I'm sitting in my darkened room right now because there is no candy in the house to share with the trick-or-treaters prowling the sidewalks of my neighborhood. I'm afraid to turn on the lights because the doorbell would probably start ringing. I would then have two options: answer the door and apologize for being empty-handed (and feel somewhat guilty about disappointing the younger kids) or ignore it and feel guilty about being inside and not answering the door. Hopefully a dark house keeps the doorbell from ringing. So far, so good.

(I worked unitl a bit ago and my roommates are at a canned-food drive event with the singles' group at church, which is why we don't have anything to hand out.)

And just as I'm waiting quietly in my room for the candy-seekers to return to their homes, I'm waiting for word from the universities of Columbia and Alabama about acceptance to their programs. Columbia begins processing their applications tomorrow and Alabama needs my recommendation letters to arrive. (I provided the wrong address to the people I asked to do those, so hopefully they arrive correctly this time.) Meanwhile, I'm working a little over 20 hours a week at the Starbucks in North Star Mall, so if you live in San Antonio, stop by and say hi. I might even get your drink right...

I'm so close to finishing the extended Brasil video from my Natal trip. I'll post it to my other site when it's finished if you'd like to check it out. I can't wait for my teammates to see it, as well as the Brasilians.

My time with unemployment was quite nice; it lasted almost three weeks, not counting a couple of days on a movie set as an extra. (I could see myself really getting used to unemployment, until my little stash of cash ran dry.) But even though I got paid, I wouldn't consider it work, sitting around chatting with others about their experiences as extras in movies shot around Texas. No, I jumped back into that world in a slightly different manner than I'd done so the previous four years: I'm working at Starbucks as a barista.

I won't bore you with the wealth of information I've learned this week about coffee, the company, its policies, and how to make drinks. Yet if you're curious, I'll be glad to open the dam of knowledge (read that carefully) because I've taken on quite a bit. My friends have been most gracious with me, perhaps now fearing to ask me how work is going, knowing my response will be quite detailed and full of (interesting to me, slightly over-the-top for others) information. I've learned how decaf coffee becomes decaffeinated; I know how to make an upside-down Pumpkin Spice Latte; I know the difference between cappucino and latte -- and why I never enjoyed a cappucino like I thought I would (I wanted a latte because it's got more milk); I understand the differences in coffee and how to distinguish flavor, aroma, body, and acidity; I, sadly, could keep going.

While I'm still waiting to hear back from grad schools, it's nice to have a little more structure to my days, as well as earn a little money so I'm not a complete bum. It's a great chance to interact with people who need Jesus; it's a challenge to me to find a way to do just that (should I be obvious? bold? patient?). In the midst of the continued uncertainty about my future, peace reigns in my heart. Thank you for your prayers and encouraging words. Our God is so good.

Random food for thought: Ice. Water. Vapor. Our hearts of stone are as cold as ice, frozen and not moldable by the Creator. Yet in his hands, with his love, we melt and become fluid to his purpose. Fountains of life flow from us by the Holy Spirit as Jesus said they would. We become part of the water of life to God's world. Yet we are but a vapor, quickly vanishing from water to mist to nothing but gone. Our lives pass so quickly in comparison to the eternal. But, as a vapor rises to the skies and reforms in the clouds to be sprinkled on creation, so too do our lives restock the skies with the blessings of our offerings. Though unseen, the gifts from our lives touch lives generations away. Like water that's been recycled on the earth, so too is each word, thought, service and sacrifice remembered in some capacity long after we're gone. God doesn't waste a drop; whether tears shed in suffering or lives flowing with passion, he takes it all and waters his kingdom. Ice. Water. Vapor.

I was reminded once again about how much of a mixture I am of my Mom and Dad. This trip to Natal provided several unique and special opportunities, one of them being getting to share the experience with Rod Chisholm. Rod and his wife worked my parents in Fortaleza; they were part of the five family team that moved there in 1981 to start a church. Getting to share time in Brasil with someone who knew me when I ran around in a diaper (or "ran around without anything on" as Rod would often share) allowed me a great insight into my past and into what my parents were like when they were the age I am now, giving me glimpses of their characteristics in me.

I know my parents today as being so much alike, enjoying the same things, and that's because of their commitment to God and to each other. They've grown together for so long (30 years this February) and kept their focus on God and the covenant they made that it's only been natural to assume this is how their relationship has always been. Of course, too, I'm looking at them from a son's perspective; listening to Rod tell stories and give me his impressions about them gave me a different angle. One of his comments about Mom and Dad was that he'd never seen two people so opposite make a marriage work so well in the way they complimented each other. The opposite was used to describe their general nature: Mom being the incredibly sweet, extremely thoughtful, intelligent, and quiet/shy one, with Dad being the incredibly funny, quick-witted, obviously mischievous, and never-met-a-stranger type. The comment I've heard from so many of my parents friends is, "How did your parents wind up together? Your mom is so sweet and your dad is so crazy -- how does that work?"

It's no secret that my mom is an angel. Too many times it sounds like people don't give my dad enough credit for how intelligent and smart he is or see beyond the playful side. I think they do, but I've always been sensitive to make sure others know he's no intellectual pansy. But I'd not really considered the way Mom and Dad compliment one another. In their strengths, the other is perfectly supportive; in their weaknesses, the other is obviously gifted. And this to the point that it's difficult to now differentiate who's strong in what because as they've complimented each other over the years, they've become so much alike, in a good way.

And I like to think I've received generous doses of each of them: Dad's ability to relate to practically everyone, his playful nature, his thirst for knowledge, his and Mom's ability to speak as well as both of their purity of heart, Mom's thoughtfulness, her love for writing, and something in her that keeps anyone from being able to say anything bad about her (ok, maybe I only approach that and haven't completely attained it -- I do enjoy mischief). Hearing and thinking about these things about Mom and Dad helps me find myself because God saw that it was good to make me in his image and as a confluence of two of his precious servants. Especially in this time of searching, praying, seeking, and listening, it gives me solid ground to stand on and confidence that the working in and around me is greater than the one of this world.

I'm so thankful for the wonderful people my Mom and Dad. I often write about my desire to challenge, inspire, teach, and encourage others in whatever I do. The source of those desires can be traced to God through the way my parents have taught, inspired, encouraged, and challenged me -- and continue to do so.

One of the coolest things I've ever seen happened in Natal a little over a week ago. Our team really got attached to the people at Refugio da Graca; we made some incredible relationships. One of the guys that we got to spend a lot of time with was Cesar. Cesar is a 17-year old guy who looks like he's in his mid-20s, around my age. His English is pretty good, good enough to do a little translating and carry on a conversation. Josh, Chris, and I especially enjoyed hanging out with Cesar.

Our last night in Natal was a Sunday. We'd spent the weekend in Zona Norte, the north side of Natal, serving in a few neighborhoods in that area. We hosted a couple of Mercy Days, where we cut hair, painted nails, played games, gave out toothbrushes, had a praise time with a puppet show, drama, dance, music, prayers, and a message. We stayed at a beach house; that's right, over 70 people at one place. (We were given access to another house close by for 10 of our group to sleep at.) It was quite a grand experience: sleeping in hammocks, enjoying wonderful meals, walking the neighborhoods to invite people to worship, playing soccer and football on the beach -- it made for a memorable end to the trip. So Sunday morning we got up and drove out to the end point of South America, the closest point on the continent to Africa and Europe. We spent time there praying for South America, Africa, North America, Brasil, the U.S., Natal, and San Antonio. We then made our way back to town for worship that evening.

Chris and I had been asked to help with worship that night. He played his guitar with the band and sang, while I was given a mic and sang, too. The Brasilians would lead a song in Portuguese and then we'd sing and play a verse of the same song in English and then finish in Portuguese again. It's one thing to worship with them; it's quite another to be up front with everyone singing, worshipping, and dancing right in front of you. I loved it. One of the best memories I have.

But none of that is the story I started out telling. One of the coolest things I've ever seen. After our time of worship, we were all taking pictures and saying goodbyes and things such as that, when I noticed Chris and Cesar were both red-eyed. Significantly so. There were hugs exchanged and a few others standing around too -- and most of them had tears in their eyes too. And then I saw the guitar. In Cesar's hands.

Chris brought one of his guitars to give away at the end of this trip. He'd planned on giving it to one of the worship leaders or another person at the church. As our time in Natal progressed, he noticed that there might not be a need from the worship leaders for his guitar; the ones they had were exceptionally nice...they're actually extremely talented musicians and had nicer guitars than Chris did at home. But at some point during the week, Chris decided Cesar would be a great recepient of his gift. And when it came time to give it away, the facades guys often attempt to put up in situations like these never made an appearance. Through tears, laughs, and hugs, love was exchanged in the form of a six-stringed instrument.

The gift didn't surprise me, neither did the reaction. Even though I knew it was coming, I didn't know to whom the guitar was going to be given. And watching it unfold brought a lump in my throat because of the unabashed display of the love of Christ, the unity he brings, and the joy he sets before us. The scene was enhanced even more by a story Jannet had told me the day before about Cesar.

Refugio da Graca is about to celebrate its third anniversary. Before, they were a part of another church, but about three years ago had decided to move in a different direction, which meant for them changing locations. Cesar lived across the street from the previous place of meeting and had started coming when he was only 11 years old. He'd been invited to one of the children's events and ended up finding a family with that body. When they decided to move, he decided to go with them, regardless of the increased cost of getting to the building, regardless of having to do so by himself.

Jannet told me they were a bit surprised because it would have been so easy for Cesar to either go to the other church, quit going at all, or find a place closer. But he didn't. He had found Jesus and had made a family with this group of believers. So the teenager sacrificed and kept going. A few weeks before our team arrived, Refugio had a special service focusing on the children and Cesar was the speaker that evening. Jannet told me everyone was in tears because of the way Jesus was speaking through him. In passionate cries, he begged them to invest in the children. Give them your attention. Give them your love. Because I am what happens when you do so. Those without Jesus find him and are forever changed.

And those who find him are forever blessed. Blessed by God. Blessed to be a blessing to others. I asked Cesar at the airport if he knew how to play guitar. He said he didn't know too much, but he's now got something to practice with. And who knows what God will do with him through this gift. It was special to watch and experience. Just another chapter in the book of incredible things God does with those who love him.