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A couple of decades ago, in the most prosperous state of Brazil, a young man in his early twenties seemed to be doing well (by most standards), with a very bright and promising future. Then he turned his back on everything to follow the path his faith desired. Foolish or wise? Coward or brave?
During the day he worked in the Finance Department of the Brazilian Government, a position which meant good wages, flexible hours, stability and opportunity to progress. At night, from 7 to 10:30pm, he was wrapping up a four-year-long University course on computer studies. Programming main-frame IBM's during the day, and studying in the same field at night, part of him was thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. Pascal, 80-column cards, Dbase, and Fortran seemed like sweet music to his ears.
But part of him was unhappy. Living in one of the five largest cities in the world, surrounded by violence, viciousness and vice, he longed for something more meaningful. Believing in a personal God, and in an eternal future after death, he wanted more time to dedicate to serving this God. Week-ends were all he had at the minute; and it was going to get worse. The hectic pace of life in São Paulo, and the direction in which his career was heading, both were sure signs that the next few years would see him more and more involved in the world of computers.
What had sounded like sweet music, slowly began to be eerily similar to an orphaned sigh; what had seemed like a sweet dream at first, slowly began to exude a bitter perfume. So before death had the opportunity to wake him up to an eternal nightmare, he gave it all up. Moving back to the interior he opened a little shop, married, and threw himself body, soul and spirit into another kind of life. A life where the hours are longer, the stress and demands are greater, the immediate rewards fewer, and yet which has the promise of eternal joy.
Twenty years later, in a contemplative mood late one night, he looked back on the decision of his youth (life-changing, to say the least), and on what he had turned out to be.
He lived in the poorer part of a small town. His earthly possessions were limited to the house where he lived, and a car nearly as old as his memories of São Paulo. As the world (or at least, his neighbours) slept outside, he gazed down on the sleeping form of his darling little girls, sleeping so peacefully (the elder, impetuous and vulnerable like her mother; the middle one, quiet and moody like himself; and the little one, a charming mixture of everything he loved). He looked out the window at the moon, gazing through the leaves of the tree in the garden, reflecting in her smile the peace in his heart. He went back to bed, and cuddled up close to his sleeping wife, who had been with him during all those changes, challenges and tears.
As she murmured in her sleep and returned his embrace, he felt the warmth of her body against his, and thanked God for how rich he had turned out to be.
