Mon Aventure

Two whole weeks have passed since my last post.  Why haven't I written?  So much has happened in the last two weeks.  I've made new friends, I've been on a sight seeing tour, and I've plunged into my art career with zest and energy.  Chris and I have settled into the daily routine of life and we love our new life in Switzerland.  It's every bit as exciting and full of adventure as I hoped.  There's so much to see and do here and I don't want to miss a thing.

I haven't yet been inspired to share with you more of the obvious... living in a new country is exciting.  I'm willing for you to continue this journey with me and see all the excitement, so long as you have a true picture of reality.

We all have our demons, the sorrows that haunt us and the battles we fight in our heart.  I didn't shirk mine when I sailed away to Switzerland.  Mine didn't need a ticket to get here on a plane and they didn't need a stamp to pass through customs. 

I didn't come here to run away from my problems.  That wasn't the goal.  I face problems.  I don't run from them.  But when I got here and everything was so exciting, I did experience the hope that the dark days I experienced in the U.S. wouldn't come and rob my joy here in Switzerland.  It's easy to take your homeland for granted and not fight very hard when gloomy days enter your heart.  I didn't feel I was missing much.  But in a new country, it's obvious that there's so much to do and so much to see and our time here is limited.  I don't want to miss the good stuff while being weighed down by the bad stuff.  The temptation is just as strong in Switzerland as it is in the U.S.  When I get back to the U.S. I won't take it for granted as often as I did before.

What feuls my dark days?  Use your imagination.  What feuls your dark days?  Usually it's silly stuff.  Like my husband is leaving me here in a foreign country to go on a business trip for 4 days and I dread the lonely nights. 

You men might relate to this next one...  on Friday, Chris' computer crashed and it put him in a sour mood all day Saturday.

Most of us have a least one or two big sorrows.  Griefs that we rate as more worthy by the standards we've created.  For me it's 9 years of infertility. 

Yep, when I started this blog, I didn't think I was going to mention this subject, but there it is... an uncomfortable topic for all of us. 

If I didn't name it, you wouldn't believe me if I told you I have sorrows that rate as high as yours.  To borrow a concept from a recent Chris Rice song, life has clearly given me lemonade in almost every way.  So why do we spend a day or two here and there fixating on the one or two lemons?  Is it our inate longing for the past perfection of the Garden of Eden, and our hope and yearning for a future perfection in Eternity with God?  I hope so.  This sure puts us in a better light than to say we're just a bunch of ungrateful people, ungrateful for all the good stuff and never satisfied.

How much grieving is healthy?  This is a question I haven't answered yet. 

There is a time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.  - Ecclesiastes

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. - Matthew

Jesus wept with Mary and Martha.

But I don't like to mourn.  I like to dance.  So when is it time to mourn and when is it time to dance?  When does mourning become unfruitful wallowing?

Half of Isaiah is filled with the delight God takes in turning our mourning into dancing.  Those who are willing can be like a well watered garden in a sun scorched (barren) land.

So when do we mourn and when do we dance?  I don't think there is a simple answer to this question.  It probably goes back to my post in December entitled Immanuel.  Those who are listening for His direction, will know what time it is. 

Shhhhhh.  I'm trying to listen.

It was Wednesday, February 3'd and the sun was out for the first time since Saturday... the last time we took a long walk to the park. Perfect timing! I headed out for the park with Bear and stopped to see the swans along the way. Actually, it was out of our way to see the swans and we spent the majority of the afternoon with the swans instead of at the park.

View across Lake Geneva at the mouth of the river.

Eaux Vives Park

Enjoying a snack in the park.

Oh, the sun feels SO good. Better enjoy it while you can, because it's about to set.

Returning to our hotel apartment. This is the balcony off our bedroom. I close these shudders every night so the sun doesn't wake me up too early.

Weekend ski trip to Chamonix, Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in France. This is us waiting for a bus, trying to figure out whether it would be faster to walk or ride the bus to the bottom of the ski slope.

After 8 years of not skiing, our legs were jello after only 4 runs. We took a break in one of the many lodges for hot chocolate. This is Chris in the gondola, pretending to be cold. It wasn't bitterly cold actually.

We made it! We're here in Switzerland and the marathon is over. Life can run at a normal pace for a while.

We're settled into our snug temporary accommodations (a hotel apartment) while we look for a permanent apartment to rent.

It's been one week since we landed in Geneva. The plane ride was difficult as usual, but if I expect it to be bad, it's not quite as bad. One enormous mercy was that the flight was not full. I found 3 seats empty, took a Unisom (sleeping pill) and lay down. Most of the time it wasn't actual sleep. It was a weird zone-like state that made the trip go by faster. Probably two hours of actual sleep. This wouldn't be the best way to go if I was sitting up crammed into one seat the whole way. But it worked for that trip. I'm learning to come prepared for multiple options and be flexible.

We landed, slept and went back to the airport to collect my dog on Wednesday morning. I don't think I told most of you how very stressed I was about my dog arriving safely. I was slightly embarrassed about it. This was my number one concern over any other challenge regarding this entire move. My dog has never been on a plane before and I've never had to entrust him to the baggage handlers, trusting them not to lose him like they lose so much other luggage. Perhaps they are more careful with animals, but whatever. I was worried. Would customs accept him at the border? It was a tangle of potential hazards.

I could not have been more relieved to see him and he was even more relieved to see me. He was shaking like a leaf, and his nose was bloody from where he'd been pressing it up against the grate, probably the whole time. He was let out to pee and eat in London and spend the night. Who knows what he experienced there. I'm guessing it was that last short flight from London to Geneva that did him in, when he had no puppy Prozac and was beside himself in the cargo hold, not knowing where he was or what was happening to him.

At any rate, he arrived in one piece and I'm thanking God. I love that little dog. He has been with me for 8 years, on my good days and on my bad days.

All the way to the airport to pick him up I practiced a beautifully effective technique I've learned. (Thank you, Tymi!) Every time I caught myself being anxious over whether I would get him back, I breathed in deeply to the bottom of my stomach with a prayer and petition that he would arrive safely. I held my breath and then slowly let it out on an exhale, at the same time letting go of my desire, trusting God with it, envisioning that I would be ok if I didn't get my dog back. This works SO well for me, because when I worry, it creates an actual physical tension in my stomach. I'm certain I'm not the only one. Perhaps some of you experience the same thing. Try the breath and prayer combo technique. It's fantastic.

Anyway, Bear is here and we've been having a great time. Life in the city of Geneva is requiring adjustments for both of us. Bear has to wear a special collar so that he doesn't tug at me when I'm walking him and so that he doesn't jump with excitement at every person that walks by. He fussed about it at first, but adjusted to it much faster than most of the young dogs in the video I watched. I was so proud of him. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I say that's not always true. If your dog is smart and you have a good relationship with him, you can teach him something new at any age.

He also has to wear a bark collar so that he doesn't drive the neighbors crazy every time a caterpillar passes by the front door. It took only 3 experimental barks before he figured out that he shouldn't bark if he didn't want to get zapped. Some dogs take days or weeks. Again, I'm so proud of him.

I too, have adjustments to make. I have to walk him at least 3 times a day. These are short walks just to pee and poop. Nonetheless, it was so much easier when I could just let him out the back door and into the large backyard. I also have to take him to the park several miles away twice a week so he finally has a place to be let off the leash and run and get exercise. Actually, I don't have to do this, but I want to. I'd go crazy if I was him and could never run free. Chris and I took Bear to the park for the first time on Saturday. It's a gorgeous park I discovered alone on my first visit to Geneva and I was eager to show the park to Chris as well. It's a rare and special place in the middle of the city. It's enormous! You actually feel like you've stepped out into the country. You can't see buildings or hear city sounds. It's amazing.

I was bummed when I got there and realized I didn't bring my camera. I wanted to take pictures for you. Chris and Bear and I were so happy. The sun was out for the first time all week. It is gray and icy cold almost every day here at this time of year. I'll take pictures next time it's an idyllic morning at the park.

Overall, Chris and I love it here. We love the routine and rituals that this city follows. Businesses and shop keepers close for lunch. If you arrive at this time, you just have to wait. Furthermore, on Friday and Saturday night everything closes early. Retailers are not worked to death so that they can be at everyone else's beck and call 24 hours a day. Restaurants look dead except at the normal lunch hour if it's a "lunch place" and open at 6:30pm if it's a "dinner place." Sunday it's a ghost town almost everywhere, unless you could have laser vision into churches or homes. By Sunday afternoon a few parks do bustle with families walking their children, or people like me, walking their dogs, or young adults playing games. This Sunday I stumbled across a park with an ice skating rink. Families were enjoying hot chocolate and children were laughing in the small skating rink in front of a restaurant. The front of the restaurant was all glass so you could sit inside and watch your children skate.

Even the grocery store isn't open on Sunday. My new ritual is to go grocery shopping on Monday for the week and again on Thursday or Friday for the weekend to be sure we have fresh vegetables on Sunday. Right now I am forced to walk to the grocery store, and will probably continue to do so even when my car arrives, (driving in the city is more bother than it's worth) so my aim is to buy only that which won't be a nightmare to carry home. Food is expensive here. It's not hard to go home with only 2 shopping bags of food for 4-5 days. I LOVE this. It's eliminating waste from my old habits. I can name every single item of food I currently have in the kitchen and exactly what meal it will be used for in the next 4 days. This is such a thrill to me.
I DO admit to having one large bag of rice in case an ice storm hits and I can't go out for a week. =) This is my only "store house." I don't know if the Swiss people do this, but in America we certainly think this way, and it's my little nod to this kind of preparation.

Joseph prepared for the years of famine. Yes, I feel relieved now that I just remembered that.

Anyway, back to the rituals. I LOVE the routines and rituals here. I'll shop on Monday and Friday. I'll do laundry on Tuesday and I'll take Bear to the park on Wednesday. I'm not sure what other day Bear and I will go to the park. That might vary. Sometimes Chris will go with us on Saturday. At other times I might take him on Friday if Chris and I have plans for the weekend, like skiing an hour away in the Alps.

Guess who can go into the stores and on the trains and even into many restaurants with me? My dog! Geneva is the most dog friendly city. I've never heard of such a place. They love dogs here.

Bear is not ready to go into the shops yet. Or rather, I'm not ready to take him. He needs a little more experience with the new lead collar. I need to be sure he's not going to start frantically scratching at it and cause onlookers to worry about him and my "dog training skills." Dogs are welcome everywhere because there is a high expectation for their good behavior. I might take him to the laundry mat with me tomorrow. We'll test that and see how it goes. We don't have a washer/dryer in our hotel apartment and are loath to pay the hotel to do it. Much too expensive. It's been almost 9 years since I've had to do laundry at a laundry mat. I actually think it's going to be kind of nifty to tell you the truth. Again, a new routine.

Rosetta Stone arrived in the mail today. I'm SO excited to start learning French. That will have to find a spot in my weekly schedule. In the past I've never had this sort of schedule before. I've flown by the seat of my pants and did things in a random fashion. I'm sure I'll find ways to be spontaneous and keep my spirit free, so to speak, but I'm enjoying this new routine thoroughly.

Tomorrow I plan to order art supplies so I can begin work on 2 paintings I've been asked to create by people back in the U.S. I love the idea that my life in the U.S. and my life in Switzerland are woven together.

On Friday or Saturday night (I can't remember which it was) I pulled out my scrapbook stuff and did a page of my family at New Year's '08/'09. That was spontaneous. I surprised myself by doing this. I would have expected that I would need more than 4 days to be in Switzerland and settle in before I would have the time or energy to think about my scrapbooking hobby. But it met a need I must have had to bridge this new life with my life in the U.S. Through the years I've taken long breaks from scrapbooking at odd times when I would have expected to have lots of time for it. And I turn to it at odd times too.

Chris and I played the "train" game... a board game we love... and we've been watching re-runs of MASH on my computer in the evening. In the midst of a world that is new and exciting, but potentially uncomfortable for us, we've allowed a few old comforts and familiars in places where it seems to fit.

On Sunday morning we visited our first church in Geneva. We loved it. We felt right at home. It’s amazing that we found this group of people so quickly upon arriving in a new country. The internet is a marvel. I was moved to tears by the realization that I can be this far from home and still feel at home. To be with Jesus is to be at home in a deeper way than any affinity I have for South West Virginia, the land of my birth. (And I have an unsually strong affinity, more than most people to the place they were born.) It’s even deeper than being with blood family... to be with the body of Christ is to truly be at home, in any country, in any place. Represented in that room, were 200 people from all over the globe…. Russia, China, Australia, the UK, Germany, the United States, Africa, Latin America and more. We all came together for the same reason. We love Jesus and we want to worship Him with others who also love Him. It was near the top of the best “church” experiences I’ve ever had. Granted, my experience is small. There are 10 English speaking churches in the city of Geneva. We want to visit most of them before we “settle down” in any one place. We want to use this opportunity to meet lots of people in Geneva and not miss something important. The temptation to return next Sunday to this Evangelical Baptist church was so strong. And they were eager to have us return. It’s everything we are comfortable with… lively, heartfelt music. Agreed with the sermon wholeheartedly. Was stirred by the Spirit to personal growth. And we weren’t the only ones wearing jeans to church!!! SO key. =)And the things that were different were an absolute delight, such as the pastor’s British accent and British humor.I’m sure we’ll make lasting friends here and we might even camp out here for a bit and call it our “home base” for a while, but we don’t want to miss other believers in Geneva and other experiences that might teach us something. We even want to dress up to go to the Presbyterian Church where John Calvin preached a few of his famous sermons. I think it’s called the “church of Scotland.” I haven’t talked to Chris about this yet, but I’m even curious to visit the Episcopalian church and the Catholic Church. I’m told that Geneva is primarily Catholic. I’d like to understand who these people are and what makes them tick. Maybe if we learn French the church options will open up to us. Oh what an exciting thought! To worship God in another language.

At the same time I'm making new friends, I've also talked with some of you over the phone. The 6 hour time difference isn't much of a problem after all. In fact, when I couldn't sleep one night I called my Mom. It was 11:30pm her time and she's usually up at that time, and it was 5:30am my time. Yet another new experience we would never have had otherwise. I've woken up and couldn't sleep at times throughout my whole life, but I've never called my Mom. I didn't want to wake her up. After talking with her for a half hour I fell fast asleep quickly. Once again praise God for the internet and the fact that I can live in Switzerland and have a Virginia phone number!

Once again, I've kept you for long enough. There's so much more to tell you. But it will have to wait for another day.

Bon Voyage!

It's been a long, productive day.

Chris is working in Switzerland this week and I'm here in Florida preparing my house for the moving sale I'm having while he's gone. After two weeks of sorting through all our belongings, the task is finished. Everything is laid out and I'm ready for people to come walk through here and be delighted by the surplus of useful items for free (or at a great price).

It's 9:00pm and I'm snuggled in my bed, writing to you. My white, fluffy, Eskimo dog is curled up near me on Chris' side of the bed. I said I might not have time to write over Christmas and then over the 3 weeks leading up to our move, but things are coming together and I do have a brief minute to relax. It's been a marathon, but it's almost over. I tend to get things done in advance and leave myself time to breathe towards the end. I hate scrambling to meet a deadline.

Besides, I simply must tell you about the good fortune I encountered while picking an International Moving Company.....

I explored the internet and picked 5 companies to compare pricing. Days later, and many phone conversations later, my mind was boggled by all that goes into an International move. Paperwork, clearing Customs, decisions over various options..... I was overwhelmed by it all and certain I was bound to make a miss-step somewhere.

The very first time I spoke with Phil Watts from Suddath, I hung up the phone and told my husband I was certain Phil was the man for the job and I wanted to use that company. After that, waiting for the final quotes to come in from each bidder was just a nuisance. I had my heart set on doing business with the man whose voice was identical to James Harriot. Not only did his cheerful voice and hearty laugh put me at ease, but he seemed to have the entire thing under control, unlike other personalities who made the whole experience stressful from start to finish.

Praise God, Phil's quote was competative and acceptable. I can't believe my good fortune in finding Phil Watts with the amazing accent and good humor, who offers door to door service. He'll be available through the entire process until we find our apartment 3 to 6 months from now.

If you've never listened to a James Harriot story, (your friendly neighborhood Veterinarian from the English Countryside) pick it up on audio book the next time you're at the library. You'll fall in love too... trust me.

I'm still here. I'm still moving to Switzerland. 17 days remain til the final move.

I'm peeking at you over a sea of belongings and boxes up to my head. Literally. I'm selling or giving away almost three quarters of our belongings. It's a delightful, liberating experience. I emptied out the front room of our house and have completely re-filled it to the brim with items to be sold or given away. I've run out of room in there and my give-away piles have extended to the hall and the diningroom and livingroom. I'm sincerely hoping my friends will come through here and take it all off my hands. The rest will go to the Salvation Army or some such place.

Sometime today or in the next 17 days, join me in this liberating experience. Dance with me in this delight. Even if all you do is go through one closet or even just one box... join me in this amazing experience of traveling life's journey a little lighter and less weighed down by stuff that will return to the dust.

I’m 38,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean as I write this post. So far, the ride traveling West is easier than the ride traveling East. Making the long part of the trip during the day is far better than making the trip in the middle of the night. Nonetheless, I’ll be losing a full night of sleep by the time this 18 hour journey is over, if I don’t take a sleeping pill towards the end of the trip. We’ll see.

For the moment, I feel more compelled to write than sleep. As soon as our second plane touches down in Orlando, I will hit the ground running. Every spare moment between now and January 25th will be a piece of gold. I spent the first few hours on this plane making lists and lists and lists on the only paper available: the backs of our printed flight itineraries. Lists of all the things I have to accomplish if I want to return to Switzerland at the same time as my husband. I’m not sure how many times I will be able to write to you between now and then. So. Let’s enjoy this last leisurely moment together for over a month, shall we?

Don’t get me wrong… I’m going to enjoy this next month. I’m one of those weird people who LOVES packing. And I love a good challenge. Most of you know that I’m an artist. Artists are often stereo-typed as scatterbrained and messy. I dabble in messy clutter at times, and love that carefree feeling occasionally, but at my core, I adore order and organization. It’s the reason my painting career started with Realism and gradually branched out into Impressionism. For those of you who don’t know what the heck I’m talking about, check out my website at: http://www.artfortheimagination.com/

After only 15 years of painting in the U.S., can you believe I already have the opportunity to travel, explore Europe and find inspiration in another country!? This is an opportunity of which most artists can only dream. I once painted my imagination of Greece, but my Greek paintings will be far richer after I’ve been there in person. I’m “dizzy with gratitude,” to borrow a favorite quote.

I love the United States, but by leaving her for a while, I hope to gain more perspective and appreciation. I will also gain first-hand knowledge of, and appreciation for her brothers and sisters around the world.

I’m just scratching the surface of Switzerland and I’m already proud of her. I’ve learned things I didn’t know. On Saturday, Chris and I experienced our first celebration day of Escalades, a Swiss national holiday. I have pictures to show you and I’m bursting with desire to tell you about it, but I’m going to wait until I’ve researched the subject more thoroughly.

The most important matter resolved this week is the issue of where to live.

Our first three months, approximately, will be spent in a hotel until we secure an apartment (flat, as they call it). The rental availability rate in Geneva is less than 1%. It’s a popular place. We will have no choice but to use a relocation company to speed up the process, avoid mistakes and even then, a minimum 3 month wait is expected. Chris’ company is taking care of our hotel stay. That is a blessing. The part that was uncertain was which hotel to stay in during those first 3 months. Towards the end of our visit, it became apparent that the lovely hotel we were staying in this week also offers longer stay units and is within the budget. Just in the nick of time! We both heaved an enormous sigh of relief, and asked the front desk for a look at those units. We wanted to have a peek at the place we’d be staying to have any clue what to bring and what not to bring. While the hotel apartment is only temporary, it’s roughly close to the size of whatever place we will end up renting long term. We knew that European flats are smaller than we are used to in the US, but we wanted to see just how small, in order to make more informed decisions about what to sell , give away and keep.

We didn’t look inside of any long term rental flats. One week is not enough time to get that process started. I did, however, tour the majority of Geneva, to get a feel for which neighborhoods to focus our search in, keeping both Chris and my interests at heart.

We would both enjoy living in the Eaux Vives district or the Old Town. Both offer historic Geneva charm.

This is a picture from Eaux Vives. It’s close to the water and my swans, who, by the way, are not mean. We’ve all heard that swans are mean, but these swans will gently eat food from your hand. I saw a woman feeding them and I intend to bring bread next time.

But will he let me pet his head?

We’ll see. I’m told that swans only attack if they think you are threatening their babies. Understandable. I’m sure there have been many unfortunate misunderstandings. And I’m sure there’s the occasional swan who is simply having a bad day without reason. I can relate to that as well.

“Any animal who mates for life is enchanting,” said my Mom.

Back to Eaux Vives..... It’s a 10 min. walk, or a short tram ride from work for Chris, and there is an enormous, enclosed park nearby where I can take my dog and let him off the leash. The park is enchanting. Trees are so tall and thick along the outside so you feel as though you’ve just stepped into the country.

The Old Town is another lovely option, also close to work and close to the water. This section is exactly what I picture when I think of Europe. It’s the stuff we’ve all seen in paintings. I’ll let the following pictures speak for themselves.

This photo is one of several entrances to the old city.

I’m assuming these used to be used as horse troughs?

I bought a charming, pocket sized, hardback French/English dictionary at this Librarie. Bookstores are called Libraries.

This water fountain is the official “Center” of Geneva.

I LOVE the pharmacies in the old town, still true apothecaries, with old exposed beam ceilings and medicines stored in real wood cabinets.

Moss growing on the stairway leading up to the most magnificent building in town.

Walking back down the stone stairway.

You can see why we would enjoy living in the Old Town. However, there is quite a bit of tourist traffic through here all the time and getting in and out involves huffing and puffing up and down cobblestone hills. There are tradeoffs with each neighborhood.

One option some people love, is to live just outside the city in a town called Nyon, a 15 min. bullet train ride to work. It's a 45 min. commute when you include walking to and from the train. On Saturday, Chris and I rode out there to check it out. Beautiful countryside and distinctly Swiss farms, neighborhoods and estates wizzed smoothly past on the bullet train. The minute we stepped off the train, we wanted to get right back on and return “home” to the city. It was the strangest thing. Both Chris and I felt it….. a sense of belonging in Geneva proper. This came as a surprise to us. Neither of us have ever lived in the city. We’ve always been town or country people and we’ve never had a serious longing to live in a big city. So why do we feel we belong in the city right now? Only time will tell.

We boarded our plane for the United States, looking forward to spending Christmas with family in Virginia, but also looking forward to our return to Geneva in a month. We already have a sense of belonging in Geneva. Isn’t that amazing? On the one hand we feel strange and foreign and on the other hand we feel it’s exactly where we’re supposed to be right now.

Destiny even set me up with an American friend from the mid-West. Her fiance works for the same company as my husband and I met her at a work Christmas party this week. We were all supposed to come wearing fun hats. An immediate bond formed with her when she walked in wearing a Chicago Cubs baseball cap. You’d have to be in Geneva for a few days to know how out of place a baseball cap is, let alone an American baseball cap. I have no interest in sports whatsoever, but she was AMERICAN. In so many ways, our lives are opposites. She works at Proctor and Gamble and I’m an Artist. If we met in the states, it’s entirely possible we would never have felt any special connection. But we both share the same story… the wild, fun and scary experience of moving from the U.S. to Switzerland. She had loads of helpful advice for me since she went through this just a year ago. When I’m in the states, I often get caught up in how different I am from this person or that person. But throw us all in a foreign country together and so many externals get stripped away and we find that we have much more in common than we realized. Being born in America comes with a mindset, like being born in one family verses another.

Speaking of friends, living at La Cour des Augustins for the first few months means I will get to see my friend with the curly strawberry blond hair in the breakfast room on weekends. His name is Simon. I don’t think I told you that before.

This morning before hailing a taxi to the airport, Chris and I ate in the breakfast room and learned lots of new things from Simon. I proudly held up my glass of water and said, “Eew?” The word for water in French is “eau.” I wanted to know if I was pronouncing it right. There was a moment of profound silence and then he said, “Ooh.” Ooh is the correct pronunciation. We both laughed. I have no idea what I said when I butchered it so terribly, but I have a feeling it is considered a bad word in French, or at least something VASTLY and hilariously different than what I meant. He started to explain what I had said and then thought better of it. Thank God for a cheerful and understanding breakfast man who speaks many languages and is eager to be one of my teachers.

I will be buying Rosetta Stone online first thing when I wake up in the morning.

Three days have elapsed since my last post.

Every day I waited, listening and wondering what I would be inspired to share with you next. "How long will it be til my next post?"

A few of you are out there, just as eager for the next post as me..... like my mother, dying for an update on the whereabouts of her little girl. Others are anxious to know if we've found a place to live, a flat to rent, etc.

I thought my next post would be about my apartment search and more about my exploration of the city. I've got a heap of material piling up to share with you. I'm going to have to sort through pictures and thoughts to find the best stuff to give you.

All of that is still coming very soon, but this blog would be empty if I didn't share with you what happened to me yesterday evening. I need to pause and give this the weight it deserves.

Yesterday I reached the point in this trip where I had my fill of exploring the city alone. Not only was I alone during the day, but for two days in a row my husband had to work late into the night at the office, leaving me cozy in the room. The first night it was fun. A change of pace. Many of you know how much I love my independance and alone time. For me to have my fill of alone time is a tremendous accomplishment.
By the third day of the trip I was getting tired of it, but hanging in there. Practicing a handful of French phrases out on the street does not satisfy the need for social interaction. By the time Chris came back to the room each night, I was babbling a mile a minute in English.

By the fourth day (yesterday) I was completely fed up with the amount of alone time. I could feel a female adult temper tandrum coming on and I didn't want to go there. It was 5:00pm. I skyped Chris and asked if it was going to be another late night, trying to brace myself. He estimated an earlier return of 7:30pm. I was ready to make him sign it in blood, but I didn't go there either.

I turned to the computer to send an e-mail to my Mom. God has provided for me countless times through her company, even across the miles. I wrote about 2 paragraphs and about 400 words before it happened. It was good stuff too. I was venting all my loneliness, filling her in on everything I just told you. It was when I got to this next part that it happened..................
I said, "Ginger (my French tutor when I was 8 years old) e-mailed and told me that some of her best times with God were when she first moved to France, and felt alone and isolated. Mom, would you please pray for me that I would write to Him more often instead of just writing to you?"

That's when the computer shut off.

Computers shut off all the time for various scientific reasons. It's not plugged in. The battery died. It overheated. Etc. I checked everything. Everything was fine. I pushed the power button. It started to boot up and then turned off again. I tried this several times with the same result. I was starting to get the picture. So I said, "fine." I turned away from the computer, wondering what to do next. The room was very empty without my computer. It was dark and cold outside, so I wasn't about to go out there. Then I saw the TV. That monstrous thing that my husband loves so much. (Yes, I see the irony and my hypocrisy.) I had not turned it on once in 5 days. But I thought, "what's the harm? God can speak to me through something on the television and voices talking on TV would help with the lonliness."

I turned on the television. It was on for about 5 seconds and it shut off. "What in the world," I said aloud. All other types of electricity in the room were working fine. And my computer is not on the same outlet network as the TV. I turned it on again. It shut off. I smiled. This sort of thing has never happened to me. It's happened to other people but not to me. I was pleased, but a little perturbed. I looked around the room. "What?" I said indignately, "Am I going to hear an audible voice next? This is nuts," I said aloud. Or something to that effect. I might not have said "this is nuts." I was feeling a little too reverant for that. I sat down on the bed. "So, what do you want me to do next?" I said. I got the sense that I could do whatever I wanted and He would stop me if it didn't serve the need of the moment. He just wanted my attention. In a sense, I had talked to Him through my e-mail to Mom and told Him I wanted to learn how to BE WITH Him. He was giving me what I asked for.

What I did in the next hour is besides the point. The variety of actions and stillness that met the need in that moment will not be the same every time I have a moment like that with Him. Over the course of the next hour I lost my lonliness and found fullness in His company. I could have read a bible (I didn't, because I didn't have one with me. I've been relying on the online bible.) I could have reviewed scriptures and sayings hidden in my heart. I could have danced or listened to music. I could have riden the tram to the Paquis district to give cash to a woman on the street because I didn't have any cash on me to give her the other day. I could have done a hundred different things.

I could even have watched TV, if it had been working.

The point is that I needed to listen more closely to Him. I needed to find my fullness in Him. I do listen to Him. He has always directed my steps on some level. But last night I decided to walk closer. To listen even more carefully.

I'm reminded of all the couples I see walking arm in arm down the streets of Geneva. It's been refreshing to be in a city where the cultural norm is for a woman to take her husband's arm as she walks down the street. I love doing that with Chris, but I feel silly doing that in an American city where it stands out as so old fashioned.

I'm getting sidetracted. The point is, I took Jesus' arm last night and I moved in a step closer to Him.

I know, I know... He's everywhere. He's beside me, He's within me, He's all encompassing. It's confusing. But I like this analogy for today.

The danger in sharing this story with you is that you might be jealous and desire to have an identical experience. You might want God to turn things off in a spooky way. My heart has been in that exact same place when I've heard others tell a story like this.

But God shouldn't need to do weird things to get my attention. I want to learn to give Him my full attention every moment of every day, when everything seems normal.

(My computer is working just fine now, by the way, as you can tell. No explanation.) If you have a scientific explanation for what happened there, DON'T write and even attempt to burst my bubble. Whether God used science or not is besides the point.)

I shared this story with you because it's an important part of MY little story. The discussion of renting a flat would ring hollow without this account.

Before we move on to anything else, I want us to stop and savor this moment.

Immanuel.

God with us.

He's right there in the room with you. Did you look up from your computer? Yep, I caught you!

The only thing I want you to take away from this blog post is that He's REAL. And He's HERE. Most of you already know this. But are you going to ENJOY Him today?

Thank you to everyone who posted comments. Thanks for the encouragement. You are all so dear!