You have to run before you can crawl.

I considered not writing any blog posts this week (my last in brazil), as a gesture of my commitment to savor every last moment with the kids. However, the intensity of this transition and my 30+ looming goodbyes demand reflection time. This is not my final magnum-opus blog post (nor do i intend to write one). This is just another update from the front lines - a chance to collect my emotional dead...a chance to innodate myself with my own propoganda...a chance to plan the next battle and fortify for the next attack. (a chance to use dramatic war imagery)

Today is literally day #101 of living in Brazil. In 9 more days, the wheels of the plane will release their grip on the runway, and I will leave Brazil. I sigh, the sigh of the conflicted. I feel...in an emotional way like this.  After 3 months it has come down to just a few more days until that damn line.

The First Shall Be Last - the finish line is an illusion.

A month ago when I was house sitting for Mike and Mary, I experienced a few days when the weight of the Mr. Fix-It To-Do list, the weight of piggyback rides, the weight of portuguese conversation, the weight of fights, and the weight of the tears forced me to crawl like those exhausted IronMan women....I would crawl into the shower, into bed, or into a cup of coffee. I would picture the day that I could plop down in my plane seat - i would imagine experiencing this triumphant feeling - like I had won - I had done good. To comfort myself on those bad days, I even imagined the perfect movie-script ending for my Brazilian adventure...

If Life Were a Movie.

 A calming, fun indie rock song would start playing as I gazed out the airplane window, watching a Brazilliam Pione Tree shrink into a green dot. Then the camera would cut away to the kids of CLM playing tag under a similiar Pione tree. One of the children would stop to wave towards at a jet streaking through the sky above. The camera would quickly cut from the child's waving grin on the ground to me from outside the plane window - just as my slight grin would stretch into a full yet silent laugh. Smiling wide, my weary head would fall into the airplane headrest. A rapid montage of moments would flash across the screen - and then the camera would freeze on my now serene face...just before my eyelids fell shut the screen would fade to black and the credits would roll. (that's called catharsis).

Life Is Not A Movie...The Credits Won't Roll...Where's My #*@%ing Sound Track? I'll spare you anymore of this 'life as a movie' metaphor. But, before we get on with it... if I could have a sound track for this moment of pensive, conflicted reflection it would be Work Me, Lord by Janis Joplin.

It's Not About The Finish Line...It's About The People Crawling. 

I don't want to be an American tourist sitting on plane feeling triumphant and pleased with myself that I did some good for the orphans of Brazil. It's not even possible for me to feel this way - because those orphans aren't orphans - they are people. They are my friends. They are unique, and amazing personalities. I'd rather crawl with them - the skin on our knees tattered and bleeding - than stride across some good-deed finish line. There is truth and meaning in the crawl...the slow, painful, exhausted crawl. I fear life at home will quickly turn into a sprint...and I will pass by and forget those crawling behind me. I pray that everyday God would shove me to the ground so that I can fall onto my hand and knees and crawl with them...bleed with them...be with them.

I had incredible interesting and note-worthy stories that I wanted to write - but this is the second night in a row that I am simply unable to muster the words. Maybe I wont write anymore for the rest of my time here - maybe i will my usual 3 pages of ramblings tomorrow - or mabye it will all pour out of my in Atlanta airport.... 

"The legs are there you just can't feel them. The eyes still see but through a gauzy viel of delerium."

grace.peace.pat