As I reflect about my own vulnerability, I praise God for His love and overwhelming presence during every second of my life. Then and now, I choose to honor Danny’s life by not allowing myself to forget what Danny's unfailing belief that the goodness of God never fails! He believed with all his heart that the abuse and pain he experienced did not reflect or represented God as being love Himself, neither diminished God's love for him. 

Danny had a perspective about the role that God played on the source, reason, and overcoming of suffering. The extreme physical, emotional, and sexual abuse Danny encountered in his short life gave him the right to have strong opinions on the subject matter of extreme suffering, its source, and meaning. 

Danny knew abuse before he saw his biological mother's eyes. His biological father, in his cowboy boots, kicked his pregnant mother's stomach into premature delivery. Danny manifested his faith by choosing to believe and trust God as the source of goodness. Again and again, after each beating, Danny chose to trust God's divine traits. Not a God of evil, but of unconditional love. God was not the reason for his suffering; on the contrary, God was the reason he survived through it all! I write this to provide some background to why I am writing this post. 

Helpless, I witnessed Danny crying loudly in pain the night before his death. The National Institutes of Health studied his cause of death. They believe Danny passed after a final untreated intestinal rupture. This is one of the worse pains a person can experience! Danny and Daniel are the only two people in the whole world to be diagnosed with a unnamed genetic condition, on top of a another extremely rare condition named, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS). If you do not believe me or think I might be exaggerating, feel free to contact me and I will provide documentation. If this alone is not a excuse for bitterness and a more than acceptable reason for self-victimization, nothing else qualified. 

Why am I writing about this now? Just recently, I was told that Danny died because of his not having enough faith to be healed. This is a common belief! We both were told the source of my cancer and Danny's disease was our inability to have enough faith...not even small as a mustard seed. Yes, I believe on the impact of faith on one's health. This is not what I mean. I am writing this reflection as a mean to bringing awareness to loving those who find themselves hurting in any capacity. This rhetoric is harmful to those who already hurt beyond the bounds of survivable pain. I saw first hand Danny's dignifying fight for his life. 

Crying in pain, he told me, Lu I know that God is good all the time; and, that all the time God is good.” He believed in the goodness of God, as a young child, while having dozens broken bones as Mr. David Azevedo beat him so badly. A few times, breaking whole on the walls by beating his nine-years-old had against the walls. This is the man, I was told did not have enough faith, leading him to die a death so horrific I have not yet openly talked about. 

It got worse. When the beatings weren’t enough, the Azevedo “father” would place his weak body inside a car, drive down the highway and throw him from the moving vehicle. Then, would pick up his broken body and have him locked up in the mental institution months at a time. Childhood suicide attempts were the excuses. Even then, Danny never lost his faith and trust that God is good—all the time! What is our definition of faith? 

I am unapologetically angry at the audacity some people have to measure, label, and communicate this non-sense concept of faith. Not only for my loving my husband, but for respecting every person who lives through things I do not understand. I write as a calling for awareness and not out of spite. What I witnessed and lived through myself presented me with the gift of perspective. 

Perspective is how awareness can be transformed into action and lasting change. Experiencing things such as these makes me the best teacher I can possibly be to all my students. It does give me a unique interaction with the kids who also experience trauma. I can relate and sense their pain. Trauma has a smell-like quality to it. If you went through it yourself, there is no way to forget the dreadful sense the fear and anxiety within any room. When highly challenging behaviors take place within our classrooms, we hold the authority, ability, and the responsibility to love and support each individual child. This is only one example of how we perceive the suffering and trauma of others. A person does not require a miserable life to relate and support those in pain--old or young. The power relies on empathy and respect. 

Friends, it is with love and respect, I invite you to consider the following. Let us take the necessary actions to not become judges of those with whom we do not agree noir understand. 
This exercise should not be taken lightly. Let’s be real, we all have been judged someone, or anything for that matter. I know I did; however, I was brought to my knees by witnessing terrible suffering. Not my own, but the pain of others humbled my heart and brought me to teachers when I came to understand the depths of pain one endured. 

I hope we can find ourselves in place of purposeful empathy, and even sympathy. In a past, not yet too long ago, faced serous health challenges. There were times, I could not completely provide for Daniel and myself alone. I did not disclosed my health condition to any one. Not a matter of pride, but one of overwhelm. Tired of being perceived as a victim or/and the complicate friend and church member. Knowing nothing about my background, or the woman I am outside extreme and temporary cards I was presented by life, I was hurt and offended so deeply that I did not defend myself. It all became too much and I just wanted solitude. I was in total disbelief, when I was asked if Brazilians know of hard work and backbreaking labor. If our work day lasted from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm. 

Yes, I was facing financial hardship at the time, which took me some time to overcome it. I was also fighting severe depression and suicidal ideation. It was not too much time after losing my husband. Because of my faith, suicide is not an option. Although wishing death for myself, when I was diagnosed with a severe condition, I was flighting for my life. I was not given the benefit of doubt. Honestly, in humiliation, I was perceived as lazy. At the very least, the insinuation was that, as a Brazilian, I had to be from the backwoods: a third world citizen, had not been taught how to work hard enough. No, I was at my darkest of hours praying be the minute to either die or be given the grace of a moment o joy. I never stopped working and there was a great reason to my being at home, sometimes during the week. 

I know that I do not need to explain that we Brazilians give our blood to our work places. I worked more than eight hours a day, attended college, walked home for hours, got perfect grades on the work I completed from 2:00 am to 4:00 am, I my mother yelled at me and denied me food. While we all lived in the house she built with the stolen money my father had left me. With barely any sleep, I repeated it all again and again. So, I knew about long work day look and felt like. 

At the time, the humiliation of the whole conversation broke me and I did say a word in my defense. Those who know me long enough, know of my overachieving ways, when I allowed my pursuit for a perfect GPA to robbed me from valuable time with my family. I do have perfect GPA, all the way into my doctoral work. When I was doing my student teaching, I almost died from lung cancer. The university offer me to graduate with the degree and return later to get me teaching certificate. No, I did not give up. I completed my work with perfect remarks from the state of Missouri. I would have my treatment, get sick, work on my final writing assignments, take a nap, get sick again and get back at work. I did this just two weeks after a lung resection that limited my lung capacity. 

This story was not about lack of faith, but one of being underestimated. A heartbreaking situation that could had send me over the precipice of death, since I was already shattered into unrecognizable bits of myself. I challenge anyone who offers me judgment to walk in my place, just as I do, to honestly reflect if they could do it better than I did. I made mistakes, but I put up the very best fight I could. I survived it and crossed to the other side of near death in more ways than one. 

I do not mean lightly what I’m writing this post. Those who are the closest to me know of my passion for teaching and loving people, whatever their experiences in life may have been. If my post reads as too tough and too revealing. Please, understand that I mean no harm. I am passionate about how God, faith, and suffering are interpreted and experienced. 

Please, listen to me saying that words and attitude like these have the potential to bring destruction. After all, faith is what we need most at our darkest hours! I’m a Christian woman; this is what faith means to me. I also understand faith as believing on the good about ourselves, others, and of a life worthy of leaving. 

I was underestimate while in absolute chaos. I did struggled. I get it. When the focus was taken from my shortcomings and placed on Danny's faith, I could not help but being protective of him. I hope my post will reach people whose life might seem chaotic, wondering if they should keep on trying their very best just to disappoint their well-intended loved ones. 

If this is you, know that suffering is not the same as weakness. Better yet, even if it were. Your value is infinitely greater. The trials you are facing are temporary and no measure of how loved and important you are to this hurting world. I witnessed a great deal of people who were one step to end it all. Please, do not make this choice. Give yourself a honest chance to finding joy as the storms quiets down. 

The interesting thing about life, pain, and faith is that no one has the right to judge another person concerning these matters! One needs to be present or experienced pain himself in order to understand the price it takes to not giving up on fighting. It takes character. It takes courage. It takes a never ending and strong willed heart to keep believing, despite the pain.

Before making up our minds, let us take a long moment to remind ourselves of a specific time when we faced the worst of our own pain. How have we responded to it, at that time of our lives? Just then, we can honestly offer grace to one another. My purpose to posting this reflection is one of education. It’s often too easy to judge the lives of others from where we stand, based on limited insight, experiences, and perspectives. Also, let’s not forget, most often what is shared on social media is just a tip of iceberg of what is really happening in their lives. As for me, this video was a desperate call for help. I could not keep my emotions hidden deep within my heart. 

What I discussed in this post is of huge importance to me! I want to encourage readers from all backgrounds to receive this post as an invitation to reflective a conversation, and hopefully, I can will work together to bring awareness to extreme suffering and save lives. My aspiration is to create an opportunity, where we could relate to one another based on our shared-humanity. My struggle with grief gave me the understanding that there is healing in human connection. We can be the first to engage with others by throwing hate away, not being too fast on giving judgment, and taking the focus from what is divisive back to what unify our communities. 

Thank you for being here!