It's Not Comfortable. . .

I've been wanting to write this post for a long time, but didn't have the pictures for it. Sometimes pictures are more powerful than words and my writing can't convey the intensity of my emotions when I am faced with these uncomfortable sights.

The irony of this picture is that I took it on the way home from our vacation to the Falls. We had just seen one of the world's most beautiful landscapes, and one of Brazil's largest tourist attractions! Only a few hours from there, we drove past this man. It's very common here to see cows, oxen, horses, mules and even men pulling carts. It's not comfortable here. I always wonder, Where are they going? What is their mission? Have they ever been in a car? Do they have enough to eat today? How does this happen? Will they ever know life any differently? Why do I get to sit in my comfortable, air-conditioned car, drinking clean water and snacking on whatever suits me, while these people collect the empty bottles that I carelessly threw in the trash the night before? Are they any less content than I am? Maybe they're more content because life isn't so complicated for them?

These are two homes that are close to our own.

It's not comfortable here. I don't like hearing the sound of a horse's feet, clip-clopping outside my window. It means someone is about to look through my trash for a possible treasure. I hide behind my curtains, peeking out at them, wondering what in my trash could be of any value to anyone. Sometimes there are children riding in the carts and they are the ones who jump down to collect what I deemed worthless. Children. That means they aren't in school. Do they know how to read or write? Do they have enough to eat? Are they warm enough in the winter? How do they make it? Should I offer them something? Are they happy? Maybe they're happier because life is simpler. I don't know. It's not comfortable here. I don't like seeing dirty children (5-10 years old) sitting outside the grocery store. It means one of them will approach me and ask me for change. They will beg. What if I give them some money? What will they buy? Do they keep the money or do they have to give it to their parents, who likely sent them? If I give them money, will they ever learn to work, or will they live the rest of their lives knowing someone, someday will give them enough to make it another day? How can I not give when I've just flippantly spent money on unneccessary groceries? Should I pretend I don't understand, although I know full well what has been asked of me? Where are the parents? What can I do? What should I do? It's so very uncomfortable. I can't ignore it. The poverty here screams at me on a daily basis.

It was almost 100 degrees on this particular day.

These pictures were taken on our way to Porto Alegre last week. These are homes. There's a whole town of these tarp-covered shacks, located just off the highway, near Sarandi. Sticks, held up by tarp, or tarp, held up by sticks. These are people's homes. The first time I saw this area, I couldn't believe my eyes. Do people really live like this? Children Emma's age were running around barefoot and dirty, dust caked on their tiny little faces. When did that child last have a bath? Does he know what a bath is? Clean water? Running water, for that matter? Do they have toilets, or just holes in the ground? Do the people work? What do they do when it's cold outside? Will they ever know or care to know a different life? Do they feel loved?

Another common and uncomfortable sight is watching men pushing their wheelbarrows along the streets. Sometimes we see women or children pushing also. Sometimes the wheelbarrow is full, sometimes empty. Sometimes it's food, sometimes it's cardboard or other recyclables. The sight still makes me uncomfortable. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. For several months I was ashamed to pull out my camera and take pictures, but I so badly wanted to capture these images that face me daily. I don't want to forget them. I don't want to become hardened. I don't want to pretend I never experienced what I have.

So all these images and questions have been swirling around in my mind over the last six months. As I was looking through my photos, I came across this last one. We were driving on a highway where Kevin couldn't really slow down. I wanted at least one good photo of the homes, so I leaned out the window and clicked away, hoping I'd end up with a good one, hoping at least one was in focus. Last night I zoomed in on this photo. There's a man playing guitar on the left. There's a young girl standing next to him. The sign on the building behind them says, "Igreja Evangelica (then something I couldn't read), de Jesus." Evangelical Church (missing words) of Jesus. Maybe the man was leading worship. Maybe the girl was singing with him. Maybe they were worshipping the same God that I know and love and worship. Maybe they love Jesus like we do. Maybe they know Him as their Provider more than I ever will because they've experienced Him more than I have. Maybe, those other questions aside, we're really not all that different. Several years ago, I learned a song that Lori Chaffer had written after she went on a mission trip. I thought of it the rest of the way home. This is just the chorus.

Galeana by Lori Chaffer

As I hold your dirty hand all that I can say to you

Is in the awkward smile I make

I can't explain why I came to this distant land

Your simple smiles refresh my soul

And I can't help but love you and know

That you have all you need

As I look into your face I see hope and not disgrace

And strength that carries you along

The rugged road you travel on

And as we go our separate ways

You can be sure that I have changed

Because I've seen the way you live

I don't really have any answers to my questions. Maybe there aren't any. It's been good for me to think about life outside my comfortable, midwest, white, Christian home. It hasn't been easy. I've written several blogs about the fun things we get to do here, about the amazing parts of our journey in Brazil. I guess it wouldn't be fair to those of you reading this if I didn't share more of the whole picture here. Maybe it's for my own sake that I share it. It feels odd to say this, but I'm more thankful for the growth I've had because of the challenges here than I am for all the fun things we get to see and do.