It’s Saturday morning. My last Saturday in this house. My last Saturday in Brazil this year.

On this chilly, fall morning I decided to leave the warmth and comfort of my bed to find a few moments alone to reflect and think. In just a little while everyone will awaken and our day will be filled with the craziness of packing and getting ready to leave on furlough. I’ve had so many thoughts run through my mind in the past days and weeks–thoughts that aren’t easy to put into words-but I decided maybe I should at least try to write them out. One song has been replaying over and over in my mind over the last couple of days, and I wanted to try to combine my thoughts to the words of this song.

I love the song, “I Will Go” by Steve Green. It’s one that we hear over and over at missions conferences and events. In fact, we had our good friend, Jack Roach, sing this song for us at our commissioning service the Sunday before our church sent us to Brazil. As you listen to the song it’s easy to picture a person leaving the grand ol’ United States of America to confront hardships and discomforts on the foreign mission field. This time for me though these words struck a chord as I packed to RETURN to the States FROM the mission field.

I was tackling our bedroom which meant I had boxes for storage, a suitcase for travel, a bag for trash, and a bag for give away strewn across our room. I grabbed Patrick’s Ipad and turned on Pandora to help make the time more enjoyable. As I sorted through my closet and folded and tucked things away (or threw them) into different containers I listened and sang along to the music. As this song began and I stopped to truly listen the tears started to flow:

And I will go where there are no easy roads
Leave the comforts that I know
I will go and let this journey be my home
I will go
I will go

That’s what I feel now after four years in Brazil. This is home. I feel “comfortable” here especially in our home. With every picture, knick knack, pillow, book, dish, and toy that I pack away I feel like the comfort that is “home” is slowly being taken away. Sure, I’m excited to see friends and family in the States. I’ve missed them. Yet, this time I’m leaving my home here in Brazil to VISIT them.

I’m not only leaving our home here. We’re losing our home. The plans that we thought had come straight from heaven to purchase our first home with money from the mission’s office completely fell through when the owner, after negotiating down to a great price with us, returned to his original price and then stopped talking with us all together. It definitely changed much of what we had planned. We are still making last minute decisions as to where to store everything while we are on furlough. And then who knows where we will live when we come back in February. We’re “homeless.” I’m learning that this can be part of missionary life and goes back to the whole idea of leaving the “comforts that I know” whether that be my country of origin, my home, or just life as I have known it for the past few years.

I’ll let go of my ambition
Cut the roots that run too deep
I will learn to give away
What I cannot really keep
What I cannot really keep

This verse of the song couldn’t have been more vivid to me as I was filling bag after bag with things to give away to other people. Everything I am packing in these boxes or handing to people are just things that truly I cannot keep. I have to evaluate how deep my roots run connecting me to these things and even to my ministry (ambition) here in Brazil.

I LOVE what I do. After years of preparing and training I arrived in Brazil ready to be a missionary. The language barrier smacked me HARD in the face, and I sat on the sidelines watching others do what I wanted to do while I learned how to conjugate verbs and which article was needed with which word. It was frustrating. Finally I have enough grasp of the language to work in areas that I love–teaching children and training teachers. It has been my pleasure to help strengthen and build up the children’s ministry at our church over the past year. It wasn’t easy to hand it over to others not knowing what will happen in the next few months while I am gone. I think I let those roots get a little too deep. It’s not mine. I can’t hold onto it forever. It’s God’s work and for now He is cutting me lose from this ambition.

Help me see with eyes of faith
Give me strength to run this race

Life is a race, and I want to run it well. I have to forget what is behind and press on to what is ahead. Four years on the mission field is behind me and what is ahead is a furlough in the States. I’m learning that I have to think of this as part of my life race (and not just a vacation). I never thought it would be something difficult to face. Leaving the States I couldn’t imagine that I would have doubts, be confused or feel “lost” when the time to return came. These are the thoughts that I have trouble putting into words. It’s not that I don’t like the States. It’s that it feels foreign now. I’ve seen the world through different eyes. I’ve learned that I’ll never completely fit into Brazilian culture. I’m an American which means that for the majority of my life I lived with completely different customs which at times become very obvious to those around me. Yet, now I’m seeing that I don’t think I’ll completely fit into the American culture again. I’ve learned new things. I’ve seen that it’s okay (and maybe even better <gasp>) to do things differently. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere exactly. It reminds me of a song my mom used to sing quite often,

This world is not my home. I’m just a passing through. My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me from heavens open door. And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore. Oh Lord, you know I have no friend like you. If heavens not my home, Oh Lord, what would I do? The angels beckon me from heaven’s open door and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.

That’s what I’m learning: my citizenship is in heaven. These countries that I pass through are just places, stops along the way that God is weaving in my earthly journey. I don’t have to “feel” anything but the peace of God that passes all understanding no matter in what country I find myself, snuggled in the comfort of home or experiencing a little “homelessness.”
I will go Lord where Your glory is unknown
I will live for You alone
I will go because my life is not my own
I will go

Why do we do this–leave one country and the comforts of friends and family to plant ourselves into another culture, to fall in love with it, to rip ourselves away for a few months, to return to loved ones, to say good-bye again, etc. . . ? This last verse explains, and I have to remember–”I will live for YOU alone. I will go because my life is not my own.” I have been bought with a price, the precious blood of Jesus, and my life is not my own. I will go and do what my Lord and Master asks of me because only then will I find true joy and know that He is being glorified in me.

As we began to prepare for this trip I was shocked by my children’s responses. They are very reluctant to leave the comforts and friends they have in Brazil. They are young enough and have been here long enough to not remember much about the States (except for the oldest). There have been many questions of “why do we have to do this?” and many tears. For me I realized that I had to first answer these questions for myself and then as we prepare to leave on this wonderful adventure called furlough I have to model for my children what it is to be willing to say “I will go and let this journey be my home.”

I will go
I will go

Sitting in my room listening to the sounds of my family downstairs enjoying life together without me has been a very different experience. I’m a homeschool mom which means my kids are usually around me 24/7. Sure as with other mothers I enjoy a few minutes (hours) to myself every now and then, but I have been thrust into a situation I never imagined. I find myself with those hours to myself, and it’s not quite as I imagined.

Four weeks! That’s how long I have survived morning sickness. It’s definitely been some of the longest weeks, days, and hours of my life. I have experienced morning sickness with every pregnancy (except one, and that one God chose to take home to Him). I realize that it is a good sign that indicates baby is growing and developing. After doing this three times you’d think I’d have it down. I don’t know if it is because I’m older, maybe it’s a girl (they say that makes for stronger morning sickness) or this child is just killing me from the inside out, but something is different this time. For the first time I’ve actually lost weight due to morning sickness–six pounds in four weeks! I’m telling you, this stuff is STRONG! My best description is that I feel like I have entered a swirling vortex of unending nausea. I find myself unable to just get up and walk around without losing everything I’ve eaten. Even more difficult is that I can’t really talk very much. If I open my mouth. . . well, you get the picture.

As I sit in my room listening to my husband fix the kids’ breakfast, read the Bible to them, do their school, fix lunch, wash dishes, etc. . . . (MY JOBS!) I feel overwhelmed with uselessness. I’m just here, but doing what?!? Sometimes I tell myself it is all in my head, and I need to just get up and get over it. That lasts about as long as it takes me to find the nearest bathroom as quickly as possible and feel like I’m being ripped in two as my stomach empties itself of all its contents. I decide it might not just be in my head and back to bed I crawl.

Patrick will sometimes ask me why I don’t read or watch something. It’s almost overwhelming to do anything. So I sit and stare. I’m like a little old person in a nursing home only I don’t sit in a rocking chair. No, rocking would definitely not be a good idea. Occasionally I do read (and I’ve read several good books), but I’m learning to think and pray. For the first time in my life I have to “be still and know that I am God.”

I’ve spent a lot of time pondering others who have found themselves in similar situations.

My missionary friend, Russ Dean, has battled chronic back pain for years and spent those years flat on his back in bed. I am only looking at what I hope to be only another month to six weeks of being quiet and still. He doesn’t know if his suffering will ever come to an end. I have a whole new perspective and appreciation for him.

I think of my grandfather, Ed Banks, who due to his age and health spends his day sitting in a chair in his living room alone. I should call him more often.

My mind often drifts back to the days when I cared for my mother while she battled cancer. She was stuck in bed, nauseated, hating the smells of food (and yet I still cooked for us with the aromas wafting up to her room–what was I thinking?), and unable to find anything that sounded good to eat. Patrick actually told me the other day that I reminded him of her. He’s right, too. I think of something that sounds good. After he goes out and gets it, I taste it once, I’m done with it, and don’t ever want to see it again. Poor Patrick. I totally remember how frustrating that made me feel when I was the caretaker.

Another person that I think of often is Corrie Ten Boom. Many know her for her story The Hiding Place, but the part of her story that speaks to me at this time is the book The 5 Silent Years of Corrie Ten Boom.  Corrie suffered from strokes that left her without her speech for the last five years of her life. Everyone around her said that her eyes continued to speak volumes though her lips could not. 5 years is a long time to be silent. I’m struggling with not being able to talk for a day, a week, and honestly, I can talk (I just have to “suffer the consequences”).

I remember our pastor, Brother Lingo, had to allow time for his vocal chords to rest and the doctors told him he had to go weeks without talking. He walked around with a little white board on which he would write us messages. I haven’t gotten to the point that I’m writing messages, but I do a lot of pointing and grunting.

I have a TONS of thoughts that run through my head. I have complete conversations with people. I plan my lessons for the Children’s program at church. I even teach the lessons. I rehearse the teachers’ meeting (man, my Portuguese seems to have a lot less mistakes when it’s just in my head) and discuss all the plans that need to be put into place for the rest of the year with my fellow leaders. The problem is it’s all in my head. My brain is running ninety to nothing while my mouth remains silent. I wonder if that is what it is like for stroke patients?

I have thought a lot about Nathan Shoultz, the thirty-two year old son of fellow BBF missionaries who recently suffered a stroke that has left him with several physical difficulties one of which is a loss of speech. I wonder if he has a ton of thoughts running through his mind, but the connection to his mouth just won’t allow the words to come. My heart breaks for this young father of three, and I think often of the suffering of his precious wife and parents.

In no way do I feel like my suffering compares to these people. I think what I’m learning is to stop and identify a teeny, tiny with them. To stop and pray for them. To realize that life is full of suffering, and we can’t always understand what someone is going through until we’ve walked a tiny bit in their shoes or at least stopped long enough to ponder what walking in their shoes would be like.

I often think of this verse while my head is over a toilet (sorry, but that’s when the verse does come to mind), “For the suffering of this present time is nothing to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed.” I am totally aware that this verse is talking about the suffering we face on earth, suffering like the people I’ve mentioned. This suffering won’t matter a bit when we see the glory awaiting us on the other side in heaven with our amazingly wonderful God and all He has prepared for us. In a small way knowing that all the “suffering” I’m going through now won’t matter a lick when I hold a new baby in my arms does demonstrate this verse on a small scale to me.

So these are my silent days. Days when I am extremely grateful for my wonderful husband who has stepped up the plate and taken over the care of our children and household. He’s doing an amazing job, though I’m not ready for him to have it permanently (and neither is he). Days when I have lots of time to think and pray and learn quiet lessons alone with my God. Days that I pray will soon come to an end, but that the lessons will continue to be permanently stamped on my heart.

 

I recently read  So You are Thinking About Homeschooling by Lisa Whelchel. I’ve had the book forever. I’m pretty sure I picked it up and tucked it into our Rubbermaids when we moved here to Brazil back in 2006. I know it sounds like a weird book  to read for a person that has been homeschooling for the past five years. I thought so too (and thus it stayed packed in a Rubbermaid), but I happened across it the other day and began to flip through the pages. As I scanned over the book I got excited.  I like reading Lisa’s books. A former Hollywood star, she is a very down to earth person that writes things I can understand and apply to my every day life of raising a family and being a mom. This book looked like another “discovered at the right moment” read. It was so interesting. Lisa wrote the book like she is taking you, the reader, to visit and interview 15 different homeschool families from single moms, to grandparents, to large families, to ones with children with ADHD, to families that live on the road, etc. . .  Each family demonstrates a different way to homeschool from classical, to traditional, to unit studies, to unschooling, and everything else in between. There are SO many ways to homeschool. It was really eye opening.

A homeschooler myself I  had been exposed to many of the ideas and methods of homeschooling for years. I just never looked at it this way. As I devoured the book I found myself getting excited about some new ideas. I found myself clearly saying, “nope, that would never work for us.” I found myself reading sections to Patrick to hear his thoughts on new-to-me concepts. I found myself thinking that maybe this method or idea might help this or that child. And I found myself getting energized and ready to tackle a new year of homeschooling with my kids.

I’ve done traditional homeschooling which means we use a curriculum that covers all subjects for one grade period at a time for each child. After reading Lisa’s book I realized I could lighten up a bit. We could do some other things besides lessons, workbooks and tests. I actually feel like being a bit more creative with their education and learning. But, of course, the true test comes when we  see how I handle having any unfinished pages in workbooks at the end of the school year. Yikes, that scares me just thinking about it.

So we’ve been back in the full swing of school for three weeks since Christmas/summer break. I started with high hopes of doing more fun things together, and I think we have. I still find myself struggling between getting the lesson done from our book and learning from practical life lessons around us.

—We have spent more time reading together. They love to listen to stories, and I enjoy reading to them. I usually read during lunch which means I get to eat cold food or prolong the lunch process. I’d love to find more time to read to them as they do art projects, build with Legos, or invent, something that keeps their hands busy while I read and allows us to “kill two birds with one stone.”

—While at Grandma’s house the kids discovered the show Junior Master Chef, and they love it. Staying up late on Thursday nights to watch has become a big treat. It has also given our kids a whole new interest in cooking and kitchen work. So they have been helping out a lot more. Everyone joins in meal preparations. Some recipes I can now hand over to Nathanael and Elena to make by themselves. Obviously little helpers mean bigger messes and more time in the kitchen for me, but seeing how pleased they are with themselves does make it worth while. Of course with all this cooking and learning going on I have added “Home Economics” to their school curriculum list.

—Joel was learning about volcanos, and seriously this comes up EVERY year. I have made so many of the silly things that I thought I could maybe sneak through a lesson without making another one. He has always participated in the experiments when the other kids were learning. I thought I could just refresh his memory about what we had learned before, but oh no, he WANTED a volcano! We usually make our own playdough, shape the volcano and let it dry out before we “explode” it with baking soda and vinegar. This time Nathanael volunteered to make a volcano out of mud. I was all for it, and I thought Joel would be, too. Not so much! I sent the boys outside to make the mud volcano together while I taught Elena another subject. This was big for me–sending my kids outside to play in the mud during school hours. Finally I’m getting this creative learning thing. Instead of seeing it as a privilege Joel started bawling, “I don’t like mud. All the other kids in the world like mud, but I don’t.” Oh my word, when did he become such a neat freak? I told him if he wanted a volcano he could just sit beside Nathanael and watch him make it. Of course it didn’t take long before his little fingers were deep in the mud too, and he was having a good time.

—Since we do use a traditional curriculum there are days when it seems like everyone needs me to teach them something before they can do any kind of work on their own. I usually try to stagger who has workbook exercises or reading with the child that I am teaching. This doesn’t always work, and I can find myself feeling overwhelmed with everyone NEEDING mommy/teacher plus lunch preparations, the laundry, and the telephone ringing (amazing how kids think the telephone is like the end-of-the-class bell and they disappear from the schoolroom when it rings). Recently I’ve had them help teach each other. It’s amazing how an older child can go over a simple lesson with a younger one. It’s pretty sweet to watch (when it works) and helps me out big time.

—We’ve also started our kids in Portuguese lessons. I’m excited for several reasons. Mainly I want my kids to feel very comfortable in Brazil. I want them to read and write in Portuguese just like all their friends. I’m also excited that they finally have someone else besides us in their lives teaching them things. I love being their teacher, but I also want them to learn from other people. Thirdly, it means that twice a week for a couple of hours I have the house to myself. Ahhhh, the bliss!

It’s only been three weeks. Three weeks of  ups and downs. I’ve smiled and whistled through days, and I’ve already “quit” a couple of times (for some reason Patrick never excepts my resignation). Amazingly enough as we started our 2012 school year our Bible theme was contentment. It’s exactly what we all need to learn a bit better. Even on my toughest days I have found myself singing our theme song for the month:

Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings every doubt will fly.
And you will be singing as the days go by.

—may we continue to count our blessings (which for me includes homeschooling my precious children) and find ourselves singing (His praises) as the days go by!

I’m beginning to think our car has a mind of its own. It runs great throughout the year, but when we decide to drive to Brasilia it seems to declare that it does NOT want to go.  The past couple of days I’ve imagined it saying, “It’s hard enough to haul you all over town during the year.  Then you expect me to be filled to overflowing with suitcases, bags, food, electronics, toys, pillows and blankets as well as having all five seats occupied and haul everything 13 hours, 660 miles just so you can vacation. You know I’m not so young and spry. My paint is dulling and all my bells and whistles don’t work like they used to. I just don’t want to make that long trip anymore. You guys go ahead and just leave me at home.” Okay, so our car doesn’t have a mind of its own, but it sure does seem like it.

It started last year when days before our trip to Grandma’s house to celebrate Christmas our car’s check engine light came on, and we had to wait about two weeks before we could finally make the trip. One thing we learned from that experience was that everyone actually preferred the trip in January instead of visiting over Christmas. So this year we planned to leave after the new year.

9 am Thursday morning, January 5th, found us loaded up, buckled in and praying outside our garage before we took off on our long anticipated family vacation/Christmas celebration at Grandma and Vô’s house. For those of you early risers that think leaving at 9 is ridiculous I just have to say that was early for us. We’d been up until 2 am packing, and it takes us a while to make sure the house is secure and safe to leave. We were happy and anyway, we were on our WAY. . . .

12 pm Patrick noticed that the car’s thermostat was quickly rising. We pulled into a gas station to see if we could detect anything. A couple of gas station attendants gave their opinions, but in the end Patrick decided we needed to call a tow truck and have a mechanic check it out. At this point I knew that the kids would be looking to me for how to respond to this hiccup in our plans. I can honestly say that I didn’t feel anxious or angry. I knew it would all work out. I just didn’t know when and how. I immediately started to refer to the situation as an “adventure.” I walked the kids through the idea of what we could and couldn’t control in the situation, and they quickly understood that all we had control over was our responses (actions and attitudes). Thankfully we were at a gas station. There were bathrooms. There was even a little playground. We got ice cream popsicles and waited. It wasn’t easy. It was a hot day. They kids were very sad. But eventually the tow truck came as well as a taxi for the kids and me. They took as to a nearby town. While the car was with the mechanic the taxi lady thought we would enjoy the distraction of visiting the town’s shops. This town is famous for its porcelains and decorations. That sounded interesting and at least gave us something to do while we waited.

3 pm The shops were interesting for about thirty minutes. There were stores after stores lined with every kind of wall hanging, vase, bowl, decoration, flowers, etc. . . The sun was blazing hot, and we quickly learned that Patrick couldn’t enter the stores because he lost his cell phone signal. Since we were waiting on a phone call from the mechanic he decided to stand outside each shop. I was impressed with the prices, but couldn’t purchase anything because our car was already packed to overflowing. Also looking into a store with shelves stacked high with crystal table ware didn’t necessarily invite me to enter with three overly energetic kids. After about an hour with no phone call and Patrick sitting on a park bench he found in the shade we decided that maybe the mechanic would feel a bit more pressure if he had a family of five hanging out in his shop. We decided to walk back to the shop to wait. It was a loooong way back, but the whole time I kept reminding our kids of the adventure we were having and the stories we would get to tell later. We were all pretty pink and very sweaty by the time we arrived at the mechanic, but they said the car was ready.

5 pm We again started out for Grandma’s house full of anticipation and just bit more tired and a lot dirtier.

6 pm The car showed signs of overheating again. OH NO! We had the heater blasting on us inspite of the heat outside. We could actually see the temperature gauge drop for a while. Then it started pouring rain so we had to roll up the windows. Talk about HOT! We decided we had to pull over for the night and seek a mechanic in the morning. This time we were close to a city where we know people. We found the closest hotel. I felt very self conscious walking into a nice hotel where everyone in the lobby was clean and well dressed, and we looked like we had been hiking in the Sahara desert. The kids were filthy. Our clothes were marked with sweat and everyone had the wet, sweaty hair thing going. Oh well, they didn’t turn us away. It felt so nice to take showers and get cleaned up. By this time we were all getting hungry. We had snacked in the car and eaten ice cream. We had downed lots of liquids but no one had eaten a meal. Thankfully there was a huge shopping center next door to the hotel.

8:30 pm We walked to shopping center and ATE! We took time to look in the toy store and explore the mall before heading back to our hotel room. I loved seeing the hotel through the kids’ eyes. I forget that it isn’t something they have done in a while. They were enamored with the hot water in the bathroom sink. Elena even asked me while Patrick was checking in, “How do we know which room is ours?” I told her we could knock on every door until we found an empty room. By the look on her face it was obvious that she knew that couldn’t be the right answer.

11 pm Everyone was sound asleep to the pleasant noise of an air conditioner (when was the last time we slept with one of those?!?)

Friday, January 6th

7 am Patrick left the hotel to take the car to the mechanic that friends in town had recommended. I enjoyed a quiet time of studying my Bible while the kids slept (and I did everything I could to not to make a sound and wake them).

9 am The kids were up and dressed. We were reading our Bible time together when Patrick returned.  He told the kids, “We are going to Grandma’s house (my heart quickened), just not today (my heart dropped).” I have to say they handled the news well. There were a few tears. They were obviously very sad. Patrick explained how it would be better to nurse our car home where we had mechanics who know our car than try to make it further down the road where we know no one that could help. The kids understood, but it wasn’t easy. I went back to “adventure mode and think of all the stories we’ll have to tell.” Of course the whole time we were reminding the kids that God is in control, and He knows everything that is happening. We also constantly thanked the Lord for keeping us safe and providing solutions to each problem we faced. We then went downstairs to enjoy the hotel’s huge breakfast spread (which later in the day proved to be a good thing).

10 am We headed home. Things went well for a couple of hours. In fact Patrick and I began discussing how it might be nice if the car showed some signs of problems so we wouldn’t think yesterday was a fluke. We shouldn’t have said that.

12:30 pm The car started overheating and Patrick stopped over and over again to let it cool down. We were trying to get to Campinas where we have a mechanic that we really like and lots of friends we could call to help us out.

2 pm The car died. Amazingly it died in Campinas in front of the highway service building. All those tolls we pay (and there are a ton of expensive tolls on this road) provide people and equipment to respond to accidents and vehicles with problems. We stopped exactly in front of their building without even knowing it. They allowed us to sit in their air conditioned office, use their bathroom, and even had water for us to drink while we waited for the tow truck.

3 pm Patrick took off with the tow truck and car. I got into a taxi with the kids and head to the bus station. We called a taxi guy that has helped us in the past, so it was interesting to catch up with him on the expensive drive to the station.  Campinas’ bus station does have a lot to offer. I think it has more eating places and stores than Springfield’s airport (at least as I remember it four years ago). I bought the kids a plate of pasta to share. It was so hot that we weren’t really hungry, but I knew they needed to eat. Sweet Elena made sure that everyone left food on the plate and then pushed it over to me saying, “Mom,  you need to eat as much as we do.” I thought the three of them sharing a plate was too cute, and I pulled out Patrick’s iphone to take a picture. That’s when I noticed I had missed a call from him from the mechanic’s shop. I couldn’t believe it. I’m horrible about missing cell phone calls. I don’t even have a cell phone these days, but Patrick made sure I took his so we could keep in contact. And I had missed the call. I tried hitting the button to call him back but what I heard when the phone picked up was, “Emergency Fire Department.” I quickly ended that call. I definitely didn’t need them. I flipped through his contact list to find the mechanic’s number and then dug through my purse to find a pen to write it down. I’m not one that can memorize 10 digit numbers quickly. I couldn’t find a pen to save my life. So when you can’t find a pen what’s the next best thing in a lady’s purse–lip gloss. Yep, I grabbed a napkin from the kids’ food tray and scrawled the number using my lip gloss wand. I still couldn’t get the number to work and eventually Patrick called me back. Whew! By then the kids had finished their food, and I never did get my cute picture.  Oh well! We somehow found a way to survive the couple of hour wait at the bus station. Nathanael listened to Chronicles of Narnia on the iPod, and Elena, Joel and I watched workers dismantle a Christmas tree while chewing on some Mentos that I found in my purse.

4:30 pm A guy from the mechanic shop gave Patrick a ride to the bus station. He brought all the luggage he could manage to pull out of the car. We had to decide what to do with all the stuff we had packed in the car. Some stuff he left. Most he tried to bring. We had interesting items like a bag of potatoes that I didn’t know what to do with as we were leaving the house. We stuck them in the trunk to eat at Grandma’s. I told Patrick to definitely not bring them with him or leave them in the car. We decided to give them to the mechanic. When most people were walking around the bus station with a back pack or carry on we definitely drew attention with our cart stacked FULL and everyone hauling their own bag. Oh well, I was glad we had a way to get the stuff back home that we needed.

5 pm We loaded onto a bus and finally headed home–well to a city near our home. Elena, Joel and I shared two seats (anything to save a little more money). Joel was so tired that he immediately fell asleep and slept the whole way. I was glad because I was running out of entertaining ideas. It was nice to sit back and relax for a while.

7 pm We arrived in São Jose dos Campos and two men from our church picked us up. A family of five is already too much for most Brazilian cars but add luggage and there is no way. We were so thankful for these men. They are both leaders in our church and their servant attitudes spoke volumes.

7:45 pm We were HOME, back where we started the day before! What a crazy adventure, and we definitely have lots stories to tell. I loved what Joel said,, “I’m so tired. Can we wait until another day to tell our stories?” I totally agreed. It was weird to be home. Of course the refrigerator was empty. We ordered food for dinner which was the first time Patrick and I had really eaten since the breakfast at the hotel! It was nice to sleep in our own beds too.

It’s Monday and still no word from our mechanic. We had a nice weekend though. Friends let us borrow their car so we made it to church last night. Patrick was scheduled to preach later in the month but switched and preached yesterday since we were here. I planned out everything for the children’s teachers at church thinking I wouldn’t be around. It was really neat to pop in on their meeting, and then observe them throughout the evening. They did a great job, and I was able to see that everything ran smoothly without me. I even got to sit in the service and hear Patrick preach. That was truly a blessing! We don’t know when our car will be fixed, but we still have plans to go to Grandma’s house. Hopefully the time at the mechanic will get our car “thinking straight,” and it will co-operate for us to make the trip soon.

 

This was our sixth Christmas in Brazil. Six years in a row we have been in hot sunny Brazil on Christmas day.  They have all been memorable and fun, but I can honestly say that I think that this year was the best (and it’s not even over yet). I really don’t know what made the difference. I’ve tried to put my finger on it, and the best I can come up with is contentment! As a mother I feel like my role in preparing and guiding the festivities around our house is crucial. The kids follow my lead. They barely remember Christmases in the United States. In fact Joel has yet to celebrate a Christmas in the U.S. They don’t have the same expectations that I put on Christmas. So if I’m happy with what is going on then they are going to follow right along. That’s how it went this year—everyone happy and content with our Brazilian Christmas.

I know in years past I have felt a huge longing for things familiar at Christmas. Sure snow and colder weather are nice, but I longed for Christmas parties, musicals, plays, cookie swaps, caroling, and all the hoopla Americans put into the whole of December.

Don’t get me wrong, we have celebrated each year with Patrick’s parents and had a great time. We are blessed to have family close by (well, at least in the same country) to celebrate with at this special time. Most missionaries don’t have that luxury. I just missed all the extras that come along with the month of December. Believe you me, I got them this year, AND I wasn’t even looking for them.

As I thought about why I liked this Christmas so much one of the first things that came to mind was that more than ever Brazil feels like HOME. Our home is here. We have friends, a ministry, a life here. I really didn’t feel that huge tug on my heart strings to be back in the States. I was happy being here. I think I finally understand how Brazilians celebrate Christmas and for the first time we were invited to join a Brazilian Christmas Eve celebration. It was great. We were treated like family and felt loved and accepted.

We had a December jammed packed with so much Christmas it wasn’t even funny.We had so many Christmas parties that it’s difficult to remember them all. We partied twice with AME  (where I teach English to needy children). We had a special Christmas dinner with our small group. We baked cookies. We painted ornaments. We took gifts to our neighbors. We had a staff Christmas party. We took our picture with Santa (even if it was just outside of a grocery store). We read Christmas stories around the Christmas tree each night and sang carols. We decorated. We shopped. We laughed. We played. We enjoyed Christmas this year to the fullest, and I loved every minute!

Here are a few pictures that capture the joy, contentment and fun we had this holiday season:

I brought these cookie cutters with us when we first moved to Brazil, and it’s so neat to pull them out each year to make our cookies.

Joel is putting a lot of work into the whole decorating process.

Miss Creative takes her time to make sure her cookies are just right.

It may not feel like Christmas when it’s 90 degrees outside but it sure does smell like it in our kitchen.

I have the wonderful privilege of planning the lessons for the children ministry of our church. I thought it would be interesting to create a nativity scene adding characters each week in December as we learned the part they played in the Christmas story. It really turned out neat and everyone enjoyed it. My wonderfully talented husband drew the stable scene for me, and I used my Cricut to cut out Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the shepherds and the wisemen. It was a great way to focus on the birth of Christ throughout the whole month. I not only had the privilege of planning this month but also teaching. So I was able to learn the Christmas story in Portuguese. Also when we opened our Christmas unit in Bible (in homeschool) we were pleasantly surprised to find that the kids would be learning the same Bible verses in English that they were memorizing in Portuguese at church. We all got a huge dose of the Christmas story in two languages.

We bought styrofoam balls this year and spent a couple of different evenings making our own Christmas decorations.

Every evening we gathered around the Christmas tree to sing a few Christmas hymns (if our kids are going to learn them in English we have to teach them) and read different parts of the Christmas story. My mom gave us beautiful picture books that illustrate the Christmas story. It is neat to pull them out each year and read them together. I’m thankful that my mom still plays a part in our Christmas celebrations.

We stopped by the mall one day to pick up a few things and spotted Santa. Not only were we without our camera, but he was leaving for a lunch break. The kids (okay, I admit it was probably more me) were a little disappointed to miss getting a picture with him. (Note: we have never taught our kids that Santa brings their presents; to them, he’s just a Christmas guy Mommy likes them to take their picture with each year.)  The next day on the way home from the park I ran into a grocery store and who was outside but Santa. I ran back to the car to get Patrick, the kids and the camera. It was so hot Santa had a fan blowing on him (which is why my hair is blowing) to keep him from having a heat stroke. I love this picture because it was so spontaneous and ridiculous.

Too much cookie decorating bored Joel. He decided it would be more fun to decorate himself.

What’s better than being creative with food?

We were invited to a Brazilian Christmas Ceia—a big dinner at midnight on Christmas Eve. Our pastor’s parents invited us to join them. I tried to bow out saying that I realized it was a special time for family. I loved her response, “You are family, too. Your family isn’t here for you to celebrate with so join us.” I love how Brazilians welcome those around them and make you feel super special. This night was elegant and amazing.

The kids had their own table on the balcony and were served dinner earlier…at 10 pm!

All the kids ready to EAT.

Even their plates were fancy.

After eating the kids chilled out and watched cartoons while we adults ate our special dinner.

Look at that plate of food. YUM! It was an absolutely lovely evening, and I think we were home by 2:30 am. I loved how the streets were full of people still partying. It was a fun, festive atmosphere. The traffic was crazy busy. We passed friends from church and yelled, “Feliz Natal” out our window. So it wasn’t the Christmas Eve I grew up experiencing. It was Brazilian, and it was just as special. And my kids will have their own great memories of Christmas Eve.

“The stockings were hung on the railing with care.” Patrick and I tiredly filled the kids’ stockings before we crawled into bed.

The kids woke us at 10:30 on Christmas morning ready to head downstairs and open gifts. We couldn’t complain but still felt like we had been hit by a train. Santa and his reindeer are ready to head downstairs and celebrate Christmas American style.

After reading the Christmas story it was finally the moment they had been waiting for—presents! We like to keep Christmas simple in regards to presents. We purchased one present for each of our children. The rest of the gifts under the tree were generously given by people that love our kids. It’s pretty amazing to see God provide. I thought Patrick and I weren’t exchanging gifts this year, but he surprised me with a thoughtful gift. Love that man!

I love it when we capture the excitement on their faces. Who knew Legos could make kids so happy?

Working together to open their joint Christmas gift.

One of the kids favorite traditions is getting a new ornament from Aunt Holly each year. Our tree is slowly filling up with ornaments that one day they will take with them to their own homes.

Since Christmas was on Sunday it meant we finished our day in church surrounded by our church family watching a Christmas play/musical. Then Patrick spoke taking us from the Garden of Eden to a cradle in Bethlehem to an empty tomb. It was a perfect way to end a very special day!

Well, we actually ended our day by calling all our family members in the States and talking late into the night/early into the morning with those we love and miss. Though I was content to be here in Brazil this Christmas I still do miss my family and friends.

 –Our Christmas isn’t quite over yet. We’re going to do New Year’s with our church family (another midnight meal), and then head to Brasilia to celebrate Christmas with Patrick’s parents. Also, the kids have some really big presents coming from Aunt Holly and Uncle Ken next week. They are going to go crazy the next couple of weeks. Let the good times continue. . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are  supported by some amazing churches and individuals in the States which allows us to continue serving the Lord here in Brazil. Recently one of our churches went above and beyond in blessing us this Christmas season. I just have to share what happened.

Back in October we received a note from CrossPoint Baptist Church asking us to share about Christmas traditions in our country.  The e-mail went on to explain that the church also wanted:  to send small Christmas gifts to you (the missionaries)!  To make this fun and festive we are unveiling the Missionary Giving Tree at the end of this month to close out our Mission’s month that we’ve been celebrating! The tree will have “leaves” that can be “pulled”/removed by our congregation. Each leaf  will have the name, county and item of our one of Missionaries (YOU!) listed!  The item is something that you’ve made know to us by responding to this email. As an example we had a request for Zip Lock bags from one country and small kitchen gadgets from another! Things that are not as available for you as they are for us.

Knowing that shipping is incredibly expensive I really thought long and hard about what to request. We are able to get most items we “need” (amazing how quickly that lists changes when you live outside the U.S.). Honestly I couldn’t come up with anything small and easy to mail. After thinking for a couple of days I finally responded with this: As far as a small Christmas gift idea our family loves to read and it isn’t always easy to get English books. One year a church sent an Elisabeth George small paperback Bible study book. It was such a blessing. Or it could be a small paperback chapter book for our kids to read. I had really enjoyed that little paperback booklet and it had been mailed to me in a soft mailer. I was thinking maybe that one book in a soft mailer would be something feasible and enjoyable. 

Last Wednesday, Patrick came home from the Post Office with a large, heavy box. We weren’t expecting anything. I had actually even forgotten about the request from the church. When we looked at the return address and discovered it was one of our supporting churches I was still clueless. As I opened the box and pulled out a book and then two, three, four…  I found a little tag that said, “paper back books for 9 year old boy, 8 year old girl and 5 year old boy,”  and it suddenly hit me that this was the response to our request. We were blown away. We kept pulling out book after book. There were about 60 books in that box.  I was thinking a small book in a soft mailer would be nice, and instead we were given a small library.

It was so precious to sit the kids down and explain once again how we are supported by churches and people in the States that sacrificially give to us so we can share Christ with people in Brazil. I told them how one of our churches had asked for a Christmas gift request and shared my response of one little book. Then I pulled out the box and their eyes were HUGE. It was totally like Christmas morning to watch them pull book after book out of the box and exclaim over each one.

Of course there has been no end of reading in our house the past week. The morning after we received the box the kids sat for three hours straight reading through entire books. It was marvelous. We had decided before the books even arrived that we were going to pull the plug on the TV and DVD player for a while. What perfect timing to receive books. The TV hasn’t even been missed. I have more trouble getting them to put books down so we can do school, eat (sometimes they just bring the book with them to the table) or do chores. It’s a good problem to have, and everyone is extremely happy with such a wonderful gift.

PS — My super-creative husband had fun with the kids putting together a thank you video for the church. We have the video on YouTube, but unlisted, so it is only accessible with the link. Since my blog can be viewed by anyone, we didn’t want to share the link here on this post, but if you e-mail me I can send you the link. (By the time you read this post, I will have shared the link on my Facebook page as well.)

“When we go to Grandma’s house. . . ” Recently it seemed like almost every sentence my kids said started with that line. They love going to Grandma’s house. What kid doesn’t? But since we live 14 hours from Grandma we only make that trip once a year–at Christmas. I could tell our kids had Grandma fever big time, and I wasn’t sure how we could hold them off for another few months. When I brought the subject up to Patrick I discovered that we both had the same idea–to invite Grandma to come and visit us. We were pleasantly surprised when she not only agreed, but said that Vô (Grandpa in Portuguese) wanted to come too. Of course for the next couple of weeks we constantly heard, “While Grandma is here. . . . ”

We had a wonderful week with Dean and Deloris and instead of writing a bunch about it I’ll let the pictures do to talking.

The kids were so excited Grandma was finally here that they couldn’t stop hugging on her. She didn’t seem to mind.

Grandma joined the kids on the floor to watch a movie.

We celebrated Elena’s 8th birthday while they were here. This was the cinnamon roll breakfast that Elena requested. Yum!

Elena also wanted to go to the park on her birthday. It was a gorgeous day and we had a lovely time.

Vô pointed out some creature in the bushes that had everyone searching to see.

A huge lizard ambled by and the two “boys” had to go check it out. I guess curiosity is ageless.

Look at all those smiles (we don’t want to know what Vô is thinking about to create such a big grin).

 

We hosted our usual small group on Wednesday night, and Elena wanted to serve cupcakes since it was her birthday. So Grandma and Elena worked together on that fun project–pink, purple and white layered cupcakes with purple and white frosting.

Elena was thrilled with her cupcakes and the beautiful vest Grandma made her for her birthday. She had seen a vest like it in the store, and it was pretty expensive. Mom sent a picture of the vest to Grandma who created this much prettier one. What a creative Grandma!

More lovin’ on Grandma! Grandma spent most of the day just hanging out with the kiddos.

She took them to the little park next door where they gathered sticks, seed pods, rocks, and berries. Then they decided to put on a concert using the gathered items as musical instruments. They practiced (decided to include their recorders in the concert too) while Grandma helped Elena finish off her pot holder (another neat birthday gift).

We were blessed by their musical talent.

Oh the giggling and laughter! What a fun, fun week.

We just celebrated our precious Princess Elena’s 8th birthday last week. Since she did most of the planning and a lot of the preparing I thought I’d let her do the writing as well. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it:

I chose a tea party because I wanted it to be something for princesses ["and princes," Joel added]. I started planning my birthday two months before it [don't have a clue who she got that from]. We bought tea cups and planned to put a canopy over the table. I chose the colors to be lavender and light pink. I invited my friends Ana Julia and Duda from church. Mom and I made our invitations. Everyone was to wear a dress.  We also made little paper purses with mom’s Cricut to put at each girls’ spot. It had a chocolate bonbon inside. We bought tiaras for each girl to wear during my party. They took the tiaras home. We made gift bags and put nail polish, a pencil, a writing pad, and a ring inside.  Mom and I bought lace and a table cloth. We put the lace over the table cloth. I planned everything.

While I slept magic was happening downstairs. My parents were decorating. They hung up my canopy  and pinned artificial flowers to it. My Dad had the idea of tying ribbon on the chairs, to cover the spots where paint had chipped off. When Dad and I went to buy chocolate we bought a flower too.

While making  Shishkabobs the boys kept eating the fruit. I didn’t like it.

Before the guests arrived it was picture time. That means we take pictures in front of the table.  For my birthday party Joel said that he would be a prince. That meant he had to act like one, too. He even bowed for me.

Mom and I made a bundt cake. Mom made pink frosting. We also bought a glittery candle. Yummy. Yum! Yum!

When my friends got here they put on their crowns and went upstairs to my room. We played Polly Pocket.  They loved it. When they saw my Polly things that went in the water they asked my mom for a bucket. We filled it with water and played.

We went to the park for pictures. We sat on a bench and talked. Then we started to giggle.

We decide to twirl our way over to the bushes. Smiling all the way.

Joel was sad that we wouldn’t play with him, but he entered my picture–with a frown.

We sat near the bushes for very pretty pictures. We really did look like princesses. I love this picture. It’s so cute.

We walk back to my house holding hands. Joel running ahead. Talking and giggling as we went.

Each place at the table looked like this.

We sat down at the table and started eating. It was delicious. Duda loved the wafers. Ana Julia loved the sandwiches. Everyone loved the juice. I liked the strawberry tea, but no one else did.

After tea we sang happy birthday and had cake.

Everyone wanted the first bite of cake.

After tea we made bracelets. I had made little kits with beads in them for us to make our bracelets. Ana Julia and I made necklaces instead, and Duda made a bracelet. Then we went outside and the girls tried skating in my skates. We had a great day. Everyone loved the day. It was the best tea party there ever was. The End

 

In the midst of a very melancholy, “homesick” day I took a break from my Saturday morning chores to check my e-mail.  I only had one message, and it was a phone call from my dad. These messages are always amusing as someone is trying to type a spoken message. This one started, “Hey Andrew Noah Patrick and the family, grand dad. (that made me smile. They always have trouble with Ann Janel, but Andrew Noah was a new one). The message continued and my smile quickly faded: I just thought I’d call I will I’ll wait until the dust settled but Wednesday night after church. I was going out the driveway and I was slipped all I I stepped off the side of the asphalt it was high. Anyway, I broke my knee cap on my right leg, the patella and then, you know I’ve made it in and determine I was going to school. So I went to school Thursday morning . . . ” I’ll admit that I had started skimming and what leaped out of the message were the words slipped and broke my knee cap. As I was reading Patrick came down the stairs with the phone in hand asking if I had received the message from my dad. I couldn’t believe it! Once again my dad was facing a trial, and I was too far away to do anything. I had to walk away and let the tears, that had already been threatening all morning, fall. And fall they did.

After an hour or so of doing chores while wiping tears off my chin I finally was composed enough to hear my dad’s voice and listen to his story. When I called I tried to sound upbeat, and he sounded great. He explained that he was walking up the driveway Wednesday night while dialing a number on his cell phone when he stepped off the driveway and fell straight down on his knees. Ouch!  He managed to get himself inside but hardly slept all night. He arose early (like 3:oo early) the next morning to give himself enough time to get ready for his 8:00 classes. He had to use a broom as a crutch to walk to the pole barn and then switched to a shovel. Only my Dad! He arrived at school really early (yes, he drove with a broken knee cap. How? I have no clue) and the security guard helped him get ice and crutches. He taught his classes and THEN (yes, THEN) he went to the hospital. All I can say is that he must really like those students! The x-rays showed that the patella was cracked. They put him in a soft cast which he will use for the next 5 weeks. 5 weeks of NO driving. For a man that lives alone this will be a challenge.

Of course he brought up his good ol’ friend Job again. He said that he had just recently thought with the burglary that he could identify with Job’s loss of possessions, but his body hadn’t been affected. Then he found himself flat on his driveway and his perspective changed. Chuckling he added, “I’m just glad it’s a broken knee and not boils.”  I did say that I was beginning to worry a little as Job’s story also contains the loss of all of his children, and I think I could speak for my brothers in saying that we would like to continue living. Patrick told me that I should just avoid being with my brothers in the same place at the same time. With one in New York, the other in Indianapolis and me in São Paulo I’m thinking we’re pretty safe. Which brings up the matter that makes this situation the most difficult for me–the fact that I’m so far away from my dad.

I’m so grateful for a dad that loves serving the Lord and gave his children up in service to Him as well. My dad didn’t have one negative word to say about his situation or the fact that none of us are there to help him out. I’m also very grateful for the sweet people God has placed in my dad’s life at this time. The faculty and staff of the Graduate school have taken him to the hospital, given him rides to work, and brought him meals. His students have also pitched in to help. I’m sad that I can’t fulfill this role at this time, but I’m happy that there are those that can and are.

I’m praying for a swift recovery and that my active, live by himself, walk-ten-miles-a-day Dad can survive a few weeks of quietness and being served by others.

 

I’ve had a rough week with my nine-year-old son. It wasn’t anything drastic. It’s just been one of those trying times where every day seems to be filled with battles. Those days when bedtime can not come soon enough in hopes of a reprieve and a fresh start the next day. Times when you long for a break, a few moments apart. My perspective changed dramatically last night though.

After my kids were in bed and that moment of reprieve finally arrived I decided to glance through Facebook. As I scanned the status updates one in particular caught my eye. My friends wrote that their brother’s 9-year-old nephew passed away in his sleep. I stopped scanning and re-read the status. 9-years-old? That seemed so odd. What in the world would cause a nine-year-old to pass away in his sleep. I learned later that he suffered from sugar diabetes. As I grieved for this family and prayed for God’s comforting peace to envelop them the words “nine-years-old” kept running through my head. Just upstairs lay my nine-year-old, a nine-year-old that I couldn’t wait to get in bed. I never contemplated the possibility of him not waking up. What would I do then? I knew the answer. It hurt to even consider. I had failed this week: failed to love him the way God loves him, failed to show patience, failed to give of my time to help him grow, failed to correct in a godly manner, failed, failed, failed! It would be devastating if that is how my time with him ended. I couldn’t believe how slapped in the face I felt.

I take for granted that my kids are here and are going to continue to be here. I don’t have that guarantee. I need to treat each day like it is the only day I have with them. As I felt the conviction of God’s Holy Spirit I realized that I needed to make some big changes. I dwelt on those thoughts throughout the evening and the night waking with a continued heaviness of spirit. I longed for change, to change. I want to be a better mom, one that realized the blessings I have.

In the morningI caught myself as we scurried about trying to get out the door for an appointment. All my son said was, “Mom,” and that feeling of frustration began as I didn’t have time to talk. We were in a hurry. Immediately I thought of a mom who would give anything to hear those words from her son’s mouth one more time. I was blessed with another morning with this precious boy, my gift from God. I paused and listened to his story choosing him over my time.

Later in the day I caught him as he was walking by and pulled him into my lap. He looked surprised and then pleased. How long has it been since I held him? I looked in his eyes and asked for his forgiveness. I told him that I loved him, and I wanted things to be different between us. Amazing how precious a moment like that can be and yet how often I let those moments slip past.

I realize change won’t happen overnight. It will be a moment by moment decision making process where I chose to do the right and repent when I fail. I’m just grateful for the much needed change in perspective. Thank you, Lord, for my precious children and may I treat them as You desire for as long as You allow me to have them.