Portugal love & stuff

Last night was incredible.

I got to reunite with an amazing family we used to homeschool with waaaay waaay back when I was a toothpick and had a terrible cow-lick with bangs. *shudder*. Since then I’ve been introduced to hairspray (thankgod).

I love my Portugal friends. I loved catching up with what they are doing and their vision for Portugal.

We spoke truth together. I love authenticity. I love real.

They asked H and I how they could pray for us.

And I told ’em. Straightup. Its something I battle with and will continue to battle with for along time.

Not getting sucked in to ‘stuff’. You know. We have more than enough to survive and I’m feeling the temptation to keep up with the Jones’. ‘Cuz heck, you know, we are coming up to that age when we’re ‘supposed’ to have a nice car. And own a place. And buy nicer, newer things just for the sake of it. For status, for happiness, for security. For comfort.

But it’s BS, really. Lies. Stuff won’t make us happy. We’ll just drown in it.And stuff makes us too comfortable. I see a lot of people who are our Portugal friends’ ages who live the American Dream and they are living in a coma. But our Portugal friends are truly alive.

They have their hands open – God pours things into their hands and it flows from their hands to others. Their money and stuff and time and life isn’t their own.

Some of the most amazing times in my life have happened when I was barely scraping by. ‘Cuz it’s really darn exciting when you don’t have any food in the fridge. Or a couch. Or any money. God provides in incredible ways. Sometimes I wish our place would just burn down and we’d have absolutely nothing. It would be so freeing.

We don’t wanna get sucked into that crap, but we seem to be on the fence a lot.

We don’t want to be consumed by consumption… but at the same time… omg-look-at-that-dining-room-set-so-and-so-just-bought and omg-i-have-to-have-that-hot-sweater-that-girl-is-wearing… and omg-they-have-such-a-nice-townhouse-i-am-so-so-so-so-jealous-i-am-gonna-scream.

Dang, it’s hard.

And then there are our Portugal friends. I want to be just like them. They are absolutely contagious. Everything about them screams real life. They don’t live for themselves. Or for stuff. They are living a truly good life and I want it too. They make me want to burn everything I own and desire and want in life and really live my life and trade it for things that truly matter. People. God. Love. They inspire me to re-evaluate my values and priorities, cut off comfort, and just live a real life – running the only race worth anything.

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