Irrational Fears

(Not in any particular order)

1. Crystal, Beverly and the Kajiji Girls will never forgive me for leaving for 10-12 months and our friendship will suffer.

2. Someone - terrorists, Lybia, radical Muslims, anyone - will bomb Paris (or take over the city) and we won't be able to get home.

3. The U.S. economy will collapse while we are gone and then what?

4. Someone else will start leading my Thursday night Bible study group and do a better job.

5. My Thursday night Bible study group won't keep meeting and won't want to meet anymore when I get back.

6. We won't have enough money to do this or we will only have enough to get there and survive - which means we won't get to go anywhere or see anything while we are there.

7. Everyone will hate us because we are Americans.

8. My children will be traumatized to be ripped away from their friends and need therapy at some point as a result.

9. Something will happen to my mom or dad while we're there and I won't be able to do a darn thing to help or support them.

10. P&S will hate it here so much that they insist on breaking the contract and coming home early.

I will post more as they occur. Actually, I could keep going now, but certainly don't want to send myself headlong into a full-blown irrational panic attack. Apparently I have no lack of supply in this department. But at least I still have a sense of humor about it. I'll be the first to call myself a neurotic, Type A, OCD head case.

(Go ahead. Feel badly for my poor husband. He deserves the sentiment.)

Qu'est ce que je pense?

What am I thinking?!

This week I went to my monthly French-Meet-Up meeting. This is a meeting of french-speakers (or in my case french-speaker wannabes) who gather for the purpose of chatting "en francais." I should have known I would come away feeling utterly discouraged about making it in France for a year! I stumbled and bumbled along, utterly incapable of conjugating a verb to save my life, with the vocabulary recall of someone in a catatonic state. It was frightful indeed.

Then, when I got home, I was greeted by David with, "Have you considered how isolated you will be? I mean, you might be able to talk to your friends with Skype, but they're all going to get sick of hearing about your escapades in France all the time. What are you going to do? No one else is going to be sharing your experience with you?"

David is absolutely right and his concern shows just how deeply he gets me. I truly am all about community and shared experiences. So much so that sometimes I wonder if a tree fell in the woods and I was the only one to witness it, would it have really happened? And here we are, working towards a year which will start (and has the risk of remaining) totally in isolation, where not only do we not know anyone for thousands of miles, but we also don't speak the language. I like to kid myself that I do, but this week was a good reality check. I don't.

I know this should cause me to wake up and face the facts. We really are mildly insane for doing this. Thankfully God, as usual, is one step (if not all steps) ahead of us and has already addressed this. I would love to say He has pre-supplied an amazing community of like-minded families for us in France. He hasn't (that I know of). Instead, He has me studying "A Woman's Heart, God's Dwelling Place" by Beth Moore in the midst of our preparations. Last week's teaching revealed a truth I have struggled with for a long time. God has created us each with a "With-Need," meaning we all have a need to be WITH Him. What gets us into trouble is when we try to fill this void by simply being with other people. Boy, am I guilty of this! As I listened to Beth Moore elaborate on this point, I really sensed God tugging at me.

Erin, I want to fill the "with-need" in you. True, I made you to need others. But I made you to need Me more. It's time for you to acknowledge that. For the next year, no matter who you meet, no matter who you don't, I will be with you. I will be your community. I will be your support. I will be your supply and your portion. I will be your listening ear, your strong shoulder, your sounding board, your adviser. Trust Me. You can do this. With Me.

So we forge ahead. And if the worst thing to come of this is I don't make a single new French friend, but I draw closer to my family and I draw closer to my Father, so be it. Bring it on.

Ca c'est ce que je pense.

All Things France

This is starting to feel like it may actually happen! Discussions with P&S are going really well. We are beginning to draft up a contract with them, which will spell out the details about our exchange. Once we have our contract completed, I will post it so anyone who needs an example of something like that will have it. I don't think it actually has any legal weight, but it does give one peace of mind to know we have disclosed as much as possible ahead of time regarding our expectations and requirements.

The toughest part of this stage by far is reminding myself that the rest of life still needs my attention. All things France consume my thoughts and I want to discuss little else with David (or anyone else for that matter). I am trying really hard to focus on the present, to live in the now, as Edna Mode would say. But with each step closer to this dream becoming a reality, I am getting more and more distracted! My brain is swarming with the ridiculous list of details that need to be addressed before we go, phrases in French I know, phrases in French I need to know, how to prepare the kids, what they will do for school, what I will do for the B&B, etc, etc, etc...

In the midst of all that, if I can remember to breath, sleep and eat, it's been a good day.

If It's France or the Cat, I choose France

Our 13 year old cat has been progressively losing weight. At first we attributed this to the absence of my mother-in-law (confirming that Meme had been sneaking additional meals to Cona), but when the pounds continued to shed faster than a Jenny Craig commercial, we had to consider the possibility that something might be wrong.

I didn't want P&S (or any other French family) to have to deal with her getting sicker while she was under their care next year, so we figured we should take her now and get her good and healthy before we leave. Toward that end, we finally broke down and took her to the vet this week.

When the vet presented me with her recommendations about what tests to run I about needed my own physical as I am sure my blood pressure shot through the roof.
THREE HUNDRED SIXTY-FOUR DOLLARS just to try to determine what is wrong, let alone treat her! Where the total bill amount was listed on the form they gave me, I instead saw the words "Two French Visas." THEN they proceeded to explain to me that, if their suspicions were correct and she has hyperthyroidism, she would need routine blood work every six months and she would be on medication for the rest of her life. I may not be good at crunching numbers, but even I could figure out that meant a minimum of $700 a year on vet bills (there goes a plane ticket).

Call me cruel, report me to PITA, do whatever you want. But I abruptly turned and walked out (still having to pay $88 just to have them tell me how much money it was going to cost me to have her diagnosed!!!).

Plan B - Lay hands on the cat and pray for Healing and wait to see what happens.

Plan C - Well, let's just say Cona would get to meet Jesus before the rest of us. (The introduction would be humane, so don't flip out on me.)

Sorry Cona, but if I have to choose between a year in France or dropping a minimum of $700 per year for every year you live from now on, I'm choosing France.

Love ya, old girl.

Discipline + Blessing = France

We heard back from P&S today! They were away (I am pretty sure someone suggested as much to me when I was having an aloud panic moment).

We took this week to do another perusal of our finances to make sure we aren't getting in over our heads. It is going to be tight, but doable. The tough part will be that we probably won't get to do and see all we would want (there probably won't be any week-trips to Craiova, Romania for example), but in the end it is still so worth it to go. It is a relief knowing we will make it, but a little scary to know how close we are cutting it.

I have to insert this "side" plug for FPU:
For anyone considering doing something like this, I can't recommend more highly that you get yourselves on a budget before you go. Two years ago we started Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University and the application of his principles was absolutely instrumental in making this endeavor possible. We have lived on a budget ever since, which meant we could easily calculate what we would spend overseas for the 10 months. It also made it really easy to see where we could find "extra" money to cover the exchange rate and inflated European prices.

After all that budget analysis to determine that while we can do this we will have to be financially very careful, the email from P&S today revealed their hopes of "hiring" me to run their B&B while we are there! God is so good. He seems to keep saying every step of the way, "Will you stop worrying about this?! I've got it covered!" There will be a lot of details to work out with them if I am actually going to work for them, but I am really excited about the possibility. I've always wanted to run a B&B! What fun! PLUS - maybe it will give us enough extra spending money to take some extended trips - French Riviera anyone? Italy? Romania? (Here's where David would scold me for getting way ahead of myself, so I'll stop there.)

I hope it isn't prideful to think that God is rewarding us for our discipline in living on a budget by providing this possible additional income while we are there. It seriously feels like a present specially delivered straight from Him.

Tomorrow - we apply for passports. YIPPIE!

RSVP is French for pete's sake!

It's been six days since we've heard from Paul & Sylvie, which of course means I am spiraling down into a discouraged mess. Today I sent out inquiries for five more exchanges. Our total count of inquiries sent out thus far equals nine with only one reply so far.

Grrrrr... I do not do this part of this process well. I contacted Global Exchange to see if perhaps there is something technically amiss to explain for the lack of replies. Don't you think if someone wasn't interested they would at least send a brief, "Non merci?" What part of "please reply even if it is to say you are not interested" do people not understand??

Sheesh. Trying hard not to obsess. Thank goodness we're watching a movie today. The distraction will be fleeting, but lovely.

Dear Erin- It's Me, God.

The night of my panic attack I tried calling for reinforcements, aka Mom. When she didn't answer, it's a wonder I didn't curl up into the fetal position and start rocking to an absent minding humming of my own design. Instead, I actually had the where with all to ask David to say a prayer for me, as I packed up my nerves and headed off to Bible study with the gals.

I hadn't told anyone but my mom of our tentative moving plans, so in a state of semi-anguish, I viewed our Beth Moore DVD in subdued silence. In it we heard about Moses leading the Israelites through the desert. After they sinned big-time against Him, God told Moses any trip to the Promised Land wasn't going to include Him. He had had it. But Moses, even though the Lord had still promised the protection of angels, and a land ripe with milk and honey and everything they could possible want or need, he refused to go. "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here," he told the Lord. In other words, "I'd rather be in the desert with you, than in the Promised Land without."

That spoke to me and became my fervent prayer, which went something like this, "God, you know my heart's desire is to go to France. To experience this adventure. To be challenged, despite my fears. But I want to want You more than this dream of mine. I want the Giver more than the dream-come true. I do not want to go if You aren't coming with us. Do not let us go if You don't come, too."

The next morning, I repeated this prayer-request with David. After we prayed together, promising God we would not go unless He directed our steps, I went to check my email, as I often do. One of my morning emails is a verse of the day - which has the subject line of VOD and the only text in the body of the email is the Bible verse with it's address. Usually this email is in a list of other stuff, which is mostly junk mail and newsletters, which means I sometimes delete it without even reading it. That morning it was the only unread email in my inbox. Here's what it said,

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

God sent me an email!

Step Five or the Devil’s in the Details, thus Step Six as well

As you may have noticed, the lines between Step Four through Step Six get a little blurry. Picture a yo-yo dangling off the diving board and you get a pretty good idea of life around here these days.

When we received our first reply from Paul & Sylvie, I was as good as packed in my mind. If it weren’t for the reality check just one look from husband can provide, I would have raced upstairs and started wardrobe planning.

In the first week of correspondence, we gained more and more of a favorable opinion of our match with this family. Ever playing the role of “aloof critic,” David shocked the pants off me by inquiring of his company about working from France for the year. (A sure sign as any that his skeptic act is just that.) His way of informing me was to forward me their email reply which was something to the effect of, “We don’t see why this would be a problem. Keep us abreast of the details and we will work out any arrangements necessary as needed.”

Well, that is definitely when the PANIC hit. I began to think about all the obstacles we have yet to overcome. The finances. How would we afford this? The passports, the visas, the plane tickets, the exchange rate, the higher food and gas prices… Our children. Would we be ruining our children? Traumatizing them for life as we dragged them screaming from the clutches of their close friends. My extrovertedness. Would I fall into depths of depression with no family, no friends, no Kindred Sisters with whom to share life? Global unrest. What if economies start collapsing while we’re there? What if Paris airports are taken over by Muslim terrorists? What if anti-Americanism means we’re treated like criminals? What about this? What about that? What if?

I was fully entrenched in a panic mode of unparalleled proportions when God stepped in and saved the day, as He so often does. But I'll save that story for tomorrow's post.

Step Four or Help! Get Me Off this Crazy Thing.

I put on a good show. Just ask those closest to me. They fully know the extent of my acting talent. Either that or I am the only one who doesn't know that my acting abilities totally stink. I'm horrified to consider that everyone actually knows the truth about my neurotic and obsessive tendencies. Well, if they didn't before, I guess they will now.

Here's how I imagine I look when diving into a new opportunity.



And, for the first 3 or so seconds, I don't feel I am lying to anyone. I genuinely feel I am courageous, faith-filled, eager, and fully equipped for what lies ahead. I soar like the most graceful eagle as I plummet headlong toward, toward, TOWARD!!!!???? oh Dear God.

It doesn't take long for my dive to look more like this:



Just in case you're wondering. Right at this very moment, with regards to moving to France, I am definitely past the three second mark. At some point, God is either going to pull my sorry butt up off this board and carry me, clinging to him like plastic wrap, or the part of God will be played by a young boy in green and black swimshorts.

Only time will tell.

Step Three or Good Things Come to Those Who Bait

That first night of discussion, which led to me to the discovery of the home exchange option, also led me to Paul and Sylvie. I perused the listing of this lovely couple with one son who wanted to spend the year in an English speaking country for much of the same reasons we want to spend a year in France. Excitedly, I read their listing to David. It read like something out of “Travel and Leisure.”

“Spacious 6-bedroom converted farm in rural area in world-renowned Loire Valley, France…” The home is surrounded by an orchard, next to a vineyard and smack dab in the middle of the area known as “The Valley of Castles” due to the immense number of medieval structures still standing.

Without taking a breath, I blurted out “What do you think? Should I contact these people?”

My husband is amazing. Like some sort of expert fisherman, he knows the precise moments for casting me out (not off – haha) and reeling me in. That being said, when he agrees to one of my crazy ideas, I’m pretty sure he never actually thinks sending me out there like some sparkling lure will produce any real fish, but the fact that he humors me is an outward display of his unwavering love for me and his deeply hidden sense of adventure that, when it comes down to it, rivals my own (he has jumped out of an airplane before, after all). The problem for me is I never know which he might do with any given “idea” of mine. Not to mention, every cast is typically followed by a reel, which has given me some chronic whiplash. (Perhaps this is my fault – I tend to soar a bit further out there than he ever intends.) To my delighted astonishment, with a shrug of his shoulders I heard him reply,

“Why not? Go for it.”

The diving board in sight, there was nothing left to do but leap.

Step Two or Hollywood might have actually had the right answer for once!

David and I have been married for 13+ years. We have spent all of them talking about living overseas “for a bit.” Three weeks ago, I finally had it.

“Are we ever ACTUALLY going to do this? ‘Cuz if not, I’m done talking about it. Seriously. Either we are or we aren’t. It’s either on the table and we start making plans, or it’s off the table and we never give it another thought. Which is it?”

To my shock and awe, David’s reply wasn’t “Let’s forget about it.” Instead he approached the subject like he does all major topics - he identified the biggest obstacle, in this case the same one that has stopped us in our oversea-tracks for the last 10 years.

“What would we do with the house?”

Because David and I have always assumed we would move overseas for a period of 3-5 years (I have no idea where we got that figure), it was a legitimate concern. I have always been in favor of renting out our house, he in selling it outright. Therefore, when this topic has come up in the past, we have immediately found ourselves at an impasse and the subject has been “tabled” (aka totally dropped).

But all those previous conversations had taken place before I saw the movie, “The Holiday” staring Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz. (It’s pretty cute, so if you haven’t seen it, I recommend it – Jude Law is also in it and the risk of developing "a little Jude Law Crush,” as my friend called it, is quite high.) In this movie (I promise I am not spoiling it for you if you haven’t seen it yet) two women exchange homes for the holidays – one lives in England and the other in California. So, for kicks and grins I googled “home exchange” and low and behold up popped a number of websites offering listings of home exchanges throughout the globe!

The site we first visited and later joined was Global Home Exchange (listed under the links to the right). They have a tab for “long term exchanges” where we discovered there are actually people (French people no less!) who want us to live in their home for a year while they live in ours. Et Voila! C’est parfait, n’est pas? With the house problem solved, it was on to step three.

Step One or To Dream the Impossible Dream

This all started with Mr. Mann’s foreign language class in 8^th grade. My husband can blame him. I was introduced to Latin, Spanish and French so that all us “college bound” kids could make a selection about which language to pursue when we made it over to the “Big School” the following year. Latin made no sense to me. Why on earth would I study a language when there wasn’t anybody I would ever find with whom to have an exotic conversation? And Spanish… well truth be told, I just didn’t like the sound of the words, despite how much more logical it would have been given my end goal of finding people who spoke the language. So, for the sheer beauty factor alone, I chose French. Oh la la! Just call me the precursor to Fancy Nancy. (It’s just that “Fancy Erin” doesn’t flow as nicely.)

Fast forward a couple decades (yikes, does that make me sound ancient) and here we are. I have six years of language study, one three-week long stay in France, and comprehension of enough French to get me into a heap of trouble, because I can look and act like I know what’s being communicated when I really don’t have a flippin’ clue. So, of course the most logical thing to do is convince my husband (who doesn’t speak a lick of French) and my two children (who sing Frere Jacques and watch Muzzy, does that count?) to spend a year in France. A dream come true.

Ever notice how good dreams always work themselves out nicely in your sleep? A TV sitcom of your own subconscious making, they are short, entertaining, and the “problems” are always resolved by the end.

I’ve dreamed about this possibility for nearly twenty years. For sure, I am going into this with a nice strong grip on reality.

Just Follow These Steps

It is an exciting adrenaline and stress-producing place to be in when you are experiencing the potential of a big dream realized. I have been here a few times before, the familiarity of my navigations simultaneously a comfort and a concern. Unbeknown to me until now, I apparently have a system for working through dream actualization. (I should not be that surprised, as I tend to have a system for most things.)

Step One: Frequently sigh, longing for a dream to be realized, bordering on being in
a state of obsessive discontent.

Step Two: Take notice of the opportunity to dive in.

Step Three: RUN full-speed toward the diving board, fully embracing an obsessive compulsion. "Eyes on the prize, Violet, eyes on the prize."

Step Four: Take a most daring and dramatic leap with lots of flare and little finesse.

Step Five: Look to see if there’s water in the pool and if it’s deep enough, wonder at the water temperature, question my swimming skills, look for a life guard, all while plunging toward my fate.

Step Six: PANIC as not all of the conclusions drawn during Step Four were ideal.

Step Seven: Realize it is too late now, close my eyes, hold my breath, cringe and pray just before impact.

This Seven-Step process was graciously applied to selecting a degree program, getting married, adopting my son, carrying and delivering my daughter, buying both our houses, and is currently in process regarding spending a year in France.

The good news: It is familiar and I know what to expect.

The bad news: I am still not quite getting the order of events down in their proper sequence.

Therefore, just in case you are someone perusing this blog to see how someone else took on an adventure abroad, you may want to read just as much for the purpose of learning what NOT to do as what to do.