“Speaking of Sin”

I just finished reading the book “Speaking of Sin: The Lost Language of Salvation” by Barbara Brown Taylor. I simply wanted to share a quote from this book.

“By the grace of God, I am being mended, and God has called me to be a mender too. Since many threads are stronger than one, God has put me on a sewing team. Day by day, our job is to hunt the places where the world is ripped and bend over the damage to do what we can. Every good deed, every kind word, every act of justice and compassion tugs the torn edges closer together. The truer our aim, the smaller our stitches and the longer the patch will hold. We made plenty of the rips ourselves, and some of the worst ones show evidence of having been mended many times before, but that does not seem to discourage anyone.

Mending is how we continue to be mended, and we would not trade the work for anything.”

Unexpected Visit

As you guys know, shortly after we arrived we started working on Sara’s application for a permanent visa. We submitted her application and hadn’t heard anything about the process since then. At the time, we were told to just wait. Yesterday, while Sara was in Portuguese class, I received a surprise visit from the Federal Police. We had been told that eventually we would receive such a visit, but we weren’t told when that would be. He arrived around mid-afternoon. He introduced himself and explained the purpose of his visit. The agent then proceeded to ask to see our bedroom, Sara’s closet, our bathroom, and finally he wanted to see pictures of us (which he compared to the visa application photos). An interesting experience to say the least, but, the bottom line is that Sara should have her permanent visa by January or February 2010.

Our First Package

We (finally) received our first package from the States!  Ever since we left in March, my mother has been collecting things that we either forgot or things we didn’t think to bring so that she could send us a package.  She finally reached critical mass (enough stuff to fill the small fixed amount package at the Post Office) and sent it off into the unknown.  The person working at the Post Office told my mother that it would only take 6-10 days for the package to be delivered.  We had no reason not to believe him, especially since the cards she’s been sending have arrived in a mere 4 days.  But, 30 days later, when the package still had not arrived, we began talking about what to do as far as making a claim on the insurance for the package.  We had resigned ourselves to the fact that it was lost in transit and my peanut butter and Reader’s Digests were lost forever.  But, two days later, as Nathan and I were coming home from the gym, our doorman ever so casually mentioned that a package had come for us that day.  I was so surprised and excited that I could hardly keep from opening it right there in the elevator.  And after 32 days in transit, the only problem with the package was that the chocolate chips had melted and then rehardened all in one clump, and that’s certainly not a problem I mind having.  I thought it especially fitting that when the package got here, emblazoned across the front was “America Supports You.”  Yes, as a matter of fact, America does support me, in more ways than one.

Package from Home

Bowling in Brasil

This past weekend Nathan and I went to Rio to visit his family and celebrate his brother’s 18^th birthday.  For his birthday, Jonathan planned the whole day for us, the highlight of which was going bowling at the local mall.  Now you have to understand that before we went, Nathan and his family had been telling me stories about what bowling was like in Brasil.  According to them, the biggest difference is that each of the pins is held up and in place by strings, and that the strings can sometimes affect the way the pins fall down or knock into each other.  So, in my mind I was picturing some kind of elaborate puppet-show with all the pins jerking around on these strings.  I was actually really looking forward to seeing how it all worked- you know, another funny story to tell back home.  You can imagine my disappointment then when we got to the bowling alley and everything was exactly the same as it was in the States.  Well, not everything.  There are strings attached to the pins, but I was halfway through the first game before I even saw one of them.  And I could never tell a difference in the way the pins fell or anything else for that matter.  I was actually hoping for a big difference because then I could have used that as my excuse for doing so poorly (bowling has never been my strongest sport).  Instead I simply found another way that being here is like being home- I am bad at bowling in both places.

Nathan at the Bowling Alley