We are not a beach

If Drex’s transfer from school in Braga to school in Lisbon had gone smoothly, it just would not have seemed like Portugal to us. True to form, “Não é possível,” for Drex to go to his neighborhood school, even though we’ve jumped through all the right hoops. But we aren’t rookies at Portuguese bureaucracy any more, so we’ve dutifully, cheerfully, prayerfully run all over town trying to discover the place God has for Drex in the fall. We’ve ended up where we began, at the neighborhood school, where, ironically, we met the one administrator who has not been helpful, sympathetic and encouraging. She may not be happy when she finds Drex’s paperwork back in her inbox but, again ironically, she was the one who marked out for us the path that brought us back to her door. Officially it remains impossible for Drex to go there. The school is temporarily being housed in a converted bank while its regular building is remodeled and students are already “on top of one another.” Thankfully, all things are possible with God. Thank you for your ongoing prayers.

People who have been following our news from Portugal for a while will be acquainted with the story of our first visit to church in Braga, in the summer of 2000, while we were in town volunteering with Habitat for Humanity: We went to the church of then-president of Habitat, Silas Pego. His son, Jónatas, greeted us exuberantly at the door in perfect English, having grown up in Iowa. Jónatas is now Austin’s brother-in-law; Austin is the aunt of Silas’s grandchildren. But another striking thing happened that first Sunday in Braga, another little manifestation of God’s love and care for us. Visiting Jónatas and his wife, Carla, that weekend from Lisbon were their friends, Canadian Ron Fairbanks, his Portguese wife, Idália, and their four children, Hannah, Tamara, Jason and Joel. Tamara was the first person his age Drex had seen in over a month who spoke English. While their parents talked, the four-year-olds got acquainted, and as the conversation drew to a close, the tiny figures of Drex and Tamara, walking hand in hand, could be seen silhouetted against the light at the other end of a pedestrian underpass. It is one of my most precious images of that summer. The Fairbanks had never been to Braga before and have never returned. Now it appears as if the answer to your prayers that God would show us where we ought to go to church in Lisbon may be Tamara’s. Debbie and I met with the pastor, Paulo Cheveiro, last week and he said a lot of things that made us think we might get along nicely. The church strategy for growth is through small groups. Pastor Cheveiro does a daily radio show based upon sermons of old-time Southern pastor J. Vernon McGee, one of Debbie’s dad’s favorite radio pastors, of whom Debbie does a passable imitation. Tamara has grown into a lovely young lady with blue lagoon eyes. Neither she nor Drex has any recollection of their meeting in Braga. All of us will be starting fresh.

If you needed Debbie and you heard she was on vacation you would probably want to look in the more remote corners of the Iberian peninsula. Nontouristy places the guidebooks recommend for long walks or historic esoterica. If you saw crowds you would know you could look elsewhere. Beaches would be out; what’s a beach but sun that burns you, wind that makes you cold, water that makes you wet and the invasion of your personal spaces by sand and inappropriately dressed persons, neither of which will go away? Why would anyone go to a beach? Love. The Algarve, Portugal’s Mediterranean coast, is the one part of Portugal Drex has not visited. He loves the beach. He wants to go. Coincidentally, so do the other 9,999,999 inhabitants of Portugal, even though they were all there last summer. Each August Portugal takes a group photograph with everyone arrayed along that sandy strip. Lisbon is empty, except for a few Spaniards who are also forced from their homes by custom in August. So for the next seven days, by the grace of God, Debbie will be looking on the bright side: sleeping late, quality time with her loving family, no food preparation responsibilities. Austin and Vitor are coming along, though not without some trepidation. Just as Debbie came from a quiet, nonverbal family culture twenty-three years ago and married into the Kleber Family Circus, so Vitor has heretofore led a peaceful life. But we are not strangers to introversion. We can handle this. We know how to respect people’s personal space, even when it is more ample than average. We are not a beach. Please pray everyone has a nice time.

Thank you very much for loving us and praying for us. Boas ferias (Have a nice vacation). The Lord bless you this week.