GMTM 14 - 1973(1) -Brazil: A Car and a Kid

This was the first full calendar year we were in Brazil, and I present the story in 3 parts. Part one tells about two major achievements: we got our own car, and we went through the process of the birth of a child in the Brazilian medical system. That was different.

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In today’s world, practically everything we buy, from smart phones and TVs to coffee makers and new cars, comes with a user manual to explain how to operate it. “Before Use, Read the Instructions”. That learning curve may be long or short.

For us, 1972 was the Year a new culture, a new task, was installed in our lives. In those first nine months of life on the mission field in Brazil we got a house of our own, a bare bones place to live where the only furnishings were the sink and toilet in the bathroom and a counter top and sink in the kitchen. Well, it did come with a fresh coat of dark blue paint on the interior walls. I got my driver’s license, although we didn’t have a car, so I still had to learn how to get to the money changers in São Paulo by bus 250 miles away, usually more than once a month. Checks for support from churches and individuals came at irregular intervals and in varying amounts, but on a positive note, the monthly average of offerings went from $250/month in 1972 to $340 in 1973, when May, June, and August offerings hit lows of $213, $214 and $223 in. The timing and frequency of trips to the bank depended on the level of cash on hand. It was something like keeping an eye on the fuel gauge while traveling down the road. We found ourselves coasting into the financial gas station in São Paulo on fumes and breathing a sigh of relief that we made it to the foreign exchange counter, where we put a few more cruzeiros in our financial fuel tank, so we could continue on down the road.

By the end of 1972, the house was minimally furnished with the necessary appliances, and Abbie even had a washing machine. I built bookshelves in my office, but most of the other bedroom and dining room furniture was loaned to us. And, most importantly, I was preaching, teaching, and negotiating in Portuguese. With the language under my belt, the installation of all the basic equipment and systems needed for life and ministry was complete. Continuing that figure of speech, 1973 was the Year to go into full operation. By January 1973, I had tested all the systems, and I was ready to put missionary life into high gear. I was chomping at the bit and anxious to get on with the missionary calling to the uttermost part of the earth (in this case, some unreached corner of Brazil). I was ready and in a hurry. God was not.

Looking back from a vantage point 50 years later gives us a different perspective of events. We have a clearer understanding of God’s purpose for that time; when we were directly involved in the events, whether actively or passively. We were so close to the screen where our lives were being played out that we couldn’t see the whole picture.

The Car

But that’s true of all of us at all times. That’s what the expression “Hindsight is 20/20” means. Even now when I try to make sense of where I am and what I’m doing. I need to stay as close to God as possible, to see my life and work from His perspective, not mine. We, as mortals, do not view time the same way God does. We continually look at our watches and calendars to calculate the time remaining before an appointment, a graduation, a wedding, a trip, retirement or how many years we calculate are left to us on earth. We get in a hurry because we realize we don’t have all the time in the world; God, on the other hand, has all the time of eternity. He never runs out of time. If we’re engaged in fulfilling God purpose for our lives, we won’t run out of time, either. We can rest assured that our work will be completed in accordance with God’s timeline.

Looking back 50-plus years, there are several things that stand out. In 1973, we got a car. Bro. Mike Rogers led his small country church in Arkansas to start a fund that allowed us to buy a used VW Squareback in São Paulo. I agreed to buy the car even though we were still five hundred dollars short of the $2580 needed for the full payment. But since it was going to take a couple of weeks to get paperwork sorted out, the dealer let us drive the car home (250 miles away) and pay him when we came back to São Paulo at the end of the month. By that time the money from the US should arrive (it didn’t) and the papers would be ready (they weren’t). A brother in the church in Santa Cruz loaned me enough money to close the deal, and I paid him back when the church’s check finally arrived a month later. Because of the paperwork, I had to stay in the city a few days longer than I had expected. But who’s in a hurry, anyway?

Now we were truly “independent” Baptist missionaries; we could go wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We were no longer tied down to bus schedules or catching rides with colleagues. We even took a trip to Paraguay to visit missionary families in Asunción. Getting a car was a big deal, but there was an even bigger event that year.

The Kid

On January 1, 1973, I wrote in my journal, “Abbie is sure she’s pregnant. Probable due date around September 7.”

A week or so later, we had to go to SP by bus, since it was only in July that we got a car. Instead of walking down to the bus station, we decided to catch it at the bus stop near our house on the way out of town. It was an early morning bus, and it was already full by the time it passed our bus stop. I had to stand up for the first hour and a half leg of the trip until we changed buses in Baurú for the final 200 miles to SP. Abbie was luckier. She had to stand up for only half an hour before she was able to get a seat. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to guess how she felt standing up. It confirmed her suspicions about being pregnant, and she bravely, but barely, held it all together until she could sit down. We were very keen to the fact that there was a distinct possibility of an unpleasant situation occurring on the bus.

Because of this news of an addition to the family, we had to figure out what things we were going to need and how we were going to get them. The birth of a child wasn’t something we could hurry up, but neither could we drag it out. We had to get something for the baby to sleep in. By July we had arranged a “bassinet”. It was a footlocker we shipped our things in from the States. We took the lid off and lined it with blankets and set it on top of the steamer trunk we brought with us. The total out-of-pocket cost of that adaptation was about $1.

Abbie’s initial estimate of a September 7 due date was off by about two weeks. Jeff was born on August 26, right in the coldest part of the Brazilian winter. There was no heat in the house and the windows and doors weren’t sealed against the wind. After 3 nights with Jeff sleeping in the makeshift bassinet but waking up every 30 minutes, we figured out he wasn’t warm enough. We put him in bed with us and he slept 6 to 8 hours a night. It was another week before I was able to finish building the crib for him, and he could sleep in his own bed in the other bedroom with Rachel and Rick, which was more protected from the cold weather.

That was preceded by the process of choosing a doctor for Abbie. She wanted an English-speaking doctor, and we found one in the city of Baurú, about 60 miles away. Jeff was born at 8:15 on a Sunday morning, and at 11.30 a.m. they brought him to the room and left him there until we took him home the next day. Aileen Ross was staying with Rachel and Rick, and they and the Montgomerys visited us in the afternoon.

My Night in the Hospital

I spent the night in the room with Abbie and the baby. Imagine the nurse’s shock to come in during the night and find me in bed with Abbie, who couldn’t stop trembling because of a post-partum nerve episode. I got into bed fully dressed, and my lying beside her helped calm her tremors. I even had to get milk for Jeff in a small bottle from the hospital kitchen during the night. That’s where there was a large pan of milk being kept warm on a wood stove. Not exactly the same level of service we’re used to here in the US, but it must have worked out just fine. Jeff was walking at 9 months and running at 10. He was not as precocious in cutting teeth, however. His first tooth only came in while he was eating pizza at his first birthday party.

But that was 1974, and the biggest issue of 1973 still had to be resolved.