Le Fin

Hello,

   So we moved home from Paris last Tuesday. I’m sure I’ll be talking about France often as the years go by, but I wanted to take a moment to talk about it today. Mostly, I can’t believe I got to live in Paris for 13 months. I am so deeply grateful and humbled from one year's time. Somehow it already feels like a dream.

   I thought I’d answer the question that Lane and I have been getting quite a bit; what was your favorite thing about France. For me, that’s easy. Giverny. If I lived 10 lifetimes I wouldn’t see anything as magnificent as Monet’s home and the surrounding gardens he built especially for his work.

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Giverny in Spring (left) and Fall (right)

Our friend Fred painting along the Seine

spaceThe other question we hear is: what’s the one thing you’ll miss the most. And oh gosh, it's the art. It’s the way the whole country considers art to be such a huge part of the meaning of life. Time and time again we saw the smallest museums brimming with people of all ages. Even on weekdays and evenings we saw the likes of grandparents, government officials, babies in strollers, teenagers and just about anyone of any race and age imaginable strolling the exhibits. Art extends beyond the gallery walls, too. You feel it when you walk around. You feel it when you enter the musky churches with their glorious glass windows, the elaborate parks with gardeners bustling everywhere, or walk the avenues with their blooming flower boxes. There's so much tenderness that’s taken in caring for all things as art.

       The spirit of making life into art and caring for things year after year, I have adored and will miss the most.

Luxembourg Parc, Fall

   Though I must admit I’m ready to be home. I’m reading The Greater Journey and I learned that the song where we get the expression There's no place like Home was actually written by an American in Paris. “Amid pleasures and palaces/ though we may roam/ be it ever so humble/ there’s no place like home,” (John Howard Payne). After a year of being gone we’re ready to be back with the people we love and have missed so dearly this year.

The shell symbol demarks The Way. And, my heart.

    For our final weekend in France, we visited Bordeaux. There's a religious walk to the shores of Spain that travels through Bordeaux. The walk is called the Way of Saint James (or, Camino de Santiago della Compostella). People walk The Way to discover a spiritual awakening or a newfound closeness to Jesus. In the middle ages, when walking The Way was at it’s peak of popularity, Bordeaux was known for its kindness to strangers.  Those passing through could always find food and shelter before heading out again on the arduous journey.  Travelers who were looking for shelter or food carried distinct change purses so people would know that they needed a little help. These purses were also a symbol that you were walking The Way, and the people in Bordeaux especially were open-hearted about helping those on this spiritual journey. I bought a replica of the change purse. It's shaped like a heart.

We took a few steps along The Way and I realized that we had been travelers all year, too. We had gone on our own journey. We had lived in this foreign country with no friends or family, just to discover whatever we might find along the months. France took us in and gave us so much. We made new friends and rediscovered old ones. France shared her art, her gardens, her cerulean skies with clouds like I’ll never see again. My heart is now all filled up.

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Me and my nephew. There's no place like Home.