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.