No intendio.

This is actually something I wrote earlier this fall after I got back from my trip to Brazil. It's kinda on my heart though tonight as I sit here looking at the pictures on my walls of the children's beautiful faces.










So I'm home. 12 hours on a bus, and 13 hours on a plane, but I made it. At first I was so excited to get home. I wanted to feel clean after I got out of a shower. I wanted to put my toilet paper in the toilet. I wanted to sleep in my own bed. I wanted a full nights sleep without being woken up by roosters at 3 in the morning. I wanted to be able to understand people. I wanted to see my family and friends. I wanted to talk to my camp girls. I wanted to get the film of dirt off of me. I wanted to eat something other than rice and beans. I wanted the privacy of my room. I wanted communication with the world. I simply wanted to be somewhere familiar.

But now I'm missing it. I miss the smiles on those precious faces. I miss holding them in my arms. I miss singing "Deus e tom bom" over 350 times. I miss the looks on their faces when I would try and teach them songs in English. I miss waking up to a great piece of bread and hot chocolate milk. I miss the joy that people had when they saw us Americans. I miss how patient and kind people were. I miss seeing the random donkey or pig running around on the streets. I miss the giant circus tent. I miss not knowing what songs I was playing. I miss lime oranges fresh off the tree. I miss seeing the beautiful people of Brazil. Kids, adults, young, and old. I miss faces.

The faces of those people will haunt me for the rest of my life. How utterly beautiful and captivating they were, but also how they simply wanted love. Many of the kids came from broken homes with 5 or more siblings. There was no main industry other than farming and living off the land. If people did work they worked for minimum wage which was about $2.50 a day. They didn't have materialistic possessions. They only wanted to be loved and cherished. We became close with one particular family of kids that took us to their home. They lived in a small house about the size of your average living room. No doors, no air conditioning, and one small light bulb. Their father had left them. We thought there were 3 children. There were actually two older brothers who worked to support the family. The grandmother lived with the family along with and aunt and a cousin I believe. So nine people living in a space barely big enough for 3. They didn't have a bathroom. They had two mattresses for nine people. I realized how blessed I truly am to have my own bed and bathroom. These kids had almost nothing. Maybe three different sets of clothes and a pair of dirty flip-flops. But they had so much JOY. They greeted us with a smile and a great hug in the morning. Their faces are what kept us going. I know I may not see them again on this Earth, but I hope that I will see them in heaven. I hope they took something from us that will stir them towards Jesus.

No intendio means I don't understand. A very popular saying that came out of my mouth considering I don't speak Portuguese. But now that I'm looking at that I begin to see new meaning. I don't understand why I got so much and those people got almost nothing. I don't understand why most of the families in that town will lose 3-5 children. I don't understand why I want when I should give. I have so much and there are others who don't have basic medical needs, food, or clothing. This trip has humbled me. Metaphorically speaking my face is in the dirt. I'm rubbing that red dirt all over my face feeling unworthy of God's love and how he has provided for me. I just have to be thankful that he has. I will continue to pray for those kids and families until the day I die. Though they don't have as much "stuff" as I do, they have more heart than anyone I know, and that's what's important because moth and rust destroy but treasures in the Lord last forever.