Lucia and Eudoxio spend about an hour each Sunday afternoon teaching children and adults about God at Pao da Vida (Bread of Life). The full name is the Pao da Vida Presbyterian Project. The building was built by the hearts and hands of members of Presbyterian churches in North Carolina. It still needs finishing touches (a bathroom) and desks for the classrooms.

Upon our arrival I was overwhelmed with the amount of people that filled the simple sanctuary; however, the parking lot* only held one motorbike, one horse and buggy and one car (ours).
Lucia motioned for me to join her and Eudoxio at the front where I proceeded to sing and motion to the short songs in Portuguese as best as I could. I mostly watched and smiled at children. When the children were excused to go to their classes, I ended up in the 12 and up class. I arrived before Lucia with a weak smile. I said in barely understandable Portuguese, "I'm Ruth. Let's wait for Lucia." Some of the children explained my words to the others. One asked, "You're not Brazilian, are you?" I replied, "I'm both Brazilian and American, but I'm mostly American because that is where I have lived all my life." They just beamed back at me. At the end of the lesson Lucia asked my to pray. Again in barely understandable Portuguese, I prayed aloud. The children repeated my words, correcting my grammar in their response. I was both grateful and embarrassed.

It is common for churches in Brazil to hold singing, announcements and Sunday school in the morning and convene again the Sunday evening for more formal worship. It is also common to speak to every single person in the church when you enter and when leave. Between coming and going twice each on Sunday that is a lot of kisses. It's also a lot of names. Since I am usually good with names, I find it frustrating not to be able to keep up with all the new Brazilian names. I think I'll start carrying a small notebook in my purse.

Sunday ended with me riding home from church in the back of a pick up with four handsome men (ages 4-8). I am one lucky girl.

*clumps of hard packed red clay