BLESSED ARE THE WOMAN

Cheers from the woman echoed through the street as we, myself and fellow missioner Catherine get off the bus in Brasilandia.  The woman waited at the bus stop for us so we could walk together through the streets of the favela in Brazil in order to pray the novena.  The novena is a ritual the woman of Brazil practice many times during the year and today we journey together through Advent. 

We weave through the streets of the favela, streets that just weeks ago were paralyzed by fear from the violence between the police and the gangs but are now alive with the rhythm of life.  Children run through the streets with the strings of a kite in their hands, dogs run next to the children, teens huddle together on a doorstep talking and laughing, men stand and talk to one another, and a group of young men are setting off firecrackers still celebrating the win of their beloved soccer team.  The woman stroll together laughing and catching up on the weekly news of their lives. 

We reach the door of our hostess Celma and she greets us with hugs and kisses. So happy to have us visit her home.  Gathered this evening are nine woman who have worked all day, traveled several hours on a bus to get home, in order to cook for their families, before carving out a little bit of time for themselves to meet and pray.  Prayer meetings in Brasilandia begin around 8pm.  Which is the earliest that folks can get to the church. 

We begin to pray the novena.  I struggle to follow the Portuguese since I am still a new missioner.  I know the prayers are about Mary’s journey to Bethlehem.  We reflect on Mary’s courage and her strength.  I look around the room and I can see the same strength in the woman gathered.  I am very conscious of the noise and things happening around us.  Outside the front gate fireworks continue to go off.  The smell of sulfur fills the room.  Somewhere close by someone has their stereo on and the music bounces off the walls of the house.  Preteen boys run though the house and two girls about seven run up and down the stairs and through the middle of the group several times.  And yet the prayer never stops, never slows.  The woman roll with all the things happening around us.  I wonder if they even notice them like I do. 

I reflect on how with all the commotion, with all the challenges and difficulties that these woman encounter they remain steadfast in their faith.   I think about Mary the Mother of Jesus and how much commotion she must have experienced in her life.  Living faith is not always quiet.  It happens in the mist of life.  I am so impressed by the strong convection of these woman in Brazil who in all the ciaos and demands of their lives remain fervent in their faith. And this night when the women sing “Ava Maria” suddenly all the noise that had once been so profound is no longer apparent.  In a favela in Brazil, woman’s voices join in solidarity praying for joy and for peace.   

December 2012 Newsletter

Carolyn, Fr. Dan & Catherine

Walk for Peace in Brasilandia

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from São Paulo, Brazil.  The weather here is about 90 to 100 so it does not feel too much like Christmas. And yet there are lights and decorations hanging throughout the city.

One theme that has always been important for me especially during Christmas is peace.  This year I am reminded in profound ways of what that really means.  The city of São Paulo has had a surge in violence in the last few months.  The people have seen so much death and now are asking for and praying for peace.  Catherine a Lay Missioner and my roommate, Fr. Dan, a Maryknoll Priest and I participated in a peace walk through the area of Brasilandia, which is a part of the city that has been hit hard with violence.  We all work with folks from this neighborhood.  The peace walk was lead by the World Youth Day Cross, which is traveling throughout Brazil prior to the event in Rio next summer. 

It was a moving experience to walk the roads of a community and to see the faces of the people who struggle everyday with the violence in their neighborhoods.  It was wonderful to walk in solidarity with folks who are willing to take a stand for peace.  Some of the youth wrote the word peace on our foreheads as you can see in the picture above. 

                                                                                  The Two Faces of Sao Paulo    

The periphery                 

                    and the city

   

                         My Ministry & Work

Prison Ministry I have been accompanying Kathy             

Bond a Maryknoll Lay Missioner who works with 

woman’s groups in the prisons.  The picture on the

right is in front of a prison were we offer a health class

for elderly woman.  We also visit another prison and 

hold a health class for foreigners and pregnant Brazilians. We work with the prison ministry of the Archdiocese of 

São Paulo.  This time is so important to the woman 

because it helps them understand their health better 

and it also provides time for us to listen to them, pray 

with them, and let them know they are valued.

Woman’s Prayer Group I participate in a prayer group  

in Brasilandia in one of the parishes that Catherine works

in.  It is an important time for these women to come 

together to build community, discuss topics important to 

their lives and to have some sacred time for themselves.  

Center for Juventude (Center for Youth) I am now 

working with teens in a center that offers the Liberal Arts.  

In Brazil school is for half the day.  The center offers a safe 

and positive environment where kids can come and receive 

education they would not get any other place.  I help with 

courses in Communication, Culture and Language.  I am told 

only 15% of kids are able to go to college in the city.  Without 

the courses the center offers the kids would have no chance to continue their education.  I am so happy to be a part of giving these kids a fighting chance for a future where they can dream and become anything they want.  Also, the staff and teens help 

me so much with my language skills and they teach me as much 

as I teach them.

PLEASE CONSIDER SUPPORTING ME IN MISSION!

Please remember that MKLM funds my travel, medical, and living expenses, and other costs associated with keeping me in mission. I ask that you consider donating to the Maryknoll Lay Missioners so that I, and missioners like me, can continue to serve those in need worldwide.

You can now directly support my mission work with MKLM. Funds donated will either be applied directly to support my work, education, and ministries or used to support the general fund of MKLM. Financial Support can be sent to MKLM, P.O. Box 307, Maryknoll, NY 10545-0307 or online by going to https://app.etapestry.com/hosted/MaryknollLayMissioners/OnlineDonation.html?approach=5936 - Carolyn Trumble&contents=of Carolyn Trumble in mission. Please write “Carolyn Trumble- Mission Account” in the memo line or intention box to support me in mission. All contributions are tax deductible.  Also, if you are able to donate it would be great if you let me know that you have donated.  Since my mission account is new I would like to follow up to make sure all is recorded properly.   Thank You.

Tia

If you know me you know how important it is for me to be a good Aunt.  In fact the only people I have ever let call me aunt our my 7 nieces & nephews.  I have always considered our relationships as sacred.

In Brazil a lot of young people call me Tia, which means aunt.  I have to admit I kind of like it.  I think of the Hawaiian understanding of auntie, a wise, respected woman.  And because it is a different word it feels different to me.

Today I visited a house/organization that works with kids who have HIV and have been abandoned.   Some of the children have physical and mental disorders as well.  We were told a few of them had been shaken or thrown across the room so now they were paralyzed or had brain injuries.  Hearing this sent chills up my spin.  I know this happens but it is one thing to know it and another to be standing next to the crib of a little one who has been hurt.

One little boy was about 2 and he was so excited to see us and he kept saying Tia, Tia, Tia, almost as if to say do you see me, do you see me?  Another little girl was showing me a church brochure and she was showing me Mary and saying Mamae em ceu.  Which means mother in the sky.  But it was another little one who had the most impact on me.  We walked in the tv room and there was about 6 kids under the age of 7.  Mostly toddlers.  It seemed to me they all had some sort of mental challenge.  One little girl around 7 years old kept looking at me and then looking down.  I went over and just bent down next to her and started talking softly.  I did not want to touch her because I was not sure of her condition and did not want to scare or upset her.  She came over to me and put my arm around her and pushed me to the floor so she could take a seat on my lap.  Then she wrapped my arms around her.  I figured out she was ok being touched.  She settled back with her thumb in her mouth and continued watching cartoons.  She never said a word, I still don't know if she could speak.  But for a moment today I felt like Aunt Carolyn again.  It was a precious moment and it made me miss my nieces and nephews.

I will never be Aunt Carolyn here in Brazil because my family is not here.  But in the moments that I get to be Tia Carolina I touch a special part of my heart.  I am discerning whether I will be able to go back and work with those children.  It took me 1 1/2 hours from my house to get there this morning.  So if I can find time in my schedule to travel 3 hours I will go back if only to sit on the floor and watch cartoons.

I love being Aunt Carolyn & Tia Carolina

Brazilian Prisons

Two days a week I visit woman in prison in Brazil.  On Wednesday we have a health class for elderly woman at a prison called Santa Anna, the woman in this class are all Brazilian and are moms and grandmas.  Friday we have a similar health class at a prison called Capital, the woman in this class are young.  Four of the woman are pregnant, one woman is from Bolivia but does not even speak Spanish, she only speaks her own tribal language; three woman are from Thailand, a handful are from Brazil, and a few are from South Africa.  One thing that not all but most have in common, drug trafficking.

The three woman from Thailand are so sweet.  They don't speak Portuguese and only know what little English they learned in High School.  Last week they told me they had been prison for 1 month & 10 days.  The class we do is in Portuguese and English.  Because many of the foreigners understand English and may not have picked up Portuguese yet.  The other missioners lead the class because I still cannot teach in Portuguese.  But I have really enjoyed being able to help the English speakers in the group.  Sometimes I translate the Portuguese for them and sometimes I need to break down words in English to make it easier to understand.  After our last class I was speaking with my friends from Thailand.  The woman were joking with each other and hugging each other.  I asked them if they knew each other before they came to Brazil.  They told me they had met in the airport when they were each being arrested.

One thing we don't do is ask them about their crime,  if they offer information we can talk to them but we don't begin that conversation.  They did not tell me anymore, however, I assumed that they were being arrested for drug trafficking.  Later, one of the other missioners told me a little more of their story.  All three had been hired in Thailand to come to Brazil.  They took different routes here but arrived on the same day.  They each stayed in different hotels for one month.  Then they were given drugs that they swallowed or put in their body cavities.  They arrived at the airport at different times but were booked on the same flight home.  One was arrested around 8am, another 9am, and the last 10am.  This pattern leads us to believe that they had been set up.  Many times drug traffickers set up decoys to be arrested so someone who has more drugs can get through security while the authorities have been tipped off about the decoys and are busy arresting them.

The woman now will spend several years in prison, yes they are guilty of drug trafficking but from what I know of them I would guess they come from poverty.  These are the woman we meet in the Brazilian prisons.  Very poor, simple woman who broke the law as a means of survival.  We don't meet the major drug traffickers, or the rich who buy the drugs, only the poor.  I am sure that some of the others do get arrested but I have not met them yet.

Catherine & Katie holding the
names of the men who were
killed at Carandiru Prison.

Last week was the 20th anniversary of a massacre at the Carandiru prison.  111 prisoners were executed by the police after a riot.  Reports show that the prisoners had surrendered and that no one had tried to escape.  Yet the police were ordered to enter the prison and kill many of the prisoners.  Carandiru was destroyed in the 90s.  Now there is a park in its place.  This park separates the two prisons I visit.  Carandiru was a men's prison and the men were moved elsewhere.   You can watch the movie of what happened on You Tube (however it is in Portuguese) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wn4HYrt1-sM or I got a copy from the library and watched it with English subtitles.  It is very violent so don't watch with kids. You can also skipped to the end on You Tube and just watch what happened and not get the back stories of the prisoners.

Many of the Maryknoll Lay Missioners in Brazil attended the memorial for the prisoners killed at Carandiru.  7 out of 8 of us work in prison ministry.  Our work is about human rights and human dignity.  A person does not deserve to be killed simply because they are a prisoner.  A woman deserves to give birth to her baby without her hands and feet handcuffed to a bed, and everyone deserves food, water and basic shelter.  I believe that all humans beings have the right to life, even the prisoner.

Me @ the memorial

Heidi being interviewed about
the massacre at Carandiru.

My New Apartment

Many people have asked me to post pictures of my new apartment so here they are.  My roommate Catherine, is a Maryknoll Lay Missioner who arrived in Sao Paulo about a year and a half ago.

Dining Room/Living Room

Bathroom

Living Room/Dining Room

Kitchen/Laundry Room

Kitchen/Laundry Room

My Closet!!!

My Bedroom

The apartment is starting to come together. We still have a few more things to do but we now have cabinets and I have my room mostly set up.  It is starting to feel like a home.  After 8 months of moving around from place to place I am very grateful to have my own space.  It was a great experience getting to stay with the Maryknoll Community in Brazil, Brazilians and at language school.  But I am ready to unpack and be in one place for awhile.

Taking Things for Granted

So tonight I entered the bathroom and began to play the game Catherine and I do with the light switch.  We have 2 light switches but they don't turn on at first so we flip them both on and off about 10 times trying to get the right pattern and the right pressure to have the lights come on.  In one of the apartments I stayed in for a while it was a similar experience trying to turn on the lights in the bedroom and at times when cooking in the kitchen the lights would just go off.  It was really no big deal we would just wait for them to come back on which they would eventually do.

Tonight after I got the lights on I turned on the shower and waited for the warm water to come which it never did.  Eventually Catherine helped me turn a button on the shower head which made the water hot.  I did not know about that button and I stay away from touching the shower heads because with most of them you can be shocked if you touch them.  Ours does have the shock thing too but at least now I know about the button.  Also many showers do not have a shower box so the water goes all over the bathroom, after we are done with the shower we take a big squeegee and mop up the floors.

All of these things are just a normal part of life for many Brazilians.  For me, they just add to the adventure of living in another country.  However, this week I have been reflecting on the things I have taken for granted in my life in the U.S.  Lights and a warm shower are part of those things.  Also, a clothes dryer and perhaps one of the most important is heat.  I do miss being able to turn on the heat when I am cold. The houses don't have heat here.  I am going to buy a little heater but have not done so yet.

I started thinking about this topic last week when I was visiting the woman's prison.  We have a heath group with senior woman on Wednesdays.  As I sat in the circle of about 9 woman who are moms and grandmas I noticed they have such a desperation when it comes to their families.  Last Wednesday I listened to their stories and their desperate pleas for help and I thought about all that they have lost.  These woman have nothing and yet it is not the conditions they live in that they care most about it is their families.  I thought about the fact that when everything is stripped from a person what is the greatest need and desire, family.

I can understand this somewhat because there are times when I really miss my family and friends.  And yet my situation is different because I can skype or email or call my loved ones.  If necessary I could get on a plane and go home.  I have the freedom to make choices these woman do not.  And yet when I think about how my life will be different because of my choice to live as a missioner I believe that I may not take things for granted like I might have in the past.  Yes, water, lights, heat, peanut butter, those will all be things I will notice.  However, the most important thing I believe we should all not take for granted are our family and our friends.  Those people who stay with us in good times and bad and stand by us because they love us. I ask myself  if everything was strip away from me what would I miss the most...family.

Children of Poverty

She arrives early every week.  When I arrive she looks up to see if I notice her.  As I say her name she lets herself smile, but only a little.  She pretends to go back to sleep but I think she is watching everything that is happening.  We all move to a large, cold room with a table.  Seven other girls take their seats at the table.  The girls range in age from 14 to 20.  They all have unique qualities and personalities.  But they also have a few things in common.  The first is what they hold in their arms.  Each one cradles their baby.  And each one lives in poverty.  Poverty I don't know that I could ever imagine.

Today as I sat at the table I thought about all the teens I have worked with in the US.  I thought of how in so many ways these young ladies are similar to so many groups I have sat with for so many years.  And yet their lives are so different.  Today we did a tree of life where we placed our values, our abilities, our dreams, our desires and the names of those who support us.  This was like so many activities I have done in the past and yet the outcome was so different.

When it came to writing abilities a few of the girls said they had none.  They were not being modest, I think they really believe that have no abilities.  When it was time to write about the future the girls said I use to have dreams for the future but now I don't any.  I have a baby.  And when it came time for dreams the girls dreamed of having money, and one said I hope my baby has a house some day.  She was not hoping for a big fancy house she just wanted a house because she has none.  She bounces from place to place and she fears that the next time she has to leave the place she is now she will be on the streets.  She is 14, has a 3 month old baby, and is pregnant again.  Her mom is in prison and when she stays with her grandmother her uncle beats her.

These girls lives are full of violence, drugs (the girls don't necessarily do drugs but others in their life do), sex, and uncertainty.   The group they go to is an attempt to help them to see beyond their circumstances and dream of a different way of life.   Very difficult when you are 15 have a sick baby and are not sure where your next meal is coming from.  After the session the girls get something to eat.  As they ate I held one of their babies.  I held the 5 month old boy in my arms and I wondered what his life would be like.  Like his mother he is a child of poverty.

Poverty is dreaming of a house no matter what it looks like.

What's Next?

My first goal as a Maryknoll Lay Missioner is done.  I have finished language school.  I have a piece of paper that says I have been trained in Portuguese.  I am thinking about carrying it around with me so the next time someone does not understand what I am saying I can show them my certificate (the reality is that will be tomorrow when someone does not understand my Portuguese).

So what is next for me?  Right now I am in Joao Passoa, Brazil which is in the North.  We are visiting one of the Maryknoll Sister's home.  It is a wonderful home within walking distance to the beach.  It is winter now so it is not hot but it is warm.  Today we had a lot of clouds, nonetheless, it is wonderful to be here.  We will be taking a break after a lot of hard work this year and visiting the ministry of the Sisters.

On June 3rd I will return to Sao Paulo.  The plan for now is that we will continue our orientation by living with Brazilians, learning more about ministry opportunities, and working on our Portuguese.  One way that I will do this is by volunteering in a few ministries.  What we have planned now is that I will accompany a social worker who works with young, single mothers on Monday, on Wed I will visit the woman's Prison with another Lay Missioner to work with woman over the age of 55, and one other day a week I will visit a homeless center.

I am planning on living with another Lay Missioner.  We think we will find an apartment around August. Until then I will continue to move around to other Lay Missioner homes and live with Brazilians to understand the language and culture better.  I will not lie, moving a lot is a challenging experience but also a rewarding one.  The generosity of all those to open their homes to us is overwhelming.  I am grateful to all of those who offer me the gift of hospitality.

So that is what is next for me (at least today, things change from day to day but that is the plan for now). My next plan is to go to bed so I can be ready to go the beach at 6:30AM tomorrow.  I know some of you might have your mouths open right now because you cannot believe that I will be up that early.  But for the beach in Brazil I will get my......out of bed.  Boa Noite.

My fellow language school students from all over the world

How Many Pizza's Have I Ordered?

Tonight as I sat in a Mass celebrating 25years of religious life for one of the sisters here at language school I realized something.  It was my 25 year anniversary of ministry as well.  I was such a young woman (20) when I prayed that I would find a way to serve either in the church or with the poor.  All I can say is that God acted fast because the next Sunday was Pentecost and before I knew it I was given a card to fill out to volunteer.  I chose Youth Ministry honestly because I did not understand most of the other ministries and I thought I could serve cookies and chaperone a dance.  25 years later I find myself in Brazil.  All I can say is be careful what you wish for because it may just come true and then some.

As I reflect back on the years my heart is full.  So many people have touched my life in profound ways over the years.  I think of all the young people and their families, the staffs I have worked with, the parish communities of St. John the Apostle, Our Lady of the Lake, St. Pius X and St. Cecilia's,  and all of my fellow ministers and I am overwhelmed.

How many floors have I slept on?

I started to laugh when I thought about counting the number of meetings I have been too, the amount of chairs and tables that I have stacked and unstacked, the number of people who have thrown up on me (or worse), the number of hospital visits, the number of vans I have loaded, the number of times I have rolled up a sleeping bag, the number of bowls of punch I have made or most importantly how many pizza's and Costco cakes I have ordered.

These are the daily details of a minister but they are not the ones that stay with me.  I have been so graced to be welcomed into so many people's lives.  I have been blessed to witness the faith of young people come alive, I have seen first love blossom and heartache take it's place, together we have served in soup kitchens, homeless shelters, migrant camps, and in Mexico.  We have sang and danced, we have laughed and cried.  I walked with so many people suffering from life's challenges of depression, eating disorders, drug abuse, divorce, pregnancy, abuse, and sexuality.  I have welcomed new life with you and I have helped bury you and grieve with you.  Together we have walked the road of life and the road of faith with all of its joys and with all of its sorrow.

Tonight I am grateful for my years of ministry.  For all who have been a part of it.  For my friends and family who have supported me in the good and bad times.  At Mass this evening I thought about just reflecting on this moment and letting it quietly pass because I don't want any attention, I prefer to honor it in quiet ways.  But here I am writing about it.  The reason I chose to do that was to honor and thank all of you who have shared these years with me.  You have all brought me to this moment.  I never dreamed I would be in Brazil as a Maryknoll Missioner and yet here I am.  The past has given me strength to embrace my present and my future.

St. Pius X on Mexico Mission Trip

The Cry of the Poor

"The Lord Hears the Cry of the Poor, Blessed Be the Lord." (spiritandsong.com)
Today's Psalm is 34, it is the one I used for my sending Mass when I left Oregon.  Today I again find comfort and challenge in this scared scripture.
This week I have reached the half way point of language school.  Honestly, I really wish I had more command of the language at this point.  However, I know that I am in a better place with it than I was 1.5 months ago.  Today I was in a 3 hour lecture on church history in Brazil.  (I know right about now you are thinking how lucky I am).  Of course it was in Portuguese.  I understood 3/4 of the talk which I was happy with.  I am able to understand a lot more, however, I am still struggling with speaking.  I like to say I speak shopping.  Because I can go to the grocery store and get whatever I need.  Granted it is messy but I get it done.  

Today some one said to me that we should enjoy our time in language school because this might be the best time of our mission.  I totally disagree with this statement.  At this point I think this may be the hardest part for me.  Learning the language is challenging and humbling.  Many of the students reflect about how stupid they feel when trying to speak with Brazilians.  It is true I do feel stupid a good part of every day.  This person said we are lucky because we have a great room.  Which is true.  And I love, love, love, that Maria washes my sheets and towels every Friday.  But for me this time is not what it means for me to be a missioner. It is a necessary time for me to learn the language and the culture.  It is important for me because it gives me some of the tools to build my foundation as a missioner.  However, if I could I would run out the front door of the school and into the streets where the people I came to accompany live.

As I reflect on the words "The Lord hears the cry of the poor," I feel like I too have heard those cries.  In my work and ministry for the last 25 years I have listen to the stories of the poor.  I have seen their tears and felt their pain as well as their joy.   And it is those cries that have brought me to Brazil.  To do what, I still do not know but I long to be able to get started.  My heart's desire is to live out my vocation to journey in this life with the poor.

But for now I have to think about my own poverty.  My lack of control and power at this point in my life.  My dependence on others and a humbling of my heart.  I think about a child learning to ride a bike.  I remember my dad putting my training wheels on my bike.  Then having my parents holding on to the bike and running alongside me, until I was ready to go it on my own.  At this point in my journey as a missioner my training wheels are still being installed.  I have so many people that are working on running alongside me.  As much as I desire to take off and ride I am not ready yet.  I long to feel the wind in my hair as I peddle on my own, but for now I know I must embrace my journey.  I need to trust that I will get there, and appreciate all those around me who are cheering me on.  

I think the cry of the poor comes from each of us.   My poverty is no where near that of others.  And yet in my poverty and in my weakness I know that God listens to my heart.  He hears me and answers me. 

O Senhor ouve o grito dos pobres, bendito seja o Senhor.   

What matters is not how fast we go, only that we go.

Below is a link to the Psalm on spiritandsong.com.  It is a nice prayerful song.  I like the one by Jesse on Pray Your Heart.   If you have a chance listen to it, I find a lot of peace in the prayer.
The Cry of the Poor

Like A Child

Being a missioner in a new land and new culture transforms one into a child in so many ways.  In our orientation in New York my fellow missioners and I discussed the reality of this statement.  However, now that I am living this truth I find it both challenging and amusing.

To be like a child means to learn again how to eat, how to speak, how to read, how to walk, how to sleep, and how to go to the bathroom.  Yes, I have been working on all of these. If only I had a Dick & Jane book in Portuguese.  

Perhaps the hardest thing for me is the inability to communicate with others.  Imagine every time you need something you have to think about how to say the words to express yourself.  It is one thing to be in a restaurant and for the waiter not understand when I order a Coke Zero.  Really how wrong can my pronunciation be that I cannot be understood to order a Coke?   (No worries I have learned how to order it now, could not let too much time slip by on that one).   But imagine riding a bus and trying to ask for directions, and needing to go to the dentist (thank God my Maryknoll Family went with me), and now think about all the little things we need daily, like toilet paper.  It is humbling to have to think about how to ask for a roll, then most likely to have to explain it a couple of times (this is one that it is best not to explain with too many hand gestures).  I think about children who speak but cannot be understood.  I understand how frustrating that must be for them; at least I have Google translate. 

Communication seems to be a challenge in more ways than just a language.  In language school I live with religious men and woman from all over the world.  During the last week I have been in a couple of situations where it was clearly stated that woman in some countries are not equal to men.  Women are to do what the man says and not to have an opinion.  You can imagine how well that has gone over with me.  Most of you know I usually have an opinion and believe that people have the right to share their opinion as long as it is done so with respect.   I have been working to navigate these relationships where I feel like I am suppose to be lesser than the man, it is a bumpy road but I am working on it. In the US I have felt like I was treated as a lesser because I am not a man, but this is a whole different level.  I am trying to understand it as a learning experience because so many women in this world experience a world where their voices are not heard.   

The challenges at times can be overwhelming, however, the amusing part comes in discovering things again or for the first time.  New tastes, new smells, new ideas, and new places.  It is an amazing experience to achieve something for the first time, even if it is just riding the bus or figuring out how to use the phone.  Some day I am going to figure out how to mail a letter  Today I got a towel that had been in a dryer.  It was amazing.  Towels that dry on a clothes line just never seems to get completely dry.

To be a child is to be full of possibilities, it is to be open to discovering the world around you.  It is to fall and then get back up again.  It is to be humble, pure hearted, and to trust and rely on others.   It is not to be afraid to fail.  And so I try to put my pride on the self and to embrace my world as a child would.  I just hope I can set aside my pride, my fears, my embarrassment, in order to relearn how to live in the world.  This can be exhausting, I understand now why children take naps.  I need to start giving myself permission to do the same.  

Paradise

Day after day on my to and from the metro I pass her by.  She is there on the street every time I walk by.  Under the blazing sun she sits with no water.  During the worst of rain storms she lays down under a blanket or a broken umbrella and tries to protect herself from mother nature.  She says nothing, asks for nothing.  She has never looked up when I pass, when she is awake I only see a void look upon her face.  She appears to be abandoned on the streets of Sao Paulo alone, forgotten, exposed. 

I cannot speak to her because I do not know her language.  Also, I am still learning about the culture and what is safe to do so I am not sure what I can do for her.  But I wonder and ask myself.....

• What is her name?
• What is her story?  How did she end up here on the corner?
• Where does she go to the bathroom?
• Do her legs and back hurt from sitting/sleeping on the pavement?  Or does she just not feel them anymore?
• What does she eat?
• Is she cold/hot?   How can she constantly brave the elements? 
• Is she ever hurt or attacked?  Is she scared?

I think of her every day and look forward to the day when I can stop and speak with her.  I hope she is gone when I come back from language school.  I hope she finds a safer more humane place to live.  But I am not sure she will.  In fact some days I wonder if when I walk by she will still be alive.  I pray for her and I hope the right person comes along to help her.  Right now it is not me, but I see her.  I often wish she would look up so I could at least smile at her...but for now all I can do is see her and pray for her.

She reminds me of an old school song by Phil Collins.  This song plays in my head as I walk the street where she lives.  We are not always able to help everyone but I just hope we can all do our part.  And at the very minimum to see those folks who live on our street.  Then if we are able, to find a way to reach out to them.  I have inserted "Paradise" because it reminds me of her and I don't want to forget her and all the homeless people who have touched my life.

Mother

Today I went to the woman's prison for the second time.  The prison is one that has about 842 woman, around 400 are foreign woman (meaning not from Brazil).  I am told the capacity of the prison is 251 so these woman are faced with a number of challenges.The organization that we go to the jail with works to help explain their legal cases to them, advocate with medical issues, and helps them communicate with their family & friends.

We met with the foreign woman today so many speak English.  As I sat in the classroom in my desk I listened to the stories the woman told.  Today every story I heard was about a Mother.  Below I have tried to capture some of the stories.  I have taken the liberty to sum up the stories in my own words and understanding.  I have tried my best to get the information correct including the country the woman come from.  However, I have to admit some of the information may be an estimate based on my memory.

"My mother is dying and I need to send money....I am so far away from her now and she needs me.  Please help me find a way to save my mothers life."  (Indonesia)

"I am so worried about my mother, she is being mistreated by my father and I am not there to help her."  (South Africa) 

News delivered to a mother today...."I am so sorry to tell you while you have been in jail your daughter has died." (Nigeria)

"My daughter Carmen lives with my mother, I miss them very much.  I love my family but they are so far away." (Mexico)

With a great deal of pride a mother showed us an email and said, "This is my son, his name is Jason." (South Africa)

"I have seven children and I am a single mother, I had to risk smuggling drugs to feed my children." (Bolivia) 

No words were spoken but a mother's tears fell on her email.  Last week we learned she had needed money for a surgery for her pregnant daughter and so she had risked smuggling drugs, she would only have to do it once to pay for the surgery.  (Texas)

 A woman who had to be 8-9 months pregnant worked to squeeze her belly into the tiny desks.  I am not sure what she was asking for, however, I assume whatever it is has to do with her baby.  What will happen to her baby when it is born in the upcoming weeks? I am told the babies do not always have family to take them in or a good place to go. I wondered how uncomfortable she was trying to sleep in the prison beds.  (Bolivia)

"I always told my children not to get involved in drugs. I am not sure why I trusted the men who told me everything would be OK if a carried their package.  When I found out it was drugs I tried to back out but I was afraid they would hurt me and my family.  I have been in prison for 3 years and during that time I have developed endurance and a self love.  I only hope that my children will learn from my mistake and have a better life.  God gets me through each day because in here God is all I can rely on." (South Africa)

Most all of the woman we talk with have been used as drug mules.  They have been arrested at the airport for smuggling drugs.   So many of the woman have chosen to carry the drugs in order to help their families.  They have been convinced that they will be fine and have felt like it was the only choice they had left.  It does not make their crime OK, but it sheds light on why someone would risk getting caught smuggling drugs.  As Heidi says, we are not the judge we are only there to reach out to the person.  We are there in order to treat them with the inherent dignity every person deserves.

Today as I reflected on the theme of Mother, I was humbled by the love of a mother.  And reminded that no matter where we are in this life our mother remains an essential  part of our lives.

So tonight I pray for all the mothers of the prisoners and the prisoners who are mothers.  I ask you to pray with me and to also thank God for the mothers in your own life.