I like to say "I was along for the ride" when people ask me about what it was like growing up as a missionary kid with my brother and sister in São Paulo, Brazil. It is to my parent's credit they chose to go to Brazil and I was blessed to have that experience as their daughter. South of the equator finds one celebrating Christmas in the summer and enjoying the cool weather during school vacation. Spring comes during our fall and vice versa. My father's main work was building a youth camp, and in it all, we were part of a wonderful team of missionaries who were our family. I believe there were up to 17 families at one time in our mission effort.
During the 1970s there were several novellas that our missionary group gravited to. In between conversations about the advancement of church work and service to the Brazilian people, we were a family. We celebrated holidays together, having our usual Christmas talent show at the Vinzant house. During World Cup Soccer season, the TVs were hot, the flags were flying and emotions were always very high or very low depending on how our beloved Brazilian team did. We gathered at the Norton house a few times to enjoy the sports drama and discuss missed strategies and applaud the brilliant ones.
In all of that work and life together with the team, joy ran rampant even on days where there were great challenges. Because we were family, we were together in mind, spirit and when possible, in body.
Yet the event that had us all captured were the novellas, the teleplays replete with familial bonds, intrigue, unrequited love, all wrapped in the warm emotion that the Brazilian people are known for. These stories were masterfully written, lasting a few months with a beginning, middle and end.
During one such story, the main character, a professor, played by one of the country's favorite actors died in the middle of the production. The country stopped to mourn the loss of this much loved personality. The story picked up with a new actor and moved on, though you could see in the actors faces the loss they suffered from their colleague's passing. This teleplay was called "O Primeiro Amor," or "The First Love."
Another novella, "Selva de Pedra," or "Jungle of Rock," (a.k.a. "Concrete Jungle") had us glued. The main characters were in love but life kept them apart no matter how close they were to getting together. After a most dramatic separation, they are finally united and the country cheered! Much like Matthew Crawley and Mary Crawley when they got together -- and Mary didn't even have to change her last name!
Don't get me wrong, we didn't live for these TV shows, but nonetheless, in an age where there was little choice for TV programming, people pretty much watched the same thing and had a lot in common to talk about, even on the bus or supermarket line or wherever.
Downton Abbey has had the same effect. Many of my friends watch it and it is fun to discuss. For the record, no, I don't like part of the story line involving Thomas, but with that disclaimer, I move on. The rest of the story is fascinating and speaks of family connections, survival together and falling together out of loyalty.
Family. Successes. Failures. Celebrations. Losses. Life. It is all inescapable. We all participate in it all, even when we don't chose it. We're related to someone and they us, each with our own good and immaturities to work through together. We sometimes succeed without explanation and sometimes after purposeful planning. We fail due to our decisions and sometimes bad timing. We celebrate good news and have to say goodbye all to soon to certain loved ones. It's all a part of life.
And now, how shall I end? I am not sure at this point. So I will go with my first inclination. What strikes me is how blessed I've been in receiving the gift of my family. How patient and loving they've been with me during difficulties, and how kind to celebrate the joyous moments! Some may read this post and may wish you had this type of affectionate recollection about your past. I will bet you have such a past if you frame it reflectively covered in gratitude for the good -- this exercise does wonders to ease the difficulties and injustices of the past and creates a peaceful soul. But even if you don't have anything you feel worth celebrating for unspeakable injustices in your life, it's never too late. You can always start a legacy if you didn't have a good one growing up. Why? Because it's a joy to celebrate life together and to hold tight in difficulty and the next generation is learning from us that they may pass it on to their families.
Spiritually speaking, the church performs the same functions. For better or worse, they are there, and will be there for eternity.
I dedicate this post to Carol Vinzant, a woman who keeps our Brazil family together until this day with emails about birthdays with mini bios and noteworthy news from our group. We love you Yenta!
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