November 30, 2011

Just Plain Wrong!

This week for school, I had to write an argumentative essay. I thought I'd publish the finished outcome. What's your opinion? I know you have one. So here goes...
In 1556, the Shaanxi earthquake hit China causing approximately 830,000 deaths, and placing the Shaanxi earthquake high above its rivals for the deadliest earthquake on earth. Today it is considered a tragedy, and labelled a natural disaster and rightly so. Yet, in this year that is now coming to a close, the year of 2011, more people than Canada’s whole population, were murdered. Forty-two million were killed this year. Oh it was definitely a big job; thousands upon thousands of dollars were invested, and required for its completion. But their murder was legal. No, the CIA isn’t investigating this, nor are the murderers being searched for. Why? Because those murdered, were the silent unborn. This “job”, was abortion. Every day 115,000 unborn babies are aborted. That number,  is no small number! It’s astonishing to think that the equivalent of 14% of America’s population is being quietly, and legally, “done away with” per year. And still, many have the audacity to argue that abortion is correct. It isn’t correct, abortion is just plain wrong.
 Abortionists have several arguments they use, one of them is, “but a fetus isn’t a baby, it isn’t alive, it doesn’t feel.” On the contrary, life begins, at conception, from that time on a being is forming, a person, an individual. DNA is formed to dictate who this child will be. Their life journey has begun. This fetus, is a baby, is alive, is a human. As to whether the baby can feel or not, professional doctors have admitted, that a fetus, can feel great pain. Which brings us to the anaesthesia myth. Some proclaim that the anaesthesia given to the mother, will numb the baby so it will not feel pain during its murder. This theory is false; it is a myth. According to the president of the American Society of Anaesthesiologists, the anaesthesia given to the mother, has little or no effect on the child. The truth is, a child will often thrash, and try with its own little might, to avoid his death. How, how can one say these babies are not alive?
 Although most abortions are performed during the first three months of pregnancy, 10,000-15,000 per year are performed during the final three months of development, when the baby is capable of surviving outside the womb! A medical team would work around the clock to save this same child if he were born prematurely and were wanted. The cold hard fact? These babies are killed because they are inconvenient.
 Consequently 52% of abortions are obtained by women under the age of twenty-five, and 32% are obtained by women twenty to twenty-four years old. Why are these women aborting? Research states that 1% is result of rape or incest! A total of 6% because of potential health problems regarding either mother, or child. And a whooping 93% of all abortions occur for social reasons (i.e. the child is unwanted or inconvenient). Thus millions are being killed in the name of women’s rights.
 However, if a woman really understood the effects of abortion, she’d think twice before making her appointment. Clinical research gives us ever increasing amounts of scientific evidence that many times, women who have obtained abortions are left with psychological scars. "Women who report negative after-effects from abortion know exactly what their problem is," observed psychologist Wanda Franz, Ph.D. "When they are reminded of the abortion," Franz testified, "the women re-experienced it with terrible psychological pain ... They feel worthless and victimized because they failed at the most natural of human activities -- the role of being a mother.” With every abortion method, even in a clinic, there is a risk, not just psychological, but physical as well. Some of these risks include, a high chance of infection, cervical perforation, uncontrolled blood clotting, and potential complications for future pregnancy, (i.e. infertility). Women should do themselves a favor and not have an abortion. But there’s another point to be considered. What if the child is a woman?
 If women have been given the right to kill, shouldn’t they also be given the right to live? Gianna Jessen, Abortion Survivor, states, “There was not a radical feminist, standing up and yelling about how my rights had been violated that day.  In fact my life was being snuffed out in the name of women's rights.” Every child, boy or girl, ill or healthy, has a right to live, to be loved, to exist. Why aren’t their rights being fought for? A woman has many rights, to murder and take away the life of another, however, was not one given to her by God. Gianna Jessen again states, “…what arrogance, what absolute arrogance, and it has been an argument for so long in this human place that we live, that the stronger should dominate the weaker, should determine who lives and dies. The arrogance of that! Don’t you realise that you cannot make your own heart beat. Don’t you realise that all the power that you think that you possess you really possess none of it.  It is the mercy of God that sustains you, even when you hate Him.” God created life, He gives it, and He did not give you the power to take it away. Job 1:21 states, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.”
 Women are not the only ones to be spoken to about this subject. An appeal needs to be made to men out there as well. Statistics show us that of the 93% of unwanted babies being aborted, many are aborted because the woman’s partner wanted her to have an abortion. An anonymous testimonial from [] begs, “Women and men, (men are not excluded) Love your baby, and protect it. Men, be a man and stand up for your baby! Talk her out of abortion and do what you have to do to change her mind. Stand by her and love her the best way that you can so that when that baby arrives you can give it what it needs to live. It is your responsibility to make sure she is happy about that little person that you helped to create. It is not fair for you to say ‘It is your body, do what ever you want.’ You are saying the worst thing that you could ever say! Talk it out and do your best to change her mind. The baby is a part of you too! It is yours! In some cases all we ‘soon-to-be-murderers’ need is your support to change our minds. Women do what you have to do not to get pregnant if you do not want to have a baby! Love your baby and don't murder it. Please! Believe in God and believe in yourselves and you will be the best parents ever. Please learn something from my stupid mistake.” In other words, all men out there, don’t take the coward, easy way out. Man up!
 And yet another group needs to be addressed, those who have never had an abortion. Whether man or woman, this groups needs to understand, that many times abortion can be prevented, or avoided by supporting a woman in the right decision, by educating themselves and others about the ways babies are aborted, and the effects abortion has, on the woman, on the unborn baby, and in society.
 The facts are before you. Make a conscientious decision, because now you won’t be able to say you didn’t know. Can never say no one ever told you. The turn is yours. The choice you make, will change your life forever. You can’t make the choice for anyone else, but you can be the stop sign they need. You can help prevent murder. You can do your part. The choice to do that, is yours! You can’t change the past, but you can change the future.


November 28, 2011

A Lot Like Life.

It was one of the few summer days this year, that Daddy was home. He had taken us to the pool, and I was trying to perfect my dive. Well, to be honest, to dive. After a few tries, I was confident, I felt ready, I was going to dive off the diving board. I walked down the board, got into position, bounced once, twice, and jumped off. As soon as my toes were off the board I knew. There was something wrong. No not something, everything was wrong. I knew people were watching, it's a public pool for Pete's sake. I knew Dad was watching. I felt the water part, I heard the lifeguard's "Yowch!" I heard the splash, and I came back up.
I had done the perfect belly flop. 
It was summer outside, the sun was blaring down through the ceiling windows. It reflected on the pool water below, all the way up to my face. It was blinding me one glare at a time as I stared down to my toes. The water! it seemed so far away! The smell of chlorine, ah that wonderful smell, engulfed me and I was somehow aware of it becoming part of me; I knew I would be able to smell it in my hair and on my skin that night, no matter how many times I shampooed or scrubbed. I was faintly aware of Shaun's eyes on me, his as well as the rest of the class's. I knew what he was holding in his hand, the clipboard and pen. Adele's voice was coming over the radio for the second time that day. For a while it was just me and her distant voice. All I wanted to know was whether I'd be rolling in the deep or do the perfect clean dive. I inched towards the edge. It was time for my pencil/entry dive from off the high dive. Nicole had gone before me, it had looked so easy then. Becky was poised on the ladder awaiting her turn. I took a deep breath, crossed my arms, jumped once, jumped twice, and dove. And then everything was in slow motion and yet in seconds. I crossed my legs in time, held form, and hit the water at just the right angle. I felt the water break, and my feet touch the bottom of the pool. Unconsciously my arms began pulling upward in a breast stroke, and my legs kicked into surface support. I felt the water break again, and as soon as I had gotten the hair out of my eyes I looked towards Shaun, he was scribbling on the clipboard. I sidestroked to the edge and waited. He came over and showed me the board,
I passed with a "Excellent" written and circled in red.
To me that's what blogging is like. Each post is a dive, a risk. It's me sharing a little bit of me with the public, with you. Each day that I post, I look down towards my fingers on the keyboard and see so many letters, that could form so many words, such potential. For a while everything is silent, then the keys start clicking and Toby(my computer)'s purr becomes louder. It all ends when I jump off the diving board by clicking on the Publish button.
Sometimes I belly flop, sometimes I pass with a "Excellent" written and circled in red.

What's blogging like for you?
Inspired by, Victoria's Snow Forts and Blogging post.

Traditional Paper Snowflakes - A Tutorial.

Maybe you're awesome, and have never forget things from your childhood. Or maybe you were just blessed with the elephant memory. I'm not one of those. Kindergarten wasn't thaaaat long ago, and still, this year when I decided to make the paper snowflakes I learned to make in Kindergarten...I couldn't remember. So just in case you don't remember how to make these either, here's how.

What thou needest:
Circular lids of various sizes
Sheets of normal printing paper
Optional - Glitter, String, Blue paper, Glue, Scissors with special designs (craft scissors? paper edges? I don't know what they're called)

 Have fun, and Happy Monday! ~*

November 27, 2011

2011 feet tall.

Today's will be a little...odd. Ever since forever, if I have a camera in my hands, and I'm a tad bit disinterested in whatever is going on, or I am passing the time, I will invariably, inevitably, sooner or later, take a picture of my feet. It's a habit that I'm not sure when, where, or how originated. It's just another part of my weirdness. So this morning while going through my albums of 2011, I started noticing a pattern. Every two or three occasions/events/place there would be a picture of my feet, and each photo had a story. So here's 2011. In feet.

This photo I took at the end of 2010. We were at grandma's house, and Victor and the neighborhood kids were engaged in a soccer game. I was running up and down the dusty asphalt street, barefoot, and with my camera, trying to photograph them. It was a lazy day, and all I had to do was photograph that lazy day. My feet got dirty. I took a picture.

Sometimes I'll vary a little, and take a photo of just my footwear. I love my Havaianas flip flops, and wore them constantly this summer. I photographed them at the park one warm summer day. Crystal and I were at the park, reading. It just seemed appropriate to shoot them. 

We were coming back from leaving Daddy the Vancouver airport. He was traveling to some distant land again. I was amusing myself with the cell phone's camera. 
First day on the Porumbaco resort in Romania.

We were back to Negoiu. It was lunch time and while the others finished their lunch, Irina and I climbed up the rocks. I found a nice spot, sat down, and the water from the mountain waterfall was so nice, I had to photograph it (with my feet of course).
On our way up to Bulea Lac. We were in a jittery crowded minivan, on a dusty, meandering road for hours. My Havaianas were present. 
I spent a good part of my summer here. On the Porumbaco resort campus. There was a funny little stream there. It wouldn't stop gurgling, every day and night. Reminded me of someone I know. Who never ceases to talk, or blog. Anyways, I went there most every day to read. I finished reading Austen's Northanger Abbey there.
We were back from Romania, it was one of the last summer days here in Abbotsford. We had sunset at a park we had just found. The sun was setting on the lake, I photographed my feet instead.

Sometimes I also photograph other people's feet. They usually don't know about it until I've blogged it. This is Victor's foot.
It was a fall morning. There was dew on the ground. It had the audacity to wet my moccasins!

We stopped at a park on our way home from Washington. We had sunset. The weather was making me feel blue-ish. So I wore pink shoes. 

Beware, I might foot-ograph your toes next!

November 26, 2011

Have You Prayed About It?

Dictated by Daddy!

                              “If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.” - John 14:14

Before I was transferred to work in Texas as a Pastor, I was living in Brazil. I began studying English at the time; I would go to school for two hours a week to learn the basics in order to communicate, and was given an introduction to English grammar.
However, at the turn of the century, in the year 2000, I was sent to the States as a Pastor. So far, my English was quite limited, and I knew I needed to learn it fast for it was a vital tool in my ministry.
Soon after my arrival, I enrolled in ESL classes. I would attend school for two hours every day every week, and when I arrived back home, I would spend as much time as possible studying. I buried myself in English textbooks, listened to English tapes at home, and had a few in the car that I was constantly playing during drives around town.
Yet, after a few months, despite my despair to learn I realized my progress was a slow one, and that I needed to be learning easier and faster than I was.
One day I called the church headquarters, the sister answered, greeted me, and the first thing she asked was “How’s your English coming along?” I told her I was working on it, and that I was learning, slowly, and little by little, but that I needed to learn faster to better develop my work. She then asked me, “Have you prayed about it?” She shared with me the story of an individual she knew, that had asked God to help him learn English, and God had answered his prayer. I confessed to her that ‘til then I had thought it was my obligation, my responsibility to learn, so I had prayed about many other things, but not about this matter in particular.
I decided I would pray from then on, and my English improved drastically. About two months later, I was able to communicate easily in English, and could translate from English to Portuguese and vice versa.
From this I learned that God cares even for the little things in our lives. Our God is a God of great things, yet He ignores no details. I believe many times we feel God gives us things to do and to overcome, and feel it’s our responsibility to figure it out ourselves, and to carry our burdens. It is our responsibility, but not to do so on our own. God is beside us, just waiting for us to ask for His help. He’s willing- no He’s more than willing to provide help and assistance to His children. All we need to do, is ask.

November 25, 2011

Humor Me Friday.

From the series of Ameriquest Commercials, you've probably seen these before. This one is one of my favorites. It's Friday and I'm out of here. .. no blogging time this afternoon.

November 24, 2011

Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down.

It's Thursday. I can't believe it's Thursday. I can't believe I'm a year older. Anyways, my mind is functioning very well today (yep, I'm older), and I've got writer's block. So today's post will be a Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down post because I haven't done one of these in ages..

  • To aging. And by aging I don't mean wrinkles, retirement or senior discounts. I mean feeling added responsibilities, setting goals and realizing perhaps you're not where you expected yourself to be, and realizing you've got tons to do ahead. 
  • Writer's block. Blah. Blah. Blah. 
  • Midterms. I have exams everyday of this week. And between that and blogging everyday I'm puffin' and huffin'...
  • Back pain. Daddy's not feeling well. His back hurts him. A lot. That gets two thumbs down.
  • Blogger spell check that isn't like Word's who lets me add words!
  • To aging. And by aging I don't mean wrinkles, retirement or senior discounts (although I wouldn't mind discounts...just sayin') But to have had another year, and have another laid in front of you, it's awesome. To set goals, make plans, and realize that perhaps you're not where you expected yourself to be, your somewhere better.
  • To NaBloPoMo, for challenging me to write every day, and to make something up because writer's block is not an option.
  • To my awesome family for making my birthday special, and my mother for writing a guest post.  Thank you.
  • To everyone who wrote me and wished me happy birthday, and for everyone who called. 
  • And to American Thanksgiving. Apparently Canadians just get to celebrate two Thanksgivings. At least we do anyways, (read this as an explanation.)
  • To being thankful for life, food, another birthday, for opportunities, for the increased readership of this blog, and
  • To all the wonderful people out there that read, comment, and view our blog. Thank you. Your support means so much, and every time a new follower appear, a new facebook like happens, I get all giddy and giggly and clap and do the happy dance and my heart just gets really really happy. So this Thanksgiving, I'd like to encourage you to get out there and comment on everything you read, just a little note to say hello even. A sparkle, a like, a follow, really, it's healthy! And you will make the blogger so, so, incredibly thankful. I know I am, for all of you!

And for a bit more randomness, here's a picture from "the bottom of the old chest" as they say in Portuguese. My cousin sent this picture to me this morning, in remembrance of our childhood. Thanks Matt.
Me, Matt, and Baby Victor.

November 23, 2011

Happy Birthday Larissa.

In the year 1994 my husband and I were awaiting the arrival of our first baby that according to the doctor would be born around the tenth of December. Because we were about to move we did not buy any baby supplies that way we wouldn't have to move so much stuff. We were hoping to have enough time to purchase everything after our move. 
It was November 22 already, and after a busy day I couldn't wait 'til bedtime for I was feeling very tired. But instead, we had to run to the hospital and at 0:42 of the 23 of November our little girl was born. We were still unsure of the name ; when the nurse brought the baby to me she asked, "What is her name?" At that moment we decided her name would be Larissa. 
Since then Larissa has been our joy, our companion in this journey of life. Ten days after her birth we moved from Mogi das Cruzes to Sao Paulo, and we have continued moving, and that's because her papa is a preacher. 
Today is Larissa's birthday, and we wish that she will trust in the Lord every day for we know He has many blessings in store for her. 
Happy Birthday Larissa, we wish you much happiness for you deserve it! 

With Love, 
          Mom and Dad



November 22, 2011

Multi-National Traditions.

National  Multi-National Traditions
The males in our family don't like apple pie. We aren't football fanatics, nor do we know Babe Ruth's real name much less his batting average. But we could name several American literary classic authors. We know Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492. We like the "deezgusting Amehican fuud" also known as the hamburger. (Morning Star vegetarian of course) And I could also name most Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire classics. But we are not Americans.
We don't watch the NHL playoffs, drink Canadian beer, eat Canadian bacon or finish our every sentence with "Eh?" (We never say eh.) (I don't think I've ever met a Canadian that actually does finish ever sentence with "Eh". Only tourists. You can tell who's a tourist in Florida because they'll be wearing floppy hats, socks with sandals and have a huge camera around their necks. You can tell who's a tourist in Canada, because he'll be the one with about five "Eh's" in each sentence.) But we ice skate in the winter, eat a lot of maple syrup, and have a love-hate relationship with snow. But we are not Canadians.
We don't follow soccer state tournaments or participate in traditional activities such as the carnival or 'festas juninas'. Nor do we drink Brahma or Skol, or dance the capoeira and samba. But we have rice and beans on our holiday table, we celebrate the New Year's with merriment and agree it's a big deal, and have strong family ties. But, though our passports might disagree, we are not Brazilian. 
Then what in heaven's name are we? We're a queer type you see, we're not an All-American family, nor an All-Canadian family, and still somehow we don't qualify as an All-Brazilian family either. How come? Well it (and by it I mean our family customs/traditions) has become too infiltrated by American-Canadian customs/traditions to be All-Brazilian. You see much of that in the Western Hemisphere. Not just the US is a "melting pot", but the whole New World! What is an American? A mixture of different cultures melted into one. What is a Canadian? A mixture of cultures frozen into one. What is a Brazilian? A mixture of different cultures partying into one. In our family, these three cultures have come together to make a beautiful mix of BraNadIcan traditions. You could also call it AmeZilAn or or or CanMerIlian....

November 21, 2011

Boa Vista.

This summer Daddy was given a different job, one with less travel time, thus making Marco Zero. my last post about Daddy's business trips. Or so I thought. Turns out people are still inviting him to preach at youth conventions around the world. Last week he came back from Roraima, Brazil. Boa Vista to be more exact. Roraima is one of the Northernmost states of Brazil, and Boa Vista was the farthest North in Brazil that Daddy has ever been to. It was a short trip, but as always, rewarding. The meetings over the weekend included the reinauguration of the church in Boa Vista, they had rebuilt it. At the end of the meetings an appeal was made and many many young people came to the front and many of them decided to be baptized.

 Opening of his sermon, as most times, with a story for the children.

The group in the above picture came from Manaus, the capital city of the Amazon state. When they heard about the youth convention that was to be held in Roraima, they were eager to go. However in order to attend they needed money. Their parents told them that if they could raise enough money to pay their attendance fee, and their bus tickets, they would be allowed to go. But where and how to raise the money? One of the mothers began making truffles for them to sell. And sell they did. Each day they would take the truffles to the town square and would sell all they had taken. Those that hadn't finish at the end of the day, were helped by those that had already finished. They raised enough money to pay for their tickets, the entry fees, they attended the meetings and sang praises to God. Proving once again, that if you want something bad enough, and you work hard enough, God will bless your efforts every time.

Aren't these two just adorable? A brother and sister singing a song to their Heavenly Father.

Well, that was Roraima. A baptism is planned for the near future, and Daddy left encouraged and blessed. Of course when he came back telling us the good news, we were blessed too. Smile, our church family is growing daily, everyone!


 We're on BlogLovin' too .... If you know what it is you know what to do, if you don't know what it is, check out the video below, and click on the flashing Eiffel Tower below.


November 20, 2011

Sunday Snowflakes - A Tutorial.

It's Sunday and yet I'm sitting on the living room couch staring at Algebra homework. Yuck.
In order to fight the gloom, I decided I needed glitter, and that's when the paper snowflake chain idea came about. Easy Christmas decor, fun to do, and glittery! Do you need to make it? Yes, yes you do!

What Thou Needest:
Snowflake pattern page below, (just right-click,save image, and print)
opt. - another glitter-loving person...

Hole* /  from the underside*

Tie the end of the thread to the thread underneath the snowflake.
  TA-DA! Happy Snowflake making everyone! ~*

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