"Do you live here or don't you?"

Well, a new chapter in our lives has begun. We’re innkeepers now. Only our inn is spread out over about twelve very undulating city blocks. There’s nowhere to park, so forget driving. Maybe we’ll get roller skates or skateboards. Then our neighbors would think us even stranger than they think us now, if that were possible. They do not understand at all what we are doing. Debbie tried explaining to two charming elderly sisters who live across the narrow street from Casas Travessa and Santana and it only frightened them. “So, do you live here or don’t you?” one asked. All they see is us walking around the neighborhood carrying all manner of household items and tools, coming and going from different buildings, picking up garbage and dog poop all over the place. I plan to get housepaint in various colors to match our neighbor’s houses so I can paint over the graffiti our guests must pass when they arrive. We’re wackos! We spent last weekend trundling about. Debbie’s been at this for weeks but it was my first taste of real action. All three places were full. There was a late Saturday checkin and an early Sunday checkout and a late Sunday checkin. Drex went to church with Austin and Vitor while Debbie and I worked. We love Sabbath-keeping, but we call this having our “ox in the ditch.”[1] Please pray we can keep our ox at liberty by scheduling checkins and checkouts on Saturdays.

One evening last week as I prepared dinner, Drex excavated in the back yard. He came across some worms. The discovery triggered a reaction in his brain and he asked if we could go fishing. He had not wanted to fish for almost a year, having lost patience with Portugal’s reticent trout. During this season of estrangement, when the boys at church have clamored for us to take them fishing as we have in the past, Drex has been unmoved. I didn’t want this smoldering reed of enthusiasm extinguished, but it was a school night, time for dinner, bath and bed. I knew the gear was a tangled mess. I asked Drex to give me a few minutes to think about it. During those few minutes, the Holy Spirit reminded me of the sort of childhood I’d like Drex to have; the things I’d like to come into his mind when he is old and looks back. I bundled up the tangled mess and off we went. We were on the Rio Cavado in eleven minutes. We fished about an hour, until dark. Drex, finally forsaking the instructions of his father which had availed him nothing, imitated the Portuguese who dangle their worms in the shallows for fingerlings and caught one. I didn't catch anything, but the winsome river and the clouds like great divine pastries baked by the setting sun to a brilliant orange pink beneath and set on a table of ice blue, made me wonder how I had stayed away so long. We fried Drex's fish for breakfast the following morning and he ate it in one bite, with exceeding relish. The next evening he caught three more. Maybe when we move to Lisbon and find all the good fishing spots around there we’ll include guided fishing trips on the list of VisitingPortugal.com amenities. Drex likes the idea of being a guide.

Please pray for thirteen-year-old Angelo. He used to be one of our most regular artists at Vivarte. He came almost every day to practice guitar, among other things. Lately he’s been in a slide, though, and we’ve seen less of him. His schoolwork has completely crashed. I think a big part of the problem may be his dad’s recent release from prison and subsequent reentrance into his life. His dad bought him new Nikes and a new cell phone, but they don’t seem to have given him either surer footing or improved communication. Angelo is off balance. His mom seems to be trying to control him, which only hardens his resolve to be free of her. Today he asked me if we could make a chair for his room. At Vivarte, we make a nice chair out of garbage. That is, from wood taken from pallets thrown out by the home and garden store. I jumped at the chance to make one with Angelo. When it comes to helping kids with their projects, I subscribe to a theory from Jeff VanVonderen’s book, Families Where Grace is in Place. He says the object of the game is to bring just enough of our own power to bear so the kids can succeed. I knew Angelo would need plenty of auxiliary power. He lasted about fifteen minutes before drifting away to a guitar. I figured if pressed he’d abandon the chair, so I finished cutting out the pieces myself. “Tomorrow we’ll put your chair together,” I said. Please ask God to put Angelo’s life together. His eleven-year-old sister, Cata, a joy who loves baseball, could use your prayers, too.

Thank you for praying with us and for us. In heaven you’ll see the effect of all this praying and it will be immeasurably beyond your imagining. Blessed week to you.

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[1] Luke 14:5