The Rubber is Meeting the Road

We are starting to get to the part in the process that makes David's and my heart skip a beat. We must now start paying for things that will not be reimbursed if things fall apart and we don't end up going. With our tight budget, this is where it gets downright serious.

This week we shelled out $50 for the required criminal background checks on the two of us. God forbid we pose a threat to France with bringing a previous record of minor infractions onto their turf.

Then we discovered the same consulate who needs to make sure we aren't criminals might require us to get "family repatriation insurance" to the tune of $472. What in the world is that you ask? It is insurance that guarantees any costs associated with transporting a dead body from France to the US is covered in the unlikely and untimely event one of us should die while on French soil. Seriously? I'm a follow of Jesus here people. I'll be too busy feasting at The Banquet to care what you do with this mortal shell. I certainly wouldn't need to fly first class back to Boston.

Lastly, we made our appointment for our visa applications (May 12). Which will most likely cost the four of us a total of $400. Not to mention the costs of traveling to Boston and back for the day.

So here we are. $1022 commitment into something that might not pan out. Talk about an exercise of our faith. Especially when we are told by many that our visas should come through without any problem and who we should be worrying about is the family from France being granted ones by our country. Terrific.

Thankfully, my dear friend had the perfect remedy for that problem: They can just fly to Mexico and walk on over. Perfect! That sounds much safer than trusting God will grant them favor with the US embassy in Paris. Whew. Boy, am I glad we have this for our "Plan B." Now I can rest easy.

It's All About the Accent

I'm so impressed with David. He has faithfully been studying up on his French far more consistently than anyone else in this house. He's had me stick labels throughout the house; "la table" on our dining room table, "le chaise" on his chair, "le bureau" stuck to our desk, "l'ordinateur" attached to the computer...

And barely a single conversation goes by without his attempt at recalling a french word or asking, "how do you say..." I should be encouraged by this. Not only because it shows how engaged he is with this adventure and how much he has embraced it, but because typically I know the answers to his French questions. Sadly though, I don't think very many French people are going to be asking me, "what's the word for 'window.'" (It's fenetre, by the way.)

But this week, David posed the question of questions. A true "Erin Moment" if I've ever seen one. See, I've been known to ask some pretty dumb questions in my time. (And don't tell me there is no such thing as a dumb question. Oh, yes there is.) David's favorite dumb question of mine is probably from when we went to a Seattle Mariners game at Safeco Field. We were fully into the game when I looked around and asked where they post the diagram of the baseball diamond so you could see which bases had players on them and which didn't. I was dead serious. David and his brother-in-law looked at me and then looked at each other, eyebrows raised. David, leaned his head toward mine, put his arm around me, pointed to the field and in his most sincere voice said, "see the big baseball diamond on the field? You can just look there to find out who's on base." Then he and Mike promptly injured themselves from their fit of hysterics. They literally cried from laughing so hard.

I don't think anyone will ever top that moment as far as sincerely asking the most ludicrous. But this week, David's question to me was a pretty good attempt. "What's the French word for 'baguette?'" He made this question all the more hilarious because his pronunciation of "baguette" was so decidedly French. I thought he was making one of his eye-roll jokes. So, in a much less sincere way than his Safeco Field moment, I put on the dumbest expression I could muster and went, "uuhhhh, geeeeee, I dunno...maybe 'baguette?'" When he began to laugh with a similar intensity as with my baseball inquiry, I realized he, too, had been dead serious.

And this from the man whom I've told repeatedly, "if you don't know the word in French, just try saying the English word with a French accent. Odds are you will probably be right."

No News is Boring News

I have no news. I hate the fact that I have no news. It's been two weeks of life as usual around here and it feels oddly unusual.

We are essentially stuck waiting for the end of this month to roll around, because P&S can't fully commit until then. Assuming they are still a go by the end of next week, we will then need to finalize our exchange contract and settle on a tentative departure date so that we can apply for our visas. Right now, I feel like there isn't any point in doing too much of the paperwork required for that until I know for certain we are going and when. So instead this week I have taken a look at all the household cleaning that needs to happen and devised a cleaning schedule which I am sure will work great for the next week or so, but will be speedily discarded once I can focus on something more exciting (like filing out paperwork). In theory my house will still end up moderately cleaner than it was before, so that's progress I guess.

Thank God for Holy Week and it's distractions. (What a horrible sentiment about the most important week of the Christian calendar!) How does the traditional Passover Seder end? With a shout from everyone, "Next Year in Jerusalem!"

I'll settle for France.

Friendship in France

I finished a lovely book today called "French By Heart," by Rebecca Ramsey about her family's four years spent living in Auvergne. It was just what I needed to read to excite my senses as she described the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of La Belle France. I was giddy with anticipation for our year there until I read these words on page 190 near the very end of her tale;

Looking back, I feel pretty foolish. I had fallen in love with France and thought a real French friend would be proof that France loved me back. So, it wasn't to be. So what? What did it matter if all my French friends were the disenchanted ones, the ones who complained about the lack of bike lanes and the dog poop, the ones who appreciated smiling and the ability to be a little optimistic every now and then, even though it made them look naive?

Moments after I read these words I held the brand-new, first-ever issued passports for my two children for the first time ever. My excitement momentarily robbed, I rubbed my thumb over the gold letters stamped upon the leather-like blue cover contemplating my expectations and our reality. What am I looking to accomplish with this adventure? Do I imagine some French female will take the emotional risk to befriend a woman who is guaranteed to leave her in short time? Do I even want to take that risk myself?

It's not like I even have a choice. It is in my very nature to seek out kindred spirits wherever I go. So we will go and I will search. Whatever shall I find? God only knows. But it is His path I hope to follow and where it takes me is the best place - even if there is no "amie de mon couer" awaiting me. Thankfully, I can rest on the reality that my true ami de mon couer, mon mari, comes with me and will be with me until the very end of time. That, and a whole lot of Sisters will be faithfully awaiting my return.

I am truly blessed.

French on Fire

Tom Hank's character in "Cast Away" can eat his heart out. I didn't make Fire. I made French. And that, let me tell you, is WAY HARDER. (Heck, my 7 year old son can make fire with a magnifying glass and some dried leaves in our driveway for pete's sake.)

This week I wrote THREE whole letters in French and sent them off to various people -one of whom (P&S) I know speaks English, but I have no idea if the other two do. Early on in this process (like week one or two), in my over-eager excitement I researched homeschooling and churches in France. Ever since then I've been sitting on two contact names for a homeschooling group and a local church waiting for things to be more certain before I attempted to contact them.

Well, yesterday I couldn't take the wait any longer, so I totally caved and wrote to them. And guess what?! Not only did they both write back - but their emails indicated that my letters actually MADE SENSE TO THEM!!!! WOOOO-HOOOOOO!!!!!

Truth be told, I only understood one of the replies and had to use Google Translator to get the gist of the other one. This cracks me up. Oh well.

Gosh, I sure hope I see MARKED improvement by this time next year!