We will not be posting

If you check this blog even rarely you will have noticed that there have been no updates for quite some time. I am now posting to inform you that you should not expect a change. My lovely wife and I do not have internet access at our current residence and therefore find it difficult, nay, well nigh impossible to keep up with our blog. Hopefully someday our situation will change and we will once again have the opportunity to communicate through this medium.

For My Friends

For Ethan & EricFor Derrick (look closely)

For Brandon

For Brandon & Wesley

For Craig

An Amazonian Adventure

The murky depths of Lago Grande (Big Lake) close about me as I enter the water.

I can just stand with my head above water on top of a rock. I take a deep breath and quietly submerge my head and reach for the rock beneath my feet. The rock is rough and porus and I use the many hand holds to pull my self deeper. I can only see about five feet in front of me and even that water is murky. Suddenly the water changes temperature. Near the top it had been like bath water, warmed by the Brazilian sun. But here in the depths the water was still cool and refreshing. I reached the bottom of the first rock and grabbed for another to pull myself deeper still. Finally the bottom, I must have descended about 12 feet. I lay perfectly still except for my eyes. They are in constant motion looking out through my mask. Trying to peer through the water hoping to catch sight of a fish, my spear gun is loaded and ready at my side. I remembered to turn the safety off this time but I am running out of air. A few small fish swim by and then dart away, as if I would waste my time on little runts like them. I am waiting for bigger fish, hopefully a Peacock Bass. But I can not wait much longer. I have only been down about a minute but once again I am too excited to hold my breath very long. I suddenly push away from the rock and head for the surface.

When I reached the top I am greeted with “Did you see one?” and “Did you get any thing?” But alas my answer must once again be no. I never did “get one”, though I did miss a few times. And I even managed to spear one that broke loose at the last minute. But the experience was great. I know it’s something Fritha and I will never forget. So I did not score a fish but my Brazilian friend speared about 7 and so we were able call the trip a success. If we move down here I am going to have to get a spear gun and practice holding my breath!

A Good Place To Sleep

Sometimes it’s tough to find a good place to sleep. I know you know what I’m talking about. You’re tossing and turning in bed and the bed just isn’t doing it for you. So finally you get up, drift out to the living room and immediately fall asleep on the couch. Then, if you’re me, you wake up and wonder what the difference was. Was it a change in temperature, oxygen levels, softness of the materials in question, or was it all psychological. But also if you are me you don’t worry about it to long and soon move on to more important things.

Even more amazing though, are the places and positions we as humans end up taking naps: chairs, benches, floors, airport seats, grassy lawns, beaches, and cars (sometimes even while driving) to name but a few. I was reminded of this as I walked along this afternoon past a little tree house/slide that sits just off our porch. Sticking out of an opening I saw two feet belonging to a young man who just arrived here this morning and was probably very tired after his long flight. So I guess anywhere will work of you are tired enough.

If you have a weird sleeping spot story I’d love to hear it. But I think I will just keep to the hammocks.

Blue Shorts!

A Brazilian boy wearing blue shorts...

Red! pink is girly

I have been sucked kicking and screaming into the color week craze. What inspired me was that I thought I would be able to take a picture of this blister Fritha has between her toes for today. But alas it was not to be. The blister has healed too much to be of any use to me. So I ran out with my little camera and took a picture if this regional fruit that grows in the yard outside our house. I don’t know the name but it has a large pit and tastes kind of like a sweet pepper but spicier somehow (not hot spicy but flavor spicy). Weird huh? So come on down and enjoy some.

And what, may I ask does St. Bustachop IV think of color week? I’m quite surprised he has not had something to say about such goings ons.

Lets Stay Real!

I’ve been so blessed by the comments made regarding my “Jesus Come Quickly, Please!” post. You all are an incredible gang of REAL & supportive friends. I value you all immensely.

Now, for the rest of the story…

While I was writing that blog negative thoughts bombarded my consciousness. “Don’t write about this. It’ll only make people hurt.” “Don’t be so cruel.” “Think of Melissa and don’t be such a selfish jerk.” “Stop pouring out your pain.” “Who wants to hear about it anyway.” “This is ridiculous.” “You just made a big deal out of a little story. Nobody cares.” “Don’t be so selfish.” “Encourage them, don’t pull them down with your pain.” “Plus, who are you to hurt anyway? Think of the others who really have a right to hurt. Melissa, Dave, Pat, Claire, Lianne, Karena, the rest of the family. They don’t want to hear that you hurt. That’s laughable. You’re nothing.”

So I ignored them. And you know I wasn’t even sure I was right. What if I really was being a selfish jerk? What if someone really did write me and say, “how could you!”? I didn’t know.

And then I read your responses & I realized all of “my” thoughts had been LIES. Not truly my ideas at all. But the Enemy was attempting to keep us shallow and separate. His plan was to cause me to feel stupid, inadequate & mostly alone. But he did not win. God’s beautiful plan is for us to be TOGETHER. We are to support one another. There is not supposed to be a “stained-glass masquerade”. You my dear comrades are real & I thankyou!

I am sharing “the rest of the story” with this specific purpose in mind: to exhort you. When you find yourself bombarded with whatever sack of lies the Enemy uses to thwart your involvement with another person, IGNORE THEM. Go forward. Bare yourself. Encourage one another. Be real. Be open. Be honest. When I posted my blog I almost regretted it & then you all convinced me most firmly that I had done the exact right thing. So don’t listen to the lies. Go right ahead and be real!

How does a social butterfly survive three plus days alone?

Well, first she starts off by being murderously sick. This helps the situation because all she has the energy to do is lie in her hammock and read. Then sleep a bit. Then eat a bit more. Then listen to tunes and blog about the book she read. Then she does it all over again… The only tricky part to this schedule is that first thing in the morning she lies in bed feeling like a heel as she listens to Morning Prayer happening a mere 15 feet away from her head.

Finally, by the end of day 2 she is feeling well enough to go cell group and listen to the neighbors jabber in Portuguese. She has to introduce herself, of course, and this helps her practice her baby vocabulary, “Meu nome e Freda”. Yeah, I know, it’s a stretch. About this time is when she discovers that too much fresh papaya has the same effect on her digestive system that any amount of dried papaya had on Ethan's digestive system when she was a child. A strikingly similar if not quite as foul aroma surrounds her wherever she goes...

Then she rode around in J&J’s fiat while they dropped off cell group members who live across town. She found much amusement along the way as they taught her slang. Which of course she cannot remember now. Although it is nice to have Good, Christian friends who wouldn’t dream of teaching me anything inappropriate… such a secure feeling.

So then she gets back and Jenifer gives her a shoulder massage—ahhhhh, bliss. You know how when you are sick and rest all day your body gets sick of lying around and gets kind of tight. Well J took care of all her woes. Then she promptly fell asleep and slept soundly all the way through prayer—again.

So today, she’s feeling a bit better. So she works on some more thankyou notes and is once again ASTOUNDED by the generosity of her friends and their abundant love for her.

Then she goes down to Nalgene’s house and helps Elizabeth with her spelling, grammer, & math. Lunch soon sweeps upon her and just in time for hunger had hit with a vengeance. Nalgene kindly invites her over and a bit more of her social tank is filled. Then with a fully belly and happy heart it’s off to home and a hammock for her afternoon nap.

Upon arising she concocts a menu list for the next few days and a shopping list to support the plan! Equipped with this dandy tool, she joins Nalgene for a trip to the local CR Supermercado. Laden with groceries she returns home to find her cupboards once again laden with more ants than food. The raid comes out with a vengeance. The cupboards are emptied and hosed out. All the pathways of attack are likewise hosed down with deadly poison and the dead bodies are promptly swept away without a proper burial! take that thou ants! oh that ants were sluggards!

And now we find our social butterfly pining away for the one outlet most necessary to her internal satisfaction. Her husband has left her for three nights. The longest absence of their blissfully married existence. Sigh.

Off to bed it must be! To be properly rested for her 5:15 appointment to walk with Nalgene (pronounced nal-gene-y) and a fond nickname bequeathed by the social butterfly to Aldene Blunier.

But not before one last Papaya yogurt smoothie....

O Jesus Come Quickly, PLEASE!

I just bawled my eyes out. At first I couldn’t breathe, the tightness in my chest constricting like a deadly Amazonian snake. Then without warning sobs seized me and wracked my weakened frame. I found myself nearly hyperventilating. Some of you may wonder what causes this reaction; others know. Grief pops up so unexpectedly sometimes. Although this time I should have seen it coming. Somehow, though, the depth of the pain always catches me off guard.

It all began yesterday with a long and delicious girl talk. Jodie & Amie from Charleston, South Carolina have very recently wormed their way deeply into my heart. We shared tidbits of a delicious journey once made to their fair city, the JOY experienced and the dreams come true. The way true heart conversation opens up one’s heart to true feelings is remarkable. We also shared grief, deep grief. But only a few tears were shed, before we were called away to dinner.

Funny, how quickly an ordinary interruption takes over and life must move forward.

First thing this morning I bid adieu to my fair new friends, the rest of the mission team, and my dear husband. They took to the waters and began the five hour journey up the Tapajos River to build a church. My husband suggested that I stay behind and seize the opportunity to rest and fully recover from this bug that I cannot seem to shake. My orders are to read, listen to music, rest & write.

All day I have faithfully fulfilled my orders. First, I read half of a Reader’s Digest. Then, I listened to Jars of Clay’s Redemption Songs while devouring a lunch of black bean soup. Next, I slept for a few hours. Then finally, I began to read Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls. Now this is exactly the point when I should have seen it coming. I mean when I was only a wee child I watched the movie and cried my head off. But I was still surprised by the depth of agony Mr. Rawls’ words stirred within me.

He tells of the inexplicable sorrow of grief from the perspective of a young boy. His words are so simple and yet so very true. The boy did not understand as I still do not understand. The boy was not comforted by trite words as I was not comforted. The boy needed to cry, weep, run, flee as did I. The boy did not have words to pray like I did not have words or desire to reach out to a God who allowed this. The boy had to go to the grave and say goodbye as did we all. The boy had to leave the graveside and do his chores as we all had to go home to our jobs. The boy eventually saw beauty growing all around him as I have felt beauty flood my being.

And he never forgot.

My Exuse

Meus Amigos,

Please forgive my long absence. Since my last post, so much has interfered with my newfound blogging lifestyle.

First, a team arrived. Nine lovely, inexperienced, and naïve Americans needed our tender care to guide them through culture shock. We accompanied them wherever they went and answered all their questions. Okay, so we made up a few answers. They required much attention.

Second, we left on a boat trip…def: 4 days away from internet connections.

Third, on the aforementioned boat trip I contracted quite a nasty sore throat. Upon arrival home this quickly developed into a full-blown, severe cold. Yesterday I slept for 5 hours between my 8-10 hours/night.

So here I am finally unencumbered by novice touristas, connected to the internet & semi-coherent…. ummmm….

the greatest thing ever…..beef stew.

p.s. eggs don't come in cartons here:

Freda's Top Ten Things About Brazil

10. Lemon flavored water

It's AMAZING. The well water at the Project AmaZon Guest House has a lemony after-taste. No need to slice a lemon, just turn on the faucet.

9. Apples are exotic fruits

Thats right! Papayas, guavas, mangos, cacao and many more are all very ordinary.

8. FANS

They make life so nice!

7. Milk comes in boxes

Weird, huh? And I don't mean like cartons in the refrigerator, I mean boxes on the shelf with the canned goods... It is ultra-pasturized and keeps for about 3 months. STRANGE.

6. Rain in the Night

Once in a while, in the wee hours of the morning a gentle rain falls. The temperature drops and sweet sleep follows. One time it actually got cool enough that I had to turn my fan off. Another night I curled up in bed to conserve body heat and my caring husband noticed, got up and found me a blanket! I am so blessed.

5. Early Rising and Cool Mornings

The sun rises about six o'clock and pulls us awake with it. The cool, breezy mornings draw me out of bed and into the day.

4. Morning Prayer at the Malaka

At 6:30 each weekday morning we step out our door cradling steaming cups of coffee and breath deep draughts of cool, moist air. We stroll across the courtyard to the Malaka: pictured at right. Soon we are joined by PAZ workers who gather to begin the day in thanksgiving and prayer. Some mornings we feel richness and unity and joy at beginning a new day together; other mornings we blearily wish we were still sound asleep in our bed. But every morning we trust God either way!

3. Clapping instead of Knocking

Just think how much happier you would feel if every time you announced your presence at a friends door, instead of pounding with your fist, you joyfully clapped! I've also heard people whistle a happy tune. At first I felt a little bit stupid, but then I felt so much happier that I have adopted the habit for good. Well, at least while I'm in Brazil ;)

2. Long evenings of Fellowship with new Friends
The sun also sets about six o'clock (since we are very near the equator; in fact these times vary minimally throughout the year: no short, miserable, New England winter days for us!). We have nice long evenings to read or visit or chill in a hammock. Last night we had dinner at Josiah and Jennifer's house. The feast consisted of delicioso chicken with pasta and veggies followed by pineapple cake (which was my contribution; Aunt Judy's recipe made with fresh Brazilian pineapple) and homemade (by Jennifer) coconut icecream and chocolate icecream! Josiah is the son of the founder of PAZ and Jennifer is his BRAVE wife who journeyed to Brazil with him without having ever left the USA before (except Canada, which hardly counts :). They are working towards a ministry of church planting. I am sure you will hear more about this fine couple since we have hit it off swimmingly. We are all looking forward to a fine friendship and enjoying the beginnings of it immensely.


1. Siesta after Lunch, ALWAYS!

Need I say more. Every day we eat lunch about noon then sometimes I clean up and we always hit the hammocks for a 30-60 minute siesta. We rest when the day is hottest. Boy is it delicious. A fan blowing on me. A full stomach from our big meal of the day. mmm... it really doesn't get much better.

By Fritha: Fried or German Grandmother

Fried or German Grandmother?

That is the question which plagues me these days. As it turns out “Fritha” is difficult for a Brazilian to say. In fact, it sounds rather humorous when an American who is introducing me to the Brazilians and rolling along in melodious Portuguese suddenly says “Fritha” just like you would. Evidently my name is not a great fit. So the most obvious option is to simply pronounce the letters as if one was reading Portuguese. This ends up sounding like Free’ ta, which I really like since it sounds much more natural to the native tongue. The problem arises when the Brazilian attempting to pronounce my name begins to giggle… I look confused… and then the translator explains Frita means “fried” in Portuguese. So the Brazilians polled seem to prefer Freda which translated means, well, nothing at all. It is a random order of sounds that do not form a word in Portuguese: something similar to Jadi in English. My problem with Freda is that it sounds like a German grandmother. I, however, am not at the German grandmother stage of life.

So what do you think?

Drumroll, please...

We have news, folks! After much careful searching, a few dead-ends and some frustrating delays… Due to my husband’s admirable perseverance and in spite of my seemingly continual knack of causing the unnecessary delays… We have actually purchased tickets for our trip to Brazil!

Yippee!

After the purchase was complete, Jeff looked as is he’d just shot up with some stimulant. Finally, after two travel-less years a trip gleams on the horizon! I excitedly stood by at first. Then for a split-second I reeled with the realization that I had actually signed on to be a missionary wife. The wave of realizing the future was upon me crashed with fearful intensity. Quick on its heels however, the following wave brimmed with a sense of fulfillment like I have never felt. (One night in Jerusalem came close…but this topped it)

And so we will be leaving July 24, 2006 staying 57 days until we return on September 19, 2006.

And to add another interesting dimension to our life… next Tuesday I am traveling to Pittsburgh, PA to stay with my grandma and sit for my licensure exam. My exam is Thursday morning at 8:00 am. The exam has all the potential to loom like Mt Everest, but so far God’s has graciously given me the ability to focus on three facts: 1) LIHE prepared me excellently for the field of nursing 2) The exam is designed to prove that I have minimum competency to practice as a nurse 3) I am confident I have minimum competency!

Plus we also have all those stupid little purchases to make, loose ends to wrap up & suitcases to pack. So we humbly solicit your prayers, faith and support for the trip the week or so preceding our departure.

Note to Kim: I’m so thankful all went well! God is good!

All My Dear Friends

Dear friends… and that you truly are if you are still checking this blog!

Thankyou all for coming to our wedding! except Lindzer Torte of course (who has my undying affection anyway). I have just read Craig’s old posts [the ones pertaining to ME of course] *the following note is for Maresha: I almost put an apostrophe in one’s, but the inner editor in me came to the rescue at the last second* So back to Craig’s posts…

I adored “fading singleness”.

I also enjoyed hearing just a bit about all the fun stuff that I hoped was going on while I learned (under Mike’s adept tutelage) the art of delegation. Speaking of Mike: note to DJ… I understand that you truly cannot stand Mike and I am deeply sorry… you are missing out on knowing a fine man. Anyway, I am grateful to hear you all had a wonderful time. In fact, someone said (annie I think) that I should get married every year. While I deeply rebel at the thought of working that hard on the same task every year, I LOVE the sentiment expressed that you all had a grand time. Bravo for the party-throwers!

I continue to be blown away by the memory of all my dear friends who made the long and arduous journey to the steamy south to witness my “shining moment”. My smile that day was due in large part to the presence of so many deeply cherished friends and family members. I simply cannot find words which adequately express my deep sense of being completely overwhelmed by the love of all my friends. For those of you who have had the privilege of standing under the waterfall at En Gedi: you probably come the closest to understanding what I felt. The glorious pummeling of water that overwhelmed you with its strength…. mmmm… maybe we should go back….

So there’s my attempt at a post! I trust I’ll get better with time. Of course I’d have to do remarkably poorly in order to do worse than I already have.