A Wonderful Year

2018 was a year of big transition for me and my family:  a move to a big city in a new country, our first time living in a country that spoke a language different from our own.  

At first, only having the language skills of a two-year-old made me feel vastly vulnerable and at a loss.  When I waited in line at Office Depot next to an elderly gentleman who turned to me and commented on the length of the wait (I can only presume!) I could only smile and nod.  I was unable to read the descriptions on food packaging at the grocery store.  I had to learn how to shop for groceries without a car, only buying the amount of things I could transport home in my little rolling cart.

I used my deductive reasoning skills at the supermarket

to figure out this was buttermilk.

There's always Arabic on the buttermilk in France.  Why?

Do Arab nations use a lot of buttermilk in their cooking?

One more thing I've yet to Google...

I had to work out a system for getting on and off public transportation with kids:  adult, kid, kid, adult.  This way if the doors close on the Metro no kid is left alone.  I had a new city to learn my way around, a city filled with beautiful architecture, famous landmarks, and lots of people, as well as sirens, horns, and cigarette smoke.

The year brought new friends and new relationships, the birth of a new church, and new routines for my kids as we went back to full-time homeschooling.

our first "practice" service at EIC Ternes on a snowy March Sunday

And how did we fare with all these new things?  With so much grace and kindness from the Lord, I'm happy to report!  There were some moments of holding back tears in a large crowded supermarket one night, unable to find what I wanted and unable to read the instructions on how to use the scanner to pre-scan your items.  Even when a kind stranger took the time to tell me, he spoke quickly in French, and I couldn't understand.  

a screenshot from the kids' Duolingo lesson

I don't know if they've ever used this phrase.

BUT, there have been so many wins along the way:  when I was able to tell the lady at the flower stand in French that I didn't understand French well, and she graciously said, "How about English, then?"  I found it true that if you try speaking in French, people are usually happy to try their English with you if they can.  And for some reason, the people at the Monoprix bakery always compliment my French.  (Maybe they hire the nicest people.)  And on my last trip to the grocery store before we came home for Christmas?  I had a long conversation (for me) in French with the lady at the checkout.  I felt so triumphant and thankful.

The community of people at Emmanuel International Church has made making new friends a joy.  The new church plant has seen people come through the doors from countries I've only heard about on the news, and I love to hear the stories and see the evidence of God working in people's hearts all over the world.  

In addition to meeting new friends from faraway places, God brought another American missionary family to us who have six children.  They bless us with their seven years' experience living in France and with friends for our kids who understand our kids' experiences.  

  

Any end-of-year reflection would be incomplete without marveling at God's provision for housing for us in France.  We spent five months living in the city and five and a half months living in a suburb just outside of Paris.  In both places the Lord not only provided a place for us but a family to be a part of and to love and serve.  When you're walking by faith, you sometimes walk like Abraham, not knowing where you're going.  But when you obey like Abraham and go anyway, you really do get the immense joy of seeing the Lord provide just what you need.  Living with the Lowe's in the city gave us the chance to really get to know Paris.  Moving in next door to Noreen gives us the joy of serving her and a connection to England, someone to drink Yorkshire Tea with.  

And maybe it's because I watched It's a Wonderful Life last night, but I can't help but agree.  There is struggle and heartache and tears, but there are good friends and laughter, and grace.  And it really has been a wonderful year.

Packing

Since the time we began preparing to move to England four years ago, packing has been a constant theme in my life.  But not just packing for a vacation or short trip.  Packing for me has involved making lots of decisions all at once about every single item in my house.  I've never read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, but I've heard about it, and I feel like I've been through it except for me the categories have been:  give away, sell, store, or pack.  And having to make so many decisions like that in a short amount of time takes a toll on my brain's mental capacity.  Decision-making is not my strong suit.

The first time I went through this process I didn't think it was so bad.  I felt kind of glad for it.  I thought, "Everyone should do this once in their life."  It seemed like a good exercise in letting go of things, holding material possessions loosely.  And it was.  We arrived in England with eight suitcases:  clothes, toys, a few books, my good silverware, notebooks, homeschooling supplies, and snacks.  

When we moved into Capstick Cottage and unpacked our suitcases, the shelves felt bare, the new items I'd bought at IKEA unfamiliar, not really mine.  I learned firsthand what a character in Jan Karon's To Be Where You Are thought about the things that made up her life:  "How could people let go of their old things, when each told a part of their story?  Old things were a literature, a narrative."  In leaving behind most of my things, I felt a little un-moored from my life.  I no longer used the dishes bought for me by the women who surrounded me in my church as I grew up.  I no longer pulled the covers up over my head at night bought on a trip to Target with one of my first friends in Tuscaloosa.  I was no longer surrounded by the books from my childhood, old and dear friends.  Everything was new in my life, both outside the walls of my home and within.

Now, living where we did in England is the best place to live when you're in need of new possessions, pictures and plates and books to turn a house into a home.  Charity shops abound there.  And slowly my walls and bookshelves didn't look so bare anymore.  And with our last move that brought us to France and the smallest place we've ever lived as a family of four, we're surrounded by the new things that make up the newer chapters of our story:  books collected in Whitby and York, curtains bought at Wal-Mart on a trip home and carried across the Atlantic.  

Storage space is limited here so this week we're sorting again.  What do we want to give away?  What do we want to keep but can take back and store at our parents' houses?  We're really thankful our parents have opened up their homes to our possessions we didn't want to part with forever.  Maybe one day we'll part with some of those things, too, but for now, the favorite chair left at my mom's house tells a part of the narrative I don't want to part with yet, the chapter where an engaged 22-year-old me used my paycheck from Wal-Mart to purchase furniture for the home I looked forward to sharing with my soon-to-be husband.  Sometimes our possessions are like the stone Samuel laid called Ebenezer, "Thus far the LORD has helped us."  They call our minds back to times and places, provisions and graces.  And of course, "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens...a time to plant and a time to uproot...a time to keep and a time to throw away..."  It comforts my heart tremendously to know there is a time for everything.

And now it's time to start school and keep packing.