Last week marked one year of living in Brazil. When we moved here a year ago, I had some pretty unrealistic expectations about what it would look like to live here. It’s both been harder than I imagined and better for me than I could have dreamed.  In some ways, my life hasn’t changed as much as I thought it might. I still take care of the kids for a chunk of the day. I still grocery shop and menu plan, cook and clean, do laundry and wash dishes, create family routines, plan activities to do together with the kids, and read them books before bedtime. 

In other ways, my life has changed in ways I didn’t even know it needed. It happened in slow layers — I’m sure due to God’s grace. I had to learn to drive here, cook here, and clean here. I had to learn a new language and a new culture that gave meaning to the new language. I had to learn to interact in new systems, a new church, a new school for the kids, a new group of neighbors. I've had to learn to parent in a new environment where I did not have the same resources and had less independence to find new ones. I’ve also had to learn the new guidelines in how to be careful according to this culture and this city when I walk somewhere.   

As a perfectionist, I just couldn’t keep up the illusion of perfection as I was invited (or forced) to step into so many new things. Because that is all perfection is: an illusion. I had to learn that if I was going to grow in the necessary areas here, that growth would come through a lot of mistakes and failures. I hate mistakes and failures so much I would rather avoid learning something new or trying something different than to make them. Here in Brazil, that was never even a possibility. I no longer have the luxury of being a perfectionist. I shudder when I think about how many blunders I have unknowingly made, but at the same time, there has been great freedom in that because is strips the constraints of perfectionism right off. There was a time when I finally realized instead of trying to pretend like I knew Portuguese well when I met people in the building, or at the kid’s school, I would just start the conversation by apologizing and saying I was still learning Portuguese. Why pretend? I probably wasn’t as great at pretending as I thought anyway, and once the pretense was gone, I spoke more Portuguese, which is what I need to do well here. I’ve had to depend on grace, the grace of God to get me through the day, and the grace of others as I awkwardly bungle my way through so many new things. My options — according to myself — used to be either I needed to do things perfectly or avoid them. Those are both no longer options in so many new areas, and that is freeing in and of itself.  

My days still may be filled with more things that I did in the States than what I thought a missionary’s life would hold. But this is true of my heart, and true of the hearts of those impacted by the ministry of Counseling for Brazil: God is at work, changing lives. God is at work, doing the better deeper work in our hearts that we sometimes avoid but so desperately need. I’m so grateful that this ridiculous notion that I need to be perfect is being loosened, one mistake at a time. 

"I just want to go back to Dallas"

"I just want to go back to Dallas" Nicolas sobbed, big tears streaming down his face. 

"I understand. I miss it too. What do you miss about Dallas?" I asked, hoping to help him feel empathized with and understood. 

"It's just better than Recife." 

"What is better?" 

"It's just better. Recife is bad."  

The conversation deteriorates from here. He lists everything we have here, everything he likes, everything he is happy about and he starts calling it bad, saying he doesn't like it. 

It would be heartbreaking if I didn't understand the meaning behind it. And I know its real meaning because I might have been known to say, in a much more adult-let-me-say-something-I-don't-like-but-hide-it-better way, the exact same thing he is saying. 

The kids have done so well in so many ways in our move here. I know this move is in some ways an easier transition for them because of their age, but I also know we have asked a lot of them. So when last week we started hearing this more and more - especially after he was actually upset about something else - it was a good reminder to me that no matter how well the kids have adjusted, they will have their own struggles too. 

Sometimes it really is the last straw that breaks the camel's back. Anytime Nicolas says he just wants to go back to Dallas, it is preceded by something else he is upset by. His plate is at the wrong spot on the table, his favorite shorts are dirty, the bathroom he wants is currently in use and he doesn't want the one that is free. These are very small things to me, but after all we have asked of the kids, these are monumental things to Nicolas. And it's that last huge little thing that he just can't take, and the tantrums come on strong. 

I've unfortunately had my fair share of adult tantrums here about very "small" things, unimportant to normal sane people who are not adjusting to another country, culture, and language. I'm trying so hard, and in many ways "adjusting well" by measurable standards. But then along comes that one last thing that is just too much for me to handle on top of everything else. I'm so embarrassed by the last little thing that set me off, but it wasn't really the last little thing, it was a string of multiple things multiple days in a row that finally set me off. 

During those times, I'm tempted just like Nicolas to say "I want to go back to Dallas". But what I think I really mean, like I think he really means, is - it felt safer. It had less stressors, less changes, less transitions to navigate. It was known, it was familiar, and it was comfortable. God had us there for a wonderful season, and then it was time to move on. In ways I didn't understand then, it was too comfortable. I rarely went outside my comfort zone, and that was not a good thing. In some ways I was thriving but in other ways, I was restless and stagnant, and longing for a God sized change I couldn't create on my own, no matter how hard I tried. 

Nicolas and I will still have days while we say out loud or in our head "I just want to go back to Dallas". There are still people and things we miss there, no matter how much we adjust to Recife. But God no longer has us in Dallas. Sometimes I am sad about that, because it was our home for 12 years. But I'm also incredibly grateful for His change in bringing us here - not only for joining Him in the work He is already doing here, but also for the work He is doing in our hearts. It's hard and it's beautiful. It's necessary pruning. In Dallas, I almost never stepped out of my comfort zone even if I wanted to because I wasn't quite brave enough. In Recife, I live outside my comfort zone. My comfort, my preferences, my perceived safety are daily accosted by the many differences here. I was never brave enough to choose to live that way in Dallas, and there are days I still fight it here. But I know He is using the circumstances to give me exactly what I need in Him. Ultimately, that is really what I want - what He deems best for me, not what I deem best for myself.

Courage and Perseverance

A little over a year and a half ago when Joa and I felt prompted by God to move to Brazil, I knew immediately I had to be 100% committed. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it – but I will anyway – I normally like to stick one toe in to test the waters before diving in to something new. In fact, I don’t ever dive in. I wade in slowly, ever ready to flee the water if I get too uncomfortable.

Comfort. That was something we talked about often. As another missionary had said, we repeated – we are choosing meaning over comfort. That became our motto.

I love my comfort. Left to my own devices, I rarely go where I am not comfortable. There is a lot of fear in leaving comfort. Will I try something and fail? Will my inadequacies be revealed? Will I be judged as not enough? Even in saying yes to God about Brazil, I spent the year before we left walking around carrying my brokenness. It was as if I was carrying it in my arms; it was that present and unavoidable to me. My inability to be exactly who I wanted, my inability to make my inadequacies more acceptable, my inability to have more to offer that people would value. These things are still tender spots in my heart, but I ended that year finally understanding that my brokenness was actually a gift. If I accepted it, my brokenness could become a gift to others as well.

I knew that if I was to take this leap of faith, I couldn’t wade in. There would be no going back, no changing my mind, no matter how uncomfortable. No matter how hard it would be, I was determined to adjust, to adapt, to thrive or I would be unable to fulfill the specific purposes God had for me in Brazil.

We have all been doing well – and yet, we are constantly thrown off by how long things take, how no one seems to know the exact steps you need to accomplish important federal tasks, how the bank has so many checks and balances in place you almost can’t use your account, how brand new electric showers don't work, and instead become our kids' least favorite time of the day as we bribe or shove them quickly in the cold water. We needed to immediately and drastically increase our tolerance level for stress and chaos.

Suddenly the phrase of choosing meaning over comfort hit home in a very different way. Not a warm cozy feeling way, but hitting an invisible brick wall. That is a perfect descriptor. We are doing well in the things we have control over, but multiple times a day we hit invisible brick walls with no warning. Sometimes it takes the rest of the day to recover from one brick wall, but on some days, we hit multiple brick walls and have no recovery time.

Thinking about all these experiences on New Year’s Eve brought me to my words for this year: courage and perseverance. God doesn’t expect me to practice these two themes fearlessly – fear is almost always involved! He just calls me to practice them faithfully, Spirit led. There is so much He is already doing that I don’t see. There is so much I can’t do. But I can be faithful to step into so many new situations with courage and with perseverance. I’ll be writing more about that in the weeks and months to come and hope you’ll join me.

Grieving

This week I have been grieving. I have pretended not to, tried to ignore it, tried to talk myself out of it. Nothing is working. Suddenly movies I normally would be completely unaffected by grate on my nerves like fingernails on chalkboard; movies about couples having babies; movies about couples being pregnant.
 
I know this time of year is coming. I never forget the dates. They have added up over the year. My surgery on Good Friday and my release from the hospital on Easter Sunday ultimately brought a diagnosis of infertility. Yesterday, Bella’s half sister turned two. Today, Lili turned four. A few weeks from now on April 12^th, Ethan turns 6. All failed placements. All hopeful adoptions to be that didn’t end up as we hoped.
 
I don’t believe in coincidences, but even if I did, I would say these events this close together can’t be a coincidence. Really, what are the chances that two of the completely unrelated and much loved children we hoped to adopt would be born almost to the day within two years of each other? That my surgery was Easter weekend, a time where we remember the day that contained the greatest sorrow there ever was that made the most joy possible? That brought life from death? That allows God to offer the free gift of life and hope to all through Christ? What’s seems ironic to me now is every year we went through this journey, with every new event, I was hopeful God would “redeem” this sad time with a joyful event. Instead the losses just added up. First Ethan, then Lili, then Angel.


 But I guess I am still always so surprised that it hits me this hard. With two beautiful kids that are all I could ask for, whom I love with all of my heart, why am I still grieving children lost to me that are still alive? Why am I still grieving my infertility? I guess because I am always reminded of loss. Adoption always includes loss. It includes the loss deeply felt by the birthmom. I am forever grateful to our birthmoms for their sacrificial love, but because of how events turned out with Lili and her birthmom, I know a teeny bit of the reality of the loss they face, the grief they feel. It also includes my loss of fertility. It includes the three failed placements during adoption before we ended up with our kiddos. We were blessed to see Nicolas’ birth grandparents a few weeks ago. We are so grateful they remain in contact, as well as his birthmom. But this reminds me that someday not too long from now, Bella will start to feel her loss of her birthmom who has not stayed in touch. Maybe that is what Bella's birthmom  needs to do to deal with her loss, too. It seems like it is one full circle – there are so many losses. In the middle of joy and delight and a full heart of gratefulness for God’s timing and provision that He said – These two. These two little ones are the EXACT ones I have for you – there is still loss. The losses were real. They still are real. The losses of the failed placements were like deaths of children to me. Heart miscarriages. I loved and carried a child in my heart that I no longer have in my arms.


 Is it okay to grieve? I ask myself. I have so many blessings. I am really so grateful for where we are at, and I can’t imagine life without Bella and Nicolas. There are so many other losses. Bigger losses, dare I say? But why do I have to qualify them? A loss is a loss. And comparison only brings harm. Why would I ever compare my loss with someone else’s? What purpose would that accomplish?
 
It is okay to grieve. It is okay to, in the exact same moment, thank God for all He has given and grieve all He has allowed to be taken away. It’s hard. It’s not natural. We like one side or the other. But it’s possible and even good to do both. At the same time.
 
So, I am going to stay there. Not fully understanding how my body grieves so deeply and remembers so strongly (even when I pretend I don’t). Not having to make it all better, to tie it in a pretty bow. Not having to have others understand (though that’s nice). I am rejoicing and I am grieving.
 

Exciting News!

It has been too long since I updated this blog, but this news is certainly blog worthy! 

We got the chance to meet with Bella's birthmom on Friday. It was the first time she saw Bella since she left the hospital. She had requested the meeting to see Bella, and we were so thrilled she did. It started off with Bella devouring most of the birthmom's Kit Kat. She had never had chocolate but she definitely loved it! And then Bella was off and running around the room, like her usual self, although she did sit contently in the birthmom's lap for a bottle and some Cheerios. It was a really sweet time where the birthmom asked a lot of questions, getting to know Bella, and shared a bit more about herself and her family. Bella seemed pretty comfortable with her birthmom, and the birthmom seemed pretty comfortable with all of us. That was very encouraging to us. 

We also got to talk about some big news: we are pursuing adopting again! When the birthmom requested the meeting, she also told the adoption agency she was pregnant again and wanted to choose the plan of adoption for the child she was carrying. She told them the birthfather was deceased, and this and other circumstances would not allow her to parent the child she was carrying. She really wanted us to adopt baby #2. 

When we first found out, we were quite shocked. We did plan on adopting again, just not so soon. But we certainly did not want to pass up an opportunity to adopt Bella's half sibling. We were thrilled about that! We are still finding out some of the details. From the information we have so far, she believes she is due between the end of March and the end of April. Although she had a sonogram last week, baby #2 would not cooperate, so we do not know the gender. 

Although everything we know at this point looks good for a successful adoption, we know there are no guarantees. We appreciate all your prayers as we wait to see what God will unfold for our family, for the birthmom, and baby #2. And we welcome your excitement! I am not sure how many updates we will have, but I will post them here as we get them. 

Obscure Viruses

I had not been feeling myself last week, having a dull headache that wouldn't go away. I say that to explain some of what I am about to share. We went to the doctor on Tuesday for Bella’s six month checkup, and left with the discovery that she had a fever. This will seem silly to most of you, but I didn’t know that a fever was over 100.4. So after the doctor's appointment, I was giving the allotted amount of children’s Tylenol, and she still had a higher than normal temperature, and I was starting to get very worried.

Thursday I was especially emotional and felt a bit crazy. I thought Bella still had a fever, and I worried all the way home from work. Worried that they wouldn't be able to find out what it was. Worried she would die from some obscure virus no one had ever heard of.

I knew all those things were a bit crazy. But I think the thing it reminded me was: there are no guarantees. It was easy for life to go on, for me to get comfortable in my routines with Bella, for me to think that what I have today I will have tomorrow. And the silly fears of losing Bella to some obscure virus really touched a much deeper nerve of our previous losses when the unthinkable did happen.

As grateful as I am for all God taught me through our pain, it made me realize there is still some healing – through trusting – that needs to be done in my heart over losing Lili. I am always worrying about "obscure viruses" that will cause my world to crumble. I have used the attempts to control as a coping mechanism for life for so long that I automatically run back to it instead of choosing to trust God, instead of recalling what I know and experienced to be true: what God gives me is for my very best good. It does not always feel or look like it. But I can trust Him in every circumstance.

Thankfully, Bella is completely fine. She actually had been fever free since Tuesday night, I just didn't know it. But the reality is: I have no guarantees on how long I have her, or any loved ones in my life. And I don’t want to go through life trying to prevent loss, and fearing loss, but instead walking in trust.  It was such a silly reminder this week, but it was a necessary reminder too. I can trust what God brings my way is for my very best good. I would really like to live in that trust instead of my usual response of fear and attempting to control. Apparently, I always need reminders. But I am grateful God faithfully gives me reminders. 

He remembers

Yesterday was the year anniversary of when we lost Lili. I know not everyone likes to remember sad anniversaries but for me it is necessary to actively remember. So I started talking about it with Joa back on Saturday. And then, because I had verbalized it, I went on with my week.

Then yesterday I got an email and a facebook message that shared how God used our story with Lili in someone else’s life. At first I felt uncomfortable because we were thanked for our faith and told how we were an inspiration to others. I fail at living out my relationship with God as I long to much of the time, and certainly have been struggling recently to live it out well. It was really God’s grace working through so many prayers that sustained us and kept us during that time.

It wasn’t until I checked the date that I realized it was the actual anniversary day. And when I got the second encouraging note of the day, it clicked. Yes, I have been floundering lately. But it was a sweet reminder from Him that even though we fail, He still uses us, and He still uses our story with Lili. He uses something as big as that event, and something as small as the blogs He prompts me to write. 

I can’t promise you I will be back on here consistently, but I am refreshed by God’s goodness today, and thankful for His sweet reminder that He too remembers. 

I couldn’t end this without a quick update on Bella. She is doing great: sitting up, holding her bottle, stretching into 9-12 month clothes (even though she is only five and a half months). She loves water, being outside, our dog and people. She hasn’t met a stranger yet. She is a joy and delight to us, and we are so thankful God blessed us with her.