Expectations, cont.

My first call to set the ice cream down came from Psalm 63:

“Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips…”

“… as with fat and rich food…”

ie: enough with the ice cream. it won’t satisfy what you need it to. please try praise instead.

Thus began a slow unveiling. a learning of His desire and capacity to uniquely satisfy my soul here… all by exposing two very-important-yet-very-skewed, self-created definitions:

Adventure.

When I thought about this word previously, in the context of Brazil, my mind drifted immediately to big, obvious, wonder-full notions… like introducing my kids to the world and fostering an appreciation for travel, culture, people and language.

These anticipations would, of course, naturally be accomplished through frequent explorations (aka: adventures) in the city, in the country, and through the whole of South America.

It was a lovely plan.

Here’s the catch: prior to our arrival, I knew we would be living in a new country AND I knew that I would still be a stay at home mom.

This would not be one giant, family backpacking trip. I knew that. I knew that I would be accompanied by my increasingly independent toddler AND my utterly dependent, arm (and time) consuming babe. I knew to expect nap times. early bedtimes. more solo hours parenting. less familiarity and ease in getting out. I knew all of this.

To my subconscious self though, the anticipations of a new country trumped the daily life I knew to expect. It was easier to daydream about grand family adventures in the world than the “normal” ventures of stay-at-home life.

And so my definition of adventure, in the context of Brazil, was based more on my experience and love for traveling abroad and less on the predictable rhythms of living abroad.

Self.

Similarly, in the context of Brazil, I saw myself first and foremost as an intrepid explorer.

Because I love traveling, I would acclimate quickly to a new culture.

Because language is crucial, I would study furiously and speak fearlessly.

Because I have now moved TWICE with a bucket-list of items unchecked, I would intentionally embrace the fullness of our new city.

And because our time is limited, I would do it all NOW.

And then we moved to Brazil.

And the intrepid explorer encountered bureaucracy. and obstacles. and delays. and fear.

Exploring within the walls of our new home became insufficient quickly. Yet I was overwhelmed by the idea of navigating the city while managing the temperaments and schedules of two kids by myself (hello new mom of TWO).

When the three of us did venture out, we were usually accompanied by our relocation specialist to a variety of office buildings: the bank, the notary, the doctor… then vaccination clinics and government agencies. We spent countless hours sitting in cubicles to obtain required ID numbers, a local bank account, and London’s four-month vaccinations.

Please note: government agencies and vaccination clinics were not among the bucket-list items I was anxious to embrace.

So there I was. in Brazil. yet feeling confined and unable to unleash the intrepid explorer.

which left me…

Confused. and frustrated.

***

A New Perspective 

In His gentle, grace-filled way, God revealed that my very-important-yet-very-skewed working definitions were the overflow of a very skewed “either/or” mentality:

I am either an intrepid explorer or I am a stay at home mom.

This season is either full of wonderfully big adventures or it is simply not an adventure.

Oh how this mentality wrapped myself into the quaintest of boxes.

I can now appreciate the truth and beauty of living a “both/and” reality.

I am both traveler and mom. wife and writer. timid learner and fearless leader.

I am, equally, all of the intricacies God so delicately designed within me.

And the beauty of this particular place, in this particular season, is that it provides an abundance of space for ALL the facets of my being to be… wonder-filled. intensely engaged, stretched, expressed, and appreciated.

Each in time, though sometimes all at once.

And adventure? It is both / and, just like me.

It is big and obvious and wonder-full and it is small, ordinary, miss-able.

It is exploring intrepidly someplace new and it is learning to thrive within familiar, daily rhythms.

Today’s adventure: narrowly escaping sharks in the “ocean” that is our living room rug.

Next weekend: the city zoo

Someday soon: a weekend outside our city’s borders

worthy adventures, every one of them.

Expectations

I thought my expectations for this move were inconsequential. I was convinced that I had no concept of what daily life would look like, and thus couldn’t intelligibly set a bar for this life to live up to.

I was wrong.

I figured this out approximately 3.5 weeks after our arrival, engulfed by unidentified tension and empty cartons of ice cream.

Unbeknownst to my conscious self, I had curated an exquisite library of expectations depicting what life abroad would / should look like, based on my experience and love for travelling abroad.

Of interest:
Backpacking abroad as a single woman ≠ Living abroad as a stay at home mom

This feels very obvious now. But in the midst of planning and packing and baby-having, I missed the incongruence.

The Discovery

We met a family that has been here for 10+ years, but have yet to venture beyond the border. On the way home I remarked what a shame it would be for them to move away, having left South America unexplored. Greg’s voice of wisdom pointed out that living in Brazil is a worthy adventure in and of itself.

Of course, yes… of course it is.

Though a quiet corner of my soul wondered... Is it? Is living in Brazil adventure enough? The absurdity of the question seemed to warrant immediate dismissal, yet it refused to be stifled.

Because here’s the honest truth: thus far, living in Brazil feels very not enough. Exceptions aside (see previous post), living here feels a lot like living in Utah. I spend most of my hours at home: playing with the kids, feeding the kids, convincing the kids to sleep.

The explorer within begged for more… begged to not be the sap that fell victim to a cruel bait and switch.

I literally estimated the number of weeks we would spend in Brazil and calculated that we had already let 2% of our time slip by. TWO PERCENT… gone. Our days were dwindling and we had not one trip even planned.

This is a ridiculous perspective, I know… now. But then? Then, it (along with a few other choice challenges) gave way to the most pitiful of parties.

I stewed there for a bit.

And Grace did too.

reality check

It is cleaning the new rug with a lint roller because the vacuum has not yet arrived (along with the rest of your household goods).

It is shopping for said new rug and hesitantly allowing your toddler to jump freely on top of the giant rug piles because this country “lets kids be kids”… and finally relaxing when another family does the same.

It is food court options at the mall serving wine.

It is so many moments of shear frustration created by this nearly impenetrable barrier called language…

And another moment of pure gratitude, when the toddler comments rather loudly on how “large that man is” in the grocery store. I tell myself he didn’t understand and take comfort knowing that, most likely, I am correct.

It is sensory overload every time you leave the house.

It is needing Greg’s co-worker to call the chiropractor for you because his receptionist does not speak English.

It is doctors giving out personal cell phone numbers, should you have any questions later on.

It is prescription refills that do not require a prescription… “Just tell the pharmacy what you need,” the doctor says.

It is wiping away tears (the happy kind) as Greg describes his first experience on public transit: station workers pushing from the outside to squeeze more people into sardine-packed trains because, as they say, “a mother’s love always can accept one more.”

It is typing only the letter “t” into the address bar before your internet browser graciously fills in the rest, because it knows what you need: translate.google.com

It is battling colds in the 75° winter chill.

It is walking down the sidewalk as your toddler calls out “BUS!” every time a bus drives by, and remembering a street corner in Utah where we celebrated confirmation of this upcoming adventure (Burger Bar style) - where the toddler also called out “BUS!” every time one drove by. We had laughed and said we’d be “that” family in Brazil. And now we are.

It is swelling pride when that precious toddler starts calling out “ônibus” instead :)

It is pushing the stroller and wearing the baby into a business park full of business people because, after this morning, you need an iced chai latte (your first in the last six weeks) - and Starbucks is the only place you know will have it.

It is meeting for brunch at 9:30 am and returning home just shy of 4 pm.

It is Greg dripping with sweat after an hour and a half drive home with no air and fogging windows to allow the recently bullet-proofed, tinted windows time to seal.

It is discovering the most amazing French-inspired dessert cafe a block away from your home.

It is processing and prayer and honest conversations, on continuous loop.

This is how Brazil looks and feels, now that the honeymoon phase has wrapped.