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.

Oh the pain...I mean fun...

Well, it finally happened. I waited 30 years and it finally happened. I went snow skiing for the first time. The good news is that I am alive and that I can say I have skied in the French Alps. The bad news is that I tried to learn to ski in the French Alps. After 3 times down the beginner slope (which I was sharing with kids Hannah's age and younger), one of my buddies convinced me I was ready for the regular slope. Well, the picture above (although not actually of me) tells the story of how that went. Apart from "manger beaucoup de neige" (eating lots of snow) and being really sore the next day, it was lots of fun. Once again I came away amazed at God's creation. Words can't describe the beauty I saw, that is, when my face was not planted in the snow.

Taco Salad with a French Touch

When we first arrived here in France and were looking through our cabinets here in our apartment, we came across an interesting kitchen contraption. Later, we found out that it’s a table-top raclette grill and a friend showed us how to use it. Raclette is a type of cheese that melts very nicely and doesn’t have a very strong taste (my kind of cheese) and all the grill us used for is to put slices of raclette into the trays and melt the cheese so that you can pour it over the other things prepared to eat. Usually, a meal like this consists of small baked potatoes, deli meats (several raw types), tomatoes, and, of course, bread. It’s kind of like eating with a fondue pot. It makes the meal sort-of an event. It’s a lot of fun.

So, last night we used the raclette grill with one of Hannah and Malachi’s favorite meals- taco salad. Taco salad is always a bit hit and there’s never much left at the end of the meal. Yesterday, we decided to try something new and use the grill. It’s hard to find cheddar here (and very expensive, too), so we usually substitute a cheese called mimmolette for anything requiring cheddar. However, it doesn’t really give that nice melty-cheese effect. Raclette did the trick. Voila! Taco Salad with a French touch.

Side note on cheese. As far as I know, there is no other country in the world that can boast as France can that they have more types of cheese than there are days of the year, maybe as many as 500.

Sweet Potatoes for Thanksgiving

When I think of fall, the vegetables that come to mind are all shades of orange- pumpkin, squash, and sweet potatoes. I have come to believe that even in the States, we eat more sweet potatoes in the South than anywhere else in the country. Just an assumption. There is only one store in Albertville where you can buy that wonderful vegetable. So, if we’re to have sweet potato casserole for Thanksgiving (which we’re celebrating with the other students on Wednesday because we have class on Thursday), it requires a bus trip to ED’s, a store across town. So, Friday during our lunch break, I caught the bus (in the rain) and made a quick 45 minute trip to load up on sweet potatoes so that I can make a huge casserole. It’s a bit of a whirlwind trip to do some shopping in my 2 hour lunch break (without a car), but well worth the effort.

Now, what about turkey? Well, the French only eat turkey one time a year- at Christmas, and they don’t cook the whole bird like we do for Thanksgiving. So, one of my classmates has been working on ordering all the turkeys (special order) for the big meal. Unfortunately, there’s been a mix up on the exact cost of the bird and she found out on Friday that we were looking at more than 700 Euros (more than $900 US) for 8 turkeys. Wow! I would be sad to not have turkey for the Thanksgiving meal, but not that sad. I think she’s worked it out to buy fewer turkeys and add some other types of meat. Regardless, it’ll be fun to share a common meal with our classmates and the staff here on Wednesday.

The Little Things

Some of you may remember the blog entry I wrote a while back about my trip to the local sports store and the excitement that came when the store alarm went off when I was trying to leave. Well, for the past 2, almost 3 months, that story has repeated itself over and over again. Almost every time I have gone into a store with an alarm it has gone off. It has gone off in the toy store, the grocery store, and the sports store.

I tried wearing and not wearing all kinds of different things to try and find out what it is that trips the alarm. I was beginning to think that my parents put a plate in my head when I was a kid and not told me about it. (If that were the case, it might explain a lot more than just alarms going off in random stores)

Just the other day our family was planning on going to one of the local grocery stores. It happens to be the store where the alarm has gone off every time I have been in it. In preparation for our visit to this particular store I was running down the list of possible combination of pants, shirt, jacket, belt, and shoes that I could go with to see if I could find a winning combination (I’m not talking about style…one that would not set the alarm off). After selecting what I hoped was just the right combination I started gathering the other little things I need for our trip. One of those little things was my wallet. I looked through my wallet before, thinking maybe there was a chip in one of cards I had in there. My searches before turned up nothing, but I was desperate and thought I would look again. This time I decided to search every little pocket my wallet that I could find.

At this point you have probably already guessed what happened. In one of the small back pockets of my wallet was a sticker. It was not just any sticker. It was a security sticker. Before we left for France I bought a new wallet because most money in the world is wider than the American Dollar. With a mix of feeling stupid for not checking before and excitement that I had finally found the cause of the problem I peeled the sticker out of my wallet.

I will admit, my heart was pounding when we got to the store. I let Amanda and the kids go through security alarms first. With my heart beating and Amanda looking back in hopeful expectation I walked through, and the strangest thing happened…nothing. Nothing! It was great. The alarm did not go off when I went in or when I left. It may seem crazy, but I told Amanda on our way home that it was a huge blessing to have that mystery solved. I can now go to the store without fear of alarms going off and awkward conversations.

I kept that little security sticker I found in my wallet. It is on my bedside table so I see it every day. It is there to remind me of something. Sometimes the little blessings turn out to be the biggest. I would have taken finding that sticker over getting a new music CD or a new movie. I would have taken finding it over a day off from French class (now that should tell you something). It was a small, but huge blessing to me, and that is the way it works sometimes in life. We think a great blessing equal a big blessing. We think waking up and finding a brand new car in our drive way is a great blessing, or something like that. However, God in His great wisdom, being a perfect Father, gives us better gifts that we think to ask for. He knew just how to encourage me that day in a way I would never have though of.

Over the Break

Wow! We jumped back into class two days ago and went straight into all French. That means class is only in French and we're only allowed to use French during the breaks during school hours. It's a stretch, but already we can see the benefit.

Over our 12 day break we mostly hung around our grand little city- Albertville. The first several days it rained very heavily, so we found ourselves infected with cabin fever after about 3 days. The next week was filled with finding creative ways to spend time with other families here- potluck dinner, games in the evening, meals together, and even a little Halloween party (they don't trick-or-treat here in France as in the US), complete with bobbing for apples.


BUT, the main even was potty training. Isn't that what you would want to do with your vacation? Well, it is nice to be using a few less diapers, so it's time well-spent.



We did manage to take one trip out of Albertville via the train system here. It was quite an adventure. We planned to visit Annecy, known as the Venice of France, for the day, but when we took the wrong train in Chambery (toward Lyon, the opposite direction), the day changed a little. Rather than spending the entire day in Annecy, we spent 2 hours in a little town called Pont de Beauvoisin while we waited for the bus that would take us back to Chambery and then to Annecy. We made it to Annecy in time to spend 1 1/2 hours there before our train ride home. As crazy as it was, it really was a nice day. This part of France is just beautiful, so riding the train through the mountains and countryside is really nice. Malachi thought riding all those trains was the plan the whole time...he was quite content.