Life in Motion and Two Milestone Birthdays

This man that I love. Yesterday he turned 40. When we first met as teenagers, life seemed an impossibly long continuum. And here, after almost 25 years together, it is racing by. Each day I am thankful for this man who asks for so little and gives so very much. He is a wise, kind, loving, brilliant man. 

And this little gem. She turned 10 a few days back. She tackles each day with a vigor and grace that leaves me humbled and joyful.

Life is beautiful and good and difficult and hard and nutty and perfect right now. There is so much to say and record but there is too much life in motion for me to always pause and do so. 

For the moment, I am just grateful ... and for these two in particular.

After France We're Buying This Boat & Sailing to Cyprus

Portofino, Italy

Just kidding!

Humor or funny fibs, seems to be a conversation starter often employed over here. It's in jest but opens up a lot of "would ifs" and "can you imagine" conversations. It's not said in a jester like fashion, in fact the opposite. Typically dry and slightly mischievous.

In the States, it seems that after basic introductions, the next question always is: "And what do you do?" It's our go-to conversation starter. Does it really start conversations? Sometimes, I guess. But I think it's mostly a habitual question.

In France, it's considered borderline rude to ask this question. The idea is that this question facilitates an instant "sizing someone up" based on their profession. Within seconds there is an assessing of their level of education, salary, esteem, worth, etc. Très gauche. I'd never really thought about this before, but ... it's rather true. It's not a conscious thing for most of us, but we're zeroing in on just one facet of a person as the basis to understand someone.

Certainly French people find out each other's professions ... but not necessarily the first time you meet someone. In a way, you earn access to the "inner layers" as time and conversation continue. Kind of refreshing, actually.

To Listen Earnestly

Jane overlooking Portofino, Italy 2015

Springtime Closet-Cleanout

I've been trying to "lay low" this week after an appointment with the osteopath. I am not supposed to do anything (my doctor told me, in English, "Just be cool. Be cool."), but doing nothing is only fun when you are already doing too many things. I don't like actually doing nothing. So ... I decided to do some light spring cleaning in the wardrobe department. I love to clean out my closet. Seriously. I love it.

The hallway pictured above holds our shared closet to the left. Isn't it pretty?

When we moved here, we came with just what we could bring on the plane, with the exception of Pops' computer equipment and some books, which we shipped. The bulk of what we brought with us was clothing, but even in that we had to be choosy. 

I am asked frequently about what we chose to take and how we fit it all on the plane. We did put some clothes into storage (only adult clothing, no point with growing children!), but I keep a fairly pared down wardrobe as it is, so it actually wasn't that difficult deciding what to take.

I really enjoy dressing and I enjoy nice items, but I also don't mind waiting until I find just the right thing. When it comes to shopping and clothing, I'd rather own less, have it be decent quality, and really love and wear it. I also love a good discount store and shopping the clearance racks. If you are patient and don't mind the hunt, you can find some beautiful things for normal-people prices. Love that when it happens!

The above photo is everything that I have that goes on a hanger. On the left side next to a few of Pops' sport coats, I have two lightweight coats of mine, skirts and dresses. On the right are tanks, blouses, blazers and some cardigans ...

Springtime Countryside and a Visit to the Doctor

Right now in Normandy, everywhere you drive there are expanses of lush green dotted with very linear fields of yellow. It's rather breathtaking. And if you get a sunny-day view from a hilltop and and spy them all over the countryside ... marvellous. Norman winters are are hard but springtime is glorious.

The photo above was on my drive from the doctor's office. My headache continues to vie for attention and I decided I was ready to brave the medical offices of France.

We have managed to avoid going to the doctor thus far, even though last weekend involved a tick removal (scary, but all is well) and a carving-tool/split-open hand incident (butterfly strips). Doctor's appointments here generally book out 6-9 months in advance or you can go to the emergency room. Blargh. Plus, you have to manage your French. Blargh, blargh. Self-care is preferred, when possible.

Side note, self-care is so different here. The ubiquitous green-cross pharmacies are everywhere. Ev-er-y-where. They are rather magical, as a source of coveted skincare creams and ointments that people from around the world literally travel to purchase. The French are into skin. But the pharmacies are also where you will buy almost everything else. Prescriptions? Go ask the pharmacist. Tylenol? Go ask the pharmacist. Hydrogen peroxide, throat lozenges, ibuprofen, vitamin C, antibacterial ointment, bandages, cough syrup ... even floss ... you go ask the pharmacist. It's all available, but you can't peruse the aisles or dash in and snag what you need. A request and conversation must take place first and then typically they decide what you need. Most of the time this works out ... but sometimes I get home and realise ... no, this really wasn't what I wanted. So back I go again.

However, with the help of a sweet friend, today I managed to get an appointment with a doctor in a nearby village to deal with the headache saga. His office was a "triangular building after the railroad tracks and across from the WWII tank." (This is very standard ... directions via landmarks, not actual addresses. Perhaps because the streets are so small and complicated you'd never find your location any other way?) I walked in and was shown to the waiting room of the doctor (each doctor had one) and shortly thereafter I was invited into his office through an adjoining door. I launched into my "I don't speak French very well, but here we go" speech and he kindly listened to my needs and requests. After a fairly typical exam and brief questioning, turns out he wasn't ready to give me a prescription for my headache. I think I am okay with that. But 3 weeks feels like a long time! He said to wait a little longer and come back if I had to. Okay.

He did grant my request for a blood-work order for most of what I requested. He was quite confident that I didn't need everything that I requested (and have had in the past) tested. Alrighty, then. I had wanted to get all of the specific blood level updates to compare with my levels from before we left the States ... but we'll start here. Now I just have to take the request to a mysterious office/place/unmarked-building that is located "across from the florist on one of the little streets ... and it does not have a red door but might have a green door ... and is open from 8:30-9am most days, except Fridays and Sundays for sure." Heaven knows how this will all go ... but it always seems to, one way or another.

And incidentally, the doctor's visit? It cost me 23 euros. That's about 26 dollars these days. While we were sitting in his office, the doctor himself wrote down my name, address and birthdate and then wrote out a receipt. No credit cards, just cash, and he put the money in the till he kept in his desk.

Somethings are so complicated here ... and others so very simple.

So be truly glad ...

I used to think I wasn't a fan of change. But then, so many of my best decisions have elicited massive life alterations.

Perhaps I actually like change. I do like new perspectives and experiences. What I seem to be realizing is that change isn't really the issue ... it's the uncertainty that precedes it.

I perceive uncertainty as a loss of security. A free-fall of expectations and understanding. A crooked finger beckoning one through a worm-hole of disaster ...

These last months we've been tetering on the edge of more uncertainty. Despite a track-record of God's abundant provision, I found myself swirling in mental firestorm of worst-case scenarios. And to fan the flames, there have been multiple needs that have arisen requiring me to ask for help. As in, I literally cannot do this on my own. It's an uncomfortable sensation, especially when you know that you can't level the scales because you have virtually nothing to offer in return ... but more neediness.

 However. This last week, I received two meaty "you can do it" emails from friends, a care-package in the mail, an extravagant offer for assistance "on the ground," and invitation for dinner that was generous beyond description. People reaching out to meet my needs and serve our family without asking for anything in return.

And I said "yes, please" to all of them.

That dinner? At the home of some friends that we've only known since just before Christmas, but their continual kindness and generosity has put our friendship on the fast-track. They are intelligent, fascinating, curious and exceedingly intuitive about what would bless us.

 After they offered a lovely aperitif, we were introduced to "La Raclette." Using a little grill with a broiler on the underside, you toast up slices of raclette cheese in a little dish and then proceed to accompany it with all measures of coldcuts, dried meats, potatoes, and delights such as an endive salad made with pear, walnuts, and roquefort cheese. 

 Oh. And I haven't a photo, but there was a dish called a pissaladière, which is basically a savory tart on homemade bread dough with a topping of onions sauteed in butter and olive oil and anchovies, and after cutting into squares, topped with a Greek black olive. I so get the culinary use of anchovies now. It took the flavors to a whole new level.

I considered sliding the plateful into my purse.

And then there was dessert. An un-pictured apple crumble to honor our American roots (but was frankly better than a lot of crumble I've had in the States) and also the above snapshot of caneléis.  Just ever-so-slightly-custardy in the center and the exterior, a crown of caramelized delight.

I definitely should have brought a bigger purse.

 Afterwards we enjoyed the sun-breaks for a walk in the nearby park and more conversation. The men discussed all things WWII and global politics with great delight and the ladies and kids delighted in our own version of pleasant conversation and discovery. (My friend laughed when she discovered Jane's braids were "French braids." They call them "African braids." Say what?!)

I am constantly fighting against the rage of uncertainty. And change, even good change, is rarely easy. And it is still so uncomfortable being the "needy people."

But all of these elements are bringing us experiences and challenges ... and people ... that leave me feeling incredibly honored.

Being needy, requires uncertain circumstances ... and opens up skyline of possibilities to be blessed in ways otherwise fully unachievable. And in that, the hope of being used, somehow, in spite of my deficiencies, as a blessing in return.

So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, 

even though you must endure many trials for a little while. 

I Peter 1:6

Late Night Worries and Cranky Indignation

Last night Pops wanted to go to sleep. My body did too ... but my brain would not comply.

"You know I have to process verbally," I reminded him. "I have to unload some of the detritus that is clogging up my brain." He sighed with understanding, head on the pillow, staring straight up at the ceiling while I proceeded to impale him with worries, anxieties, deep-set fears, and unnecessary minutia.

At some point he fell asleep, perhaps lulled by my soothing and comforting words of low-grade hysteria. Since I wasn't actually mad at him, I didn't have it in me to jab an elbow into his ribs and proceed to flop and huff in martyrdom. Standard procedure. You know the drill.

So I was left alone with my noisy brain, swirling in thought-tornadoes, mocking my attempt to demand order. The digital clock read "00:23." Blast it. Why can't it just say "12:23." Stupid 24-hour clock. Stupid France making me remember that when someone says "dix-sept heure quarante-cinq" it is 17h45, which is really just 5:45pm. Stupid brain for taking so long to be able to mentally translate and constantly leaving me standing like an addled fluff head.

Pfft.

I didn't know what to do next. I had some really good indignation whipped up, but I was definitely too lazy to leave bed. My feet were warm and all.

So I grabbed some paper and a pen. Scratch that. A pen was next to me, but I spied the pad of paper just out of my reach. Naturally, I entered into some I-still-won't-leave-the-bed acrobatics and hand-walked myself three-feet across the floor, bum high in the air, and did a twisty-lunge that should only be attempted by people at least 15 years younger than myself. But I got the paper. And my feet stayed warm under the covers.

I look to my left. Pops slept through all of that? Pfft.

Armed with paper, pen, a crick in my back and my fiery vexation, I set to work on what I do so very well:

Make a list.

And did I ever make a list. A list of every. single. thing that was flapping about in my beautiful mind-palace/thought-tornado. It didn't matter how big (Children's well-being at school), or how small (Find out the name of that cheese that was so good),  or how worthy (Prioritize quiet-time and prayer), or how unpalatable (Call for plumber again because the septic system still wafts the perfume of eau d'rotting-vegetable-baby-diaper-soured-garbage-decomposing-poop-sludge).

And can I just say? I was awesome at it. I filled up a page before the clock could blink stupid 00:30-o'clock at me. I was on fire. I wrote and wrote and listed and wrote ... until I ran out of crazy and realized I was bored ... and started looking at Pinterest on my phone.

I looked to my right. Stupid 00:56 o'clock.

And I went to sleep ...


I woke up this morning and the list was still there. And I was still concerned about all the things on my list. And am still in a-swirl about how I am going to manage everything. But I spit in the eye of my thought-storm by making it submit to my lists. Somehow, having all of my crazy on paper makes me feel like I don't have to keep it afloat in my brain. Anyone else like this?

I think I have crossed off 3 things from my list of 427,000 today. And our bathroom still smells like poop. And I prayed some, but not enough this morning. And the children are still on vacation and seem well-enough right now. And I still don't know the name of that cheese.

And that is my day today. And it's okay. And I plan on watching Downton Abbey tonight, eating chocolate, complaining that I ate too much chocolate ... and then going right to sleep. (At 22h30 stupid-o'clock.) Amen.

Love, Bises, and one more Pfft. For good measure.
xoxo
A.

To Take Time

Time and how it is spent is an interesting thing. As a generalization, it seems everyone needs more of it and ... if you've already exited childhood ... find it to be racing by.

And even though I would say this holds true in France, I do find the idea of "busy equals productive" to be a rather peculiar concept here. This is not to say people do not work hard here or lead busy lives. They do. But there is an idea that being too busy is really just a bad idea in general. "It's not good for your health!" I hear often. "One must take the time to enjoy life and beauty. To rest and taste and appreciate."

There is a lot of political discussion of late about whether France should allow commerce on Sundays. Of course, everything except the restaurants close at lunch time, no matter what the day. (From noon to two, you should be eating and resting!) But for the most part, everything is closed on Sundays. Grocery stores, shops, pharmacies, libraries, and often, even the restaurants! At first, we would forget, and find ourselves trying to run errands or pop into the grocery on Sunday. Nope! Plan ahead!

It seems the French are in a great debate as to whether to keep this time-old tradition, Sunday as a rest day, intact. Certainly, there are economic implications to having the entire country shut down one full-day a week. And yes, it isn't always convenient. But can I say ... I like it! It keeps our family together and forces us to slooow down. There is no dashing out for milk or hairspray or a part to fix the bathroom drain. We read. Take walks. Tidy up the house. Play games. Talk. And if you do venture out, what do you see? Families! Families out and about together.

In a lot of ways, France can seem as if she exists several decades in the past. But really ... isn't that part of her charm? Isn't that why we are so entranced by her? For me, even in the inconvenience, the answer is a decided, oui!

So how about you? Would you like your little universe to shut down for a day? Would it drive you crazy?

**Isn't this photo of Pops and Jane rather magical? It was taken from inside the Musée d'Orsay, a former train station in Paris that has since been turned into an art museum. It's in a fantastic location, has a stunning collection of impressionist art, and is so much more approachable than the behemoth that is the magnificent Louvre. (Plus, you won't wait in a line all day!)

A Different Pace, A Different Way

To be honest, I've never really considered myself a "city-girl," as I always picture that term applying to some New York sophisticate, or some such thing. But really, having never lived in the countryside before, I am finding that I am a little bit more city than I thought.

The spiders and mice are a continual surprise to me. And a few weeks back, I was chatting on the phone outside and a bat swooped down over my head nearly sent me into apoplectic shock. However, in spite of my ninny-outburts, I quite enjoy passing the days here. Perhaps it is the countryside, perhaps it is France, but I find the pace slower here. I like that very much.

To be clear, it's not to say there isn't as much to do. Au contraire! There is plenty to be mindful of and that requires attention. But somehow, life here is both busy and slow. There is work to be done, but less rushing about. I like smiling at the cows on our way to school in the morning (Did you know French cows respond to Bonjour and not Hello? It's true!). I'm rather fond of putting on my rubber boots to go retrieve the laundry from the line because the ground is getting a bit sloppy. And it's such a nice problem to wonder what do do with all the walnuts that fell from the treehouse.

There is regular family life and housekeeping to be done, to be sure. I'm still consistently behind in accomplishing about 423 things on my to-do list. But here, time often is less frenetic in the accomplishing. It's spent setting and checking mice traps, wondering how to arrange the purchase of eggs and milk from the farm next door, watching the weather to know when to do a load of laundry so it can still dry outside, and planning on a Saturday of family walnut cracking with some hot apple cider.

In my old house (which I did love dearly!) we didn't have mice, laundry was dried in the machine at any time of day and there were too many things to do on a Saturday to just sit around cracking walnuts. It's not that I think one way is better than another, I really don't! But it is enlightening to me to experience a different pace, a different way.

*What have you learned from the different places you've lived? Have you taken habits and lessons from one environment and applied it to another? Was it successful?

Same Thing, Just a Little Different

Today I was rifling about looking for some paperclips to unite bundles of school registration paperwork (seems like staples are frowned up on here ...), when I hit jackpot and came up on a string of them in the back of a desk drawer. Isn't the slightly varied shape fun? Which shape would you prefer? Standard (American) issue oval within an oval or these steepled paperclips?

It's funny how it is continually surprising to find new versions of the same thing. For instance, I've been very delighted that we have a washing machine and dryer here, but boy that dryer gives me fits. I just can't figure it out. I haven't been overly concerned, as I knew I would be air drying as much as possible to save on electricity bills. So I basically have been using it as a 10-minute fluff-cycle for my towels (Air-dried towel commiseration, anyone? So crunchy!). But today, during a fluffing session, the machine started cursing me and telling me I needed to "vider réservoir." So, turns out that the dryer has a tank that fills up with water/moisture and when it gets too full, you have to empty it. On the dryer! Did you know about this phenomenon in the laundering world?

Same thing, just a little different.

The Outside Endeavor

Do you know why this girl is smiling? First of all, She and Pops built a tree swing. That is sure to bring a smile to most anyone, big or small.

But secondly, it's hanging from what will soon be ... a treehouse ...

You must head outside, naturally, and then take a right towards the back garden and head through these gates. You'll see hollyhocks and a grape arbor on the right and a gorgeous limbed tree straight ahead.

A Straight Way

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, 

and He delivered them from their distress. 

He led them by a straight way 

to a city where they could settle. 

Let them give thanks to the Lord 

for His unfailing love ...

Psalm 107:6-8

Making this my anthem today. Feeling mighty overwhelmed and disoriented on a twisty-turvy path. If I step outside myself, I know this is a season and we will press through. He will make our paths straight and lead us to "a city where we can settle." But today ... I feel weary before I've started.

Know the feeling?

Matthew 19:26

Image via

Curious About the Harvest

This last year has been such a tangled vine of growth. So many challenges that seem to stretch on and wind their tendrils around anything it moves past. This scandent behavior has felt overwhelming, at times. It's easy to become weary ... of feeling weary.

Yet, the interesting thing about growth is that the intent is to bring fruit. Off of the woody, invasive vines, those tendrils latch on to provide security, to develop a base in which fresh green shoots can launch forth with an astonishing growth rate of their own. After a winter of seeing only barren stalks, the green bursts forth yielding vibrancy and the promise of a harvest.

This last year my health has presented itself as a forerunner for our attention. However, there is now a springtime of activity in our lives that is bursting forth in a most dramatic show. Some opportunities for our family that we have prayed about for years now seem to be unfurling with remarkable haste.

It feels strange moving forward into possibility rife with the unknown ... particularly since I have not yet wrapped a bow around the box of my health challenges and set it on a back shelf to collect dust. But here we are. And we acknowledge the issues of the day and press forward into the promise of the yet to come.

It's a bit terrifying. But it's exciting. I don't want to prune off the new growth from the old. Summertime is coming and I'm curious about the harvest.

I am the vine; you are the branches. 

If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; 

apart from me you can do nothing. 

John 15:5

With Elegance and Intentionality

 I heard someone say, recently, that when they are engaged in conversation, or are posed a question, they ask themselves, "What am I trying to say?" They added that this internal dialogue resulted in a more concise and intentional comment, which is a much more elegant way to converse.

Now, I love a good chatter session, but so often I find I am jawing but not really sharing meaningfully or listening thoughtfully. Love this advice.

Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, 

so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.  Colossians 4:6

The Merits of Simplicity

Shells upon a radiator, Aigaliers, France 

 

"The fewer things you keep, the more special they become..."

-Rachel Meeks

Stand at the crossroads and look ...

 I have been contemplative, of late. Upon the growing list of things I feel compelled to mind-wrestle, is ... the blog. Do I continue? Do I dedicate time to this mode of self-expression? One that has provided a platform for showing myself what my days do really accomplish.

I am not sure, to be honest. I truly cannot commit the time that I once did, as I simply do not have as much of it. It has been allocated to many other good things, but one can only do so much, no?

But yet, I am reticent to stop completely. Scared, perhaps to lose the connection to myself, my life, and the intentionality that comes with examining what God has brought to me today to think upon.

 
When we were in Rome, this spring, one of the excursions we truly enjoyed was our time at the Vatican. Regardless of your spiritual leanings, it is a place to marvel. The magnitude. The grandeur. The history.

But in spite of the reverential feel, both Pops and I felt a bit of a disconnect between the intention of honoring God and truly cultivating a relationship with him. Does God's presence reside more fully in the Vatican than in a country church, or a village prayer meeting?

 
A rhetorical question, to be sure. But one to remind me to be seeking God where I am at, today.

 
To glory in the opportunities of the day. 

 
Be it strolling the paths of the ancients before me,

 
Or walking the path of the Ancient One.

To blog or not to blog? No commitments either way. We shall see. But intentional reflection reminds me that my mind is a noisy place. It forces me to chew through the chatter of my thoughts.

And this always, always leads me back to is the knowledge that He is worth pursuing. He is worth my time. He is what quiets my spirit and gives direction to my steps.

And this is good.

Stand at the crossroads and look;
    ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
    and you will find rest for your souls.

Jeremiah 6:16

Having a Moment

Have you heard the phrase, "Having a moment" ? ... I've been having plenty of those lately. Lots of transitions of late. Some difficult, some good, and some just normal life stuff. You know the deal. And with the stuff I have my occasional meltdown. Sometimes quiet and tidy and sometimes noisy and messy. It happens.

But amongst my "moments" there are the bowls of honeyed strawberries with mint and almonds. And those are the moments that remind me to get a grip and appreciate the bounty in front of me.

Having any moments yourselves, these days?

The First One for My Last One

It's been wiggly since Easter. This weekend provided the moment she had been waiting for. Her first lost tooth.

Can I say that it was surprisingly hard for me? Like a confirmation that my baby truly isn't a baby anymore. When the other children started losing teeth, somehow I took comfort in the thought that I still had a back-up. One more little face ... full of baby chompers ... to coddle.

Such a mix of pride, joy and a twinge of heartache to watch my children grow. I feel the oft talked about sense of wanting to freeze time so strongly. But it does remind me to appreciate what is in front of me ...

... and oh, there is such abundance.

I Need a Smile and a Hand-Pat

A primrose that looks like a geranium in a happy coral-pink that seems to be thriving in an old pot on my hearth? Yes, please! Best three dollars I've spent in a while. It's been a lovely splash of cheer to punctuate my rather jumbled and chaotic days of late.

My mind has been a muddle of things to do. Must get international driver's license, must make baked chicken for dinner, must fold rumpled pile of laundry, must help with school project on Alaska's natural resources, must find decent walking shoes that aren't too granny-looking, must scrub bathroom sink that is disturbingly pink around the drain-stopper ... Blaaak!

I'm a bit of a nut-case lately, in truth. In fact, all I really seem to be accomplishing is fretting and blitzing about appearing to be getting things done.

Please smile at me, pat my hand and tell me I'm not the only one who gets like this...