Seven months ago, I packed up four kids, multiple businesses, and my faith in possibility, and moved to Portugal. What’s surprised me most hasn’t just been the beauty of Lisbon streets or the sound of the Atlantic—it’s how differently people have shown up since I made this leap.
When I left Illinois for Georgia years ago, it took years for my family to visit. But here? In just seven months, we’ve already had two sets of family members fly across the ocean to be with us. Something about moving abroad sparks curiosity, excitement, and inspiration. I’ve realized that to many people, my move isn’t just a relocation—it’s a living example of what’s possible.
Maybe it started from the very first day. We didn’t even land in our new home city, we landed in Porto, three hours away. I rented a sprinter van, loaded it to the ceiling with luggage, and drove four hours (with breaks) across a country I’d never driven in before. The kids nodded in and out of sleep while Shania and I took turns driving, staring out at rolling hills, tiled towns, and views that felt like postcards. It was the beginning of learning that beauty and uncertainty can share the same space.
When family came, I think it was partly the pull of Europe, “kill two birds with one stone,” see the sights and check on me. But it was also the curiosity of how we’re really living. The conversations circled food: What do you eat here? Does it taste the same? Where do you shop? What have you seen so far? I had to remind them, we’re not vacationing. We have the luxury of time to get to know Portugal intimately, not in rushed checklists but in everyday moments.
This past month, we went to our temporary residency appointments. Shania and I had to reschedule, while the younger kids sat through their interviews, waiting for approval that doesn’t come immediately. We’re still in limbo, another two months until we can even interview again. It’s stressful, but it’s also grounding to know we’re not alone. Every expat here juggles the same papers, waits in the same rooms, feels the same nerves. In this act, there are no shortcuts.
Still, life doesn’t pause while we wait. Since moving, we’ve celebrated four birthdays here. No quick trips to our favorite bakery, just the adventure of discovering new cakes, new flavors, and letting those surprises become part of the memory. Each birthday felt like planting roots into Portuguese soil, the candles anchoring us in ways paperwork couldn’t. Now, with Halloween and Christmas on the horizon, we’re curious: Will we see the massive lawn creatures and overflowing cauldrons of candy we knew in America? Or something smaller, more intimate? These are our favorite holidays, and we’re excited to weave American traditions with Portuguese ones to create something entirely our own.
Life abroad takes courage. And vulnerability, especially when you don’t know the language and every errand becomes a balancing act between patience and humility. But I’ve realized that’s the essence of it:
Life abroad is not just about where you live, it’s about who you become while you’re here. I’m learning that The Wandering Act is not aimless; it’s a performance of faith, patience, and resilience. And every day, I get to juggle the uncertainty with the joy.
✨ The Wandering Act is part of my four-act series here on Juggling in Progress. Each week I’ll pull back the curtain on a different act of my life, the delicate juggling of business, parenting, wellness, and living abroad.
Next week: The Tightrope. 🎪
💌 Jugglers, if this resonated, share it with someone juggling too. And if you’d like the full behind-the-scenes, consider upgrading to paid or joining the Ring Leaders Circle.
My life is a delicate juggling act—thanks for watching me work.
— Yaminah