On a journey...

A friend of mine asked me today if I am counting down. I think I am. Today it’s a week till I go, or rather, in a week I’ll be in Kansas City. It’s very surreal. Life is busy at the moment so I don’t really have time to dwell that much on the ahead. Just trying get through the “now” really. This week I’ve been teaching 7-year olds in the local primary school. A lovely age-group to teach, but teaching full days does require some preparation. This evening I was sat here in front of the TV tracing half circle shapes onto cardboard as we’re going to make some mushroom figures for our crafts lessons tomorrow morning. I think they’ll enjoy it, hope so anyway. I am trying to think of what I still need to sort out to get ready. I mean, I have my flight and visa and somewhere to stay when I get there, so those are really the main things. I logged on to at&t’s website today to see if the phone I got last time I was there still works, but it seems to have been cancelled. I’ve also got my inte

As I was walking to work this morning some kids I walked passed said: “Excuse me, can you tell me what time it is?” Wearing a watch I was able to give them the time before continuing on my way with a smile on my face. I smiled because I remembered how many times children (and sometimes adults also) would come up to me in Brazil and ask what time it was, clearly not needing or even wanting to know the time. Their aim was to find out if I spoke Portuguese. How can I know this? Well, apart from the giggles as they reported back to their friends, and the shocked expressions on their faces when this blond-foreign-looking woman understood and could answer their question, some of them actually wearing a watch while asking sort of gave them away.

Sorting though some papers today I found this. I wrote it in May 2006, and so as to not loose it I thought I’d post it here on my blog as a reflection on life and dignity. It was an experience on a bus in Brazil, but the reality of it can be applied to every society and nation. The poor and needy will always be with us- what will our response be as we encounter these individuals who deserve lives of dignity? "The man got on the bus and was wearing dirty clothes. The bus driver let him on through the front door or the bus. As he started talking my heart got unsettled. He was begging for money. He wansn’t old or disabled, but his plea was to give him some money because he was unemployed and didn’t want to steal. The usual arguments came to mind: he’s an ablebodied man, he could work; what if he buys alcohol or drugs (although he didn’t smell of booze); what if he is simply lying…yet my heart was stirred and I felt such a compassion for this man. A compassion for the humiliation he m

I really should get to bed as it’s almost midnight, but I wanted to jot down a few lines in my blog first…it really feels a bit like a diary in a way. I remember having lots of different diaries when I grew up. One was red with a little lock on…I think I only wrote in it for a few weeks. Another one was one of those 5-year diaries, brown was it’s colour, but in my impatience I never could motivate myself to write as it seemed so long till I would have finished it (when you’re eight years old, five years is almost a lifetime). In my adult life I’ve been writing journals which have been a collection of writing all kinds of things; meditations, thoughts, diary-type things, lists, Bible studies, prayers…sort of an ongoing registering of my life, without it being in the ”dear diary” style. It’s good to have an outlet, somewhere to write things down. And it’s really interesting to once in a while look back and see what I’ve written five or 10 years ago (now five years seems like no time at a

I picked up my passport with my visa in it at the postoffice today. Strange to see my visa in my passport. I really am going now. I looked at flights today, but didn’t buy any. It feels a bit daunting + the flight I thought was really cheap was actually not that cheap because the quoted price was without taxes. I will have to so some research before I decide on a flight. God’s peace is still there. I am thankful for that peace. And the funny story…well, it might be funnier for me then anyone else, but I’ll write it anyway so I don’t forget it: (De)touring in Oslo After waiting for ages for the train from the airport in Oslo, and then getting a very slow train (i.e. stopped a zillion places before reaching Oslo- I think it was a local train as opposed to a regional one), I made my way out to the busstop outside the trainstation to get bus number 37 to my brother’s flat where I was going to spend the night. It was already past 10 pm and so it was a little bit scary to stand outside in th

As I gave him a hug goodbye tears pressed towards my eyelids and I could no longer hold them back. Like when waters press past the banks of a river, so my tears flowed down my face. They were tears of joy. Tears of saudade (note: Portuguese word describing the feeling of missing somone). What a joy to see Paulinho. See him grown. See him well. See him take the first steps of independance in the big world. Because the world is big, and he has stepped into it. Stepped onto a plane in Fortaleza, Brazil, and stepped into a music school in Hamar, Norway. A huge step for a young man, but it’s what God does when we let Him. He raises the lowly from the ashes and sets them as princes. Paulinho is a prince. He is highly regarded and favoured in God’s heart. So I left him there. My visit wasn’t long, but it took away some of the ”saudade” and created a new ”saudade”. Carrying people in my heart breaks it more often then not. Not because bad things happen (although sometimes they do), but because

Sat here trying to get round to writing an update here on my blog…so many things have gone through my head that I would like to write down, but knowing how to is the challenge… I had a lovely time in England. Again I was struck by how furtunate I am to have the privilege of knowing so many amazing people and be allowed to call them my friends. And again I left wishing I’d had more time to be able to visit and catch up with those I didn’t have the opportunity to see. Writing this I am in my brother’s flat in Oslo…it looks very new and modern (to my untrained eyes) but it was acutally built in 1939 (no doubt probably quite a bit of redecorating has been done since then. I’m in Oslo because I had my visa interview today. And it went really well. Surprisingly well. I wasn’t worried or nervous before it and I had no reason to be either. Everyone was very friendly and kind and I should be getting my passport and visa back to me in a week’s time. It’s a bit unreal- I can’t believe I am anothe