but her son and daughter looked surprised and a little interested. The teenage girl was wearing a face mask and her brother explained that she had a problem with her stomach. I don't know if that was true but I said I would pray for them in the street if they were willing. So, as I was praying for the young girl her mother continued to beg from other passers by and her brother stood beside her in support. The young girl closed her eyes and I prayed a very simple prayer in my simple portuguese that God would heal her and that she would know the power of the Holy Spirit in her life. I left her with a hug and a promise to continue to pray for her which I did as I continued to walk down to the metro.
As I was praying I asked God if I had done the right thing and I received a challenge. I have prayed with alot of beggars in the past two years who, I suspect, humour me while I am praying in the hope that they will receive something at the end of the prayer. I felt God saying it is good to pray for people but instead of just witnessing to Jesus why not ask them to put their own faith in Jesus? What really brings life changing power into a person's life? It's when they themselves put their trust in Jesus, repent of their sin and accept His forgivenes and love. When they are fully given over to Him then He is able to work in their life in an amazing and powerful way. I can be absolutely sure of that because that is what Jesus has done for me.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Metro Rage! Part Two
In recent years I have come to realise that I need God to help me with the issue of anger.
It became even clearer to me on the day that a mob of Brazilians pushed their way into the train at Brás as I was attempting to get out of the train with a suitcase in one hand and the hand of my little boy in the other threatening to lose contact with him. I shouted, ´Stop!´several times in English before I realised that I would be more effective if I was shouting in portuguese! So, I began to shout, ´Pare´and eventually we were able to leave the train. But I had completely lost it and I felt a mascara smudge of emotion afterwards.
I think the Holy Spirit may have been doing some work in me because today I was back at Brás and I could see that there was a crowd ready to push their way onto the train as we slowed to a halt at the station platform. As the doors opened and the crowd surged forward with no consideration to the people in front of them trying to leave the train, I found myself saying, `Com Licença´(Excuse me). This lasted a few seconds until someone banged hard into my shoulder and I said, ´Come on, let´s show some manners people!´in my best English accent, not caring whether they understood or not.
I am not sure how close to holiness that is, but I did feel a little calmer and I only held the grudge against the person who banged into me until I reached the top of the escalator!
It became even clearer to me on the day that a mob of Brazilians pushed their way into the train at Brás as I was attempting to get out of the train with a suitcase in one hand and the hand of my little boy in the other threatening to lose contact with him. I shouted, ´Stop!´several times in English before I realised that I would be more effective if I was shouting in portuguese! So, I began to shout, ´Pare´and eventually we were able to leave the train. But I had completely lost it and I felt a mascara smudge of emotion afterwards.
I think the Holy Spirit may have been doing some work in me because today I was back at Brás and I could see that there was a crowd ready to push their way onto the train as we slowed to a halt at the station platform. As the doors opened and the crowd surged forward with no consideration to the people in front of them trying to leave the train, I found myself saying, `Com Licença´(Excuse me). This lasted a few seconds until someone banged hard into my shoulder and I said, ´Come on, let´s show some manners people!´in my best English accent, not caring whether they understood or not.
I am not sure how close to holiness that is, but I did feel a little calmer and I only held the grudge against the person who banged into me until I reached the top of the escalator!
Monday, April 4, 2011
Reaching out to the homeless
Every day we see homeless people on the streets of Sao Miguel and every day I remember that we are The Salvation Army so shouldn't we be doing something about it?
In the UK The Salvation Army has Lifehouse Centres which provide professional help and support for people who, through different life circumstances, find themselves homeless or suffering with an addiction to drugs or alcohol. Whilst working in the UK whenever I met someone with a need in this area it was a fairly easy task to link them up with the nearest Salvation Army Centre. It is different here.
In Brazil The Salvation Army has many social projects but they tend to work mainly with children and adolescents. This is also a great area of need in this country where the population has become accustomed to the fact that hundreds of children live on the streets and thousands upon thousands of them live in favelas (shanty towns). The Salvation Army here is doing a valiant work through education and child care to help improve the circumstances of these children. However, there is so much more that needs to be done and there are very few other organisations doing it.
So, when I meet a person who is homeless in Sao Miguel my first problem is that my portuguese is not good enough to have a conversation with them and my second problem is that I have nothing to offer them in terms of a solution. Having said that I cannot do nothing so I have been trying to reach out to the person under the blanket (see earlier blog) who seems to live on the streets around my own apartment block. My first attempt was useless. It was a hot, sunny day and I thought I would give her a drink. As I came closer I could see that the person is, in fact, a woman who may not be as old as she looks. I spoke what I hoped were words of kindness in portuguese and put a carton of juice into her hand. Her eyes were crusted over and when I saw that she couldn't see I tried to open the carton for her but this startled her and she ran away. I began to walk after her but as she settled down near a crowded bus stop I decided that I would not like to create a scene so I walked on. There have been two more occasions when I have been able to simply place a carton of juice or a bag of fruit in her hand saying, 'Hello, this is for you', and walked away. I hope that she will grow to recognise my voice and maybe one day we will be able to offer her more help.
We have a few people who come once a month to pick up a food parcel from the church building. They just want to take the food and go. We suspect they sell it, certainly J is using it to buy drugs, but if I can maintain this monthly contact with them maybe one day we will be able to offer them more help. At the very least we pray for them by name and I believe all prayer is powerful and effective.
For the past two weeks we have had some meals left over from Alpha and so P. along with Cadet G. has taken a bag of about 10 meals out onto the streets on a Sunday afternoon. It hasn't been difficult for them to find people who are hungry and living on the streets.
We have also started a Sunday Breakfast Club for children who come to Sunday School. A couple of months ago the Sunday School leaders told me that some of the new children were complaining of being hungry half way through Sunday School and they discovered that they had not yet eaten anything that day. So, they now provide bread and hot chocolate at 10am on a Sunday. Interestingly, the Sunday School has increased in number since we began doing this!!
So this is it so far. Compared to the organised and professional work that The Salvation Army is doing in the UK it is not really very much. However, we need to start somewhere and we are praying that God will guide us into a clear understanding of how we are to focus our mission in this area.
In the UK The Salvation Army has Lifehouse Centres which provide professional help and support for people who, through different life circumstances, find themselves homeless or suffering with an addiction to drugs or alcohol. Whilst working in the UK whenever I met someone with a need in this area it was a fairly easy task to link them up with the nearest Salvation Army Centre. It is different here.
In Brazil The Salvation Army has many social projects but they tend to work mainly with children and adolescents. This is also a great area of need in this country where the population has become accustomed to the fact that hundreds of children live on the streets and thousands upon thousands of them live in favelas (shanty towns). The Salvation Army here is doing a valiant work through education and child care to help improve the circumstances of these children. However, there is so much more that needs to be done and there are very few other organisations doing it.
So, when I meet a person who is homeless in Sao Miguel my first problem is that my portuguese is not good enough to have a conversation with them and my second problem is that I have nothing to offer them in terms of a solution. Having said that I cannot do nothing so I have been trying to reach out to the person under the blanket (see earlier blog) who seems to live on the streets around my own apartment block. My first attempt was useless. It was a hot, sunny day and I thought I would give her a drink. As I came closer I could see that the person is, in fact, a woman who may not be as old as she looks. I spoke what I hoped were words of kindness in portuguese and put a carton of juice into her hand. Her eyes were crusted over and when I saw that she couldn't see I tried to open the carton for her but this startled her and she ran away. I began to walk after her but as she settled down near a crowded bus stop I decided that I would not like to create a scene so I walked on. There have been two more occasions when I have been able to simply place a carton of juice or a bag of fruit in her hand saying, 'Hello, this is for you', and walked away. I hope that she will grow to recognise my voice and maybe one day we will be able to offer her more help.
We have a few people who come once a month to pick up a food parcel from the church building. They just want to take the food and go. We suspect they sell it, certainly J is using it to buy drugs, but if I can maintain this monthly contact with them maybe one day we will be able to offer them more help. At the very least we pray for them by name and I believe all prayer is powerful and effective.
For the past two weeks we have had some meals left over from Alpha and so P. along with Cadet G. has taken a bag of about 10 meals out onto the streets on a Sunday afternoon. It hasn't been difficult for them to find people who are hungry and living on the streets.
We have also started a Sunday Breakfast Club for children who come to Sunday School. A couple of months ago the Sunday School leaders told me that some of the new children were complaining of being hungry half way through Sunday School and they discovered that they had not yet eaten anything that day. So, they now provide bread and hot chocolate at 10am on a Sunday. Interestingly, the Sunday School has increased in number since we began doing this!!
So this is it so far. Compared to the organised and professional work that The Salvation Army is doing in the UK it is not really very much. However, we need to start somewhere and we are praying that God will guide us into a clear understanding of how we are to focus our mission in this area.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
The Red House
Last Tuesday evening I stood outside a brothel and cried. I don't know why I was crying and when I finished praying as I walked away the emotion left me. It was a red house that is situated in the same road as The Salvation Army hall. I have passed it many times in the last year and I have always thought it was a student house because I often saw young men going in and out of it.
It was my turn to prayer walk the area around the hall. During a holiness meeting when we were praying for our community G. had told me that there are 4 brothels in our area, so I asked her to go with me so that she could point them out to me.
She set off at a great pace and I worked hard to match her steps as we walked up the road from the hall and turned a corner into the road where she lives. G. stopped outside a lime green house which was just two buildings from where she lives and we prayed. This was the first brothel that we prayed for that night and as we prayed I looked at it. I realised that it was different from the other houses and buildings because instead of a high wall and gates it had a low iron fence in front of it and the windows were completely blacked out. As we walked away two women left the house. Just a couple of minutes later we stopped outside another lime green house and prayed. This time there was a man standing guard at the door. I prayed that he wouldn't see that there were two women praying on the other side of the road and he didn't appear to notice us at all. When we had finished praying, we continued walking up to the hospital, and the man went inside the house. We prayed for the hospital and other buildings as we continued on our way. Once we were outside the hospital we had walked a full circle and were once again in the road where the hall is situated. As we approached the red house, G pointed out that a young man had got out of a car that he had parked in front of the house and when we stopped outside the house the man was waiting at the door. As we prayed, another man left the house and walked up the road looking back towards the house as he walked. From where G lives she can see this house and told me that some days she can see up to 40 men walking through it's front door.
We returned to the hall a few minutes after the prayer meeting had ended and there was no time to pray for the 4th brothel.
Our group of prayer walkers is growing and in a few weeks time we will have a meeting to share our experiences. I do not know what kind of work God has planned for us to do here but we will continue to pray on the streets of this area and ask God to open doors of opportunity.
It was my turn to prayer walk the area around the hall. During a holiness meeting when we were praying for our community G. had told me that there are 4 brothels in our area, so I asked her to go with me so that she could point them out to me.
She set off at a great pace and I worked hard to match her steps as we walked up the road from the hall and turned a corner into the road where she lives. G. stopped outside a lime green house which was just two buildings from where she lives and we prayed. This was the first brothel that we prayed for that night and as we prayed I looked at it. I realised that it was different from the other houses and buildings because instead of a high wall and gates it had a low iron fence in front of it and the windows were completely blacked out. As we walked away two women left the house. Just a couple of minutes later we stopped outside another lime green house and prayed. This time there was a man standing guard at the door. I prayed that he wouldn't see that there were two women praying on the other side of the road and he didn't appear to notice us at all. When we had finished praying, we continued walking up to the hospital, and the man went inside the house. We prayed for the hospital and other buildings as we continued on our way. Once we were outside the hospital we had walked a full circle and were once again in the road where the hall is situated. As we approached the red house, G pointed out that a young man had got out of a car that he had parked in front of the house and when we stopped outside the house the man was waiting at the door. As we prayed, another man left the house and walked up the road looking back towards the house as he walked. From where G lives she can see this house and told me that some days she can see up to 40 men walking through it's front door.
We returned to the hall a few minutes after the prayer meeting had ended and there was no time to pray for the 4th brothel.
Our group of prayer walkers is growing and in a few weeks time we will have a meeting to share our experiences. I do not know what kind of work God has planned for us to do here but we will continue to pray on the streets of this area and ask God to open doors of opportunity.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Metro Rage!
I have never experienced road rage, either from me or directed towards me, or any other kind of 'rage' that we use to describe losing our temper with a complete stranger. Until now that is - now I have experienced metro rage.
The city of Sao Paulo has a wonderful metro system with lines going in all directions around the city. I can board a train in Sao Miguel Paulista and change from the train line onto the metro line at Bras or Tatuape and then travel to any part of the city by metro. Many lines converge at the stations of Se and Bras so there are certain times in the day when these stations are extremely busy. I have to travel on the metro twice a week in order to attend my portuguese language class.
Last week I was travelling home from my class a little later than usual as I had stayed to have a chat in the student cafe with two members of the class. So, when I got on the tube it was already crowded which meant that I couldn't walk further down into the carriage - I had to stay standing near the doors. When we stopped at Se the doors opened and, ignoring the fact that the carriage was already full, a great crowd of people surged onto the train in one mad push. Unfortunately, as they pushed me forwards, my rucksack, which was hanging over my right shoulder, got caught between two people who were getting off the train through the doors on the other side of the carriage. I felt like I was going to be carried off the train so I let out a little yelp, grabbed hold of a pole and tried to pull my rucksack back towards me. I think the people must have realised what was happening because I was able to retrieve my rucksack. However, at the same time as this was happening, the crowd behind me were continuing to push and I found myself pinned with my face against the pole that I had grabbed hold of. My back began to hurt and so I shrieked! I managed to turn myself around and face the people who were pushing me. 'Calma! Calma! I shouted and came face to face with three quite small looking women. One of the ladies immediately started justifying herself in portuguese. I gathered that she was blaming the people behind her for pushing her onto the train. I wasn't terribly understanding of her situation.
This is not an unusual occurance during the rush hour in Sao Paulo. I prefer to change trains at Tatuape where the people are a little more gracious and sensible. Last Monday I let 6 trains go by without getting on because they were just too full. However, I took a photo of three men who pushed and squeezed their way onto one train and watched as the third man's leg finally disappeared into the train as the doors closed (see photo on sidebar).
Bras is at the end of the line so when the train arrives it is always empty. For those who are determined to get a seat, they push anyone who gets in their way and throw themselves at a seat almost throwing a triumphant arm in the air. I have seen frail old men and ladies discover new strength as they charge towards the seats using elbows and sticks to make sure they get a seat on the train. I have never seen anything like it before!!
Well, this posting is probably more therapy than blog. Thank you for listening - it's been a great help to me to share with you my first experience of metro rage.
The city of Sao Paulo has a wonderful metro system with lines going in all directions around the city. I can board a train in Sao Miguel Paulista and change from the train line onto the metro line at Bras or Tatuape and then travel to any part of the city by metro. Many lines converge at the stations of Se and Bras so there are certain times in the day when these stations are extremely busy. I have to travel on the metro twice a week in order to attend my portuguese language class.
Last week I was travelling home from my class a little later than usual as I had stayed to have a chat in the student cafe with two members of the class. So, when I got on the tube it was already crowded which meant that I couldn't walk further down into the carriage - I had to stay standing near the doors. When we stopped at Se the doors opened and, ignoring the fact that the carriage was already full, a great crowd of people surged onto the train in one mad push. Unfortunately, as they pushed me forwards, my rucksack, which was hanging over my right shoulder, got caught between two people who were getting off the train through the doors on the other side of the carriage. I felt like I was going to be carried off the train so I let out a little yelp, grabbed hold of a pole and tried to pull my rucksack back towards me. I think the people must have realised what was happening because I was able to retrieve my rucksack. However, at the same time as this was happening, the crowd behind me were continuing to push and I found myself pinned with my face against the pole that I had grabbed hold of. My back began to hurt and so I shrieked! I managed to turn myself around and face the people who were pushing me. 'Calma! Calma! I shouted and came face to face with three quite small looking women. One of the ladies immediately started justifying herself in portuguese. I gathered that she was blaming the people behind her for pushing her onto the train. I wasn't terribly understanding of her situation.
This is not an unusual occurance during the rush hour in Sao Paulo. I prefer to change trains at Tatuape where the people are a little more gracious and sensible. Last Monday I let 6 trains go by without getting on because they were just too full. However, I took a photo of three men who pushed and squeezed their way onto one train and watched as the third man's leg finally disappeared into the train as the doors closed (see photo on sidebar).
Bras is at the end of the line so when the train arrives it is always empty. For those who are determined to get a seat, they push anyone who gets in their way and throw themselves at a seat almost throwing a triumphant arm in the air. I have seen frail old men and ladies discover new strength as they charge towards the seats using elbows and sticks to make sure they get a seat on the train. I have never seen anything like it before!!
Well, this posting is probably more therapy than blog. Thank you for listening - it's been a great help to me to share with you my first experience of metro rage.
Friday, September 17, 2010
The Fainting Lady
So, we had just started the prayer walking and the hall had been full of young people pledging to be salt and light in the world the night before The Fainting Lady came to our church. A couple of weeks ago, after the Sunday morning meeting had finished, the Corps folk gathered to chat in the courtyard outside the front doors which were flung wide open as always. A lady caught my attention as she stumbled slowly around a car parked in front of the hall holding onto it as if it was the only thing holding her upright. She walked through the front gates of the church into the courtyard and then collapsed behind a group of chatting Salvationists.
Immediately, P, who is a nurse, bent down and took her pulse and then phoned for an ambulance that never came. I went into the hall to tell my husband, P. what had happened but he was praying with a member of our church who is undergoing treatment for cancer. I returned to the scene and saw that although she was still lying on the ground I could see that the Lady who had fainted was breathing. Members of the church were standing in a row to protect her from the sun. Having finished his prayer, P. came to see what was happening and the Lady began to move her hand and open her eyes. P. bent down and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. 'Are you ok? Do you need some help?' he said. With wild staring eyes she suddenly raised her arm to hit him. He quickly stepped back and she waved her arm in front of her eyes as if to swat away a fly. It looked like she was hallucinating, and to me, it was beginning to look like she had taken some kind of drug.
The Lady stood up and began to square up to P. and we could see that she was almost as tall as him. P. used all his conflict management skills to calm her down but any kind of movement set her arms waving around. We took the children inside the hall for Sunday School and a small group of church members remained with P. as he began to talk to the Lady along with our visitor from THQ.
Whilst in the hall I took a look to see if anything had changed outside. I felt a strong urge to pray into the situation and so I went outside again but unfortunately, my little boy, A. wanted to come with me. P. was talking to the Lady on the pavement outside the church grounds and she had her back to me. So, I stood behind her and prayed a binding prayer in the name of Jesus. Unfortunately, out of habit, I raised my arm to pray and the Lady caught sight of the movement of my arm out of the corner of her eye as I brought it down by my side. She turned round and hit my arm, not at all hard, but I left the scene again carrying A. with me and P. continued to calm her down.
The children went to their Sunday School classes and so I went outside again and was very pleased to see that everything had now calmed down. The crowd had dispersed and P. was talking to the Lady a little further away from the church building with the help of G. who was translating for him. Afterwards P told me that once she calmed down he was able to have a proper conversation with her and discovering she was homeless he offered her food and clothing.
How can I explain the events of that morning and how did the situation get resolved? Were our prayers effective, did the drugs wear off or were P's conflict management skills effective in this situation? I will probably never know but there is one thing that I have learned - don't raise your arm when you are praying for a Lady who is behaving in an unpredictable way.
Immediately, P, who is a nurse, bent down and took her pulse and then phoned for an ambulance that never came. I went into the hall to tell my husband, P. what had happened but he was praying with a member of our church who is undergoing treatment for cancer. I returned to the scene and saw that although she was still lying on the ground I could see that the Lady who had fainted was breathing. Members of the church were standing in a row to protect her from the sun. Having finished his prayer, P. came to see what was happening and the Lady began to move her hand and open her eyes. P. bent down and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. 'Are you ok? Do you need some help?' he said. With wild staring eyes she suddenly raised her arm to hit him. He quickly stepped back and she waved her arm in front of her eyes as if to swat away a fly. It looked like she was hallucinating, and to me, it was beginning to look like she had taken some kind of drug.
The Lady stood up and began to square up to P. and we could see that she was almost as tall as him. P. used all his conflict management skills to calm her down but any kind of movement set her arms waving around. We took the children inside the hall for Sunday School and a small group of church members remained with P. as he began to talk to the Lady along with our visitor from THQ.
Whilst in the hall I took a look to see if anything had changed outside. I felt a strong urge to pray into the situation and so I went outside again but unfortunately, my little boy, A. wanted to come with me. P. was talking to the Lady on the pavement outside the church grounds and she had her back to me. So, I stood behind her and prayed a binding prayer in the name of Jesus. Unfortunately, out of habit, I raised my arm to pray and the Lady caught sight of the movement of my arm out of the corner of her eye as I brought it down by my side. She turned round and hit my arm, not at all hard, but I left the scene again carrying A. with me and P. continued to calm her down.
The children went to their Sunday School classes and so I went outside again and was very pleased to see that everything had now calmed down. The crowd had dispersed and P. was talking to the Lady a little further away from the church building with the help of G. who was translating for him. Afterwards P told me that once she calmed down he was able to have a proper conversation with her and discovering she was homeless he offered her food and clothing.
How can I explain the events of that morning and how did the situation get resolved? Were our prayers effective, did the drugs wear off or were P's conflict management skills effective in this situation? I will probably never know but there is one thing that I have learned - don't raise your arm when you are praying for a Lady who is behaving in an unpredictable way.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Getting out there.
P and I have been working in Sao Miguel for just over a year now. We have spent the past year getting to know the people, the area, the language and the culture. The needs in this area are so vast it is difficult to know where to begin or what to do, so our hope for this next year is that, as a congregation, we will discover together God's vision for our church.
On Saturday 21st August a group of 10 members of our church met together with Major Joan Burton (Territorial Projects Co-ordinator) to discuss how we can engage effectively with our community. Our action plan at the end of the day was to, 'look for open doors by prayer walking the area around the hall'. We were inspired by the testimony of Major Estelle Blake (Kings Cross, London) who prayer walked her area and after many months she was able to extend her ministry as new doors opened up to her.
So now, every Tuesday evening, while our regular prayer meeting is taking place between 8 - 9pm , two people go out and prayer walk the immediate area surrounding the church building. Tonight will be our third night out and I am looking forward to it. Our eyes are being opened to what is happening in our local area and we have had many opportunities to pray into different situations. On one evening we passed a long bus that had a window smashed in. The driver and conductor were filling in accident report forms and my prayer partner, N, spoke to them both and prayed for protection and blessing for them and the bus in the future.
There is a hospital with an emergency department at the top of the road where our church is located and this is often a focus of our prayers. We pray that God will guide us and give us wisdom as we get out there and look for ways to engage with the needs of our community.
On Saturday 21st August a group of 10 members of our church met together with Major Joan Burton (Territorial Projects Co-ordinator) to discuss how we can engage effectively with our community. Our action plan at the end of the day was to, 'look for open doors by prayer walking the area around the hall'. We were inspired by the testimony of Major Estelle Blake (Kings Cross, London) who prayer walked her area and after many months she was able to extend her ministry as new doors opened up to her.
So now, every Tuesday evening, while our regular prayer meeting is taking place between 8 - 9pm , two people go out and prayer walk the immediate area surrounding the church building. Tonight will be our third night out and I am looking forward to it. Our eyes are being opened to what is happening in our local area and we have had many opportunities to pray into different situations. On one evening we passed a long bus that had a window smashed in. The driver and conductor were filling in accident report forms and my prayer partner, N, spoke to them both and prayed for protection and blessing for them and the bus in the future.
There is a hospital with an emergency department at the top of the road where our church is located and this is often a focus of our prayers. We pray that God will guide us and give us wisdom as we get out there and look for ways to engage with the needs of our community.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
A walk down the Avenida
I can hear my footsteps echoing down the nine flights of stairs as I descend from my apartment on the third floor. I walk out of the front door, turn right and walk down the alley past the large exotic plants in the oversized plastic containers welcoming me to the outside world. My key turns with a click in the lock of the towering, metal gate and as I push it outwards my senses are assaulted by the sights and sounds of the Avenida.
The sun shines brightly and I feel the heat on my face. Loud distorted voices announce special offers from loud speakers attached to the top of moving cars, onibus after onibus rattles by pumping thick smoke into the air and I feel the familiar sensation of pollution settling down into the back of my throat. I move from side to side avoiding pedestrians who either do not see me or do not care whether they bump into me or not; they walk at a different pace and a different rhythm to me. Music thumps out of a furniture shop and I can smell sweetcorn and hot dogs mingled with a hint of alcohol from petrol pumping traffic.
And then there is another smell; it is out of place. Amidst the smell of pollution and food stalls the smell of urine is unmistakeable and shocking because it shouldn't be here, on the Avenida. Instinctively, I look for the source of this smell and almost 5o yards along the road I see a dirty, crumpled blanket huddled in a broken down doorway and underneath.....there is a human being, a child of God. I look closer and I see a face but I cannot tell if it is a man or a woman and I am not sure if they are young or old. Poverty has taken away the luxury of identity and they have been reduced to a crumpled blanket in a doorway. This person pulls the blanket over them as if to make themselves more invisible to the crowds who show no interest in them at all.
The Avenida continues to clatter and clang as I walk past but I do not hear it. I am unaware of the pollution in the back of my throat and I no longer hear the men shouting their adverts from the tops of cars as they chug by. What story does this person have to tell? Did they once run and jump as a little child. Did they have hopes and dreams, a favourite food, a best friend, a Mum or a Dad who loved them? I think of Jesus and I wonder where He is in this person's life and then I am reminded that I am part of the body of Christ and this is where God has sent me. I cannot speak the language well enough to approach this person without causing them some concern. I have nothing with me that I can offer as a gift. I say a prayer. What can I do Lord? Show me how I can help? Not just this person, but all the people I see, each day, living in poverty, living without the basic human needs that we take for granted in the western world.
My key turns in the lock of the metal gate. It shuts with a bang and I am now on the other side. It is quieter here but that crumpled blanket continues to invade my senses and disturb my heart as I climb the nine flights of stairs back to my apartment.
The sun shines brightly and I feel the heat on my face. Loud distorted voices announce special offers from loud speakers attached to the top of moving cars, onibus after onibus rattles by pumping thick smoke into the air and I feel the familiar sensation of pollution settling down into the back of my throat. I move from side to side avoiding pedestrians who either do not see me or do not care whether they bump into me or not; they walk at a different pace and a different rhythm to me. Music thumps out of a furniture shop and I can smell sweetcorn and hot dogs mingled with a hint of alcohol from petrol pumping traffic.
And then there is another smell; it is out of place. Amidst the smell of pollution and food stalls the smell of urine is unmistakeable and shocking because it shouldn't be here, on the Avenida. Instinctively, I look for the source of this smell and almost 5o yards along the road I see a dirty, crumpled blanket huddled in a broken down doorway and underneath.....there is a human being, a child of God. I look closer and I see a face but I cannot tell if it is a man or a woman and I am not sure if they are young or old. Poverty has taken away the luxury of identity and they have been reduced to a crumpled blanket in a doorway. This person pulls the blanket over them as if to make themselves more invisible to the crowds who show no interest in them at all.
The Avenida continues to clatter and clang as I walk past but I do not hear it. I am unaware of the pollution in the back of my throat and I no longer hear the men shouting their adverts from the tops of cars as they chug by. What story does this person have to tell? Did they once run and jump as a little child. Did they have hopes and dreams, a favourite food, a best friend, a Mum or a Dad who loved them? I think of Jesus and I wonder where He is in this person's life and then I am reminded that I am part of the body of Christ and this is where God has sent me. I cannot speak the language well enough to approach this person without causing them some concern. I have nothing with me that I can offer as a gift. I say a prayer. What can I do Lord? Show me how I can help? Not just this person, but all the people I see, each day, living in poverty, living without the basic human needs that we take for granted in the western world.
My key turns in the lock of the metal gate. It shuts with a bang and I am now on the other side. It is quieter here but that crumpled blanket continues to invade my senses and disturb my heart as I climb the nine flights of stairs back to my apartment.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Learning portuguese...
A little bit of the language is a dangerous thing....! On Thursday (8th July) P came back from the office at lunch-time and announced that the house next door to The Salvation Army hall was up for sale. I was so excited - every time I walk past that house I pray that we will be able to buy it one day (I also pray for the land behind the hall as well). I went round to the house in the afternoon and got a telephone number. One of our soldiers phoned the owner on Friday and sent a disappointing e-mail to us. Apparently, we had completely misunderstood the sign - they are selling a mobile home and not their house. This isn't the first time we have got things wrong.
On 26th June we were invited to a wedding. It was a lovely way to spend our own 11th wedding anniversary. After the service we spoke to the father of the groom. I said to P wouldn't it be good if we could say something like, 'You must be so proud of your son'. We try to keep conversation simple as we are not at all fluent in portuguese yet. P was confident he knew the word for 'proud' so he spoke to the father of the groom who gave him a strange look and said, 'No' in a kind of embarrassed manner. Fortunately, P realised that he had got his words muddled up and correcting his portuguese spoke again to the father of the groom who then looked very pleased and agreed wholeheartedly. I am so relieved P was able to correct his mistake because he had originally said, 'You must be very ashamed of your son' - which would explain the rather gracious but embarrassed response.
This week we have applied to start a portuguese language course in Sao Paulo.
On 26th June we were invited to a wedding. It was a lovely way to spend our own 11th wedding anniversary. After the service we spoke to the father of the groom. I said to P wouldn't it be good if we could say something like, 'You must be so proud of your son'. We try to keep conversation simple as we are not at all fluent in portuguese yet. P was confident he knew the word for 'proud' so he spoke to the father of the groom who gave him a strange look and said, 'No' in a kind of embarrassed manner. Fortunately, P realised that he had got his words muddled up and correcting his portuguese spoke again to the father of the groom who then looked very pleased and agreed wholeheartedly. I am so relieved P was able to correct his mistake because he had originally said, 'You must be very ashamed of your son' - which would explain the rather gracious but embarrassed response.
This week we have applied to start a portuguese language course in Sao Paulo.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
