Açai

In our yard we have Açai trees (ah-SAH-ee). Açai is a fruit that the locals love to drink and love to tell you how good it is (we still aren’t convinced). So we would probably not bother picking it except for Açai’s other quality, you can make beads from the seeds.

Brin wanted Açai beads, and not just any beads, but from our tree, so I called a Brasilian friend over to show us how to pick them. The fruit looks deceivingly like blueberries, but taste nothing like them. It is mostly seed, only the thin outer layer has any usable pulp, so it takes a few bushels to make any significant amount of juice.

You may have heard of Açai, we hear it is a bit of a trendy fruit right now because it is high in antioxidants. In this earlier blog you can see pictures of what it looks like when you drink it.

I’m still trying to figure out how to get the seeds extracted from the fruit. Another friend is supposed to come over and show us how. I’m not sure what Brin plans to make with her beads, but this better be good.

(If you're a fruity person and want to read about another interesting Brasilian fruit, click here)

Dances, Ugly Boys and Pepsi

Our social calendar was busy this weekend. Friday night saw us with dinner guests and then later at our church's "Conferencia da Dançar", which translates literally to "dance conference," but it's more like a dance show. I had helped with some of the tech. aspects of the event so I knew it was going to be an impressive affair. It's a huge outreach and they go all-out for this semi-annual event. Even the news cameras were there (which begs the question, "Is there really nothing else in Altamira to report?")


We were busy all day Saturday with people coming and going, including an "Adventure Club" that brought 15 youth to our house so they could chat with Americans. They wanted to see authentic dollar bill. Later that night we took some Brazilian friends out to a local restaurant. Something they probably very rarely do. They know us well enough to speak slowly and help us understand the words we don't know. The conversation was relaxed enough to even be enjoyable. Except for when I asked their two boys which one was older (mais velho) and they understood it as which was uglier (mais feio). I must be improving because now I'm just being misunderstood, instead of actually saying the wrong word (although I still do that plenty, as well).

Sunday night we were invited to a birthday party for one of Brin's English students. We were out-numbered by 4 Brazilian families. Much of the conversation moved too fast for us to follow. One of them told of a Pepsi advertisement they had seen on the internet. The story was about a boy using Coke cans to stand on so he would be tall enough to reach the Pepsi button on a soda machine. They all got a laugh at it. Brin and I were more amused at the fact that probably none of them have ever actually seen a soda machine in real life.

The Least of These

I was reading the other day in Galatians and something struck me for the first time. In chapter 2 Paul is defending his calling as an apostle. He talks about how he went to Jerusalem and met with the disciples Peter, James and John. At that time the disciples were still focusing on spreading the Gospel to the Jews, and here comes Paul who is preaching to the Gentiles. After talking to him, they decide Paul is legitimate, and they essentially give him their blessing.

Here is where something hit me. Verse 9 and 10:

“They agreed that we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the Jews. All they asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do.”

Here were the disciples, who had lived with Jesus for 3 years, watching him and listening to his teaching. After talking to Paul they were convinced he was preaching the same Gospel. The thing that concerned them was not some doctrinal point or some issue that they wanted Paul to adhere to. Rather they said only this: remember the poor. The poor?!? What about eternal security? What about works? What about church discipline? To the guys that hung out with Jesus, the defining characteristic of a Christian was how they treated the poor.

To see this spelled out so clearly by the early church leaders has served to confirm some things that have impressed me over the past year. For the first time in my life I live in plain view of poverty. I can’t avoid the brokenness and helplessness and I’m forced to find a place for it in my theology. I don’t have all the answers. I do know, for some reason, this is very important to God. His heart is broken when he sees someone exploited and oppressed by society.

What responsibility do I have in reaching out to these? Can I go on ignoring a problem I know exists, but often seems so distant? Why are Christians more known for their stance against welfare than being actually concerned for the welfare of others? What must I do to distance myself from this label?

The questions remain, but I've been put into a position that I can no longer ignore those questions.

-JTP

so long, farewell

The Simon family left yesterday, the beginning of 3 months of furlough. If their family is going to be in your neighborhood consider inviting them over for a meal. Or you could give Suzanne a Target gift card (so she can experience what I am always pining for), or volunteer to take the kids out for an evening at ChuckECheese (so Caleb can experience what Ava is always raving about). Or grab them for a chat because they have plenty of stories. If you want to keep up with them check out their blog here.

Open Hands

We took the above picture because Brin wanted to document a couple things. The rashes, 3 different kinds, on her arms and hands is just the latest of many skin ailments she has had since our arrival here. But this picture is more about remembering where Brin is in her spirit. Isaiah 42:3 reads, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice.” In many ways Brin has felt lately like a bruised reed (a picture comes to mind of a broken reed, doubled over but still alive) or a smoldering wick. John of the Cross wrote about “a dark night of the soul”, a time when a person loses “all the pleasure that they once experienced in their devotional life. This happens because God wants to purify them and move them on to greater heights”.

Identifying what you’re experiencing and then being able to move past it are two different things. Maybe you have had such times in your life; you are tired, lacking passion and motivation for life, struggling with anxiety that won’t loosen its grip. So we do what we are supposed to do: read the Bible and claiming the peace and joy promised us, share our struggles with others asking them to lift us up before our Father. But nothing seems to work. The feelings and emotions, or “pleasures of our devotional life” as John of the Cross puts it, don’t follow. We are left with the same ugly thoughts and problems.

Yesterday I had an especially vivid prayer time for Brin, asking that God would be glorified in what she was going through. And I’m beginning to see that happen and have hopes that in sharing our struggles with you God will be glorified all the more.

In the days since we took the picture Brin has continued to struggle. The rash is gone, but her “dark night” is not. We have, however, experienced some victories. The Word has begun to speak to her once again. Yesterday, a package arrived from a friend back home, it included a bible study for Brin, including DVDs with teaching. Brin was so excited to get it and the topic, living in the Spirit, was just what she needed. This morning she read me a verse that spoke to her from the study:

“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.”

2 Cor. 1:8,9

“But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God”. In that phrase there is hope for Brin. A purpose for suffering makes the suffering more bearable. Giving glory to God is essentially saying, “look what God is doing”. Sometimes that glory puts us in a place we want to be, sometimes it doesn’t. Regardless of where we are, God wants us to know He has us there for a reason. And that is good enough for us to open our hands to him and say, I trust you.

Time Away

We arrived back from our trip to Santarem. The break was good, but now we find ourselves trying to figure out how to live out some of the changes that we know we need to make in our lives here. In the meantime, a few things about our trip…

…Our meeting with the Federal Police regarding our visa renewal seemed to go well. We are still waiting on one document from the U.S., and they may ask for more at anytime. The important step of getting your application in on time seems to be behind us. We were also blessed to have Don Best, a missionary from PAZ who helped us with some of the driving around and translating that we needed.

…On our first night away Brin noticed a book in the guesthouse where we were staying. The title caught her attention and after she read the page it was opened to she was hooked. The book “God is Not in a Hurry” was just what she needed. It seems a previous guest had left the book for someone else to read. I think God knew Brin was coming and needed that book.

…Our time at a house that some PAZ missionaries own in a resort town was a pleasant surprise. The rustic, small house was nothing to get excited about, but the privacy was just what we needed.

… After 3 nights at the beach we returned to Santarem for a couple nights at a hotel. We happened to choose a hotel that was hosting the “Topajós Top Model” competition. They were practicing strutting their stuff while we swam at the pool one afternoon. Later that night Ava was imitating them while posing for a picture (see the results below). If a modeling competition sounds glamorous, it wasn’t. About all we experienced was the loud music thumping into our room until about 3 am.

…One night we ventured into a cemetery that had candles burning around a gravesite. After talking about death for all of a minute and a half Mia was ready to go. As we passed an old lady on the street afterward, Ava asked if she was the dead lady (referring to the gravesite we had just seen). Sometimes it’s nice that we can talk without the people around us knowing what we are saying.

Growing Pains

I like this tree. There are a lot like it here in Brazil. The cleared ranch land that surrounds it today was most likely very different when it was growing to that height. Like most trees in the jungle, it probably spent most of it's early life striving to reach the distant heights of the canopy, where it could get sunlight. So much of it's focus was upwards that it spent no energy putting out lateral limbs. No telling what forces caused that bend towards the top. Whatever it was it must have seemed overwhelming at the time.

Our family is in the midst of a difficult time. Brin especially has had some difficult days. It's hard to identify any one cause, but the result has been almost overwhelming. We leave in a few days to renew our visas in Santarem. I'm hoping it will be the break we need and will return with new life. Please pray for us over the next few days.

Fun with Grandma and Company

For the last week or so we've been entertaining Diane and Tara (Brin's mom and sister) and Emily (a friend of Josh's family). We've been showing them all the sights of Altamira as well as giving them a little picture of what our lives are like here. They leave tomorrow and we will be sad to see them go.

A True Jungle Missionary

Naldo piloting the motorboat up a jungle creek at dusk.

Brin and Emily jumping from the Maranata II


We've had a busy couple of weeks. On the heals of our trip to Maribel we left for a short trip on the river. We did have one day rest before leaving again, but we also picked up some more guests (Brin's mom, sister and a friend, Emily).

This river trip was unique in that we traveled in a small boat up a creek for about 30 minutes to the village. As we left it was just getting dark, on the return trip it was pitch dark, except for the stars that we occasionally glimpsed through the jungle canopy. Upon getting home, Brin and I commented on how much the trips had taken out of us. Then we realized that Pastor Naldo had gone on both trips as well. The difference was that along the way he took time to minister to countless people. Not only does he seem at home on the river (after all, he was born on the river and raised "drinking milk out of a turtle shell" as Pastor Clenildo jokes) but he also has a natural ability (and desire) to connect with the people.

It's easy to forget that people like Naldo have lives outside of the work here. Fortunately his wife was able to go along with us on the river trip. Even as I write this Naldo is probably planning his next trip to a remote village. We are privileged to be working alongside men like Naldo whose passion reminds us why we are here.


To learn more about Pastor Naldo read this post from back in April .

Bem Vindos

Can I even tell you how excited I am?! My mom is here along with my sister, Tara! Along with them came Emily who lives with Tom and Connie in St. Louis. Josh is really outnumbered but I am going to have a ton of fun. We headed off to the river right away so more stories to come soon.

btw: the girl in the picture with the blue shirt is Meredith Kubacki who came along to the airport for the ride.

New Creations

One of the communities we visited

Brin and I are back from an evangelism trip into the interior to a location named Maribel. Maribel is our farthest work. It takes 3 days by boat in the rainy season, and about 8-10 hours in a vehicle. Because of the remoteness we expected to see lots of wildlife, and we weren’t disappointed. Among other things, we saw (and/or tasted) paca (a large rodent, the size of a small pig), a snake, a jaguar, a jungle cat (smaller than a Jaguar), and Brin and some girls on a team saw a crocodile while bathing in the river. It was dark and they were stark naked, Brin adds. In nearly every village we visited we saw a flock of butterflies at the beach.

It would be a stretch to call the communities that we visited “villages”. Most were just a few houses at most, separated by vast jungle and river. We visited 4 such locations, in each place we were warmly received. We held services in the evening and Tim saw people with health problems each morning.

An evening program

Pastor Naldo prays with some of the locals

Pastor Clenildo, from our church in Altamira, tries to bring a group at least 3 times a year to this area, providing discipleship to the believers and always leading more people to the Lord. We saw several people make commitments to the Lord. Pastor Clenildo is such an effective evangelist and pastor. It seems natural to him to visit a family, trade hunting or fishing stories, tell jokes, but always challenging and encouraging them from the Bible.

So many faces stand out to me as I think back over our trip. Each of them telling a story about a hard life lived in isolation and separation from the rest of the world. As I watched Clenildo teaching about the parable of the wise builder and the foolish builder I was reminded of the seemingly impossible task of discipling people so remote. Clenildo seems unaffected by those doubts and concerns. He takes every opportunity to encourage them, fully expecting the result to be changed lives. Here is one example of the challenges before him; I walked up to him once finding him writing out the alphabet and the sounds each letter makes. After a moment, I realized he was giving a discipleship booklet entitled “New Creation” to a man that could not read. I was witnessing an ad hoc literacy class.

Pastor Clenildo disciples (and teaches literacy)

During one of the services, Orlando, a man who came with us on the trip got up and gave a testimony. Orlando married Teresa, a woman who grew up in this region, and years ago they were living on a ranch near Altamira when Clenildo lead them to Christ. It is because of Orlando and Teresa that Clenildo now works in the Maribel region. When Orlando, a rough looking middle-aged rancher, began to share with the group, I knew he was speaking from his heart. It was apparent that he was not comfortable with public speaking. He went on to share about how Clenildo told he and his wife about Jesus, how they struggled to give their lives to Him, and now make frequent trips back to this area because we wants others to experience the same hope that he has.

Orlando

Although I didn’t understand everything he said, I understood his heart. I saw in him a new creation. I didn’t know him before he knew Christ, but now he is gentle, kind man with a body that hints at the hard life he has lived. It was then that I realized that discipleship in this context is possible, that new creations can result from this difficult work.

I was reminded again of the butterflies we had seen earlier. Metamorphosis is a marvel of God’s creation and a metaphor for what happens when a life encounters Christ. That miracle is not dependant on sophisticated methods or access to the most modern spiritual training. In the end it’s still a miracle. Something simple becoming something new and beautiful. -JTP

Nikki and Brin inspecting the butterflies

Cleide's Big Day

Mia presenting Cleide with a frosting kiss

Cleide jumping on the Bergen's homemade trampoline

Vatapa and Rice, a traditional Brazilian birthday dish that we served

We hosted our first brazilian 15th birthday party. Brin spent most of the day in the kitchen with 3 or 4 brazilian ladies cooking and conversing in broken portuguese. She spent most of today recuperating from the ordeal. Cleide, the birthday girl, was surprised and I think a bit overwhelmed. We were happy to host the party, knowing that her mother would not be able to give her a proper party. I'm glad our girls are still several years from that all important age of 15.

To tell you a little about Cleide.... she lives with her mom, who is on disability. The check from the government is too little for her to live on and often late. Cleide helps watch our two youngest in the mornings (much of what she makes helping us goes to support her and her mom). But more than that she has become part of our family. She is one of the few Brazilians in Altamira who speaks English almost fluently. She has picked up English mainly from being around missionary kids and their families. We know God will use Cleide in the future. She is already learning to play the guitar (in the hopes of playing in the worship band) and she has just recently begun to help with translating. Probably within the next few years she will be helping with teaching English at the English school.

This morning when Cleide arrived at our house she was still beaming. I often see young girls like Cleide that probably have very few people in their lives that show them Godly love. Someday Cleide may have a role in talking to some of those young girls about the love that she has experienced in her life, and pointing them to their loving, heavenly Father.

On the subject of language learning…

The other day our neighbor came over to borrow something from our shed. Because she has been around North Americans so long she has picked up a few English words. She knew that my Portuguese is in progress so she thought it would be helpful to ask her question by throwing in the one English word she knew. Which was “key”. She wanted to know where to put the keys when she was done. I got the Portuguese just fine, however it was the new word “keehs” that threw me off. I realized it would have been much easier for me had she just spoken completely in Portuguese than try to decipher her strongly accented English word. And then, oops, I realized I do that same thing all the time in my English class. I sometimes will be explaining a topic or grammar rule and will switch back and forth between the two languages. And I seriously doubt that after only 10 months here my accent is any more pleasing than my neighbors. O well.

My last English class was somewhat stressful because I had to teach a verb tense I had not yet learned in Portuguese. I think they got it. I often assume that and then their tests prove me otherwise. Tomorrow I will be using a substitute because Josh and I are hosting Cleide’s 15^th birthday party. Here in Brazil, the 15^th birthday is kind of like a coming-of-age event. It’s a pretty big deal to Brazilians so we have some grand plans.

Photo Credit

We just wanted to give credit for some of the recent pictures that we posted. In the posts "are you going to use your nursing?" and "God of Wonders" the pictures used were taken by Nick Fancher, who visited on a team and is a professional photographer. You can see more of his pictures at www.shutterthink.com

Cheek this out

It seems Ava's tooth problem never really went away. You may remember her trip to the dentist. We finally took her back to the dentist, expecting to have to pull the tooth. The dentist seemed unconcerned, which didn't alleviate our own concern. The next day Ava developed swelling. The picture really doesn't do it justice. Her cheek was huge. Brin started her on antibiotics and she responded to it right away. Evidently it was an infection, probably beginning when she received the filling. We were glad the tooth did not have to get pulled. Again Ava has shown an incredible resilience. Between her ear infections and now her teeth, we're not sure what to make of her. But again, God has taken care of us. Thanks for your prayers.

Are you going to use your nursing?

Agua Preta.

A small village where we set up "clinic." In the picture you see the Igreja da Vinha our mission works with. This village has no running water (unless you count the river) and no electricity. To have lights for our evening service they pulled electricity from our boat.

PROBABLY.

Before we left for Brazil people back home liked to ask me if I was going to use my knowledge in health care. I assumed I would because, quite simply, it was the only skill I had. Nine months later, I haven’t done a whole lot. Except for dealing with my family’s random infections (currently Ava’s is pitiful, more on that later) and neighbors that stop in for a quick assessment and free medication, my nursing skills have been minimal. I haven’t sutured anyone. That’s good because I don’t know how. I haven’t delivered a baby or set a broken bone. I haven’t done a lick of health education, which is what I really would be up for.

So this past weekend I was enthused to wet my feet. What Josh didn’t talk about in that last post was the “clinics” we set up in each of the river villages we visited. This trip we traveled with Tim, another missionary and also a MD. At each place we went we sent word that there was a doctor available and of course, the people came. We were up to our necks with scabies, worms and back pain; thankfully not literally. I still didn’t do much. I spent most of my time attempting to understand the Portuguese with people who were missing a lot of teeth. I also had to relearn basic medicine. We weren’t dealing with complex cases or people requiring high level of technology, which is what I know. It was the basics, how to treat the most people with what basic medication you have on hand. So between the Portuguese and primitive healthcare, I had a lot to learn. But what I was able to grasp was the need. Many people were just grateful to have someone listen to their health concerns, especially mothers who brought in sick kids. Many people had headaches and back pain but cannot stop working, however intense the pain. They were the ones who were happy just to get a small fistful of ibuprofen. Seriously, that’s how simple it was. And there were stories of people living remotely with somewhat serious problems. At times my mind was stretched attempting to understand their language and my heart pricked as they shared their difficult life. After they were done talking with us, what was super cool is that each of them was brought before God in prayer by a group of visitors from Ohio.

I am often amazed at the basic level to which we interact with Brazilians. We see a need; we attempt to meet it. Praying that they will recognize God’s love for them as we daily live as Disciples of Christ.The Xingu Mission does not have an organized medical ministry yet. All medication and supplies that we use are donated by individuals. If there are those of you working in the healthcare field that have access to samples, outdated equipment, or mass quantities at discounted prices or really anything, it will be put to use. This past weekend we went through a ton of Tylenol, ibuprofen, Chewable Tylenol and ibuprofen, and anti-fungal cream. But really anything is appreciated. You can email me if you have some suggestions or questions.

God of Wonders

Here is a Brazilian pioneer and her daughter.

The hike to remote homes.

For the first time, we rode on the boat along with 4 motorcycles.

Naldo, one of the pastors doing river work, recently went to new area to share the gospel. After only two visits several people had accepted Christ. Last week a work team was here from Ohio and we had planned to take them to this new community to do a service. Our family was able to go along on the 3-day trip…
The community we visited was made up of homesteads. The Brazilian government gives out tracts of land for homesteading, if the family can begin to produce crops or livestock the land becomes theirs. It is a difficult life. The land is usually very remote, often with no electricity or access to roads. This area was no different. It was situated about 3 kilometers off the river and the only roads were for motorbikes. To help with the task of moving our gear, as well as freeing us up to meet with some families farther away, we took 4 motorbikes on the boat.
After we shuttled the people and gear, 8 of us set off to find a family who’s daughter had accepted Christ the last time Naldo visited, and asked him to return to tell her family about Christ. After a stunning ride through rolling Amazon ranchland and old-growth virgin jungle, the road came to an end at a pasture. We spent about 20 minutes hiking around, retracing our steps a few times, searching for the family’s house. I have to admit, it seemed a little surreal, trudging around in the jungle, looking for a house of a family who wanted us to tell them about Jesus.
We finally found it, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. We met the family, and after some small talk, Naldo asked if it was true that they wanted to hear about Jesus (they answered with a nervous yes). Understanding much of what he said, I listened as he explained the importance of a relationship with Christ and not adherence to a certain religion. They agreed to pray to accept Christ (the father, mother and a young girl), we all prayed with them and for them. And then we left, eager to get back before dark and in time for the evening service.Naldo plans to visit as often as he can to continue to teach them and encourage them. I wonder what will ever come of that family. It seems the cards have been stacked against them. Then I remember Naldo’s story. He was a drunk and a troublemaker. After a knife fight where he sustained a wound to the chest, he ran away from his assailant and stumbled into a church. His life has never been the same.

"Wide-open Spacious Living" (2 Cor.6:11 MSG)

Several people have told us that our old house in Tremont is back on the market. It feels like a lifetime ago that we were there and so it really didn’t arouse any cares. Until last night at 2:00 in the morning, I cried over, of all things, my old house. I can’t say if it is the house itself, or my old life of ease and comfort and predictability that caused such agony but it hurt nonetheless.

So this morning I am reading from 2 Cor 6 in The Message. “Staying At Our Post” is the heading. The apostle Paul begs his readers to not waste the life God has called us to and grace He gives. People are watching us as we are “immersed in tears, yet always filled with deep joy; living on handouts, yet enriching many; having nothing, having it all.” And people are watching, I sob as I write this even knowing Marilda is right outside my door and Beto will be arriving any moment. At the moment, I just cannot grasp how I can get past this to go through today, and everyday, freely and expansively. I just cannot wrap my brain around eternity. I am pathetic and I know those feelings are not from God. I think I just need a little time to work through it. We leave tomorrow for 3 days of river work so I hope that’s enough time.

House Guests

After living at the Simon’s house for nearly 9 months without seeing an anaconda, we were understandably disappointed. Because of the proximity to a swampy creek behind their house, Bud says they usually see at least a couple every year, so we had our hopes up.

The Bergen house has a different creature, tarantulas, which Brin has been less excited about encountering. For some reason, they like the higher, dryer ground that the Bergen house is situated on. Not only a month into our stay at the Bergen’s and we’ve met our first Tarantula. It was harmlessly sitting on the side of a tree. But since it was only feet away from the house, we chose to end it’s life.

I suppose if we had to find one, outside on a tree is about the best location you could hope for. It beats some of the other encounters we’ve heard from other missionaries: finding one in a pant leg after pulling up your pants or having one fall off the ceiling onto you while laying in bed.

Brin reacting to the tarantula.

The Jambos are Falling

So we've been in our new digs for a little over a week. The Bergen's house is large and comfortable, but not without it's adjustments. The first night we heard what sounded like the thud of footsteps outside our window. After some investigation we learned it was fruit falling from the trees. It seems our move here has coincided perfectly with jambo season.

Jambos, smaller than an apple and sweet like a strawberry, have been falling ever since from the four large jambo trees. Occasionally neighbors come by asking to pick them, two boys left the other day struggling under the weight of a large shopping bag full the brim with Jambos.


Yesterday, I climbed one of the trees and shook some branches while Ella and Ava held a blanket trying to catch them. We must have looked ridiculous, and the girls were complaining the whole time about the fruit hitting their heads instead of the blanket, but fortunately I don't think anyone saw us. We had heard that Jambos make an excellent crisp. We were not disappointed. I think I'll make another journey up the Jambo tree today, but this time we'll reach perfection because I'm going to buy to a gallon of ice cream to go along with it.