The Day We Joined the Communist March

We have been in France for five months and it was well before then that we started the visa process. We’ve had appointments at government offices, filled out mounds of paperwork, paid fees and finally, yesterday we took yet another step in the process- hopefully the last. Although have officially been issued our cards, we were still required to travel to a nearby town for a physical.

Almost all of our fellow students were given an appointment at the same time and at the same place, so at first things seem like they were going to be simple. We would just leave school as a group after lunch, catch a train to Chambery, have our little checkup, and get back in time to pick up the kids from school.

Well, thing didn’t quite turnout that way. First, we caught wind of a strike in Albertville for all the teachers that was to take place the same day. When that happens, Hannah and all of her friends do not have school and all the parents organize what to do with them while we’re in class. Amanda took this responsibility on the first time there was a strike in the local school and did a great job, so she was given the task again. After making all the plans for a group of 15 kids, we found out Tuesday afternoon that there had been some confusion. It was only the primary school that was going to strike, not Hannah’s school. Oh, the joys of living in a country were you don’t understand much of the language.

The second problem came with the plan to take the train to Chambery. In general, France has a very good public transportation system…that is when they are not on strike. On Thursday, January 29, guess what? The regional SNCF train employees were on strike, too. When we learned this, we began planning how to get us all to Chambery (only 2 families here have cars).

With quite a bit of ease, thanks to the help of the staff here at the school, we loaded up and headed off. We made it to the doctor’s office without too much excitement and we were all seen quickly. While we were waiting in the doctor’s office we began to hear music coming from the street outside and also what sounded like the voice of a man shouting over loud speakers. Know what? It seems that yesterday was not only a good day for teachers and train workers to strike, but it was also a good day for the communist party of France to put on a demonstration.

It would have mattered little to us if the communist party’s demonstration had not been right next to the doctor’s office we were in and blocking the route we need to take to get to our other doctor’s appointment.

Now before you begin thinking we were in some great danger, it would probably be good to inform you that demonstrations and strikes happen a lot in France and they are almost always peaceful. In America, if things get to the point of a strike it means things are bad and a strike can turn into a riot at any time. In the States, a strike is at the end of the process, when all else has failed and communication is not working. In France striking or demonstration is the first step in the process. It’s how they say, “Pay attention. We are unhappy and we want to talk about it.” All this to say that we were not in any physical danger.

Even though we know there was not immediate threat of physical danger, it was still a little scary to have to cut straight through the middle of the demonstration for the Communist Party. As far as we knew, we had no other choice because our second doctor’s appointment was a few blocks down on the other side of the demonstration.

Crossing the demonstration turned out to be not a big deal and we made it through, not withstanding a few stern looks. Rather easily, we made it to the next appointment in time, saw the doctor and walked away with yet another piece of paper from the French government (that, of course, we now have to take to another office at a later date to be stamped by another person).

The really interesting part of our day came when we tried to leave the parking garage where we had parked. The rest of the group left about an hour earlier and there was only a van full of us left, so we all loaded up into the van and headed for he exit. I think most, if not all, parking garages in France are underground (and nicely maintained)- a good idea if you’re short on space. We paid the parking ticket went through the bar thing and began the steep climb up the hill to street level. As we came to the top of the hill we all felt a quick jolt as the driver slammed on the brakes That demonstration that I mentioned…well, it moved directly in front of the parking garage and the road was completely packed with people who were in no hurry to move.

There were two problems now. The biggest problem was that we had stopped on a steep hill and, let’s just say that the van we were in was far from new. Rob, our driver and the van’s owner, tried to get going again on the hill, but first gear would not catch. We are very thankful there was no one behind us because each time we rolled further and further back down the hill. Finally, Rob was able to back down the hill to a level place and get the van into first gear again. Praise God it worked and we climbed uneasily to the street.

This time we did not stop on the hill. There was just enough space between the hill and the street full of protesters for the van to stop on level ground. So there we sat. After a few minutes a man came up to the window and kindly informed us that we may want to just park our van again because the demonstration would take over an hour to pass by because of the large turnout of people. For us, this was not really an option because everyone in the car had kids waiting for us in Albertville.

After a little waiting and considering our options, there came a break in the mob of people in the street. Rob, adventurous and unashamed, decided this was our chance and just eased the van out into the street and into the middle of the demonstration. Oh, the looks we got! It was pretty funny. We had not gotten very far down the road when the crowd in front of us stopped moving, but thankfully by this point we hand been spotted by one of the organizers of the demonstration. He waved people out of the way and led us to the other side of the demonstration. On our way Rob, our driver, thought we would make the most of the situation. He kept honking the horn and hanging out the window giving a ‘thumbs up’ to the demonstrators. If you knew Rob, you would realize this in just normal behavior for him.

Well, we made it through and all the way back to little Albertville just in time for dinner. It was an exciting day full of memories and a first-hand experience of French culture. While looking back it is a lot of fun and make for a good story, I hope that next stage of getting our visas is not nearly as exciting.

Drop it Back!

There are challenges to coaching any sport and sometimes particularly depending on the group you happen to be coaching. For several years I coached middle school boys soccer and my first season coaching the boys, of the many things I found difficult, one was trying to get them to understand that sometimes the best thing to do in a game was go backwards, not forward.

You see in soccer, much like basketball, one can pass the ball backwards. In fact there are many times in soccer were passing the ball backwards in the best thing to do. When a player passes the ball back to a player behind them, it is called a drop. If you have played soccer, then you are familiar with this term as you hear it on the soccer field all the time.

The challenge with my guys was trying to help them see that passing backwards was not always a bad thing. In their heads I am sure they are simply thinking, “The goal is in front of me. You only get points for getting the ball in the goal, thus the best play is always a play toward the goal.” Again, if you have ever played soccer, you immediately see the faulty logic in this way of thinking.

There are times when a player’s way to the goal is completely blocked. If he tries to go forward he will likely loose possession of the ball. In this case, the best play may be behind him. Rather than give the ball up to the other team he should just pass the ball backwards and get help from the rest of his team.

I have found this principle to be true in life as well. Not long after returning to France, Amanda and I decided that the best way forward for me in language was to take a step back. As many of you know, I have found learning the French language to be quite a challenge. Some of that challenge is just my personality and giftings and some of that challenge I have brought on myself by not being willing to use the French that I know.

Due to all that happened over the Christmas break, our family got back to France two weeks after the semester had started. I was already feeling behind at the end of the first semester, and by the time I got back to class this semester I felt completely lost. After a few days of class I talked with my teacher about all this. Amanda and I also meet with the director of the school, talked with our international director at CrossWorld, and prayed a lot. After much talking and praying we decided that the best option was for me to go back and to repeat the beginner class.

While our goal is to learn the French language and get to Senegal, like with soccer, it became clear the best way forward was to drop the ball back. No, in many ways this is not what we wanted. This means our time in France will be extended. Which, of course, means we will be even later getting to Senegal. It is also difficult for me to see all the people I came in with going forward while I feel like I am going backwards.
This is when I have to be reminded that what seems like backwards to me is not always backwards to God. There have been many steps along this journey to Africa that have seemed like steps backwards, but now looking back on them we are so thankful that God redirected our path or simply made us wait. I do not know all the reason God might have for causing us to linger in France, but what I do know is the sometimes the best way forward is to take a step back. I am also fully convinced that God is in control and He does not make mistakes. Amanda and I pray Proverbs 3:5-8 for our family over and over. We trust God is and will answer those prayers.

We are so thankful for all of your prayers. Please continue to pray that God will help us learn the French language. We got a call for one of our teammates in Senegal, and just talking on the phone with him reminded us of what is at stake. There are people who need hear the blessed message of the gospel of Jesus Christ. There are people who need be drawn into the worship of our great God because He is worthy of their worship. So your prayers for us to learn the language are not too simple or small. It is an important part of getting the gospel out to the people of Senegal and strengthening the church there.

Little Blessings

Since we've been back in France, there are a few little things that have been "little blessings," like:

Discovering how to use fabric softener in a front load washing machine- The washing machines that we use here automatically dispense the detergent, so I don't have the opportunity to choose the great smelling laundry detergent like I would like to. One of my favorite scents is the smell of clean laundry. Now, with the aid of fabric softener, our clothes are oh-so-soft and smell good enough to eat.

Discovering how to get my hair clean- The water here is very hard, so my hair feels oily- I guess because I can't get all the soap out. Well, Eric had the idea to wash my hair with cold water because he noticed that when the hot water comes out of the faucet, it has a whitish color to it until it cools down. Possibly, that's the problem (because I love very hot showers). So far, my hair feels better, but the jury's still out until I wash it a few more times.

Malachi's drawings- Yesterday, Malachi drew his first-ever "person." He's growing up way too fast! But, it's absolutely adorable to see the pictures and to hear his explainations. He says of this masterpiece, "He sad. He say, 'What?!' And, he has a playground (on the left, I think slides)." By the way, he specifically said that this picture was for Aunt Em and Uncle Paul.

New Friends- There are several new families here and a few of them have kids Hannah's age, so that's very exciting for her.

A week's worth of home-cooked meals- Friends here arranged meals for the first full week here. It was such a blessing to not have to do shopping (they stocked our fridge and pantry for breakfast and lunch stuff) or any cooking as we transitioned back.

Good report from Hannah's teacher- Yesterday, when I picked Hannah up from school she yelled, "Maman!" That's how the French say "Mamma!" and her teacher said (in French), "See how she's using French! She's started doing it more and more in class." Then Hannah brought me a picture she drew and said, "Regarde Maman, mais je n'ai pas fini." (Look Mom, but I haven't finished.) Her teacher then told me how well she's picking up the language, that she finds her to be very bright. And, that she thinks that Hannah could easily learn to read in French if we were to stay a bit longer. Very encouraging to us, as parents, who are sad when we hear her talk about how she would like to be able to speak with her friends at school. She's learning!

Fear and Faith

So here we are…flying back over the Atlantic. According the screen that is in front of me, we are about half way between Atlanta and Paris. I think just about everyone knows by now that this trip has not gone as planned. Let me clarify that… not as we planned. According to our timetable we should have been back in France over a week ago. We were suppose to have all our luggage. Most of all we were still suppose to be eagerly awaiting the birth of our third child. God’s plan was clearly a lot different than ours. His plan included staying in Georgia until the 14th of January, leaving with one of our big suitcases still at large, and taking our third child home to be with Him.

One of the things Amanda and I realized we did not bring enough of when we first got to France was books. For Christmas I asked Amanda to buy me several new books. One of those books was Welch’s new book Running Scared. The book takes a biblical look at fear, something that language study and living in a new country has clearly brought to the surface of my life. I have a long way to go before I am done with the book; however what I have read has been very insightful.

I am finding that dealing with fear and dealing with testing have a lot in common. One of the big things they have in common is faith. In one of the chapters I recently finished Welch makes this statement: “Faith is not seeing less, faith is seeing more.” Those words hit me hard and made me stop and think.

I would be lying if I told you I was totally excited about going back to France, or that I was really stoked about starting back at language training. The truth is that is has been a real test of my faith. No shocker, but I am not really good at French. Another understatement is that living in another country is hard. Having spent the past ever weeks back in the USA it only reinforces what I already know. France is not America. When you add in all the emotions of what has happened with the loss of our third child, it becomes the perfect setting for doubt. I find myself wondering if my family and I are really supposed to do this mission thing.

These are the thoughts that fill my head when I look only by sight and not by faith. When I look by faith, then I can see much more. Instead of only seeing all the hard things my family and I have faced over this past trip, I also see the hand of God lovingly caring and providing for us every step of the way. When I look by faith, I see beyond my language ability to a God who is not fazed or limited by my own inability. Like Welch says, “Faith is not seeing less, faith is seeing more.” Faith does not forget the hard circumstances that we are facing, but that also sees God’s faithful provision in the past and His rich promises for the future.

Our Story

January 3rd, 2009 was a day that we will never forget. It had already been an emotional day as we had to once again say goodbye to our friends and family. Little did we know how emotionally draining the day would become. We thought our trip had started off with enough difficulty, as we had to wait in line at the ticket counter for over an hour because there were only two, and sometimes just one, ticket agents working the counter. Our first flight went well enough. It was just a little hop from Atlanta to Chicago. The next leg of the trip was the big one, all the way from Chicago to Germany. We boarded one plane, were we sat and waited for what seemed like forever. After being unable to fix a leak they had been working on for over an hour, we were instructed to leave the plane. It was while we were waiting for this second plane to fly to Germany that Amanda’s pain seemed to go from bad to really bad. We waited at our new gate for at least another hour and finally we boarded the new plane. We settled into our seats and were ready for takeoff, or so I thought.

By now, Amanda’s pain had now gotten much worse. As the plane was taxing out to the run way she looked at me and said, “I have to go to the bathroom now.” I think it was at that moment that we both realized what we desperately hoped would not happen was happening. Amanda was having a miscarriage. I am assuming the flight attendants could see the distress on my face because they asked what was wrong and I told them, “I think my wife is having a miscarriage.” The got on the PA system and asked if there were any doctors on board and two German men came to the back of the plane, but prove to be little help in the given situation. Another lady also came to the back of the plane, a lady Hannah had befriended while we were waiting for our plane. She was a midwife and she gave me the most helpful advice. The flight attendants had been asking me if I wanted them to taxi back to the gate and call for paramedics. After talking with the mid-wife about potential concerns for a little bit, I said yes.

It didn’t seem like long before they were taking Amanda from my arms and putting her in the ambulance. I had to tell her goodbye and that I would see her at the hospital because I had to go take care of the kids. I did not see Amanda again for well over an hour. Between trying to find a cab that would take the voucher the airline gave us, and the cab driver first taking us to the wrong place, it seemed like we were never going to get there.

Our time in the hospital was a blur. When we first got there the word was Amanda would be discharged that night. Well, after many sleepless hours and a lot of bad food Amanda was finally discharged about 4:30 pm the next day.

We left the hospital and checked into our hotel. The first night we all stayed together- we crashed hard because we were all exhausted. That next day Amanda’s mom came to Chicago and took the kids back to Georgia. It worked out well because it gave Amanda and I sometime to be alone together, to process the previous 24 hours and grieve together. The next afternoon Amanda and I flew back to Georgia where Amanda was able to get some much needed rest and the kids had time to rest and get over being sick. It was really nice to be able to be with friends and family and begin the process of working through thoughts and emotions from these very traumatic few days.