The smell of rain.

How I love the smell of rain! Until several months ago, I didn’t know it had a name: Petrichor.

I still remember the days when I worked outside the home and it was hot during the day. We didn’t feel the heat int he office due to the air conditioning. At the end of the day, exactly when it was time to go home (or to college) petrichor would rise.

Breath in. Breath out. Ah!

Petrichor - BBC Science Library

It is funny that when it is raining we can’t smell it because it’s not really the smell of rain itself but a sign that it’s already raining nearby. Sometimes it didn’t even rain where I was. Sometimes I would get on the bus and meet the rain on the way. But that was the sign that there was rain somewhere close. Smell of wet soil, as Sandy (Brazilian singer) used to sing. Petrichor doesn’t happen always. Something very important must happen before we can smell the rain: a time of drought. If the rain falls on moist land, the smell doesn’t rise.

Here in Ireland we rarely smell petrichor because it rains so often. It’s been a year since I started to write this post. I thought about petrichor when we had a real summer here with over a week of actual heat and sunshine And I mean real hear, not the usual 21°C or 70°F. There were many days of scorching sun and temperatures reaching 30°C or 86°F (which for Ireland is VERY unusual). When this happens, they call it a heat wave. People who can take holidays do well in going out and enjoying it as we did. We went to the beach and camping. I even dared to swim in the ocean. But for those who rely on the rain to stay in business it was tough.

Everything was so dry that the fields got scorched and lots of farmers started to use their winter stock of grain to feed the cattle. Because of the regular amount of rain we have here, nobody has irrigation systems. And even if they had, in such occasions they wouldn’t be allowed to use them because of water rationing. I mean, water rationing in Ireland! It’s really hard to imagine.

After we enjoyed the heat, it came: Petrichor. It was a relief for many. I’m not sure if the Irish smell it as I do. When your nose is exposed to the same aroma for too long it gets used to it. Or, maybe they don’t have enough drought here to even notice that this is what wet soil smells like. Weather forecast also said that the rain would come on that day, but the forecast can’t be trusted with this crazy Irish weather.  Petrichor was the best sign that the rain was a reality again.

I want to be like petrichor. I want to be a sign of a reality that is not yet visible or tangible.

Life with 3

I usually don’t talk about the subject of the number of children, because I think it’s highly personal and it’s also a sensitive issue for many people, especially those trying to conceive without success. But I read something in the last few days that gave me the itch to comment here. A friend of mine, who’s pregnant with the third baby, posted this text on Facebook: Three kids? You must be rich, eh? (Original in Portuguese only) If you read Portuguese, it’s worth taking a peek there first.

I have never accessed that blog, and I confess I didn’t read anything else from them yet, but I related to that text because we Alves Passos face the same type of questions. Like the author, Ivna Sá, I am divided between giving the polite smile or getting the conversation going with someone comes up with “big family, eh?”, or they comment that my husband must earn tons of money. In our case even more, I think, because I am a Stay-At-Home-Mom, and, in case you didn’t notice, we like travelling. “The wages in Ireland are probably very good for you to travel so much with 3 kids.” Hmm… not necessarily. As Esdras says “People have no idea about the old clothes we have, and the packed lunches we eat.”


by Evelyn

Here in Ireland, 3 kids is not considered a big family, it’s actually normal. “Big family” was my mom’s, six siblings, or my father-in-law’s who were nine. We have friends with 4 kids or more, and here it’s normal. So when we hear the comment “You have your hands full, huh?” it usually comes from a woman who has their own and who knows that small kids are a lot of work, no matter if it’s one, two or six. But there’s always that person who think we’re filthy rich and it’s funny make jokes about it. So, how is it that we travel so much with 3 small kids?

The simple answer would be: it’s a matter of setting priorities. Of course that some costs are different here in Ireland and in Brazil. I know that the price of schools is something to consider when deciding to have kids (and how many kids). Here the schools are public and are good quality. My mom, for example, gave up a lot of stuff to be able to pay a private school for us. And even then, it was a matter of priorities: if her priority was having more money to spend, as opposed to investing in good education, or if her wage couldn’t cover the cost of the school, I’d probably have studied in a public school in Brazil too.

But, really, there’s no simple answer. Those choices affect many levels of life. We don’t care about fancy clothes, nor having loads of clothes. Both for us and for the kids, because in fact they don’t even know the difference! I don’t care about going to the hairdresser every week (like many women here do) and I do my nails at home. We rarely eat at restaurants. We have only one car (some families with children decide to have 2) and we don’t care about changing it every year. We don’t shower our kids with toys, neither we do expensive birthday parties (imagine?! Three expensive parties per year?!) We also decided that they don’t need to do all the extra classes in the world, they need time to play too. And even in the trips, we don’t care about 5-start hotels. We prefer cheap accommodation, preferably with a kitchen where we can cook our own meals, and we always search for the cheapest flights. In those choices we also teach our children the value of things, and the value of being together.

But there’s something else that Ivna mentions, it’s investing time in our kids. Our maths work kind of like hers: we earn a bit less (I still didn’t come back from “maternity leave”), spend a bit more (after the first child we don’t have to buy everything again, as we have loads of clothes, pram, crib, and even toys), but we choose to spend more time with our girls. I chose to have less “free” time for a while (in the evenings, actually) and have more money, but we were moving houses, so we needed the extra cash.

Of course I understand that many families don’t have this option. Bills have to be paid. The maternity leave is only 4 months, grandparents are usually working too, so they can’t take over the kids, so that doesn’t help either. I’m talking about cases in which you can choose between having more money and having more time. Even for the moms who choose to stay at home, it is not always easy, but that’s a topic for another post.

Time invested in your children is very important. Last year, the teacher in our girls school started a new programme to develop oral communication. Yes, SPEAKING! Why? Because the children, about 4 or 5 year old, were starting school without proper communication skills, and poor manners. So there was no point for them to introduce reading and writing if the kids were not able to TALK properly! That, according to the school, was a result of lack of interaction at home. This is not parents talk at school gate, or Facebook “alternative facts”. It was a research done by the school.

Many people blame the telly/phones/tablets, but here at home they watch and play on devices, and there’s also lots of role play, chatting, games and laughter. And when I’m busy with house work, they have each other to play and talk. For us, spending time together is not sitting together on the couch, each one with their own device, watching different stuff, and it’s not necessarily going out to eat something with each child individually.  Sometimes we give up watching we want to watch “My Little Pony” with them, just to get to know the characters they like, and why they like them, or even to discuss what the characters do wrong. It’s talking about the day on the way home from school, it’s sitting and reading a book with them (even though the read it 100 times!)

Sometimes it’s difficult to sum up the financial Maths. My mom worked during all my childhood and most teenage years (until she retired), cutting costs here and there to make sure we always had food on our table, but she was also very present and made time to spend with me. We never lacked in anything, food, clothing or a roof over our heads, and I praise God that my children also lack nothing. Those years pass too fast. Some days seem unending, but the years fly. Soon they will be paying for their own plane tickets and travelling with their friends! Childhood is very short if you compare to the rest of our lives. When they’re 13, they’re teenagers, and 18 are adults already!

But the Maths from the Bible, that book so old and so present, have never failed us. The secret is, as Paul said, being content with what you have, without wanting to show off or to desire always the “bigger and better”

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

Philippians 4:12,13

Do you get that too?

Today we’re finally having our pajama day.
After being out and about, and running for the past two or three weeks, we’re staying at home literally in our pajamas. If it was for Evelyn, she’d stay in her pajamas every single Saturday, but even our weekends have been super busy. It’s always a battle to get her dressed on Saturdays, because in her mind it’s the day to stay at home and rest (or play). She’s taking the Sabbath seriously. Sometimes I wish I did too, after all the Bible commands us to rest.
But of course that, for me, being on my pajamas doesn’t mean I’m going to rest. It means I swept the floor on my pjs, and served breakfast the same, lunch the same, and I’m now watching a training webinar without changing my clothes, and all the tasks that I have to carry on will be done without putting proper clothes on.
Not much rest involved.
That made me reflect on a conversation that happened yesterday. Esdras was chatting with a friend at church:

“Oh so you went swimming in Norway.” our friend said.
“Yes, man. And you know what, the water was warmer than here in Ireland.” Esdras replied.
“Was it? Cool”
“It was really good.”
“So did ye go all of ye?” he said, turning to me too.
“No, it was a business trip. I was working.” Esdras replied.
“Working, I see” he laughed.
“I was! But, you know, at 5pm the office closes down, so I’m done with work and go enjoy some me time.”
“Oh, of course” turning to me again “Do you get that too?” he laughed. We all laughed. “Like, telling the kids: hey it’s 5pm now, so mommy’s gonna have some ‘me’ time.” We laughed again.

Did you laugh too? It’s probably because you know how impossible that is, having a nearly 6 year old, a 4 year old, and toddler. Or even with only one child.

Let me make some considerations before I start getting flooded with comments on how unfair it is, my husband SHOULD help because they’re his kids too etc. Even before having kids I have DECIDED to stay at home in the first years of their lives. And, honestly, it’s not even financially doable here in Ireland to “go back to work” until they are 3 because there’s no free childcare before that, and it’s quite expensive (grandparents live an ocean away.) So if I was going to work as well, I’d be basically only covering childcare costs… Not forgetting that when Esdras is at home he is a DAD and he looks after the house too. He cooks, bathes the girls and does all bedtime routine. He is a VERY present dad and husband.
What we laughed about is that the reality of any mother of young children (especially without any relatives close by, regardless if she works outside the house or not) is that this “locking the work in the office” doesn’t happen.
In the olden times, God has commanded the people of Israel to have a day of rest. They were to work for six days and rest on the seventh. I mean, women couldn’t even cook on that day, they had to cook double the day before. And for a time I did that too. There was one or two days a week when I didn’t have to cook (just reheat the food from the day before.) But even then, that was only one task I cut off my list. There’s so much work involved in mothering that I don’t see how women could obey that. I does take some preparation ahead in the other days, and probably being more organized that I’ll ever be in my entire life…
So, you see, even for a mother to have a “day of rest” (no laundry, no cooking, no school run, no outings, no wiping snotty noses or any poo) she has to work beforehand, and plan, and prepare. And even then she can’t lock the office and leave because the “work” follows her even to the toilet!

I had a great time in a trip by myself in June, but that can’t happen every week. I’m still brainstorming a way to have a day of rest every week. I need that.
I think every human being needs that. God knew that we needed to rest, I’m sure He’ll show me a way to obey that too.

Impact Ireland 2016

For those of you who already know us, you  probably know that our life in Ireland started with this name: Impact Ireland.

For those who don’t I’ll explain. Impact Ireland is a short term mission trip organized by OM Ireland (Operation Mobilisation.) OM is a Christian Missionary Organization that sends and manages missionaries in over 111 countries all over the world. So every year OM Ireland receives a bunch of people from many different countries to help local churches reach out to their communities, serving them and preaching the gospel.

So those “temporary missionaries” get in touch with OM Ireland, sign up for this 3 week programme, book their flights and arrive to be greeted and welcomed by OM Staff at Dublin Airport. From there, they all go to OM Ireland’s headquarters, right in the center of Ireland, and take part in workshops about Irish culture and about evangelism (including creative arts stuff, like face painting, balloon modelling, story-telling and maybe basic puppeteer.)

That’s how Esdras and I met Ireland for the first time in 2008. First international trip ever was to serve God in Ireland.

We came with a team of 7 Brazilians, but we served with people from different nationalities once the OM teams were divided. It was a great experience and it was then that we had peace in our hearts that God wanted us in Ireland for long term.

This year was the 5th year that I am participating in Impact Ireland as a church member, hosting an OM team. Which means that OM Ireland sends a bunch of people from different countries and backgrounds to serve with our church in the very heart of Ireland. We usually do kids clubs in two or three housing estates and street evangelism. As I have years of experience in kids ministry I love to be involved in the kids club. Face painting is also my cup of tea, so I jump into every opportunity for that while other people chat with the parents that are queuing, telling them about the loving Savior that we have. It’s very tiring, but always SO worth it!

It is also the fifth year that I am participating in Impact Ireland as a mother, which is a completely different experience than before I had kids. I felt a bit useless this year, I have to confess. People who know me know that I’m not the type of person that will stop ministry because of my kids. I do Bible study with the teenagers twice a week during the day in my own house, in the midst of the CHAOS that my kids cause. They were never an obstacle (although they disturb and interrupt a lot!) But this time I felt like I didn’t help much practically:

  • I haven’t being to the planning meetings, since they were always in the evenings along with the church’s prayer meeting/Bible study and someone has to put the kids in bed (because they had school next day);
  • When on site, I was either trying to convince my older kids to stay in the club (not in the playground) to dance, play and listen to the story, or keeping the toddler from distracting the other kids and leaders (bringing her to the playground, of course);
  • Or I had to detach someone from their designated job to mind my kids at the playground while I did face painting (because I obviously can’t mind three little climbing monkeys while painting someone else’s child’s face.)

There’s nothing glorious about being a mother and trying to do ministry outside your own walls. I always felt like I (or one of my kids) was disturbing more than helping. Especially when your child, the “churched” kid, is the one who refuses to dance the songs… Especially when your child, the “Christian” kid, is the one who makes sure she says out loud that the games are BORING… Especially when you have to leave the kids club (that you’re supposed to help LEADING) early because your child has wet herself at the playground, after insisting many times that she didn’t need to go potty… Or when you see that your church has got the perfect spot in town to play music and engage in conversations but there are too many cars moving around for your children to be safe.

I forgot to mention that because we’ve been out so much, I’ve also been too tired to be a nice and patient mom. So my “mommy ministry” (you know, being loving and kind, so that your children can see Jesus in you?!) was also a bit of a failure this week.

It was frustrating in many ways. And I had a decision to make.

I could decide to think that I wasted four full days when I could be doing something else, like my house work that has been piling up once again, or my sewing/knitting projects, or even just letting the children chill at home. We’re on school holidays, why not being on our pjs the whole day?

Or I could decide to let God use my family and I for His glory, even in my frustration.

I decided to see the beauty of what God was doing. I couldn’t be there to help telling the story in the kids club, but I’ve seen people doing it AMAZINGLY well. I haven’t been there all afternoon doing face painting (because a mom has to understand when a battle is lost and simply retreat), but I’ve seen the works of art that others did on each other’s faces and how that developed in God conversations.

And more than just seeing the beauty, I’ve used my observations to encourage the ones who were doing the actual work. I took it as my role this week.

In between washing poopy accidents and juice spills, I’ve tried to encourage and strengthen those who did the work that I wish I could do. (Who wouldn’t take doing face painting over watching poopy knickers?)

And I’ve seen God move much more than if my own hands were doing it.

Praise be to the One who gives gifts to people. Praise be to our God who brought all this amazingly gifted team together. Praise be to our Lord who just reminded me that I’ve asked Him to send more workers. Another answer to prayer ;)

It’s His field. They’re His workers. Let the harvest begin!

‘He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.’ Luke 10:2

Sherlock, PJ Masks and the Gift of Being Ordinary

Two weeks ago, I went to visit the Doctor Who Experience, and that will be matter for another whole post. I’ve watched all the episodes til Series 9 and I am eagerly awaiting for Series 10.

As roupas do Doutor

Taking the advice of some friends, I decided to start watching Sherlock while I wait. I thought about starting before, but it was going to be too much for my brain to deal with all the Timey Whimey stuff plus all the mysteries. I watched one of the Sherlock Holmes movies with Robert Downey Jr, and I always loved detective stories but can’t remember how much I’ve read about Sherlock Holmes before. My friends advised me that this Sherlock was completely different from any Holmes’ stuff I’ve ever experienced.

And it is.

This new series brings about how much of a genius Sherlock Holmes is, and how much of a jerk he can be for not caring about people’s feelings.

Meanwhile, my girls discovered a series called PJ Masks. For those who don’t have children, it’s about three kids who become super heroes that work into the night to save your day. Because as they sing, “bedtime is the right time to fight crime.” I have the habit of watching what my children watch so I know what is getting into their heads, and one of the villains got my attention.

He uses his own name, he goes around trying to dominate the world with his inventions. He says can do it because he is a genius.

You don’t need to watch PJ Masks or Sherlock to know that being super clever can be used either for good or for evil. But I didn’t know how my children would react to that idea. The first thing that happened is that in their role play, one of my girls decided to be the villain (she was mad about being Owlette before, nobody else could be her!) and I could hear repeatedly “because I… am a genius!” followed by an evil laugh during their play time. So being genius is attractive, she not only ditched the hero role, but was enjoying the idea of being better than others. But she got the other side of the genius that I didn’t want to see in my house: she started to despise her sisters (not only in the role play)

I let them roll with it for a few days, encouraged them to watch other things, not only PJ Masks. They did. We talked about villains, how selfish they were, they wanted to ruin everyone else’s game, party, world, whatever, for fun, or because they couldn’t have it for themselves. Or they just want to have it all for themselves, all the power, control over everything, just to show how clever they were.

They kept watching it, and playing, and swooping around the house with their pretend Owlette wings, but the “I… am a genius”.

One night, as I was putting them in bed, reading them a bedtime story, one of them said:

“Mommy, you read so well! Mommy is a genius!” to which the other agreed, because none of them can read yet. But I disagreed.

“Mommy is no genius, darling.” I said looking her into the eyes.

“So, you’re like…”

“Ordinary” the other finished.

“Yes, mommy is just ordinary. And you know what, there’s nothing wrong with being ordinary.”

“Yeah! Being ordinary is good too!”

And they slept on it.

And they woke up super heroes again the next day. I don’t think I heard the genius talk again. Not that I don’t think they’re clever or smart, but I’m happy that they’re not gonna grow up thinking that only super clever people are special, or maybe thinking that genius is only a quality that villains have, even though the heroes always outwit and defeat the villains (so they’re even more clever, in their teamwork.)

There’s something really special about being ordinary. But we only realize how

Doctor Watson knows all about it.

Mariana meets The Doctor

— You saved my life, but I don’t even know who you are!

— I’m the Doctor—said he, with his dark, striped suit, leaning at the door of the strange blue box that I’ve never seen in my housing estate before.

— Doctor who?

— Just the Doctor.

— OK, Doctor, you came, saved me, saved the Earth from those horrible monsters. What’s the next step? Are you going home?

— Nope. Let’s say I can’t go home, because my planet is gone. My home is in here at the moment.

— My planet? You mean you’re not human?

— I’m a Time Lord, last of my kind.

— You look human to me, you act as a human too, mostly.— he raised one eyebrow, as I said that—What do you mean by your home is in there? How can you live in a police box? It wasn’t even here this morning!

— Come and see!—he put the key in the keyhole.

— You’re not expecting that I’ll go in, just you and me in that tiny…—he opened the door—thing… How?—I said poking my head in and out of the box.

There, inside what looked like an old police box, was something like a control room. With a huge tube in the middle, a panel with loads of buttons, levers, and one or two screens. It was HUGE!

— Say it. I love this part.

— It’s… it’s bigger inside!

— It’s called the TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimension In Space.

— You said you’re not human, so I suppose this is your space ship—I said, walking slowly towards the center, running my fingers slowly through the rails and looking around.

— Well, it’s not only a space ship, it’s a time machine.

— Flying through time and space! That must be awesome!

— Wanna try? Anywhere and any time you choose.—he pushed some buttons and drew a screen close to himself.

— I can’t—I said, looking at the door.

— Are you sure? What can be better than flying through time and space right now?

— Do you see that light over there?—pointing at the window of a house, right across from the TARDIS’s door.

— Is that your home?

— Not only that, that light means that my baby is still awake. Sorry, but I need to go.

He runs and stops at the door, kind of stopping me from leaving.

— Earth 2050? Mars? Oh Saturn, you mentioned you wanted to see the rings of Saturn.

— I guess you don’t hear a no very often, Doctor. Can you hear my baby cry?

— Yes, so what?

— Oh you probably don’t have kids…—I said trying to go past him.

— I’ve been a dad once… no, twice.

— You mean you have two kids?

— Not exactly, the second time was a bit… complicated. Anyway, don’t worry about your baby. She’s is saying she is not tired, and that she wants to see Peppa Pig. Who’s Peppa Pig?

— How can you know what she’s saying?

— Oh, I speak Baby.—he said with a cheeky smile—It’s a gift of the TARDIS, she translates almost any language.

— Would that work for me too? It would come in handy to be able to understand what my toddler says all the time.

— It won’t work if you leave. Look, you did so great today, I could use your hands on this deck more often—he said, pushing a few buttons and a lever.

— I have four pairs of hands counting that my own hands will be on my own deck tomorrow morning.

— You said tomorrow morning, so we can go now, for just one trip, you choose when and where, and I’ll bring you back to this very moment in today. Nobody is going to even notice that you left.

— But how on the universe will I be able to enjoy seeing planets and stars if I’m so tired, especially after this adventure of today. I haven’t slept well in months. Over a year maybe.

— If you spend a whole week in the TARDIS and come back to this very moment, you can come home rested to your multitude of little hands. Time is not a linear thing.

— Now we’re talking! Should I sleep first, then I decide where to go?

— Allons-y!—he said, closing the door of the TARDIS, and pointing to the console.

I still don’t understand how all that space fits into the blue box. But the Doctor gave me a room in there and I slept better than I had slept in the past few years. I did hear some noise, talking and, dare I say, some explosions?! I’m sure he got in trouble and didn’t want to wake me up. Then we went to see the rings of Saturn and even spotted one of NASA’s probes there. We watched a supernova, and had a chat with the Ood, very weird and sweet creatures. Then he dropped me home to that very moment when my baby was saying she wanted Peppa Pig at 10pm.


Writing about writing

I am considering starting to write a book. I just don’t know who’d be crazy to read it, but considering that some artists (and even scientists) weren’t recognized during their lifetime, I have some faint chance of succeed as a writer. Not that I aim for being famous, anyway, my idea of success is hearing God say “well done, good and faithful servant.” Oh, and I don’t mean to write theory books, theological books, I want to write stories that will stir people’s imagination. We’ll see how it goes.

Not that I have been reading a lot recently as well. I have many books lined up to read, and I end up starting two or three at the same time which is a bad mistake since my brain doesn’t soak up what they say individually, never mind all at once. So I end up giving up reading them because by the time I get to chapter four I forgot what chapter one had said. But I’m a fool and keep doing this, that’s why my Kindle account has many books for months or even years now.

What’s different now is that I am reading with different eyes. My mind is focused on the creative process. As I think about writing a book myself, or short stories, or whatever those ideas in my mind turn into in the end, I am reading thinking about how on earth did those writers get to those specific word choices, and characters, and lands, and plots. And I’m doing the same with the movies and TV shows that I watch (particularly with Doctor Who, which is my addiction for the moment.)

So, thinking about my own blog posts, that are not necessarily very creative, I can imagine how the books also work. The first book that is written is mostly a brainstorm, like words vomited on the page. A clean type of vomit, I’d say, not like what my daughter has been doing for the past couple of days. We write down the ideas all mixed up on the computer (or on a notepad, if you love handwriting like me), to get them out of your head and keep them from being forgotten. It sounds very romantic, but sometimes those good ideas come when you’re very tired, needing sleep, then you hit the pillow but can’t drift off because those nasty little buggers keep plaguing you. And if you think (like I did) “Oh, I can write them down in the morning when I’m rested” forget it! It never works. You’ll miss hours of sleep thinking about them then wake up with a blank mind. Write.them.down! And that’s exactly what I am doing now.

Then the second book is when you sit down with time, read again what you wrote and think “what did I have in mind?” Well those vomited words were exactly what I had in mind, duh! It might take more than one read through to actually get something satisfactory out of that puke. But that’s when I can organize them, swap paragraphs to clarify the idea, or give more suspense in the story, or even erase entire phrases that didn’t fit with the rest of the text. So it’s the gross clean up, but it’s not perfect yet.

The third book is the one I believe will be published. After that first decluttering, I do a little brushing up, check spelling again, and that’s when I’ll have to convince some editor to publish me. Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s much more complex than writing/rewriting/proofreading. I know that the book may go back and forth many times between writer and editor before this third book is actually published. But the idea is that first book that was dumped on the page is completely different now.

Honestly, that happens in any writing process. It was true for my college essays, and it is the same for my blog posts, with the difference that for these I am both writer and editor, so I only have to convince myself that my text was good enough to hand in to the teacher (and sometimes they weren’t really) or to press the “Publish” button here.

I’m sure it won’t be that easy when someone else is editing my book. :)

We Are Not Giving Up

Two weeks have passed by with the same verse on our board:

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens” Ecclesiastes 3:1

We’ve been through some hard time since the last post. Two of the kids had a fever, needed antibiotics and all, while Esdras was travelling. I’ll let him tell you where he’s been and how it went when he’s ready. :)

And that’s what real life is. Our life was never a fairy tale. Kids get sick, house work gets delayed, laundry piling up, dishes to wash, not even mention the sitting room that hasn’t been tidies in (what it feel like) ages. Life gets tough, but we’re never alone. God promised that he would never leave us or forsake us.

It seems like we won’t be memorizing 52 Bible verses in the end, maybe 51, or 50. But it’s fine, the number is not the main goal. The mais goal is like it says in Psalm 119:11: hiding the word in our hearts. So we are not giving up our goals just yet!

Happy birthday to me

Hi there! For those who are following our memorization process, here’s this week’s Bible verse:

Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.
1 Timothy 1:17

Yesterday was my birthday!

It’s not like birthday is the perfect day anymore. Nowadays if one or two things work well, I’m ok, even if the rest of the day goes out of tune. Yesterday, my husband and my daughters brought me breakfast in bed, but the car didn’t work for me to drive the kids to school. One of our neighbors kindly offered to drive the oldest to school, while I carried the other on my back half-way to preschool, and hurt my back because of that… But I’m happy! I’ve completed 31 years of life, praise God. A lot of people don’t like to tell their age, but I don’t mind. In fact, for what I want to say today it’s actually better if I “reveal” this information, because I’ve got a present that wanted for many years.

Since I was a child I loved to watch people play violin. I always thought that the sound of the violin was the most beautiful of all instruments. And when I told my mom that I loved it, she said we wouldn’t have money neither to buy the instrument, nor to pay for classes. We had a piano at home, but I never even got interested in learning. If I was to learn anything it HAD to be the violin (childish, I know!) So I ended up not learning either piano or violin.

My 5 year old daughter, Evelyn, also has this passion for violin. We were once in Galway, walking on Shops Street where there are many people playing instruments or doing other performances, and she stopped hypnotized by 4 girls. One of the was playing the celo and the other 3 playing violins. They could barely hear each other because of the noise of the street, and played more than one tune our of sync, but Evelyn didn’t blink while the songs were playing.

In sum, we ended up looking for classes for her. The music school that teaches the Suzuki method was fully booked, and they had no teachers in our town. But there’s this group called Comhaltas that works on promoting Irish culture. They have groups for literature, to speak Irish language and other stuff to pass on Irish culture. Music included! And guess what? Violin is included used in Irish traditional music. Even better, they have a teacher in a village 5 min away from our town. Just perfect!

She was excited, then she changed her mind and didn’t want it anymore after the first class, because there was no violin for her (it’s a group lesson). On the second class, the teacher managed to relocate her violins and Evelyn borrowed one. “Mommy! I’m gonna take the violin home!” she screamed when I came to collect her. And she reminded me to take the violin out to play every day, as it should be.

Even if she was making screechy sounds (as any beginner will do) and struggling to hold the bow the right way, seeing my daughter holding a violin lit up my old dream. I tried to drop the hint to get one for Christmas and it didn’t work, so I asked for one as a birthday present! God is GOOD!

Twenty something years dreaming about playing a violin, and now I’m learning together with my princess. Another prayer answered. Don’t rush, keep praying, God is listening and He will answer at the right time.

Grace and peace to you. Have a blessed weekend!

10 years ago…

For those who are following my Resolutions, the verse to memorize this week is:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
John 3:16

If you see me online (or in person), feel free to ask me how the process of memorizing one Bible verse per week os is going. So far we did Psalms 119:11 and Luke 10:27. Accountability helps us grow, so don’t be afraid to ask.

But this week I’m writing for a very special reason. Exactly 10 years and one week ago, I, who was not an Alves Passos, became an Alves Passos.

Last week, Esdras and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary! Who would have thought? Add some extra kilos, subtract some hair on the head, but here we are, ready for another 10. Many things happened, many people have been in our life, but some things never change. Our house is still always full of people. Some come only to eat, some only to chat, yet others to study the Bible, but everyone has loads of fun with the guitar and singing around the table, and nobody turns down a good Brazilian barbecue.

In those 10 years, we traveled a lot; visited amazing places in several countries; met many people from different cultures; ha 3 daughters; planned a lot; worked a lot; planted many seeds for the Kingdom; watered many seeds planted by others; prayed and cried a lot.

I couldn’t let this date go unnoticed (even a week late), after all this blog is about our family, our life, our errands and adventures (even though sometimes they’re only interesting to ourselves.)

January 14th, 2006 was the day in which this branch of the Alves Passos was born, and we keep walking together, Esdras, Jesus, and I.