Sunday, November 26, 2006

After giving thanks for the lack of gunfire in my community in recent months...

tonight brings us rudely back to reality, with the trilling machine guns and snapping revolvers, which, I'm sure, I could see in tracer fire-like red arcs if I had the stupidity and courage to look out the window. But then, the buildings would probably be in my way. From the sound of things, it's on another street.

Several people posted comments recently, saying really nice ego-boosting things about how I was a hero or that they admired the work I do. Thanks. Sometimes, on nights like this, I need a bit of solid reassurance because God doesn't always sound quite so loud when the "voice of reason" tells me to lie on the floor and start thinking about buying a home, or, at the very least, invest in armor-plating the rental I'm currently in.

Dogs go crazy at gunfire. And people get kind of antsy too. Imagine.

I'm reminded of a story I once heard about some missionaries who made a fake, darkly ironic travel promo for the place they were serving while lying under the table during a routine bombing. "Welcome to Baghdad. Your adrenaline will race, your agility will increase and property values are low, low, LOW! All Christmas specials include gas mask, bulletproof vest, and a collection of sedatives for your comfort. Enjoy your stay! If you need anything, anything at all, inquire at the hotel desk. Desk may be unoccupied during peak bombing hours..." Stuff like that. Reminds me of home...

=) But I was writing to talk about my comments. Got sidetracked. Sorry.

Thanks for writing! I know I owe some responses and they're in the works...just give me time to get a good night's sleep and process some things and I'll have something up in a day or two.

Oh, and pray for us. Because I know I'm not the only person who finds it hard to sleep with gunfire. And someone out there is shooting...and being shot at.


Oh. The power just went out. Or at least the street lights, which means that the tank is on my street.

My little sister who does more daring things than me says that she likes to keep her guardian angels in good shape. Rest assured that mine are attaining hitherto untold protective assignments, and they're doing a good job. Thank you JESUS!!!

And now I go to bed, having used my blog as an escape mechanism and assured myself of many comments from frantic friends and family. That was NOT intended. ;) But I appreciate knowing that YOU are also alive!!!




Ellen said...

who says that I do more daring things than you?
see- its all about perspective. I am well protected spiritually and physically- its all about making friends in the 'right' places :). lol.

Anonymous said...

Hey stranger! I met Ben- your WMF coworker- when he was back in the States this last time. So, I stumbled onto your blog.

I might come back and read your blog periodically and pray for you.

Does crime increase in Brazil near the holiday season? That's the way it was in Africa where I grew up...

Anonymous said...

Hi Jenna,

Its Julia Beatty from high school, just saw an article about you and your little sis and decided to say hi! I admire your accomplishments, but I couldn't do what you are doing. The cockroach thing makes me feel ill just reading about it.

--jenna said...

Julia: Nice to hear from you!!! It's been a long time... send me an email and tell me how things are going for you! Really, the cockroaches aren't that bad....:)...there are worse things...;P

Jennie: I think some kinds of violent crime increase in the holiday season...but a lot of the "official" repercussions are also excessive around this time. Last Christmas, the cops came in shooting as they shouted, "You want Father Christmas? Father Christmas is here!!!" followed by a long rat-tat of machine gun fire...just for kicks. Because who wouldn't want to be "ho-ho-ho-ing" while playing at target practice???

Ellen: You're right. But you still went to Africa by yourself. For weeks. Without really knowing anyone or having any connections you'd actually met. You took directions to a favela in which trash piles were considered permanent place markers and actually made it to your destination. You traveled by BUS. You're more daring than me, honey! Love you!