Boring to you, triumph for me

 

Yes, it’s MY rooster. I saw him while on vacation. I photographed him (after having to “seduce” him with lots of stale old bread) close up(the small insert to the right). Then I drew him. And in a bold step for me, I chose to paint him in acrylics, my nemesis. So here he is in all his glory (the scan is slightly blurry since he is painting on canvas and I can’t get it tight into the scanner).  It is really my very first “Peggy” exclusive where I have tried to give it my interpretation. I chose the colors and the painting style and so I very much “own” the painting. Tomorrow I’ll carry it off to class and see what the teacher wants me to add as details, but basically it’s done. I like him and my husband says I should frame it. Frankly, it’s not that good, but I may frame it and stick it in the kitchen. Makes a nice “Portuguese” them. Roosters are national symbol in Portugal. Here’s the story: “A young man was sentenced to be hanged for a crime he didn't commit. In this case, there was not enough doubt to do the accused any good. Vainly, he swore his innocence. In desperation, he fell on his knees and prayed to his two favourite saints, the Virgin Mary and St. John. Thereafter, he made his last wish to meet his judge one more time. As customary, this wish was granted. The judge received the young man in his own home and even served him a fried rooster. Once again, the man swore he did not commit this crime, and, probably inspired by his two favourite saints, he suddenly lifted his right hand's two swear fingers and exclaimed: "Honourable judge, by the Virgin Mary and the Holy John, I once again swear that I am innocent. If I lie, the rooster on that tray will stay where it is, but if I am telling the truth, it will rise and crow". In the same instant, the rooster was in its earlier feathers, standing up and crowing so it was heard all over Barcelos. The young man was immediately released. To the right is the Barcelos Rooster.

And you thought you wouldn’t learn anything new and useful today!!!  (Source: http://home.online.no/~nancys/portugal/country/rooster.html)

For the Girl I Was

Five years ago, when I was living in Canada I wrote this story and it’s been lost all this time. I ran across the file on my computer and so I decided that I would publish it on my blog. I hope you enjoy reading it. Even five years later it gives me joy to read it and remember that happy day.

For the Girl I Was

And there she was. Carefully scraping her thumbnail over the bar of soap and transferring it to the belly of the doll that she had begged me to undress. I observed her deliberately repeat her task over and over again. I smiled indulgently as any surrogate grandmother might do while playing with her favourite 18 month old. As I began to observe more clinically, to see if there were any good ideas for my series of studies on toddlers, I glanced at the doll’s eyes. I had to shake my head as I suddenly had a flashback. I recalled the story of the “Velveteen Rabbit” and remembered the words of the old Skin Horse, about toys becoming real when they were well loved. The doll was certainly well loved. She was missing half her hair and what remained was matted and ugly. Her painted on eyes were faded. She had what looked like crayon marks on her cheek and some permanent dirt on her tummy. She is very old I thought. She must be more than forty. I hunted through my memory banks to remember her name. It was Toodles. She was the only doll I kept because I loved her so. Looking at her brought out buried emotions from my heart. I thought I saw love in that doll’s eyes. And I remembered.

I remembered that I played with her until I was far too old to be holding baby dolls. She had such a sweet expression on her face. She even wore one of my old baby dresses. Maybe I was just feeling sentimental on my almost birthday, but for just an instant I felt like she breathed a sigh of freedom. It was as if she was muttering, “At last, off the shelf and into a child’s arms.” For sure, Christina didn’t care about the dirt and the wear and tear. She laboured over the baby doll’s pretend bath for nearly twenty minutes. That’s an absolute marvel in the world of a toddler.

Tears welled up as I watched. Not just a few tears. It might be said that I began to weep. I felt again how much I had loved this doll. I even remembered how sad I was to put her in a box because I really was too old for her. I didn’t want to be too old for my doll baby, and yet still too young for a real baby. I had wanted to hold on just a bit longer, not ready to release my childhood. So, I didn’t let my mom give her away with all my other toys. Even when I went away to college, moved to Korea and then to Brazil, Toodles stayed packed away, waiting for me to be ready for her again.

But I was never ready for her again. I never had my own babies who could play with her and love her like I did. There was no place in my home for an old worn out baby doll. Consequently she was moved with my mother’s things to Chicago, Raleigh and finally to Kentucky. When I finally came close to moving home, arriving in Canada, my mom said, “That’s it! Some of your junk has to go.” I began sifting through years of memories stored with my mom. Somewhere in a ratty old box I found Toodles. Fortunately no one was around and I could hug her and give her a big kiss. She would not go into the throw away pile. She would go in my suitcase and onto the airplane all the way to Canada. I knew what I would do with her, too. I would clean her up and buy a beautiful dress for her and keep her on my bed. She would be a kind of antique decoration. She would be a beloved reminder of my infancy long gone.

Toodles made it safely to Canada, but not to my bed. I never seemed to remember to buy her that beautiful new dress. She did get cleaned up, but I decided I didn’t want to repair her hair or repaint her eyes. It would like wiping out all the love she had received. I put her in the laundry room where she sat and I talked to her occasionally as I folded my clothes. Somehow she looked forlorn and always made me a little sad. She made me think of loss, abandonment, of times that could not be recaptured and of things that would never be. That was very strange, for after all she is only an old doll and I’m so very pragmatic and unsentimental.

Still, my strangely evocative doll (and to some people my very ugly doll) stayed on the laundry room shelf for several years until Christina was here that night. I thought Toodles would be just right for Christina. So she was. It was endearing to see Christina embrace that ugly old doll. Then came the moment of my tears. “Oh, Toodles, at last you are being loved on again.”

Truth be told there was more going on. “At last”, I thought, “ I have a living, breathing baby I can touch and hold and love and it doesn’t hurt.” Christina is a wonderful, precious little girl who has that lovely, sweet baby smell and who comes running to my open arms when she sees me. Never has a baby loved me so. Never have I been able to love a baby, except maybe my Toodles. And now I was watching  the two of them love each other.

On the eve of my 52^nd birthday, it is crystal clear that I will not have babies to play with Toodles. Until now I don’t think I knew what to do with that little girl who loved her baby doll, but could not have her own babies. So on this night I mourned what I had lost. The tears were for the girl I was. But there was also a smile. A smile for the woman I have become and, of course, for the baby Christina who plays with the baby Toodles.

PS:  My mother made a beautiful dress for Toodles. She “lives” with me in Brazil now, sitting on my nightstand, wearing my bracelet I used when I came home from the hospital in 1952

It’s been a busy week!

It’s Friday, finally and it’s been quite a hectic week. Despite or perhaps because of all of that, we decided to enjoy our day off together. So after some very typical wishy-washy debate of trying to decide what to do, we drove over to the south side of town for a late lunch.  João decided to take me to a seafood place right on the beach of Ipanema. In all the hustle and bustle of this insane city, it’s hard to believe there is a place like this. The entry to the street is very restricted and when you drive down the little alley, there you are right at the beach, just blocks from Copacabana. But here you see and hear the waves and suddenly you feel the stress just blowing out to the sea, going away to Africa! Today the sky was that rare blue we have once in a while here. It wasn’t hot, and in fact we chose to sit outside in the sun. Once again, it was that rare deliciously warming sun here in the tropics, with a light breeze to keep us cool. It made me glad to live in Rio. It was just that kind of perfect day. We ordered our favorite moqueca (it’s the fish stew you see on the left, prepared in an earthen ware pot). It was really good. Even the rice and manioc flour that accompanied it was tasty. I savored the afternoon. Since it seemed to so calm and quiet, we decided to take a walk down to the rocks you see in the photo on the right. It was just lovely. Doesn’t it really look like the tropical paradise that you imagine Rio is?  It’s a shame so much of Rio has deteriorated into dirt and slums and traffic jams and violence that we forget how wonderful it can be. Today was a respite and it made us want to live right on the beach. I feel ten years younger after our day off. I trust you too are investing in your recreation and mental health as well. My house may be dirty and my articles yet to be written, but I feel so good I just don’t care!

Happy Birthday to Us

Don’t you think we look remarkably well preserved for celebrating our 125th birthday? Monday was our church’s birthday. We’ve been making a full month of it with activities. Sunday we celebrated with the Lord’s Supper, with the presence of many ex and long distant members present. We finally had a full house after weeks of empty pews, we think due to the Swine Flu scare. Our schools have opened again and life seems to be returning to normal.

Monday, on the actual anniversary, we had a 12 hour prayer vigil, starting at 6AM. Every 30 minutes there was a different person to lead the prayer time. João had the 6AM slot and I was at 6:30. It might surprise you to know that these were the most well attended times. That’s because people could come before work or school and then slip out as needed. People came and went all day long, although some folks stayed the entire day. It sounds like it would have been tiring, but it is such a wonderful experience. Every person brings a different perspective and style, so it is all quite varied. This year it was heavily led by the youth, so that made it different, although I laughingly noted that they were the least creative and talked the most.  I guess it was insecurity. Every aspect of church life was prayer for through silent prayer, group prayer, oral prayer, individual prayers, etc. This is a very long standing tradition and there are folks who have participated in this event for over 50 years. I hope we never ever do away with it!

At the end of the prayer time, we had a “birthday party” for the church with cake and all. The music was nice and the food was good, and I enjoyed getting to talk with folks, since there had been no time for that during the day. I will confess, however, that I missed the celebratory worship service.

I have been faithful to my Bible reading plan this year and have been loving my daily Bible reading time. As part of our celebration we promoted a plan for reading the Bible in 125 days. I have added that to my current reading, so a big chunk of my morning has been given to Bible reading. I am so enjoying it and have been pleased to see that others at church are finding the same pleasure!

Next Sunday we close off the month of celebration with the presentation of the cantata “God With Us”.  Between the orchestra and choir there must be close to 150 participants. If you are around on Sunday night at 7PM, come and join us.

Out of Pocket

I was out of town this week visiting with my friend Marilene, so I am a little behind in sharing with you this week. I enjoy her company so much, so it was great to have this time together. Continue to pray for her and the baby as we chose to hold on to hope and a miracle.

We had such fun in the kitchen and I learned how to make more Brazilian food. João was excited I had learned to make “Caldo Verde” (Green Potato Soup). That’s a traditional Portuguese soup that I have always enjoyed, but never knew how to make. You fry sausage and onions and garlic and then slightly fry the potatoes. Then you cook the potatoes, blending them with chicken broth. You put everything together, adding in very finely shredded kale, to give a green coloring to the soup. It is hardy and tasty. Invite me to your house and I’ll make you some.

Last Sunday,before travelling, we had a special Sunday focusing on children’s ministry. I preached  in the morning about the importance of children in the life of the church. At the evening service, we had a  ventriloquist share with the children and the children led the worship as well. It was an exciting service to say the least. I am not sure if the kids or adults enjoyed it more. Even I had never seen a ventriloquist live and I forgot myself in the moment.

On the “bride” scene (Elly), things are shaping up  nicely for an April 21st wedding. She has the church and the banquet hall reserved. She got her gorgeous shoes the other day and today we got the happy news that her dress we had ordered was being delivered some time next week. Everything is coming along nicely. She and Sissy and I are all working out at the gym to get in shape. Something tells me they will make more progress than I will. Still I am up to 40 minutes on the treadmill and up to 15 lbs. on one of the weight-lifting chairs (my legs of course). Keep up the good work, right?

See You Later, My Little Flower

I don’t want my blog to be a one note samba, focusing on loss or pain or anything like that. Right now I am suffering together with a dear friend who is facing the impending loss of baby (fetus of 3 months), unless God decides to perform a miracle. At the same time another old friend found a text that I wrote the night I lost my first baby. The two moments came together for me as I reread the text for the first time in many years. I had long lost the text. I decided to translate it into English. It is very unpolished – on purpose – so you feel how the words tumbled out of my heart into my mind that night.

So Long, My Little Flower

It was such a happy day. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. I felt like Sarah when she heard that she would have a child. I showed the test results to my husband, with the big positive sign. It was a surprise – a big one. We hadn't exactly planned the pregnancy, but we hugged, I sat in his lap and our dreams about Johnny began. We called him Johnny because while we dated, we joked about how one day we would have a child and call him Johnny.

In my heart of hearts, I dreamed of having a child, but was fearful that this just wasn't possible. God had already given me one miracle. After I had long decided I would never find love, God sent me the great passion of my life. Imagine, a “girl” of 40 marrying for the first time! If God could perform this miracle, what else might he have in store for me?

Apparently something quite exciting, as on July 19^th my husband and I shared the joy of knowing that God had blessed our 7 month marriage with a child. We called our families that very day to let them know. Little by little others heard and all were joyful with us.

Then August 19^th arrived. The day in which we had to say goodbye to our little Johnny. He had already gone to be with Jesus some days, we just didn't know yet. I was totally alone when I read the cold hard words of the ultrassound, “Pregnancy Ended”. I understood but one thing: “We had lost our child”. The pain caught me by surprise and I gasped for air, as the wave swept over me, bringing a storm where there had been peace just seconds before. Johnny was gone. My tears and sorrow weren't gone. It seemed as if the tears had come to live with me. Each time I had to explain it again, it hurt even more, making the nightmare a reality, make his death more real for me. It was too real for me.

The word spread quickly and everyone was gentle and kind with me. I knew my friends were suffering with me, but I could only cry even more. When my husband arrived at the office to take me home, my heart opened to receive his love and he held me in his arms. He said to me: “There is no dam to hold back your tears now”. For once I had no words. I didn't even want to talk. I just wanted to be with him to assimilate our loss.

I believe, with all my heart, that God gave us this very dear present. I will remember, always, our month of dreams, plans and joy, like a great treasure. It was fun to imagine our child. It was an unexpected joy. And all the pain of the loss can never rob us of the joy we felt for that short time.

My husband always calls me his flower. I answer him back by saying that I am the flower in his garden and he is my gardener. I understood that the result of the love between a flower and a gardener was a tiny little seed. And when that seed began to germinate, even while a tiny little bud, before he could blossom, he left our happy little garden.

Soon I will be healthy and strong again. One day I will be joyful and happy again. In fact I will be stronger, healthier and happier because now I walk where I have never walked before. I have learned that wherever I walk, even in intense pain, God goes with me. For the first time I begin to understand the “valley of shadow of death” and it has a deep meaning for me.

I am still my husband's flower and our love will be deeper and more powerful as we walk together in loss and love. We will share the power and strength of our love with others who also weep.

I don't know why our little Johnny stayed with us for such a short time. I wish he were still here! I so wanted to see what kind of flower he would have been. But now he is in a more beautiful garden, happier and more perfect than ours could ever be. I leave my child with One who loves him as I never could. Good-bye my little flower that never bloomed. You are no longer min. I loved you. I wanted you so much and so anxiously awaiting your arrival. I miss you already. One day I know I will understand better, but for now I cry. I never wanted to say these words, but I must say good-bye. So long, my little flower.

Father’s Day

Today is Father’s Day here in Brazil. Fortunately it doesn’t carry all the sloppy sentimentality with false expectations that Mother’s Day does. We called the Fathers up to the front and prayed for them in the worship service. After church, we went out to the Outback for a family lunch and then had coffee afterwards. It made for a nice Sunday, although we didn’t get home until 3:30, since there was a long line at the restaurant. Elly fell in love with and bought, on the spot, her shoes for the wedding. They are beautiful. It was a productive lunch for her!

The art display was up at church, but I will confess I was disappointed, as I didn’t think there were very many pieces being displayed, although the display itself was nicely done, I thought the subject matters did not reflect the theme very well, nor was there much diversity. The art itself was lovely, but it just didn’t illustrate the theme, as far as I was concerned. I don’t get how the architecture of the front of the church shows unity. (Theme: TOGETHER!) But then maybe I am obtuse. I wished there were abstracts and some sculptures as well, but I guess we are stuck on realism. I am not sure why my work was displayed with photographs, but that's okay. It's been interesting to hear people's remarks, but I have decided I am too much of a beginner and my ego is way too delicate to hear these things! I now sympathize with struggling artists. Despite these things, I think it was a good idea to try to reconcile art and Christianity. I wish we could even have a “arts” group with Bible studies and all. So many times we have sidelined those in the arts, when that God given talent should be on the cutting-edge/frontlines of where we are heading. Maybe someday…

Who Could Ask for Anything More?

I love the movies, but hardly ever go, for a lot of reasons. Today, however, when João suggested we go to see a movie on our day off, I was really surprised. He is not a movie-goer at all. It’s not just the expense, either. Most movies these days are violent, dirty, sad, or stressful. This movie was none of those! It is a Brazilian movie and I highly recommend it, if you get a chance to see it. I know in Ottawa they show Brazilian movies at the Bytown. It will probably have the title of “The Story Teller”. It is based on a true story and is so inspiring. It’s about a child raised in the “state sponsored orphanage” and considered incorrigible, beyond recuperation. Except that he has his life changed by a French woman who loved him and adopted him. It is an amazing story of patience. I loved the movie and I think you would too.

Besides going to the movie, he took me out to dinner at TGIF’s and I loved my supper. After supper and the movie, we then did shopping at the mall. And, now hold on to your hat, I got two new pair of shoes! They are Clark’s one of my favorite brands, which I didn’t even know they sold in Brazil. My feet were killing me, so I put on a new pair and got a while new wind to keep on shopping. I had the humph to visit three bookstores. Those of you who know my husband, know that it takes real stamina to accompany him at a bookstore! As a bonus to him, he found a collection of books that he was anxious to obtain, and they had 20% off. It is “A History Of Private Life”.

So who could ask for anything more? Time with my husband. A good movie. Enjoyable food. New books. New shoes. Total relaxation.

PS: My sister actually took the time to google the movie and its title in English is "The Story of Me". I found a synopsis online if you'd like to read it, at the emovie guide.

Making a List and Checking it Once

Whew! Today I got to check off two things from my “to-do” list. I finished and sent off the translation into Portuguese of the Baptist Women’s World Day of Prayer Program. That’s always a challenge, although I will confess that this year it was easier for me since the originals were in English. Sometimes there are so many mistakes, the English so confusing that I feel like I am making it up as I go along. There were times I would read and contemplate a sentence for over 20 minutes trying to make heads or tails of it. This year things made sense to me. Then again, it was prepared by a Canadian! Only a couple of times did I have to sort of rewrite or edit for things to make sense in the Brazilian culture. The program actually touched me and at times I had to stop and pray about what I was reading/writing.

I also picked up at the framing shop and then turned into the arts director at our church my drawing of the three ministers.  This isn’t the greatest shot, as it was still wrapped in plastic and I needed to leave it as such to carry it to church. You can even see me snapping the photo. I’ll try to get a photo of it along with the rest of the art exposition at Church. The title is “TOGETHER” .

Both things are a big load off my shoulders. Now on to prepare my lecture to the youth on Saturday morning and then my Bible study about the disciples Philip and Nathanael, for my English group. Gotta get with the program. Oops, and now it’s time to go to my art class.

SURVIVAL MODE

Hey, that’s me at the gym working out. Check out the blurry legs. I am going at it at about 5.5 KM an hour. All three of us had some sore muscle issues in the first couple of days, especially after our initial evaluation. After the thorough evaluation, we each received our personal training program. Me I am doing 30 minutes of treadmill and about that of weight machines. I told the teacher I was terrified of hurting myself, so he took it pretty easy with me. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about working out on the machines, but so far I actually like them. In just a couple of days, I have already moved up the weights just a tiny bit on some of the machines. I hope we can keep up the schedule. We took the weekend off and João went back the gym today.

Friday afternoon I had a fairly invasive exam and over the weekend I didn’t feel the greatest. Since the doctor suggested I get light rest, I took her at her word and have been trying to do that. Tomorrow I’ll try going back, but today I was so so tired from Sunday, I thought I should probably keep on take it easier today.

Sunday was just grand. We initiated our 125th anniversary celebrations. Everything went off quite smoothly and there was an excitement in the air. I am especially pleased about the Journey of 125. We want 125 people to read the Bible in 125 days. Won’t that be great if we succeed? There is so much happening this month, I am going to be really busy. So I think I’ll be heading into survival mode.