this gift

Note: I am publishing Part One of this piece today, on our 2nd Brazil-iversary (!!!), because I know time will eventually glaze over the hard parts of this season. I want to remember though - the hard parts themselves and the incredible ways God has used them.

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January 2017

It’s 2:30 am, I think, when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

It’s my husband.

“Hey, how are you?” I say, my voice hoarse and raspy.

“Not good.”

I don’t understand. Ten hours ago he sounded fine. Tired of course, but fine.

“I think this might be the biggest mistake of our lives.”

Silence.

Roughly 40 hours ago, Cora and I dropped him off at the airport. His destination: São Paulo, Brazil. We’re moving there. But not all of us, just yet, because I am seven weeks away from birthing a baby brother. He must begin this new job and this new country by himself.

The five hour time difference puts him at 7:30 in the morning. He should be heading in for Day Two at the office by now. Instead, I find out, he is still in bed. He is deathly sick and he doesn’t know where to buy water - because you can’t drink the tap - or toilet paper. His “furnished” apartment was stocked, sparsely.

He is physically sick, I can hear the congestion in his voice, but there is obviously more to unpack here. I can’t comprehend all the unknowns he’s facing. I’m wrapped in the covers of our own bed, in the town we call home, in a country I understand. I am ignorant of his worries, yes, but I have fears of my own. Fears for his safety after listening to the horror stories people felt compelled to share with us. Fear of this baby coming too early, of laboring without his hand to hold, of transitioning to life with two littles alone.

“We knew this was going to be hard.” I say. “Here we are.”

***

And so it begins, Lord. Our ominous adventure. We have been waiting nearly seven
months for this beginning and yet, we’ve been caught off-guard. Talking about grand adventures is very much not at all like living them.

Why are we doing this?!

I don’t know your plan, Lord. I don’t know what you are hoping for us, offering to us,
through this season in Brazil.

Is it good, this gift?

I know you are trustworthy, Father, sovereign and good.

You are a God of purpose.
Your works are not haphazard.
This is not haphazard.

So I will trust your hidden why.

And I will cling, once again, to these words from 1 Peter.
These words that have carried me through moves and fears and challenges past.
You have not failed me yet, Lord.

“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace,
who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ,
will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”

Establish us, Lord, in this season, in Brazil. Make us who we ought to be.

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August 2017

He arrives home from work and finds me in the kitchen, washing dishes. He missed dinner again. Seeing the kids, too. I pass him the silverware and he rinses, begins transmitting the details of his day. Though his voice is but a whisper, I hear the notes clearly. Frustration, exhaustion and feelings of inadequacy weave together a dissonant melody. It’s not easy to listen to. His tired eyes and rounded shoulders tell me it’s not easy to play either.

At the office, he is in the valley of a learning curve that towers like Everest before him. Always the optimist, I am chock full of advice and suggestions for ways he could improve his work experience. He acts on a few of them, but not many, which is aggravating to me. It seems he doesn’t want my help.

Maybe though, he just doesn’t want its underlying message.

I would do this so much better.

It’s quite a claim coming from the restless, stir crazy, tired-of-single-parenting-this-gig woman I’ve become. Without a car of my own, and two littles to carry and pack for, I spend most days within the confines of our apartment grounds. I am so anxious to feel Brazil, to know her inside and out, yet I settle for a heavy-hearted, second-hand version when he gets home each night.

His lackluster appreciation of my “help” makes the stubborn independent in me cringe. Because I need his help. It infuriates me to have to admit that! I am supposed to be the world traveller in this marriage. Back then I needed only a backpack and a hostel bed. Where did that girl go? I blame the kids and heave all of my grand expectations on my consolation prize: the weekend. Two whole days when he can help me navigate this city. We’ll attend festivals and eat all the Brazilian things and explore neighborhoods and museums and parks! But the long work days usually deplete his drive to do anything more with those 48 hours than rest and recoup.

His angst builds during the week. Mine loves working the weekend.

There’s more.

Learning this Portuguese language is irritatingly slow. The two of us, we are both desperate for the other to learn it, to be proficient enough. It would ease our own burden considerably because we really only need one of us to figure it out.

But in this case, willing the other to win is not, exactly, beneficial. It’s more I’m backing you into a corner than it is edifying. I feel the tension rise when he looks at me to place our order at Starbucks, like I can say “chai latte” with a less-American accent than him. I know I play the same game though. A few months ago, we pulled into a paid parking lot and the attendant had a lot to say. He seemed to be warning us of… something. I purposefully busied myself with the kids, pretending I didn’t hear what was said, so he had to figure it out.

I thought the hard part of this adventure would get easier when our newly minted family of four could tackle this adventure together. I thought it would make us a stronger team. The actual experience though, feels more like an axe hacking its way vertically through the tree trunk that is our marriage. The blows keep coming and I now feel a space where there shouldn’t be space. A rift between his half of the trunk and mine. It unsettles me. Our long-lasting honeymoon phase has, abruptly, ended.

***

Jesus, what is there to say?
Brazil has been unlike anything I expected.
The frustrations will not end.
And I have a bottomless spring of blame I cannot stifle.

Life feels heavy. And hard.

I read these words this morning though:

“Discipline your thoughts to trust Me as I work My ways in your life…
Do not fear My will, for through it I accomplish what is best for you.”
Jesus Calling by Sarah Young

Help me, Holy Spirit.

Let this season change me, Lord.
Soften my heart for the work you will do. Let this not be for naught.

“But as for me, I will look to the Lord;
I will wait for the God of my salvation;
my God will hear me.”
Micah 7:7

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Don’t miss the end of this beautiful story! Read Part Two here.

Ubatuba

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
John 10:10

We celebrated Easter this weekend in the midst of bold colors, bright sunshine, and big smiles in Ubatuba. The shore was breathtaking. Time with this family of ours, refreshing.

Day One:
London ate next to nothing for breakfast, only sat in his chair staring longingly at the waves, saying over and over again, “beach… beach... beach...” We finally let him down so he could sit on the steps, as close to the sand as possible, while waiting (kind of) patiently for the rest of us to finish eating.

Then we got him to the beach and Cora to her search for seashells.

She braved the water for the first time and loved it.

After a lengthy intermission for lunch and afternoon naps… more sand. more waves.

Day Two:
More sand. More waves. More sun.

A little too much sun, maybe. Pale skin was teetering toward pink so we skipped the afternoon sand and played games in the shade instead.

Day Three:
A morning stroll before breakfast.

Post-breakfast sand and and seashells.

One more afternoon in the shade.

One final moon rise over dinner.

Favorite Cora quote from the weekend: “I can’t get this big smile to go away! It just won’t go away!”

2018 Christmas Letter

Two thousand eighteen.

It was a year of settling for this family of ours, in the very best of ways. Settling into the beauty of Brazil. Settling into the challenges it has laid before us. Settling into our version of the expat life. We are still so grateful for the opportunity to call this country home for a little while. Grateful too for the ways we have been stretched (many times uncomfortably so) and the growth we’ve experienced because of it.

Speaking of growing, London is somehow closing in on two years of age! How can that be?! He serves as the resident dish rinser and brings us so much joy. He loves playing Pat-a-Cake, splashing in water, and jumping on the closest trampoline, couch, bean bag or bed. He slurps milk out of his cereal bowl (along with 3-4 refills) while mostly neglecting the actual cereal. And when I ask him to hold my hand, he wraps his whole hand around one of my fingers. Our favorites of his growing vocabulary include his breathy “wow,” “ap-ple,” “pease!” and “pee-yo” (play-doh)... along with his never-ending requests for “more?!” of any game, book, or bite he enjoys. His bright blue eyes and blonde hair draw plenty of adoring attention around here, appropriately so in our opinion.

Cora bravely entered her first year of preschool back in February, tackling the Portuguese language immersion style, and wrapped up the year with new friends and a comprehension that exceeds our own. What a trailblazer! She loves a good dance party, especially if Let It Go is involved, and has fully embraced her dad’s love of board games. Go Nuts for Doughnuts is the obvious favorite. She spends hours tending sick “friends” in her doctor’s office (our closet) and has announced she will be a doctor when she grows up so she can “take care of her friends when they’re not sick.” Preventative medicine is where it’s at folks. She weaves together a beautiful blend of colors in her many art projects and finds delight in train rides and chocolate. We kind of love what four years has fostered.

Greg continued the learning process in his role at Compass Minerals (aka Produquímica) this year. When he’s not working / commuting, he can be found making pancakes, reading literary classics (Dickens as of late), or throwing kids up in the air in the general direction of the bean bag. Monthly daddy / daughter dates revolve around a shared love of doughnuts and a growing collection of Pokemon cards (in Portuguese!).

As for me, I am enjoying the rhythms of home life with two littles. We spend our days rotating between books and balloons, colors and cars inside and between BSF, the park and the pool outside. Writing through our transition to Brazil rekindled my love for creating through words. I even took part in a writing workshop for the first time! It was a little scary / overwhelming but I loved it. Documenting this life of ours - and God’s abundant, generous presence in it - is a discipline I am grateful to grow into.

And now we look forward to a new year of new adventures. We’re a little (okay a lot) unsure of what 2019 will hold. But as we settle more deeply into the God who both goes before us and journeys with us, we cannot help but trust His lead and His timing. Because while His ways are often surprising, they are always, always good.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year friends!

Greg, Emily, Cora & London

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Images by the lovely Jenny Rawson, taken on our whirlwind trip back to the US in June.