That's When I Decided to Move to Rio de Janeiro
What began as a painful ending became the start of an unexpected journey. This is the story of how heartbreak, purpose, and faith led me to move to Rio de Janeiro.
When I visited Rio in 2025, something strange happened. At the time, I was staying in the home of my then-boyfriend's mother in Anchieta, a neighborhood in Rio's North Zone, parts of which are controlled by drug traffickers and gangs that are in constant conflict, especially with the police.
For three months, gunshots became both the alarm clock that woke me up each morning and the disturbing lullaby I often had no choice but to fall asleep to.
While most people visiting Rio spend their afternoons taking in the picturesque views of Copacabana Beach and Two Brothers Mountain, I was walking past worn, graffiti-tagged buildings where civilian men stood holding guns longer than their torsos and makeshift tables where baggies of cocaine were being sold like fruit at a fruit stand.
Many days, it felt like I was living in a war zone, and I missed the peace and tranquility of home. But what was strange was that I also felt I was exactly where God wanted me to be. Not necessarily in Anchieta, but in Rio.
One evening, while standing on the rooftop of a local shopping mall, I looked out at the cityscape and felt a deep connection to the city. Unexpectedly, I whispered the words, "I want to live here," but I couldn't explain why. I even began looking at apartments online and contacting language schools to find out how I could obtain a student visa and stay beyond the 90-day limit of my tourist visa.
It was strange not only because most of what I had seen up until that point wasn't the better parts of Rio, but also because the man I thought I was going to marry lived in the United States, and I was in the process of applying to gain status there—something I had always wanted and had already spent thousands of dollars trying to do. Now, if I had the choice between a U.S. green card and Brazilian permanent residence, I would, without hesitation, take the latter.
To explain why, I need to take you back to 2009.
2009 was a transformational year for me. It was my senior year of college and the year God revealed my calling to preach. It was also the year He placed a burden on my heart for at-risk youth. It was a burden that began years earlier as a simple interest in working with at-risk youth when I volunteered at a group home as a high school student and later spent a summer with the Christian organization Youth With A Mission ministering to at-risk youth in Juárez, Mexico.
During my senior year of college, I joined a Christian ministry where I had the opportunity to minister to teens at a juvenile detention center. A couple of years later, I drafted a proposal for a nonprofit Christian organization that would provide programs and resources designed to help at-risk youth overcome the statistics that often define their futures.
As time went on, one thing puzzled me about my passion for at-risk youth: I didn't feel compelled to work with the youth in any of the cities where I was living. This included Nassau, Bahamas, which is my hometown, as well as Los Angeles and Fort Lauderdale in the United States. I would often ask God, "Which at-risk youth did You call me to serve?" For years, I had no answer.
In 2024, I was helping my then-Brazilian boyfriend edit a paper for a Bible college class in Florida. The paper was about at-risk youth in Rio de Janeiro, his hometown. As I read statistic after statistic, I felt the same burden stirring in my heart that I had felt back in 2009 and later while drafting the proposal for my nonprofit youth organization.
Then, when I stayed in Anchieta in April 2025 and saw children playing football in the street next to the tables where cocaine was being sold, it clicked. I was called to serve at-risk youth in Rio.
As I watched a football being kicked around just inches away from a cocaine transaction, in what felt like slow motion, an intense rush of anger took over my entire body. I remember storming into my boyfriend's mother's house and questioning her, in my limited Portuguese, on how the community could allow children to be so easily exposed to something so vile.
After I left Rio in early July 2025, I assumed I'd eventually have the opportunity to work with the youth there once my boyfriend and I got married and were settled into life in the U.S. The ending of our relationship four months later was devastating, not only because I lost my best friend and the love of my life, but also because I thought I had lost my connection to the city and the youth God had placed on my heart. I also thought I would never get to fulfill my desire to learn to pray, worship, and minister in Portuguese—a desire that had gradually taken root during my relationship.
One day, in the midst of one of my daily emotional breakdowns, I realized I was giving my now ex-boyfriend a lot of power. I asked myself,
"How can one man's decision to walk away have the power to destroy all of the work God seemed to be doing in my life?"
I remember getting up off the floor and saying to myself, "It doesn't."
I can work with at-risk youth in Brazil and learn to worship, pray, and minister in Portuguese without him.
And that's when I decided to move to Rio.
What I didn't realize was that God was preparing me for this move all along. The year prior, I left a very demanding job at the Central Bank of The Bahamas. It was a decision I later regretted when my entrepreneurial pursuits didn't pan out the way I thought they would. I then took a part-time job with a former employer, a marketing agency that allowed me to work from home.
When I was a full-time employee there before working at the Central Bank, remote work was not an option. Now, suddenly, it was.
Fully remote work is rare in The Bahamas, and it is only because of my remote job that I was able to make the move to Rio. At first, it seemed I wouldn't be able to because my salary at the time wasn't enough to cover the additional expenses the move would require. But God made financial provision for me when the company, despite not having its strongest financial year, agreed to increase my salary.
I often walk around my apartment in Rio telling God how grateful I am to be here, but I'll admit there have also been times when I've walked around my apartment angry with God. Obviously, God wanted me in Brazil, but why did I have to experience such heartbreak to get here? Couldn't He have used a missionary or even a Netflix documentary to direct me to Rio? Why use rejection and false hope?
Why God allows bad things to happen to us is a question mankind has wrestled with for centuries. I don't know why a devastating breakup had to be part of my journey to Brazil, but what I do know is that God is a good Father and that while the breakup resulted in the most pain I've ever experienced, it has only been because of Him that I've been able to get through it, and it will only be because of Him that something beautiful comes out of it.
Being here in Brazil after heartbreak, I see evidence of Romans 8:28 in my life, and what's exciting is that there is still so much left to be revealed.
The good part of this story is just getting started.