Wait, that's not the Eiffel Tower.

Not France, I know but I had to share anyway. None of the pictures from France feature the girls since they weren't there and the girls are cute, they should make you smile. They make me smile. They also make me want to pull my hair out, bang my head against the wall, run away and spank them all soundly and put them to bed. Wow, that was a tangent right there. Just for the record, sometimes the girls behave in a way that causes me to want to do these things, not that I do them. I don't "believe in" spanking (strange phrase for this I think) so no worries, that was just a reference to a nursery rhyme. As for banging my head against the wall, what are you looking at?

ANYWAY... we went and got our Christmas tree today. I have no Norman Rockwell type photos for you of us bundled up on a Christmas tree farm or out in the woods selecting our own, nature grown Christmas tree, not even close. The quality of these pictures pretty much stink but considering they were taken with my phone on a very sunny day and I made not even the feeblest attempt to make them interesting they aren't too terrible. Fine, maybe they are terrible. We're getting a Christmas tree, not going after artistic expression here. So the tree, we love live trees. Or at least we do for about 2 weeks while they are still soft and smell nice and aren't raining showers of needles every time someone sneezes near the thing let alone touches it. We were given a fairly decent artificial tree some years ago after the massive job loss experience and we stuck with that for a few years to save money. Until that tree died. Yes, the tree that never was alive died. I'm not sure why but suddenly the limbs had issues staying up and every year another set of limbs would look like we needed to feed them little blue pills in order to keep the ornaments on. After one particularly hazardous limb drop problem (there were a few ornament casualties involved) we decided that tree was done and the next year it was time for a real tree again. So excited. We went to a reputable nursery in town and picked out a lovely, over-priced, dying tree. I had my suspicions that they may have painted the trees but when we asked they said no, of course not. I mentioned it was a "reputable" nursery, right? Car dealerships are "reputable" too. Just keep that in mind. After picking out this over-priced, dying tree we wander around more and spot a huge, as in bigger than Jeremy, vat of green/blue paint with a sprayer hose attached and right next to it a whole slew of trees drying from their touch-ups. Why we still got that tree I'll never know. When we got it home we were able to clearly see the paint lines on the trunk from where our "never been painted, fresh pine" had indeed been painted. Ah, a reputable business. That tree was showering needles well before the 2 weeks mark, actually, I think it was showering needles before we got it home, we just missed that somehow. Chalk it up to having used an artificial tree for a few years, we'd lost our touch. So the next year we decided we'd head elsewhere, perhaps some place a little less "reputable" for a tree and saw a sign that IKEA had trees for $20. We got a great tree there, fresh, well shaped (minus a big hole in one side, but so what?), not falling apart and green all own it's own accord! Cool, huh? It was a good tree and held up well so we were hoping that IKEA would be doing the same deal again this year and guess what, they are! We got embarrassingly excited over this fact. They started selling yesterday, they were out of Douglas Firs almost today and I bet by Saturday they will be out of trees completely. Rushing to finish school work and chores, we had pumpkin soup for lunch and then headed out to pick out the tree. Which is a bit like opening a book randomly and pointing at a passage looking for inspiration, you never really know what you're going to get. The trees are all bundled up tight with their limbs strapped to their bodies in a "stick-em-up!" pose. There are a few things you look for: no obvious gaps (unless you're like me and think it could be fun to have an odd looking tree), what appears to be a nice taper to the top, a good height, a trunk small enough to fit in our tree stand, fresh needles (these trees are pretty darn fresh, they almost made me blush), and just no obvious "ugly." Oh yeah, and height. I tend to like them very tall. As in so tall Jeremy ends up cutting several inches off the bottom and the tree topper doesn't fit on top. That's ok though, I still haven't found a tree topper I love. This time I decided we wouldn't get a huge tree. In fact, I was thinking a small tree, maybe only 4 feet and not too wide. The girls loudly and passionately disagreed. Had to be at least as tall as Daddy. I consented, as long as it wasn't too big and so today, outside of the blue and yellow building next to I-10, we picked our tree. A picturesque setting to be sure, it really is a lovely blue. We picked a tree that was just a smidge taller than Jeremy and looked pretty decent in it's over-all shape. Oh yes, dear Christmas tree, you're about to be fulfilled in life in our modest living room for the next 4 weeks. When you can't really tell how a tree looks, picking one out goes pretty fast. Height? Check. Trunk? Check. Shape? Think so, uh, yeah, check. Good, let's go, we're having hot chocolate at home. The girls had fun and it was just the right amount of time. With all the talk of snow we're supposed to have in Houston (uh-huh, right.) we actually made the girls wear coats to go shopping for the tree. Big mistake, they complained about being hot. Oh well, at least the pictures look like it is chilly lending a slightly more Holiday feel to the experience in hindsight than shorts and sandals would. Maybe. The best part of picking out our tree? The girls pushing the cart with the tree on it and Helena and Evangeline along for the ride. They thought that was pretty cool.

Way too many words for what is supposed to be just sharing pictures of picking out our Christmas tree.Yes, the tree is taller than Jeremy.

The whole gang with THE tree.


Jeremy and O loading the tree onto the cart.

Tree transportation. H and E enjoyed the ride.

This one is just because he's nice to look at.

On coming home

We are home, safe and sound. Sunday afternoon we rolled into Houston after a crashing at Renovare, the beautiful home of our dear friends Tom and Laura in Hunstville. These wonderful people offer their lake-side home in the country as a retreat to friends and family and as I was reaching a place where I couldn’t continue driving we called and asked to stop there for the night and they graciously set-up beds for us and gave us a warm and comfortable place to stay the night. We were so well taken care of and wished we could have stayed for the baptism taking place in their backyard Sunday morning following the worship gathering of their church but E’s tummy bug and our extended absence from home put us on the road midmorning.

It was strange coming home. Jeremy and Helena had split up from the rest of us for him to drop the van off to be checked out so 4 of us got to the house alone. The leaves had almost all fallen from our big tree out front giving us a crunchy carpet leading to the house and we immediately got to add those leaves to our living room when we tracked a bunch in. The house seemed strangely still and quiet and when we found the keys left by our friends we let ourselves in. You know what my first thought was? Not “oh, it is so good to be home!” or “I hate coming home to a messy house” (though I really do and tried to avoid it, it was very clean 2 days before we left but then the girls’ packing moved out into the living room and we were sunk) not even a thought of relief and happy to sleep in my own bed after nearly a month. Nope. Those totally normal responses to coming home after a long trip which most people have weren’t even on my radar which of course means I’m not normal. Shocking revelation, I know. Instead, my first thought was “Ugh, I hate these walls, I’m so painting this week.” All while unloading the van and house cleaning to get rid of the closed house smell I fantasized about colors. Jeremy called to let me know how things were going and I informed him about my ideas, he took it in stride particularly considering he hadn’t even been home yet. Ok, ok, he laughed at me. Fine. But then he was pretty cool about it. Even when I said I wanted to paint the walls deep purple.

So we’ve been home for about 4 days now and have already found ourselves adjusting back to the old routine pretty well. By adjusting I mean “Look, chaos continues to reign!” This is normal for us, thank you. The girls were thrilled to get back to their homeschool programs on Monday and Wednesday, granted, the reason they were excited to get back had more to do with their friends than the classes but hey, excited to “go to school” works for me, whatever the motivation. I have yet to do real grocery shopping, I’m dreading it so we’re doing the “run to the store for a few things” to get us through meals. Tomorrow I have to bite the bullet and actually go shopping, the list is in progress and frighteningly long but a menu plan is being laid out to keep me from forgetting anything or getting too overwhelmed. Yeah, right. The poor girls, our limited food options mean that almost everything they ask to eat is met with “we don’t have that.” There will be mutiny if I don’t go shopping soon.

Going back through my France posts I realized how completely boring they were without pictures. This weekend I’ll be making brief posts (in between grocery shopping, tree decorating and painting- yes, we are actually painting the living room!) sharing some of our photos from the trip. They won’t be the “look, here is the Eiffel Tower” type posts, use google images if you want to see stuff like that, they’re better anyway. They’ll be more of the “isn’t that cool graffiti and look, there’s the castle grounds Jeremy grew up on, isn’t that just sick?” type of pics. Hope you enjoy!

Headed back to the reality of now.

We're in Colorado getting ready to leave for the journey to Texas now. By the time we get home we will have been gone for 3 and a half weeks. That feels like a long time. It has been a wonderful trip in so many ways, I don't think I've been able to absorb it all yet. I'm ready for home though, ready to be in our own space, preparing and eating our own food, getting into our regular routine, settling in to have a baby, and sleeping in my own bed. Our friends and the people we work with in Houston have been missing from our lives in a big way and time hasn't been our own. The road to Houston has some unique challenges for us this time but though part of me is dreading it, another part of me is looking forward to the adventure. I'm working on my attitude, that will go a long way in making this trek a positive experience. Bitterness does not a good travel companion make.

I have more to share from our time in France though the daily updates are pretty much complete. Once I sort through the thousand pictures we took I'll pick a few to put up and I'm thinking about making a video, maybe. But those things will have to wait a bit, first priority is getting the family home, we should be back in Houston on Sunday.

France, Day 14

Day 14, Sunday.
Change of plans- the last day.

We had planned to attend worship at the church Jeremy grew up in, hit the grocery store there in town and pack but since our day had been completely derailed on Saturday we decided to return to Paris. The only thing on the agenda? Shopping. The day before had been warm and perfectly beautiful, Sunday ushered in a cold, wet and very windy day. Of course it did, we planned to be walking and shopping, not sitting around over coffee chatting with friends and sharing meals. We’re brave tourists though and it was time for bargain hunting. The promise of warm crepes motivating us we pressed on to find the rows of competing souvenir shops and stocked up on postcards, tiny Eiffel Towers, prints, coasters, t-shirts, pencils and Christmas ornaments. It was freezing and it took all day but it was nice to just be the two of us. Walking hand in hand or huddled together against the wind and rain we gradually added to our bundles, checking off our list as we went. This was first day I really felt like I was in the third trimester with my first experience this pregnancy with sciatic nerve pain and the feeling of a bowling ball sitting on my pelvic bone, I was grateful we could take our time and this was the end of the trip rather than the beginning. As the day wore on I became aware of my pregnant waddle and the feeling that my tail bone was getting bruised from the inside. I took every opportunity to sit and when we got our crepes to warm up I huddled up with mine soaking in the warmth and the rest. We saw Notre Dame for the last time this trip, the Sein looking stormy and grey, the equivilant of the supreme court, the mayor’s office and a few other favorite spots. Even though what we really wanted was to stay here, not as tourists but to live with our family, we both felt ready to go. Nearly every time I saw a little girl I felt on the verge of tears missing my girls so much and though the beauty of Paris can’t really be diminished it also couldn’t replace the ache I felt for my children. And so it was with a sigh we said farewell to this city we feel so burdened for and at home in to head home where 4 little girls who are the highest calling in our lives at this time wait for us. I can’t wait to see and hold them. Au revoir Paris, we will return soon, God willing.

France, Day 13- part 2

Day 13, Sunday- Part 1
The Return to Paris
This brings us to Starbucks in the area near Notre Dame, a charming area obviously very trendy and popular with shoppers. It was very crowded and picturesque. We walked down cobble stone streets with our friends after meeting them outside the appointed meeting place looking for some place maybe a little less crowded. Eventually we landed at a Starbucks and found a seat. I thought I’d have some time to write and get caught up on a few things but Philip’s wife Cynthia showed up and though she is French they all switched to English and I was able to participate in the conversation. We heard about the various families and other recent histories. Wanting to be sure I got to the yarn store that wasn’t too far from where we were I decided to leave them to go shopping but was concerned about the language so Cynthia kindly offered to go with me. Having time just the two of us to walk to the shop was great, I learned about her heart and current project starting a non-profit organization to help support parents. Unlike the States where there are parenting support groups, loads of books on parenting, information readily available on child development, France seems to have a parenting support and information void. Cynthia explained some of the common parenting problems and the effect it is having on the schools and society in general. She talked about the huge need for parenting education and her burden to help do something about that. It was amazing to hear her heart and passion in loving French families and we talked about how when our family is here we would love to be a part of something similar. Though Cynthia and I have very different backgrounds I felt like I was talking to my sister (well, I was!) and it was so thrilling to hear from her what God has laid on her heart. I am praying we get to work together.

The yarn shop... may have to be another post altogether. Oh my word. It isn’t just a yarn shop but they have some beautiful yarn along with buttons, beads, trims, ribbons, fabrics, etc. I picked out some beautiful baby alpaca blue yarn for a scarflet for Jeremy’s mom, several buttons for various projects most of which are for the baby, some trim to match some buttons for a dress for V, and the most brave purchase: a book of knitting patterns in French. I spent some time with one of the shop ladies figuring out the different French terms and what they could be in English, together we got most of it figured out and she thought I could find a lot of them online. After reading through the directions and being pretty sure I understood them well enough to make it a worth while purchase I decided that knitting may be just the thing to push me in my French. So I took the plunge and now own a $25 book chuck full of French patterns. So help me.

The guys met us at the shop at which point I declared I was hungry and needed real food so Philip and Cynthia led the way to an Italian place where we joined by Cynthia’s sister Delphine. The food was delicious and I was grateful for a meal without meat finally. The conversation flowed in French and English with lots of laughter and passionate discussions of various topics. As wine, pasta and pizza were enjoyed I was overwhelmed by how beautiful this was. No subject was off the table, we enthusiastically discussed marriage, dating, children, faith, science, medicine, and food. When an intense conversation broke out between Delphine and Sylvain first about marriage and then the Gospel and was flowing too fast for me to follow in French Cynthia started translating for me. It was beautiful. Again, time just flew by and we had to go if we were going to be able to catch the last direct train out of the city. All six of us walked to the train station to go our different ways but couldn’t part so easily, instead talking in the station for another 30 minutes. The three former high school friends were saying their goodbyes in French and Cynthia, Delphine (a doctor, by the way) and I talked in English. They told me how the time is right, the time is now, things are changing in France and the need for God is huge. They asked me to share with Americans that France needs God desperately and that for the first time they can see an openness and movement towards God. As they spoke, the passion and ache they hold for their country was clear, they said that Jeremy and I couldn’t get there with our family soon enough again pressing that the time is now and the need is overwhelming. They recounted stories of the hunger they have seen and the movement they have sensed. We finally parted ways and headed out of the city. No, we never got around to shopping, the souvenirs for family and friends weren’t in hand and we didn’t have a final date in Paris but we knew this day unfolded exactly as it was meant to be. Meeting with missionaries was wonderful and encouraging but somehow, spending the day with French friends, both those following Christ and those not spoke loudly and fanned the flames under our rears about coming to serve in France. We can not delay, we can’t be idol any longer, the time is now and we can’t sit on God’s call any longer. Our dear friends, our brothers and sisters in France are overwhelmed and tired and there is still much work to do, we will go and share the burden and encourage them. While we feel ready to go home, to see our children, we also feel sad to leave.

France, Day 13 part 1

Day 13, Saturday.
Return to Paris.
After leaving the city a few days ago we get to return today. The plan is for us to meet with a missionary family in Paris, hit an open air Paris market, do some souvenir shopping for friends and family, meet up with some friends of Jeremy from his high school days, grab some crepes and a few of our other favorite French delicacies before we leave and maybe a date in Paris, just the two of us.

I can’t believe it, I’m in Starbucks again. Jeremy’s friend wanted to meet in a Starbucks so here we are. It is fun listening to them jabber away in French. Both friends speak English but I’ve released the three of them from having to include me so they can speak freely about whatever French teenage boys now grown up would want to speak of. Saves me from having to feign interest in everything they reminisce about. I’ll write instead.

Note to self, don’t start writing a blog post for the day until the majority of the day’s activities are done. This day was nothing like we anticipated. We started our time in the city with a stop at a little cafe for some breakfast since I couldn’t eat the breakfast offered by our hosts due to my teeth. The cafe we selected had free wi-fi for an hour if you bought something so we ordered and hopped on in order to check e-mail and catch up on blog posts. So, cafe au lait, pain au chocolat, and orange juice in front of us we attempted to multi-task eating, figuring out our day and FaceBooking/e-mailing/blogging at the same time. An hour shot there to do all those things we headed to the metro only to discover a ridiculous line just to buy tickets and opted to walk to the next station and see if we would find a shorter line there to buy tickets. That did work except by that point I needed a bathroom and since the toilette was out at the cafe we got breakfast in we were looking for another one. Now, in France there are sometimes (often) public restrooms that you can pay to use. I refuse to use them. I mean, I could pee every 20 minutes, it seems like a system deliberately set about to take advantage of pregnant women and small children. However, I got desperate enough that I caved this time, much to my horror. I’ll write more about that experience in another post because, yes, it does deserve to be expounded upon. Anyway, we eventually got on the metro but by the time we got to the shopping area a friend had told us would have the best prices due to the number of souvenir shops we had barely a half an hour before we had to head to some other missionaries home for a lunch meeting and the market we thought we were going to was on Sundays, not Saturdays. Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as we got off we were met with a busy open Paris market. Figures. We didn’t have time to shop and had to move quickly to get to our lunch appointment. It was great fun to see all the bustling activity of a typical Paris Saturday with families shopping, market vendors calling out to passers-by, dogs waiting for their owners outside of the butcher/bakery/and community shops, and shop owners or workers taking a smoking break on the sidewalk with their store windows and doors thrown open to entice shoppers in. I loved it. The noise, the chaos, the dogs (not their contributions to the sidewalk, however), the smells, and the children everywhere. I wanted so bad to have my reusable shopping bags and large bag on wheels just to join in and get my groceries for the week. We made it to our friends’ apartment and immediately felt at home there too. Al and Nicole have been for many years now, meeting on French soil, getting married and having children. They are with International Teams as well and work with La Fonderie with Steve and Mikkie Thrall. They have 3 sweet children and we were blessed to get to meet them all. We learned a lot about having a family in Paris and they were very encouraging regarding learning how to live in the city with a large family. It was a wonderful lunch Nicole made for us and the time passed far too quickly. They shared about some of the work they are doing, Nicole talked about the English club she ran just that morning with neighborhood children, Al talked about their work with the arts and technology and the kids showed us just by their infectious personalities what an impact they must be having on their friends at school. We talked about possible collaborations, we have gave them some of our background and the vision we have from God and our burden for Paris. They were supportive and voiced that the time is right, the need is great. We can’t get there soon enough. Before we knew it we were out of time, our plans for shopping before meeting with two of Jeremy’s high school friends were shot and we had to hurry to make it to the appointed meeting place on time. Contact information exchanged with Al and Nicole we were on our way out the door after feeling like we had just gotten there.

France, Day 12

Day 12, Friday
Taking it Easy and Birthday love!
Having returned to our hosts Inge and Meinhart via the TGV again, we spent Friday taking it easy, doing laundry, and sleeping in. I am sore all over from my fall, my knees are more banged up than I realized but my face looks better than expected even though my teeth and face still hurt. The weather is kind to us, more mild than it had been earlier and no rain so we decide to finish walking around the castle grounds Jeremy grew up on. I marveled the entire time at just how incredibly fantastical it all is. I pretended to live in places like that and he actually did. It was awesome. We explored what we could of the castle which wasn’t open, even jumping a low wall to sneak into the cellar and pear through back windows. Yes, I know, I fell flat on my face the day before just walking across the street, how could I even entertain the thought of jumping even a low wall (4 feet maybe?) at 7 and a half months pregnant. Have you noticed the title of the blog? There’s a reason for that you know. I did just fine too, jumping over and climbing back up. Walking through the grounds Jeremy pointed out various points of memories or what had changed over the years. Soaking it all in, I couldn’t help thinking about how the girls would love this and some day we will bring them here with a picnic and enjoy the grounds together as a family. Though it is sad that the chateau isn’t being utilized for the amazing building it is, it is beautiful to see that so many people in the community love and use the grounds. There were children playing all around, games of soccer and tag and couples both young and old strolling the gravel path. I took pictures of everything from trees to the castle to the stream and natural fairy houses to show the girls. Magical and I am kind of glad that this enchanted place doesn’t have a sign barring the public from enjoying it. Jeremy has written a post to share later about our explorations of the grounds and we’ll share that here later.

Eleven years ago today I became a mother for the first time. Which coincides nicely with Ophélia’s 11th birthday. I’m missing the girls like crazy and wondering how I could have been stupid enough to think I’d be ok not being with her on the actual day for her birthday. We called her from the castle grounds adn wished her a happy birthday. She squealed on the phone, it made me feel better to hear how excited she was to hear from us on her day even though we had talked with them just the day before. My big girl, she’s just amazing. We talked as Jeremy and I walked around the castle grounds and then Lamorlaye a little bit. It was so good to hear that even though she missed us she was doing well and looking forward to our return. I was surprised there were no tears, well, other than my own. I cry every birthday though, happy/sad tears that I don’t let the girls see. I’m so proud of Ophélia. Happy Birthday my first born!