accepted his offer. We knew the area where he was staying, accommodation for visitors and for missionaries who had bought land and built houses for themselves. I went to tell Brenda, realizing as I did so that I did not know his name.
We turned up at the mystery man’s apartment at seven o’clock as arranged. As evangelical Christians, we were familiar with prayers and “promptings.” We also knew that there were visitors on-site and we had even heard talk of a delegation from the British government visiting our part of Brazil. We were intrigued. Who was this guy who had invited us around to talk?
“You can call me Sam,” he said. “I work for Baroness Cox.”
Baroness Cox? We had heard the name but knew little about her. We knew she had a peerage and sat in the House of Lords, the upper chamber of the UK Parliament. Beyond that, we knew nothing at that stage, although she was to become well known for her humanitarian work and advocacy in trouble spots around the world.2 She was in Brazil to receive an award from the government in recognition of her work.
“So, what do you do back home?” Sam asked.
“I am an adoption and fostering social worker.”
“And what do you do as an adoption and fostering social worker? What does it involve?”
“Well, I investigate and assess if children are safe where they live. I’ve been a residential social worker and seen how it works in the UK. Here in Brazil, I’ve seen that a lot of the kids in care are there not because they are bad kids, but because people have given up on them or because there’s not been another option where they can live. In the UK we wouldn’t place those kids into children’s homes because it’s not best for them. Instead we look for substitute families, either foster carers or adoptive parents. So why is it that here in Brazil they are hanging around in children’s homes forever and a day and, in some cases, horrible ones at that? It’s something I’ve observed since we’ve been here and I think there is another way.”
Sam listened then asked if we could pray. He said a short prayer asking that things would become clear for us and that we might have wisdom and strength to make the right decisions.
After he prayed, Sam looked up and asked, “You are leaving tomorrow?”
“Yes, in the afternoon. Our bags are packed and we are leaving for the airport after lunch. So, tomorrow morning we are going to say goodbye to the kids. We don’t know whether we will be coming back.”
“Baroness Cox and I are having lunch with the leaders of the mission in the refectory tomorrow,” Sam said. “I’d like to invite you to join us. Then the van can take you to the airport.”
The next day, we said goodbye to the kids. It was an emotional parting. We had grown very fond of them, particularly little Matheus and his sister, so brave and determined despite his condition. We pulled up outside the refectory in one of the mission vehicles. Leaving our luggage outside, we entered the long canteen to find the mission leaders, Sam, and the Baroness at one of the tables. She looked homely and very ordinary, not at all as we expected. It’s not every day that a former miner and a farmer’s daughter get to meet a Lord or Lady. They beckoned us over.
“How do I address a Baroness?” I asked as we were introduced.
“Just call me Caroline,” she said with a reassuring smile.
We both sat alongside Lady Cox. “Sam has told me all about you,” she said, “Now you tell me why you are here.”
We told her our story over the next thirty minutes as we ate our lunch. I repeated the observations I’d made to Sam about the lack of fostering opportunities in Brazil. Once we had finished she said, “Now, here’s what I think you should do. Go back and apply for a missionary visa and once you’ve got one come back here. But, Mick, don’t work directly with the children as you have up until now. Instead, conduct some research into why fostering isn’t happening in Brazil as it is in the UK and other countries. Once you have done that, you can see whether you can start to introduce foster care into Brazil.”
My first thought was, “Me?”
Who was I to do this? I don’t have any money. I don’t have any contacts. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how to go about it.
I felt like Moses in the story of the burning bush when God called him to go back to Egypt to urge Pharaoh to release the Israelites from captivity.3 What if they don’t listen to me? Don’t send me. I’m not eloquent. I can’t speak that well.
“I’m telling you now,” said Baroness Cox, “If foster care isn’t happening in Brazil and if abandoned or homeless children can’t go back to their families, there have to be ways to find alternatives. With your professional background and experience, you can help to identify what those might be.”
So, we left the refectory and returned to the van for the drive to the airport. We did not see Baroness Cox again until she invited us to meet her at the House of Lords in 2017 although we maintained occasional contact by mail. I would meet Sam again later in equally intriguing circumstances.
All that lay ahead. For now, we flew back to the UK energized. Perhaps we hadn’t got things completely wrong after all? The answer had been there in front of us and we hadn’t noticed it. We had been doing the hands-on care, but really, we should look to influence things at a wider level. With my social work background and training, I could engage with other social workers, with academics and the judiciary, with policy makers and shapers.
We left the color and vibrancy of Brazil to return to a dank, dark English November. We moved back into our house where Mark and Kevin had been staying with a student friend. They weren’t expecting us back so soon. Brenda was struck by the enormous bright yellow Homer Simpson poster on our living room wall that had replaced a reproduction of a classic painting!
We were part of a lively church in Leeds. They were very supportive and even took up a collection to pay for our return airfare. We explained what had happened, why our year in Brazil had been curtailed, and began to outline what we planned to do next.
I was buzzing with ideas about how to proceed. As Christmas approached I was so preoccupied I found I couldn’t get into the spirit of it at all. Brenda could. She was pleased to be home. She had missed the lads and family and suffered ill-health for much of our time in Brazil. The accommodation was basic, the climate humid. At one point, she suffered horribly with a tropical intestinal worm until the Brazilian health services removed it. She was understandably relieved to be home. We had wondered whether our year in Brazil would lead to us living there longer term, working directly with street kids. Now we could see a way that was potentially more effective. With a missionary visa, I could return to carry out the research and advocacy work that Baroness Cox recommended. I could deploy my skills and expertise in a way we had not considered before. We had become too embroiled in meeting the immediate emergency needs. Now we could step back, take stock, and begin to address the broader issues. I now understood I had to work with those in positions of influence.
We left Brazil in late November 1997. By early February 1998, we were back. The intervening months were a whirlwind. We had been back and forth to the Brazilian embassy in London, sorting out visa requirements. I had to get the police checks done all over again, even though they had already been completed previously. I knew the procedures and how to lobby at the most senior levels to process the paperwork as soon as possible. There was no time to waste. We only had
