my six favorite Parisians

Tonight we are fêteing my six-month mark of being back in France; it was the 15th of September that I arrived in this sunny, seventh-floor apartment and was greeted by a sweet Amélie-hug and shy children. Funny enough, we’re not breaking out the French specialties: Jonathan’s whipping up a Swiss fondue, and I couldn’t help but make a lemon meringue pie for such a springly day.
For the second set of sixes, I want to introduce my six most influential Parisians from the last six months.


UN: Jonathan Chapuis, man of the house. This guy’s a firecracker, a go-getter. My earliest real snapshot of Jonathan was upon my arrival at the airport. When I came out of customs, I found him in the waiting crowd, with Ionaelle on his shoulders. Peacefully, we made our way through the transit system, back to the apartment. In contrast, my second major impression of Jonathan was when he showed me the way to take Eliakim to school by bike, weaving through traffic and somewhat ignoring lights! I love about Jonathan that he’s a good dad, he loves his wife well, he works really hard but trusts God with his finances, and he thinks and works through issues regarding the Church.

DEUX: Amélie Chapuis, lady of the castle, mother of the children, and bombshell. This chick takes amazing care of her children—and by that I mean that she is available to them, physically and emotionally. One of my favorite things is to see her enter into the imaginary with the kids, especially if puppets are involved! All kinds of funny jokes and animal noises come out of her mouth. But what’s great is that Amélie is also a warrior, not afraid to confront forces natural or spiritual, and often does this in inspiring teamwork with her husband. All of these things she does with flair; I don’t know anyone that dresses like Amélie!

TROIS: Amber Korneliussen. Along with number four (below), this woman has saved my relational life here. I love the integrity, wisdom, and utter faithfulness that this woman displays in her commitment to her work with YWAM Paris; it’s been such a pleasure to come alongside this friend to many and share the ins and outs of being single, young, American ladies in Paris. There’s a sense of joy about Amber that’s like a deep spring, and you can see it when she smiles at kids on the Metro or takes in the absurdity of the touristy Christmas market.

QUATRE: Sarah Allen, British prayer warrior. This gal, with me in the ranks of au-pairdom, has really stunned me with her commitment to the family she works for, although her situation with them has been far from easy. Where most people would have quit and not looked back, Sarah has gotten serious about praying for them and serving them from an inner position of love and faith. I have benefited not only from her ability to sympathize with the complexities of au pair life, but also from her true encouragement and belief in me. In trio with these two ladies, there is a sweet togetherness but also a powerful co-laboring of the French terrain and a deep encouragement to take hold of our dreams here.

CINQ: Brendan Stater-West, future winemaker and current co-laborer in things of the earth. For two months, we’ve been hunkered into a dim corner of a coffee shop on the Seine, getting riled up and dorky over things like vermicomposting. Thanks in part to Brendan’s manly powers of initiation, faith, and support, we’ve successfully launched three wormy composts in apartments around the city and a vegetable garden at the bottom of his and his wife’s building. I am incredibly grateful for the good gift this guy is to me, not just because he’s someone who loves land, but because he’s a good man and a good friend.

SIX: Father, Son, Holy Spirit, my closest friend and deep heart companion. The one who knows me in Kansas City and in France, at birth and at 27 ½. So much of being here, these last months, has been private, internal, and I am infinitely thankful that he has been with me. Through my new friends here and through my experiences, he has taught me many, many things, and therefore I have discovered him in many new ways. Paris is a good place to be loved on by the Lord.

a series of celebratory sixes

This week marks six months since I arrived in Paris, clad in color and full of anticipation about the year to come. It’s been a bit turbulent at times, but full of life and goodness—certainly worth celebrating.

So, I propose a series of celebratory sixes.

First, six things I love about France. Honor with me this glorious Lady.

UN. France is, indeed, a lovely lady. This is a varied country, and nuanced. She’s smaller than Texas but with an astounding array of landscapes and accents, cheeses and wines, social classes and skin colors. The French have a heritage of creating and appreciating beauty that manifests itself all over the place. It’s evident in the artistic endeavors of its past, from Delacroix to Debussy, and in the impeccably dressed women on foot, bikes, scooters, and buses across Paris.

DEUX. In traditional French values, quality is important. This, in fact, lends to her sense of loveliness. French cuisine focuses on quality ingredients prepared simply, while the fashion, similarly, is simple items draped on a shapely but natural form. Women, you might notice, are unlikely to alter the texture of their hair or layer on makeup. On the other hand, they are likely to spend a good sum on a fine piece of clothing, which they will wear multiple times per week.

TROIS. Le français est une langue magnifique, profonde. Elle a toute une histoire et presque une âme. Je veux la parler tous mes jours. (French is a magnificent, deep language. It has a whole history to itself, and nearly a soul. I want to speak it all my days.)

QUATRE. The French are forthright. They don’t mince words and aren’t afraid to say what they think, whether it be about your poor capacity to speak their language, or about the poor capacity of their president to run a country. And they’ll say it up front, to your face. This is an intimidating quality, I’ll admit, but I’ll also admit that I’ve come to appreciate it deeply. It’s humorous sometimes, and also helpful, at times. Who doesn’t need a little humbling?

CINQ. Artisan baguettes, regional cheeses, natural wines, and a fresh, crusty croissant, pain au chocolat, or chausson aux pommes: these are allowed to have their own category.

SIX. It’s the little things: tiny specialty shops full of toys, doodads, stamps, and windows full of chocolate animals, taxidermied critters and rat poison, or century-old sewing machines. Traditional children’s songs with haunting melodies and boisterous accordion tunes floating through the Metro. Polished floral displays in chic neighborhoods and bizarre graffiti along train tracks. The unbelievably enticing scent of baguettes baking in the afternoon, or the hot waft of Metro smell rushing out of the sidewalk’s grates. Much to love, in tiny bites.

More sixes to come.

Vacation, all I ever wanted

Vacations are a truly wonderful thing. I don’t think I got that, growing up, though we traveled each summer as a family. Perhaps the real value of vacation hits you when you’ve been working really hard.

At the end of December, I began to realize I was soon going to need one of these fine things; it was not even an option. So I checked in with my friends Bec* and Pinky, who had given me an open invitation to visit them in Northern Ireland.

Fast-forward two months (kids cook bike kids fold the laundry kids scrub the bathtub kids have a good cry kids). Then, the children left Paris. Sigh. Here’s a vaca recap:

Intending to visit Musée d’Orsay, I biked down to the heart of Paris, only find it to closed. So, I spent a sunny, clear afternoon wandering streets and ogling monuments. Then Amber texted me and wasn’t too awfully far away, so I grabbed a bike and pedaled along the Seine in late-afternoon sun. I might have laughed aloud at how beautiful it was. Then I got to have a beer with this lovely friend.

The next day, I skipped my initial plan to go to a museum, put Billie Holiday on the stereo, and made a giant batch of minestrone and a pot of chicken broth. And also spied on an intriguing old-man neighbor who smokes a pipe, and took a long nap.

After lunch with the YWAM team that Wednesday, I spent, no joke, nearly seven hours straight on Skype. It was deep, exhausting, and glorious.

Thursday, it was time to go to N. Ireland. On the plane, I nearly cried as the Irish flight crew casually joked and chatted with the passengers. The French spell of standoffishness was broken, and I felt my heart relax into Anglo-Saxon comfort.

Bec and Pinky welcomed me for five days in their cozy little home in the countryside outside Belfast. I was greeted with welcome presents on my bed, including slippers Bec had knit, for which Pinky had cut wood buttons—and I continued to be taken care of in manifold ways.

We spent a beautiful, radiant day on the Northern Coast, savoring the odd rock formations and crashing waves of Giant’s Causeway and the sandy dunes of White Rocks Beach. Then we ate out and took away massive desserts, enjoyed in the wood-heated living room while watching a movie.

Bec took me shopping and on walks, and oh! We had such wonderful conversations. She’s such a lovely companion, asking quality questions (one of my love languages) and adding interesting commentary or observations. It was rich to catch up on one another’s key people and events and thought processes from the last year and a half. For me this was a much-needed chance to verbally process the last five and a half months here in Paris: such a gift.

Some other things I love about Bec and Pinky are that they live simply and beautifully in a mobile home next to the Pinkerton family farm, they garden, they intentionally cook and eat well, and make hospitality a priority. While my relations in Paris have felt so “unlike” me in these kinds of lifestyle choices, the Pinkertons felt like family, cut of the same fabric. Being a part of that home for a few days blew fresh air on my identity and desires in these key areas of land, food, and hospitality.

This was a marvelous thing to leave with—as were the other goodies Bec packed in a sack for my day’s picnic. A series of buses took me south to the small coastal village of Rostrevor, where I had booked a five-day stay at a YWAM base which exists in part for the purposes of spiritual retreat and rest. It’s well-equipped for the task: a giant house, with many rooms, comfy chairs, and bookshelves full of books. Across the street is the beach, which looks across the bay at a patchwork Irish hillside; behind the house and across the street is a lovely park, and behind that is a mountain forest traced with trails and lush falling streams.

I was there to be alone with Jesus, to rest, to process the last couple of months, and to work things out and begin to make decisions about next year. So I spent several hours a day reading, several out walking (coast, villages, mountain), and several praying and processing.

It was a little odd to suddenly find myself more or less alone. But I never got bored; I felt alive and inspired there, energized by incredible scenery and long nights of sleep. There was lots to think about and pray through, and if it got rough, all I had to do was look up, out, or around and see the wild Irish mountains.

I unexpectedly fell in love with Ireland—though admittedly it was a perfect storm of a much-needed vacation, prime real estate, gentle weather, and early-spring flowers (I’m a sucker for daffodils). At the same time, though, I just had to come to terms with the fact that I was going to leave a part of my heart in Fairy Glen, along a path between green-mossed pools of flowing water and sweet-smelling groves of ancient trees. What’s incredible, though, is that it was like the Lord used this tailor-made scenery to woo me, to soften and refresh my heart, and douse me with the goodness of his Presence. In those five days, Love woke up in me, again, but different and special and stronger than ever.

And then, I caught another series of buses on a perfect, early-spring Irish day spotted with puffy clouds, and I came back to France. I feel changed, imprinted with something divine and delicious that’s a whole lot deeper than just having visited friends and seen some lovely countryside. There’s not much set for what’s ahead, but I feel full of life and courage in a new way, ready to take on the road ahead.


*Bec and I became fast friends in the summer of 2010, when she stayed at the Boulevard for a month. We talked, cooked, and hosted, and found we have many common interests. Since then, we’ve kept up by snail mail and Skype.