Our Own Apartment

It is nostalgic and interesting to be sitting on this bed, reading this Bible, in this apartment, in this country this morning. Because it is all the same as it was for so many years past—with one big difference: I got up this morning and made my husband breakfast and sent him off to go get the car (we are borrowing) fixed. But now it is quiet and oh so past familiar…Even the Oswald Chamber’s devotional has notes I made in the past, in this very place, as I sought the Lord.
“The measure of our service for God is not our usefulness to others. We have nothing to do with the estimate of others, nor with success in service; we have to see that we fulfill our ministry.” –Oswald Chambers
It is such an interesting mingling of old and new, as we walk through the town and I show Caid how to get money out of the bank and put minutes on our phones at the pharmacy. There are so many kindnesses—Jeff at the airport, Lindsay and Susan getting us food and all important toilet paper to make our apartment ready, the International school workers freshly painting the apartment walls and cleaning. Going to the school and having the smiles and hugs and surprised faces of my big belly (for everyone who has not read Facebook). The “one hand around my neck for a hug and the other rubbing my belly” greeting…
There are so many firsts: Caid and I having our own apartment, cooking dinner for him and waiting for him to shower after Glory Sports so we can eat together. Buying random household things—there are always needed household things! Unpacking while he explains/installs “Whatsapp” because apparently, that is what everyone uses here.

Here is Caid's vlog of our first days here:

Last night I smelled something burning (turned out to be the neighbor), but couldn’t sleep until I had searched the apartment and made sure everything was fine. I’ve never done that before. Makes me feel so grown up.

I’ve become THAT person. I always made fun of the people who would wait around for a ride in Brazil. I was independent—If I wanted something done, I would do it. For the most part, I did. For ten years. Then I got married and lived in the USA for a year and a half and got pregnant. And now I am back. I never remembered my small, daily plans changing THIS much. How quickly I forgot that all plans made in Brazil are flexible all the time. That it is a lifestyle. 

We waited for the bus yesterday morning and it was full (this happens often). I sucked in my belly to try to squeeze past two people in the aisle—thankfully, someone gave me their seat (take what being preggers gives you!), but it was hot and horrible no matter what. I am so grateful we are able to use a vehicle. In two seconds, I have forgotten my guilt of the luxury of it—for truly, being pregnant in Brazil is completely different from being not pregnant in Brazil.