The Chronicles of Janie

Fifi: Do Americans put salt in their tea? Me: No. Fifi: Really? Me: Yeah. I'm pretty sure. I don't know why, but she's asked me this question about three times now. Maybe she saw an American putting white sugar in their tea and mistook it for salt? Most of the sugar here is unrefined (brown) so I can see how that mistake would be made. Whatever the case, I've had a hard time convincing her that salted tea really isn't a thing in America. In fact, I'm still not sure that she's convinced. We'll see if it comes up again. 

During a very animated worship time at church last night: Fifi: Do Americans dance in church? Me: No (not like this, anyway). Fifi (in shock and horror): Seriously? Me: Seriously. *Fifi favors me with one of her wide-eyed expressions of complete disbelief.* Because if you don't dance during worship, what are you supposed to do?

You know you've been here a while when... You're walking down the street in your neighborhood and you see a white person  and your train of thought goes like this: Oh. My. Goodness. What on earth is he doing here? Wonder if I should talk to him? Hmm...maybe he doesn't speak English. Should I try English or Portuguese? This could be awkward if I choose the wrong language. And by that point, of course, you've already passed each other by. But the fact remains that there was a white person in your neighborhood.  And you've been talking about it ever since. 

Go HERE for links to parts I, II, and III The Choice to Love; Part IV Tired of the capacity for choice, I asked to be made to fall in love with Jesus. The Holy Spirit replied, "Don't you know that true love is always a choice?" And then I realized that, of course, I was asking for the coward's way out. I was so tired of trying to choose Him that I wanted to be relieved of the responsibility of choice. But blind obedience requires little bravery, and blind love is no true love at all. He proved His love for me, even though He was fully aware of the horrific consequences. Now, He asks that I prove my love for Him, not by becoming mindless, sightless and choiceless, but by making a choice. By being aware that His footsteps lead to a cross, but choosing to walk in them, anyway. By knowing how much it will hurt to die to to myself, but asking Him to crucify me, anyway. By being aware of the scorn, contempt, ridicule, judgment and hatred that surround...