we think in generalities, but we live in the details.

I am stepping off my soap box for this blog post - I promise no high-brow rants about truth or love. Just a few short stories before I get by beauty rest for my trip to Sao Paulo this weekend - 

My upcoming Sao Paulo adventute. 

I met a family  a few weeks ago who adapted a girl from CLM. We hit it off over lunch here on Sunday. So because of my infinite charms - not really... because of English skills, they have invited my to spend the weekend with their family in Sao Paulo so they can practice English. I am really excited and nervous about the trip, but it is sure to be in an interesting contrast to life here on the farm. 

Peeing on the Job. 

As I said in my last blog post, I am making an effort to include a few of the boys in all of work projects. They are always eager to help for about the first 30 minutes and then they find excuses to run off before they work too hard. haha. 

Last week, Geovane was helping me cut and stack wood. He had the day off school and refused to take off this PJ's so he walked beside me down to the barn in sandles and red pajama pants with teddy bears on them.  As I started tossing logs into piles to be cut. I glance up and noticed Geovane standing 4 feet away from me - peeing. He didn't even bother to turn around...he just leaned slightly the side of our work area  (aiming down hill thankfully), and let it fly. I laugh awkwardly and he just shrugged... and proceeded to cut some logs. 

Then this week, I have been filling the holes in the driveway with gravel... and again I asked a few of our boys to help. Today, Lucao decided it was a good idea to pee in the rain water ditch on the side the drive way (the driveway the everyone uses to go to and from the house by car - I might add). And yesterday, Allison did the same exact thing! I have learned that if I hear the shoveling sounds stop and I don't than hear an excuse to stop working that the boys are peeing right were they stand. Sleeping on the job isn't a problem here at CLM, but peeing in the job comes with the territory. 

The Barefoot Boys. 

All the kids here wear sandles (shan-del-os) - as do I. However, some of our kids where sandels for about 15 steps and then decide they no longer need them and just keep walking leaving their sandals literally in their tracks. Viktoria, our second in command here at CLM, has pointed out to me that you can tell the kids that come from the streets because they are the ones running around barefoot. The concept of foot-ware is simply foreign to them - as is showering and changing cloths. One of our boys - who as only been here a month - didn't change cloths all week, despite my repeated pleas. Finally, I realized that he wasn't changing cloths because he wasn't used to having new cloths to change into, and he was afraid he gave up his cloths because he might not get them back. When i finally did convince or force him to pick new cloths out his closet... I found the green "orange" fruits hidden in his closet. Hiding food is a survival strategy... watching the fruits roll out of shirt sleeves and pant pockets i both a laughed and teared up inside - and in the end - just picked them up and put them back - and gave Ali a hug. 

He was used to getting a shirt and pair of pants and wearing them day after day after day after day until they literally fell off of him. I thought the dirty cloths and bare feet style here was a part of the farm culture my first few weeks, but now the I am learning more about each kid's personality and history I see they these kids are unlearning life on the streets and learning the most basic fundamentals of life in a home. 

Eu louco para pizza or  I am crazy or Pizza. 

"EU Louco Para Pizza. Yeah!" was the chant in the car today as the Davi, the boys, and I drove into the city. Another example of your kids unlearning their street habits dawned me tonight when we took the older boys for a pizza buffet. First of all, a trip into the city is big deal. William busted out kakis and a tie for the trip, and Arivoldo and Altair slicked back their hair into perfect, shiny business man doos. 

Second of all, Snoots you are going to be jealous of this buffet experience. This place puts cici's to shame. You didn't even have to leave you seat!... every (literally) 40 seconds a waiter would bring a new kind of pizza right to your seat - highlights were beef stroganoff pizza and chicken heart pizza. Then, after everyone eats their weight in regular pizza, they start the dessert pizza rotation. By desert pizza time no one wanted  to eat another bite, but the desert pizza seemed to get progressively more delicious and irresistible - imagine chocolate, fruit, white chocolate, and peanut butter pizza... and now imagine it coming roaring back up in chunks because that's what I imagined as i chewed every last piece i forced down my gullet. 

Well, our boys ate like champs - and complained like them after. I thought it was all in the name of fun buffet gluttony, until Mike explained that some of the boys still haven't overcome their survival eating mentality. That is... these kids who lived on street without parents or with parents on drugs - never knew when their next meal might be so any time they had the chance to eat - the ate everything they could get their hands on. This becomes a problem at a buffet... Despite 4 squares a day plus snack some of our boys still hold onto this survival strategy - and I think a few of the boys might be unlearning this eating cycle on the toilets right now. :)

I can't imagine our kids living their "past lives" when i look them in eye and watch them smile. More than a few of them were in street gangs, some suffered sexual abuse, some were force to steal or prostitute themselves to support their parents' drug habits, and one of them was forced to live in cage when their family left the house. These stories are horrible and unimaginable - especially when you meet the loving, joyful, intelligent, sweet kids they happened to. It awes me the power of God, family, and love that can heal. The people here at CLM are literally giving these kids a second life - a chance to be reborn - not just spiritually, but literally to begin life again in a home and with a family. I can think of no better way to spend a life than giving 34 kids the chance to live their lives. 

Blogs to Come.... 

a virtual tour (by picture of where I live)

a profile of all the missionaries and staff and visitors here

and stories and adventures in Sao Paulo 

Good night to you all...I am off to bed - 5:45 rolls round quick. 

Gerbs. 

Under the Stars and Smiling :)

As I write this, I am sitting outside in Mike and Mary's yard leaning against a small tree so I can steal their wireless signal without bothering them on the their day off. I love being outside here... the air is cool and my hoodie is warm. The frogs (or sabos) are singing around the pond, and at the house the voices of kids and Christian pop combine into a joyful remix of music. Jenni, one of guard dogs, just came to investigate my setup... she left after sniffing me twice and licking my face so I guess I am allowed to be here. There is so much life here... it makes you feel alive. 

Today, I woke up with an incredible sense of joy. I felt light as if I had been squat lifting the work load of this place since I got here, but today I finally put the bar down. I felt like myself... I was more goofy with the lil kids...more outgoing in my portuguese conversation with the older girl at lunch, and generally I felt like I could relax. Last week, the older girls made fun of me because all I would do is trablhar (work). Fran walked in front of me as i was cleaning off the table dropping pieces of rice....Taunting me the whole time "Pat-tri-que...un mais, un mais". :) Her joke put me in my place... i have been using my compulsive need for order and clean (thanks mom) and my sense of duty to literally WORK my way into relationships here.. but because I have been doing the dishes and cleaning, and chopping wood, and mowing, an fixing doors I have become more of a Man-servant than a friend to everyone here. But today I took off the butlers uniform and just lived with everyone (rather than working for and around them).

I think their is something the saying "walk a mile in my shoes".  The saying isn't walk next to me for a mile, but walk a mile in MY SHOES. Jesus didn't just run around healing everyone he saw and shouting things about the kingdom of God. Most the time he just sat and ate and chatted with folks. He not only loved the poor and the destitute...he became the poor the destitute. 

I refused to take donations towards my trip to Brazil from any church, friend, or family member because I felt like their money would be better used to pay for food or cloths or toys- rather than for my plan ticket and in flight peanuts. And now that I have been here... I am even more convinced that money is not the answer... it is not enough to even support CLM finically from a distance (although this is needed and great thing)... However, to truly love someone you have know them first.... and to know them you have to know how they live...so live with them. I am not saying don't give to charity, but I am saying that you are missing so much if you love from a distance. Isn't coffee with a friend better than phone call? Isn't sex better than phone sex? Isn't hug of thanks better than a Thank You card three weeks later?Humans need contact... and not the kind facebook provides. We need to touch and be touched and to see others smile and to smile back at them. To interact, to exchange, to give, to take, and repeat. We need to look into the faces of others because that is where you will best see yourself. 

Liberal politicians will make programs and policies to support the poor and right-wing Christians will tithe any % to the causes of the church....but the truest followers of christ... I think... live with the poor and give themselves to cause.  The true revolutions don't just fight for a cause. they become it, right? So why is it so counter intuitive to live like this? If the joy I felt today is the result of these people and this place and this community...why can't I feel the same with my roommates or my coworker. Why do I smile under the stars here....would I be smiling under the stars in Dover...will I be smiling under the stars in Portland this time next year. What is it here that makes live worth living - and can you take you through customs, i wonder?

I feel like i am beginning to understand the routine, the fun, the burdens, and the intense struggle for everyone living here. See the missionaries just don't work for the kids... the live with them. The difference is profound. These people aren't going home to a clean house and Domino's Pizza. They LIVE here. every day...this is their home, and this is how the want to live and it am beginning to think this is the ONLY way to live. They can relax in the knowledge that they have their whole lives to work here so their is no rush. I have been treating this trip so far somewhat like Habitat of Humanity blitz build...that is getting as much done in as little time possible at the expense of all else... but that attitude is draining and actually I now realize counter productive. If I do all my work in the morning when the kids are at school than none of the boys can help me shovel gravel to fill the potholes. None of them get that satisfaction of helping, that time with me (a male figure in their lives).  In past, blog posts I have said that my schedule here is work play, play work....but I am not so sure that is true anymore... I think my schedule is just To Be here. 

And now that I think of it... I don't really want to be sitting against this tree anymore listening to the sounds of life from the house... I want to be in the house. 

So ate logo (see you later), I have some some living to do. 

Gerbs

Thank you all for a very Feliz Aniversario.

I have had some good birthday's in my quarter decade... 

Some of you will remember the middle school blowouts we had partying inside the middle school or perhaps you celebrated as a kid like I did at Macdonalds (because nothing says "Congrats you survived another year!" like a happy meal and a few more pounds towards to childhood obesity). 

Today's celebration, however, takes the cake. (excuse the pun... it's my birthday after all)

In the Gerber family we have a saying, which was coined by my wise and astute older sister during some forced family gathering. It goes... Holidays are nothing but expectation and disappoints - Meaning because of past bad experiences we try not to let our family celebrations fall into the routine of tradition and the pitfalls of stressful planning and big productions. We just try to enjoy each other and relax whenever we can. Case in point... Our one birthday party in April is actually for 5 people. This is a 4 hour mass orgy of food, wrapping paper, toys, and play.  That's how we like it intense and fast. (think about it... orgy+intense+fast=sex joke) hint: If you're not laughing... give it a try. It's my birthday after all. 

However, today I was not 1 of 5 birthdays being celebrated. Today, I was the only birthday being celebrated (to my surprise). And today was anything but a disappointment... the LOVE poured out for me today from my family, friends, and CLM family kicked my expectation square in the testicles and sent them soaring through my intestines and straight into the bleeding chambers of my heart. (Imagery, kids, is my gift to you... it's your unbirthday after all - except you Bryan). 

I didn't tell many people at here in Brazil that it was my birthday because I have only been with CLM for 2 weeks, and I felt selfish brining it up. So my day started like any other day... However, mid- morning I opened the birthday cards that my family sent along with me to Brazil. Now, I am not one for mushy birthday wishes and hallmark cards, but drawings from my nieces, a clever gag gift, and pictures from our  last party (Easter/5 Birthdays) left me watery eyed. I felt like I was home. I knew that I was loved, and that was the perfect birthday moment. 

So I continued my work, play, play, work routine and then Aline (one of the older girls - who was sick and in bed) said "Feliz Aniversario", and them Mary and Mike gave me birthday hugs and Brazilian coffee (It's the thought that moved me...but the coffee helps :) then at lunch everyone - all 34 kids, the missionaries, and the workers sang happy birthday to me in Portuguese and tried to get me to jump in the pond (maybe as tradition, maybe as a joke, maybe both). Sheesh... I'm tired just describing this... 

And then tonight after the talent show, Bethany made cake for the duel celebration of my exit from the womb 25 years ago and Jake and Amanda's arrival here in Brazil. There were 5 candles on the cake and before I blew any out Maria (our 2 year old) did 4 of them for me - see the picture below. As if that wasn't enough... Mary Gibson and the CLM family gave me gifts, which were all perfect in there own way. They were all unexpected but amazing!

1. A t-shirt w/ guitar logo - my cloths are all dirty at the moment.  
2. Brazil sandals - I am told they are most comfortable sandals ever.  
3. Brazilian candy - yummy, enough said. 
4. A framed picture of the CLM family - beautiful and perfect souvenir.
5. A CLM calendar - so every day in the future I can smile and realize I'm not as tired as I was them. 

During this mass celebration... I was hounded by the kids for pictures and hugs and Feliz Aniversario-s... it was an awesome moment - made perfect by being prayed for by the whole group all holding hands together. I don't care what your religious affiliation - when 40 people hold hands around a table and pray for you - you KNOW God in the room. 

So overwhelmed yet? I am, but (like an infomercial)  wait there's more! 

Finally, I walk upstair to write this blog post and in my inbox are 32 new messages - every one of them was one of you wishing me a happy birthday. Thank you. 

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Obrigado. Obrigado. Obirgado. Obrigado. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you . Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you and you and you and you and you....

I am without words (We'll we know that's not true, but you get the point) grateful for my amazing friends and family. 

Thank you all so much. I love you all. (Muito obrigado. Eu amoro voces todo.)

Pat.

A Picture is worth a 1,000 Blog Posts

I have taken 200 pictures in a week since I have been here in Entre Rios. Mostly of Helen (Elen) our 2 year old because she loves the camera and is too adorable to not take her picture. So instead of my long, winded descriptions of my adventures I thought I would just let the images speak for me. Plus, it will give you in Blog Land a chance to meet my new pals.

Enjoy seeing what I am lucky enough to see every day. - Oi, Gerbs

Note: So right after I said I was not going to write alot...I wrote alot... The follow is a rant, but I think a meaningful one.

I remember reading Nate Johnson's Blog from his time here at CLM, and I remember thinking how distant and alien these kids felt to me... It was like watching a sci-fi movie with giant spiders and waterfalls and kids reproducing every time they get wet (5 points if you got the Gremlins reference). The thing I cannot stress to all of you is just how like us and our kids, grandkids, nephews, and nieces everyone here is...  

A local business man had a BBQ for the kids today - complete with mechanical bull, trampoline, and ball pit. It was a wild day and about 3 a clock, I ran into the kitchen to grab some coffee (so my sugar level matched that of the sugar monsters bouncing outside) - As I sipped my coffee, I listened to the mash-up of conversations, laughter, and yelling that floated in through the window, and suddenly it hit me...I could NOT hear the language difference. I could make the adults chatting on the sidewalk. I could hear (very obviously) the boys' attempts to conquer the mechanical bull. I could hear the screams of the girls bouncing each other higher, and muito alto. And all of these sounds were the same sounds I hear when my nieces play outside, when my parents chat with their friends, or when I play soccer with the High School soccer team. 

The reason I couldn't connect with Nate's experience then and why I am preaching this message of unity so fiercely now is because I am pretty damn sure I was brain washed as a child. We were all brain washed by commercials of African kids with flies on them standing in a streams of dirty water and images of war zones on CNN and Old Navy advertising, where all the smiling, clean kids are white and then by the news story that Old Navy cloths (or some brand, any brand, maybe all brands - who the f@$# knows)... that our cloths are made by starving, abused kids in sweat shops and we should feel bad about that and do something about it - as long as, that something doesn't require us to stop shopping or to actually find these kids and touch them. All this psychological bashing taught me subconsciencely about the (lucky) US and (unlucky) them mentality....of the primal beast like existence of the third world and the civilized, righteous existence of the USofA. 

Well, here's some truth I have found. (hear me now, believe me later). Their is no us and them. And this is not philosophical Bullshit or an olympics commercial...This is me saying these people - my new familia, my family back home, my friends, my high school class mates, even that weird exchange student from high school (you know you had one - and you know you thought he was weird.) These people are the US (not the United States, but the US - as in we - as in you'all and I). And I'm pretty damn sure that no matter who I meet next - a terrorist, a muslim (there's difference, kids), a rabbi, a paraplegic, a golf pro, a transvestite, a priest, a mother, a father, a son, or a daughter they will be part of my US (our we) too. 

What I beg of you is that when you see these pictures... don't go looking for the figurative 'flies buzzing around the kids' or the poverty or the orphan, but look at these pictures and see your kids. Because these kids are (just like) your beautiful, happy kids. They just live down the street - so to speak. 

Bemvindo to Brazil. Welcome to CLM

Welcome friend and family and internet stalkers to CLM, Entre Rios. I have been in Brazil for 5 days and two things have become abundantly clear to me: 

1. I was meant to be here. 

2. Blog posts will be far less frequent because living on a farm with 35 kids doesn't leave much time for anything else - but work and play. 

I can't possibly begin to describe the love, the frustration, the joy, the tiredness, and all the thing that have happened in these five short days. So instead I thought I would do a David Letterman -esc top 5 list of my best moments thus far. 

5. Running with David (Dah-vi). 

I share a bathroom with David, a 21 year old Hungarian who can't speak english and only a little more portuguese than me, and Donnie (Do-nee) who is a 14 year old Brazilian kid who plays guitar and loves soccer. (yeah, we get along). 

Quick Donnie story... My second night he pulled his guitar out and we jammed using a vase and table for drums. After, about half an hour of just jamming to random C D GE combinations, all of a sudden, I recognize the song Donnie is playing. I look up and he grins "Red Hot Chilli Pepper...Californication". Musically, its a small world. ha!

So my first morning, I see David running in the fields behind the house and through a series of physical gestures we negotiate that on Tuesday I will go running with him. Tuesday morning just as the sun has peeked over the rolling hills around us, we left on a two mile jog through the wheat fields and around the forest. I'll post pictures so you can see, but the colors seemed deeper, brighter, and more pure than reality usually does... like some movie director artificially created a set on a sounds stage and then enhanced the quality later...but there I was standing in a golden yellow wheat field surrounded by Dr. Suess like trees and 80 degree weather (sucks, to be you Ohio). 

4). Arivold0's  "Orange Tree"

Arivoldo is a little boy about 9 years old (i think), who looks amazingly like a young Jonathan Taylor Thomas. He is also a tough little guy. He plays basketball and soccer like he's 6'3 even though he's one of the smaller boys. So yesterday Mike Cochran (Cool Guy and Missionary), Arivoldo, and I drive the tractor into the woods to cut fire wood. Mike used the chain saw to cut the trees into logs and Arivoldo and I loaded the wagon behind him. Now, I worked hard (I have the blisters to prove it) but lil Arivoldo drug branches and logs 5 times his size into the wagon! And the whole time we are working he keeps talking about taking me to some "tree". He would point, smile, yell something in portuguese, smile, nod, smile. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I would nod and smile too. 

Today, I get done chopping wood and Arivoldo is waiting for me in the drive way with about 8 other kids. He is armed with a large bamboo stick and plastic bag. He runs up and announces "Orange Tree. Pa-tree-que". Never one to turn down an adventure, I join his lil army of 8 kids, 3 dogs, 3 bikes, and me. We begin marching into the fields, and I am carrying lil Everton (2) on my shoulders and I have a lil girl name Rita (He-ta) clinging to my leg because she's afraid of the black dog (named Negro). By the time I drag myself to this lonesome green tree in the middle of the field, the kids have already climbed to the top, and golf ball sized, green fruits are flying out of the branches at my head. They pick about 4 walmart bag of this fruit, which taste like limes, but look like oranges on the inside, and we march back to the house. When I come down to help prepare dinner, every plate has three "oranges" sitting next to it, and Arivoldo is walking around grinning proudly with a two liter of green "Orange" juice in his arms. 

3) Baby Maria - My Calm in the Storm 

My first day I intentionally asked to be put to use with simple, manual labor jobs. I swept the boys rooms and folded laundry...all whole time, kids, workers, and missionaries are running around like worker bees (mind you, they are also speaking portuguese.) Although, I felt like I was being helpful.. as I was folding cloths in the front room I began to a feel incredibly lonely and lost. I began to question how could i possibly connect with the kids and befriend the adults when I couldn't even stop anyone long enough to fumble through a conversation. Just at the moment, Megan (the Canadian Volunteer) asked me if i would hold Maria Luiza's - a 6th month old, angel of a baby's - bottle for a minute. I held Maria in my arm and she chugged her bottle like a college student on spring break, and then in a matter of moments she blinked a few times, she snuggled into my arms, and she was asleep.  At that moment in the middle of the chaos, Maria calmed me down and in her own way told me stop worrying and just relax. I know now that Maria is the most content child to ever be conceived - she only cries when she's hungry and she love anyone who picks her up, which is every one. But even if she'll never know it she gave me the best welcome of any one here, and became my first Brazilian friend.

2) Birthday Party as part of the family. 

Tonight we celebrated three birthday's and everyone sat around the dinning room table, playing games, eating cake, and just enjoying each other. After, a week of emotional highs and emotional lows - I finally knew everyone's names and they finally all knew mine. I have established friendships, jokes, and relationships with all the kids and adults. I felt like part of the family tonight - not just some visitor. I don't think I can overstate the sense of community here. The workers (the farmer, gardener, cook, and cloths washer) all eat lunch with kids and missionaries at never ending table. Meals with the kids here are like that scene in Hook where the kids imagine their food because playtime doesn't stop of lunch (and if not for Mary Gibson a food fight seems always just around the corner). All the kids share toys and help each other with home work and chores. I have not seen one temper tantrum because a kid didn't get his or her way. Yes, they are kids and we have had pouty moments and a few tears, but those moments are brief, and usually they are remedied by one of the older girls or one of the always giving and loving missionaries. Tonight, as I played spoons and rock, paper, scissors with the kids I felt like a member of their family - like I had always been here with them and like I couldn't imagine being anywhere else. 

2) Mowing and Teamwork or why it's better to play hard than to work hard. 

My second after noon here at CLM, I pulled out one of the push mowers to mow the sports and futbol field. Even before I could get the mower started Gisi, Allison, Lobinho, Caroline,  and Carolaine surrounded me. I started the mower as I started to push I felt another pair of lil hands grab the bar...and than another, and then another, and then other. I barely had room for one one hand on the bar, and I didn't have control enough to keep the mower in straight line. The other kids soon formed a group of stick grabbers, who would move the sticks and rocks out of our winding path (they would also throw paper and plastic into our path too :). I pleaded with the mob to go jugar basketball or empusar on the swings, but they just wanted to mow, and so we did. We didn't get alot done (i finished that area yesterday in about half the time), but I wouldn't have spent that hour and half playing - er...i mean working-  any other way. 

adoro voces todo

gerbs

Love actually is all around

Love ACTUALLY is all around...
--The immortal words of the great philosopher and theologian... Hugh Grant.

Watch before Reading: Love Actually Clip (1 min)

Professor Grant spoke these words as a montage of real people - wives, husbands, children, lovers, brothers from another mothers, grandmothers, and grandchildren ran towards their families and friends after exiting an airplane. Despite, these peoples' varying tints of skin, mismatching reproductive parts, and different stages of life - they were smiling (lips turned upward, eyes open and welcoming). They all approached their companions with literal open arms and and held their loved ones once they got them close enough. 

Now, if warm chucks of half digested vomit just climbed the walls of your esophagus and curdled as the acid splashed against your taste buds causing you to convulse and heave...I don't blame you. But just because it sounds like Hallmark inspired, LifeTime movie material Bullshit doesn't mean it's not true. 

What I learned from the airport....
When my parents dropped me off at Cleveland airport yesterday, I was overflowing with silent dread, worry, and anxiety. The language barrier seemed impossible to overcome...no matter how much last minute Portuguese i cram in on the plane. However, spending the last 24 hours in airports with hundreds of different people has completely eradicated all the fear.

Standing in the International Check-in line today I realized...people are people. They smile, they sigh in frustration, the worry about their kids, they laugh....they are all the same. Our differences are on the surface and fleeting. Our similarities are profound and easily detected and shared. Our emotions and gestures are universal. 

To say hello to someone - you don't know need to speak their language... all you have to do smile and look them in the eye. The non-verbal cues we give each other translate better than my stuttering and stammering in Portuguese ever could...

I have spent the last 24 hours inside of airports, teetering on the edge of the scariest and biggest adventure of my life. If you don't know... I will be spending the next 4 months in Entre Rios, Brazil working and living in an orphanage. Visit Canaan Land Ministries or Mike and Mary Cochran's Blog to learn more and see that love actually is all around...

The question everyone seems to ask is "Are you excited?". To be honestly, I am scared feces-less. I am entering a country where I don't know the language...to live with 35 kids.... to do whatever work needs done (which could include slaughtering pigs for dinner, emptying trash cans full of used toilet paper, or teaching English).

However, despite all the reasons I should be scared and frustrated, I am stupidly giddy. It's comparable to the sensation you feel as a roller coaster finally reaches the top of the first big hill. There's a moment, where all you see is sky and all you hear is the final metallic clicks. At that moment, you stop breathing and regret ever getting on the stupid machine, but a second later you are go over the edge and, despite rational thought, you are smiling all the way down.

Tonight at 9:00pm, I finally leave Atlanta airport and the United State (God Willing) and by supper time Easter Sunday I should be breaking bread with the children of Brazil. Deep, Deep Sigh...followed by a big-ole grin.

Love actually is all around or to say it another way: God is Love....Let us love one another.
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. --First John (the bible)
 

email me: pat.gerber84@gmail.com

grace and peace. gerbs