I laugh. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult.”
“Compliment—definitely a compliment.” She checks her lipstick in the mirror before starting the drive.
“Okay, now I want to know what happened with Julio.”
“Julio? The guy I dated? ”
“What other Julio is there?”
“I’ve barely thought about him, so I’m not sure why you are.” She shrugs.
“Are you sure about that?” I raise an eyebrow.
“We just went on a few dates, but we realized there wasn’t much there between us. And you know what Dad is like. I couldn’t even hold hands with him if Dad was within sight—he’d tell us off immediately.” She rolls her eyes.
I laugh at that. “You know he’s just overprotective.”
“There’s overprotective—-and then there’sDad.”
“That’s true. I hope he won’t scare off actual potential husbands, though.”
“Can you imagine? I don’t want to be a spinster.” She shudders.
I laugh. “With a face like that, you won’t be. You’ve literally had a guy crash a car because he was staring at you too long.”
She blushes. She’s confident and sweet with a big heart, but she also sometimes gets shy, too. It’s endearing.
This is what I love most about hanging out with my sister. We can talk about anything and everything. We can go from girly conversations to deep ones in an instant.
We don’t live far from church, so the drive isn’t long. But I’m not sure any time with my sister is long enough. We always have so much fun together.
We pull up and park just outside the church. The air is a little balmy, and it’s that perfect time of evening. The sun has just set, and the sky looks like it’s been painted with God’s palette and brush in soft pastel colors. I’ve always thought clouds at sunset looked like cotton candy. That’s exactly what it looks like tonight.
It’s such a peaceful evening, and the buzz of the city feels like such a contradiction. But that’s one of the things I love about Recife. You can find the best of both worlds here—the buzz and the calm.
We stroll up the steps to church, and inside we’re met with a little bit of air conditioning. I’m glad I brought a light jacket so it doesn’t feel too cold inside.
Immediately, I hear echoes of laughter floating through the door as we walk in, the smell of coffee tinging my nose. Brazilians love coffee at any time of the day.
Gabby walks in, looking around to spot anyone she knows. I love that she loves people. It’s one of my favorite traits of hers.
Pastor John and Maria spot us and come over.
“Lizzie, Gabby!” They each take a turn in embracing us and saying hello. We spend a little time talking before the service starts.
We grab our seats about the third row from the front when John asks a man to come up and pray. I notice things about him immediately in the three seconds it takes him to walk to the front. He’s a little taller than me. He has dark hair and walks confidently. He has a smile that could make a girl’s knees go weak.
“That’s him,” Gabby whispers into my ear.
“Nate?” I turn to her.
“Yeah,” she says with a cheeky grin.
And when he begins to speak, I give a small gasp.
A São Paulo accent.
“People come to God to look at His hands to see what He can give, not forwhoHe is. We need to come to God not because of His gifts, but because of who He is,” he says just before he begins to pray for the evening.
