Paris, Day 28
It seems the adrenaline has finally worn off — not only the adrenaline of the last four weeks, but the adrenaline of the last six months, really. Today feels more raw than others, partly because we experienced a death in my family and I am realizing the reality of not being home in hard times. French classes are also moving at a quick pace, and while I love it, I am also feeling the burden and loneliness of learning a foreign language. I have been welcomed in a way I didn’t expect here in France, and yet I am realizing how even the warmest welcome does not change the fact that I am finding my way around a new culture without my normal comforts, and without the language. I have a minor cold, nothing awful, but as I sit here today, the French sunlight streaming through my windows, I am feeling the swirl of decisions made in the past few months finally hit me.
My roommate’s family had a birthday party for her niece, and I was given the wine to hold to reflect that it was truly a French party :)
On Sunday, a woman at the church gave her testimony — about how she has applied four times in the past four years for French papers, and how she finally received them. We were supposed to celebrate her victory last week, but she ended up in the hospital instead. Still, she spoke of these last four years as a time where God has taken care of her, even when she felt completely alone. Her faith is striking, not only because she fled from her country, but also because her process of settling into this new one has taken such a long time. Instead of blaming God, she praised him, because she has found belonging and a home in this church. The whole Sunday service felt like family.
Mingling after church with new friends.
I have been thinking about how Americans call themselves “ex-pats” when in a different country. I don’t hate on the phrase itself or those who use it, but it does make me wonder. I am not an “ex-pat” in this church — I am a fellow immigrant, being taught French phrases by those who have been here for two, five, eight years. To call myself an ex-pat would mean to claim that I am different — although in many ways I am. I have not fled my country. I can go home when I want. I have a warm place to stay and enough money for the next few months. In that way, I am privileged, and the label of ex-pat might be the right description. But that makes it all the more humbling to hear people I now worship with share their stories. I listen to how they fled, and while I have heard stories such as these before, it hits different when I am also a newcomer, also trying to figure out the language, also missing my family and friends. I have it so much easier, and I am still exhausted by it some days.
Overall, I am grateful that I have actually been useful in the church so far, even without any French quite yet. I help with children’s ministry and with leading worship, and on October 30th I will preach in English, which will then be translated into French, Farsi, and Arabic. French classes are not only teaching me French faster than expected, but also teaching me helpful tools for teaching English if I ever choose to do so again. I have made friends with some classmates, and overall have settled into a rhythm. It is more so the reality of things that have finally hit me, and I would appreciate prayer for a few things.
First, I have begun a six week discernment process in order to really listen to what God might have for me after these three months. Pray that I can hear God clearly, and that I will feel a sense of peace about the next right thing. Second, I have remembered why I hated my Spanish classes. I am a good student, and I can learn verb conjugations quickly — but it’s the listening that gets me. I can go into a store and ask for a covid test in French, but when they respond in French, I freeze. Pray that I could listen and distinguish words, and not just know how to conjugate them.
Hot chocolate here is made in bowls, and I now prefer it this way! We steamed some milk to put on top as Alice helped me with my french homework.
Overall, though, I am still thrilled with how much stronger I feel than the last time I travelled on my own. My prayer life is deeper, my friendships stronger, my courage more developed. I am grateful for and feel all the prayers and love being sent my way, and I’m grateful today especially for nearby pharmacies, fresh vegetables to make soup, and bowls of hot chocolate. Until next time, love to you all!