I love mornings. I love waking up to the hustle and bustle in my ears from down below on the street, with the sun and wind coming in from the window directly above my cot and wondering what I will experience that day. I like to be the first one awake here; to make the coffee before anyone is up and to hear the bird in the cage at the fruitstand downstairs chirping his same old song as I sit alone, eating my oatmeal. Jenn and I usually leave about 30 minutes before the others to get to Missionaries of Charity on time on Wednesdays so we said our goodbyes yesterday morning and made our way through favela traffic.... which includes slow people, running people, vendors yelling and making rhymes with their sales gimics, speeding motorcycles (we do not have the right of way in Brasil!), the occasional comvi bus.. and needless to say, it takes a bit to get to the entrance where we catch our bus.

Yesterday morning as I was watching my feet so as to not step in the undesirable things one might find in the street, I look up to see the largest vehicle I´ve ever seen... it was black, big as a tank, slick with only a tiny window in front, and had small holes down the side in a straight line in which long skinny gun barrells were sticking out. The police raids have been occurring about 3 times per week here lately and it feels as if we live in a war zone. Though I have been stuck inside for hours due to the shots, and have ducked into storefronts as I heard news that police were coming, I hadn´t ever been in the middle of a raid; unprotected, in the street. As the cavaráo passed me the rifle nearly hit me in the shoulder, and I then saw policeman after policeman follwing after it on foot, all geared up and all carrying their assault rifles. My heart sank into my stomach; these raids are for one reason and one reason only: to confiscate drugs, and to catch and kill trafficantes. They do not protect the civilians of Jacarezinho (the name of our favela), and often people are killed in crossfire between the trafficantes and the policia. I realized that had there been a trafficante nearby and they were seen, Jenn and I could very well have been victim of a stray bullet or seen one of our neighbors suffer the same fate.

Needless to say, at this moment I realized that as I stood in the midst of these beady-eyed, one-track-minded, police who are members of a police force known for their corruption and lack of protecting civilians, I just needed to get out of there as quickly as possible; which I did. As stores rapidly pulled down their storefronts and people ran to hide, I did the same.  As Jenn and I got on the bus, I nervously listened for the fireworks, which an assigned favela-dweller sets off whenever police enter to let everyone know to take cover. I sighed with relief when I finally heard them... and the bus passengers stared rubber-necking towards Jacarezinho, mumbling things under their breath. Lisa, Will & David were leaving the house soon and I was worried about them. My thoughts raced to the past weeks in which the newspapers are always boasting of stories of how many young trafficantes were killed, how many children died as a result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time during a raid, and of my neighbors who have become friends.. hoping that they heard the fireworks. I prayed for them, frantic, fearful prayers, but I found myself listening and being comforted even moreso. I am learning of solidarity lately, and of unity... the importance of being with people, of seeing everyone as my brothers and sisters, and the truth that we belong to each other. As I prayed for these, my mind then went directly to the policia of course. The cause of so much of our pain here; the ones who have made me more afraid in these last months than I have ever been in my life, and the ones I often recognize as our enemies here. I was reminded of His love for the ones whose beady eyes cared not for the eyes of my friend on the street, for me. I was reminded that they are my brothers, and that He cares for them just as uniquely and intensely as He cares for me.

I realized then on that bus what it means to love and pray for my enemy. I realized that prayer does indeed bring unity, and as I allow myself to be changed and present and hand over my fears and frustrations to the God who is more than willing to take them, He will transform fear and anger into love. I don´t know any of the policia personally, but I do know that they are all fallen and wounded people just as I am; just as the trafficantes are; just as the man who sells meat on the corner is.

We belong to each other. I don´t know how to fix anything, and I can´t change the corrupt systems here, but I do know that when I listen to Him and He enables me to love my enemies and breathe even a little hope into these here in our everyday work, a miracle has happened.