Mattresses and Memories

Let me tell you a story of a young girl who was lost and broken. She moved into a new house and said goodbye to a dear friend and an old life. And every night in her new house, she mourned and wept and pressed deeply into her bed as if to press into another world far from the pain. And one night, amidst streaming tears and a snotty nose, she heard God whisper, I'm here. And she pressed so deeply into her bed that night that she found herself pressed into the very heart of God, the very arms of Christ, never the same.

I sold that bed today.

It's funny how different things affect us during the moving process. I never thought once that I would mourn for a bed. Yet here I am, wiping back tears and trying to feel it as if it were alive and could tell me things, tell me how many tears and laughs and secrets were shared with roommates and best friends on its soft, cushy surface.

I remember my mother telling me once that a bed is a sacred place. I've always considered that statement in regards to marriage. But truly, it goes beyond that. A bed is where you are most vulnerable, unconscious in your dreams. A bed is where you go when all the world is grey and wrong. A bed is where you first see the sunlight of every day. A bed is where you feel the sweet reward of rest after a long day's work. A bed is where you find quiet and a settling of the soul. A bed is a very special place.

I know it may sound funny, and perhaps you may think I'm being dramatic. But losing this bed feels almost like losing a friend, with very sweet memories woven deep into its every curve and edge. I experienced God in the most radical and intimate way over the past three years. Starting that night I felt Him hold me, in this bed.

I can only hope another little girl somewhere, perhaps also lost and broken, will find Him there, too.

Update:

Another way that being in God's family is so amazing-- when this family came to pick up the bed, they asked to pray for me. So right then my mom and the three of us joined hands and prayed in my cluttered half-packed apartment. It's like I can't go anywhere without getting prayer for my trip!

When you tell people you're moving to Paris...

A hidden treasure in the whole process of moving is how much you learn about your friends and family when you tell them you are moving (in particular, moving to Paris). What people don't realize is how much their reactions reveal about themselves and their view of the world.

Since making the big announcement that I am moving to Paris,  I have found that I can categorize most people into two camps: the dreamers and the realists.

The dreamers say things like:
"You are definitely going to meet your hot French husband over there."
"You are never going to come back."
"I am totally gonna come visit you."

The realist say things like:
"Do you even speak French?"
"I could never do that."
"Have you told your current job?"

Both have their pros and cons. The dreamers will promise the world, then disappear on delivery day. The realists can come off an unsupportive and bubble-bursters.

I definitely land in the dreamers camp. Caution to the wind, and what is bureaucracy? When they think of Paris, they see the tourist sites, espresso at the outdoor cafe, and of course, everyone in love. The realists are already calculating the cost of such a trip, and how on earth you are going to get all your paperwork done in time? They are quick to reassure themselves of their contentedness in their routine schedules and familiar grocery lists, and they ask "helpful questions" hoping you will reconsider career suicide.

Now there are occasional exceptions to these camps:

*The dreamers-turned-realists.
Usually older, they wanted to travel but instead chose the American dream, and ended up with a mortgage and PTO meetings. (Families are wonderful, don't get me wrong. It just makes travel immensely more complicated and expensive). "Do it while you're young; you'll never have this time back," they will croon, with a sad far away look in their eyes. Not regret really, just wondering how life may have been different...

*The people with no cultural interest whatsoever.
They probably have lived in the same town their whole lives and frankly could care less about your little life escapade, because why on earth would you want to leave America? They'll respond with a "Wow, that's cool" before promptly turning the conversation to football and hunting season.

While some people might get defensive about their decisions to move when confronted, I find it much more enjoyable to look at these different reactions as gifts, a new way to get to know the people God has placed in our lives. Travel is not for everyone, nor is living in another culture. Love the people your given, even when they don't process your big move the way you wish they would. And remember... you're moving to PARIS.