On a journey...

The streets of Paris are dusty and stained. They are well worn by being walked on by millions of feet over centuries. Streets that lead people to where they are going, or away from somewhere they don’t want to be. Streets that connect buildings and people in a big city that is known throughout the world. We had been out to dinner at Au Bon Coin . The “meny-as-in-chalkboard-propped-on-the-chair” was in French, and French being a language foreign to me, I had no idea what was on offer. After trying to figure out what the different dishes were I chose one which turned out to be a veal stew. Flavourful but not necessarily something I would have chosen, yet (I think) it had an authentic taste of France. Coming back to the hotel and the tiny room with an interesting bathroom solution, we turned on the TV. It was surreal to see flames engulfing the Notre-Dame with headlines stating just that. Surreal to be in Paris on the very evening when such a national monument was severely damaged. ...

My heart is full. SHINE seems to be a running theme in life. This week we had the final evening of a course called SHINEWomen we’ve been running the past 6 weeks with some amazing women I work with. It was an evening of life. There was laughter, tears and a deep sense of fellowship. It’s been a privilege to journey with these women through looking at value, strength and purpose, and walk together in discovering dreams and purpose in life. I feel so honoured. Honoured that I get to invite them into truth that will bring freedom and build them up, and honoured to have an amazing team with me to create a space that is welcoming and a safe place to share joys and struggles. A place where each one can SHINE. It’s interesting how the last time SHINE was in my path was 5 years ago in Brazil when we were running the SHINE Seminar. In that Shine we were equipping people to minister in the area of the global sex trade and bring a Christian response. A different kind of shining. A shining of...

I still got flowers even if I didn’t go in this month. The flowers are in a vase on my kitchen table, and they remind me of beauty. Different types of flowers and green things which complement each other. The women had made them themselves in a flower decoration course, and had made bouquets specifically for us when they knew we were coming. It’s good to be reminded that lives are impacted; that what we do is making a difference, and that it’s individuals who are so different we are meeting. And that each one has their own beauty we are allowed to see if we look for it. Every month we organise a women’s evening in the prison and do wellness (facials, massages, footbaths, etc.). One of my favourite parts of my job, and an opportunity to invest in relationships, which might lead them one step closer to making it once they transition back to “normal life”. I am always amazed at what these women have in them of hopes and dreams... or the lack of thoughts about future, which gives me th...

I am lying in my bright orange hammock (from IKEA) on my veranda this evening, with the gentle rocking bringing a peace, and the cup of Earl safely placed on a little stool by my side. I am pondering this day. An exceptional spring day here in Norway, although the past week has been like this climate wise- and we are not complaining. Today was exceptional both because we’ve had 26 degrees (Celsius) heat, but also being Sunday, it provided a welcome opportunity to head out to the beach- my favourite place. My dad and brothers were busy with our cottage... the goal of the day was to move one large window, and put in two more on one of the walls- no small feat. And I had a lovely time hanging out with my mum, nieces and nephews, and sisters-in-law. Sitting on the beach and enjoying the sunshine brought me back associations of Brazil. In the midst of the craziness of streetkids, and all the chaos they lived in, the beach was always such a place of refuge and refreshing. I remember ...

Sometimes it’s hard to find words to put life into. Not necessarily because life is exceptionally good or bad, because it’s just life. And even if the day-to-day brings many reflections and processes with it, typing them out in a manner that is understandable beyond the author isn’t always as easy as thinking them. I love writing, and yet months have passed since updating this blog. A blog I write mostly as a reminder to myself of what my journey these years has looked like; because like most people I am prone to forgetting once something new fills up the space in my immediate memory. I am sat at my kitchen table. A half-written page of my journal lies next to me, and a vase of wilted tulips stand in front of me. On my wall I have a small selection of photos of loved ones and those I have met on some of my journeys. Faces that bring a smile to my heart. It’s Tuesday evening and as good a time as any for a short reflection... Today I was busy wrapping gifts to bring to our ...

It’s been a week of contrasts. From a wonderful Christmas party in prison, where we were moved to tears by songs of grace and the Christmas message; to continuing the tradition of baking Christmas cookies with old friends; to hearing that one of my boys (now adult) in Brazil is dead... I remember the 8 year old Paulo I got to know a little over 19 years ago at Minha Casa (a residential project for streetboys in Fortaleza). And I remember how my heart was wrecked by his desperate question of: “why do you have to leave, tia (auntie)?” as I was saying goodbye. Knowing him changed my life, and that moment changed how I viewed my future. It led me to ending up living in Brazil for most of my 20s because I didn’t want to be one who “left”, but be one who was stable and safe. Now that little boy turned adult is no more. He had a beautiful smile, a contagious personality and was so very easy to love. And he was so very loved by all of those who had the privilege of knowing him. I pr...

It’s amazing how much living and experiencing can be packed into just a week. As I let my mind wander back to the past week, I remember the cracked and dry ground in the mountains, the tagine (meat and vegetables cooked in a clay pot with a pointy lid) eaten with bread (i.e. no cutlery), the sugary hot tea, bantering at the market, fresh pomegranate juice, and of course, the incredible beauty of the people. A week of living in Morocco. As I stepped off the airport and felt the warm evening air hit my face, I felt such joy. Walking towards the airport terminal I was struck by the beauty of the sandy coloured lattice which adorned the outside of the building. Passing through all the customary steps to enter a country, I was impressed by the friendliness of the people, and as I was hugged meeting my friends picking me up, I knew this was going to be a good week. Marrakech. It was fascinating seeing small carts overflowing with pomegranates on every corner, and as I took ...