A New Normal

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the wildflower-dotted fields of southern France are begging to be explored…and we are entering Week Three of French lock-down. The government announced an extension until April 15, which means no movement outside the home for a full month, except for taking approved short exercise or a solo trip to the grocery store for essentials. We managed to make it to an apartment we’d rented in the south, where we’ll stay indefinitely until all this blows over. We are beyond thankful to be near old friends and new, practicing French with our host and reuniting with my dear friend Chelsea’s parents at the local grocery store (a 1-meter distance was carefully observed!).

Our sunrise journey through the mountains to the south.

At the home of our host, Marie-Pierre.

Learning French with Marie-Pierre in her jardin.

Living through a tumultuous, historical time while traveling abroad is complicated, unnerving, and sometimes downright uncomfortable. The language barrier takes social distancing to another level. I miss being able to put our dishes in the dishwasher and our clothes in the dryer. I miss luxuriating in a long, hot shower after a hard day. I miss the faces of dear ones back home, our cozy condo, walks around our neighborhood and favorite staples at Trader Joe’s. But I’m learning so much from watching Elissa embrace each new day’s trials and triumphs with boundless enthusiasm. Her joie de vivre is contagious; she is thriving in this new unencumbered life.

Every familiar luxury that we’re now living without reminds me of exactly why I wanted to take this trip in the first place. Sure, I wanted to learn French and buy daily fresh baguettes and visit vineyards and chateaux. But more than that, I wanted to learn a different way of living. I wanted to practice doing without so many American “essentials,” slow the hectic pace of life, and show Elissa that the way we do things is just one of a million different ways of living. Little did I imagine that this trip would take place right in the middle of a global pandemic. Whether we planned to or not, millions of us are now being forced to learn a different way of life. No one knows how long the tests and quarantines and social distancing will last, but I’m convinced that we will emerge from this crisis with new eyes, living a New Normal. And I am hopeful that this Normal will be more substantial, more authentic, more intentional and gratitude-infused than ever before.

Almost overnight, life became quieter and more simple than anything I can remember before. All the extras have been stripped away. There is no schedule to keep, no commitments to rush to, no need to put on makeup, no tasks pulling me in a hundred directions at once. I want to take full advantage of this season of simplicity. Even when most of our normal life choices have been temporarily denied us, we can still choose between drowning out reality in the noise of media, or silencing the clamor of news and entertainment to be fully present with our loved ones. For once in my life I can take some deep breaths and just BE. I can revel in the pure, unbridled joy on the face of my daughter when I play tag with her, help dress her doll, read her a story or color with her. It brings me to tears when I realize that, while much of the world is riddled with fear and anxiety, these are some of the best days of Elissa’s life…because she’s with me. Me! Who cares whether the dishes are done or if I don’t take a single Instagram-worthy photo because I’m too busy playing hide-and-seek? May these historic moments of isolation be opportunities for meditation…on what is meaningful in life, and what new habits we can form now that will redefine us when we all re-emerge one day into a New Normal.

Only in France does “essential shopping” include a walk to the boulangerie for the day’s fresh baguette!

Elissa’s invention: Carrot Soup (she does not recommend it).

The breakfast she made for me: baguette (bread is obviously the highlight of our days), veggies, apricots, pretzels, and a vitamin.

The Good Shepherd

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them,

and they follow me. I give them eternal life,

and they will never perish, and no one will

snatch them out of my hand.

-John 10:27-28-

One of the hardest things about being a single parent is the endless stream of decisions that must be made solo. Where to live, how to educate, the best ways to spend time and money, which memories are the most formative and important, which relationships to invest in, and the list goes on. There are days when I would give anything to go back in time to Nathan getting a job in Houston. I’d signed on with him, so we packed up everything and went – “following the leader, wherever he will go.” Though a cross-country move was not easy, it was infinitely simpler than the ever-present internal battle raging in my brain, which tends to overthink everything and seek everyone’s advice…a fine trait except it inevitably lands you in the crossfires of twenty different opinions, desperately searching for your own amidst the mental chaos.

This season in particular finds me at a crossroads, where the decisions made in the next few months will likely determine the trajectory of our lives for years to come. The magnitude of these decisions can be paralyzing. I am terrified of making the wrong decisions, missing or misunderstanding God, and landing my daughter in therapy. My gut recourse is to reason everything out, make lists of pros and cons, talk to everyone I know and respect and narrow the decisions down to the most logical ones that the most people agree on. But where am I in all this? What about the whispers of dreams that God has been planting in my heart for my entire life? Why am I so ready to go along with the majority vote, cashing in my own opportunity to know and be led by the Shepherd of my soul? Of course there is great value in the advice of friends and family and we were never meant to go it completely alone – but am I clinging to what’s right there in front of me rather than withdrawing to hear the voice of God speak directly to my heart?

Recently some lovely people at church prayed for me, and their prayers centered around the concept of knowing Christ as my Shepherd. They prayed that both me and Elissa would hear His voice and be filled with a sense of Him leading us. I clung to that word for dear life, realizing that I’ve allowed the voice of my Savior to be crowded and all but stifled by the clamoring voices filling my head. I never mentioned those prayers to Elissa, but that night at dinner she said, with a mouth full of burger, “Guess what Mom! God is our Shepherd, and He leads us!” Wow. Talk about out of the – full – mouths of babes…a direct download of truth to my heart and hers. I didn’t even need to share this with her; her good Shepherd instilled it right in her heart. As Jesus prayed in Matthew 11, “I thank you, Father…that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children.”

Accepting Jesus as my Shepherd, my Leader, my Lord necessitates a radical lifestyle change. Just as He rose early, while it was still dark, to be alone and commune with His Father, I must create the time and the solitude in my life to withdraw and receive my daily briefing. There can be no clear direction in a life abuzz with activity, a brain clouded by a constant stream of social media, an atmosphere of noise and distraction. I must be radical – not just for my own sake, but because I am modeling for my daughter how to be a woman built on the solid rock of God’s truth. Hearing His voice is absolutely vital to our survival! “The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.” (John 10:3-4)

Whose voice am I following? My pastor’s? An author’s? The consensus of my small group? Or is my ear finally attuned to the voice of my Creator, who calls me by name and leads me out of my safe, sheltered existence – along a rocky trail, through the valley of the shadow of death, to springs of radical and abundant life? I pray that I won’t settle for anything less.

Raising a Real-Life Princess

"It is love that marks a true daughter of the King."

- Angela Elwell Hunt -

When I was a girl, princesses and royalty were neither here nor there. I was much more interested in street hockey and lightsaber battles with my brothers than in Cinderella, Jasmine, or Pocahontas. I grew up in a conservative home where most Disney movies were off-limits (I watched them for the first time as a teenager when I was babysitting!), and I had no aspirations to raise my children steeped in fairytale lore. But from the moment I held my own little princess in my arms, everything pink and sparkly and whimsical pulled me in. I suddenly wanted to dress my girl and decorate her room to reflect the royalty I instinctively felt in her. Little did I know that within the first few weeks of Elissa's life, she would encounter a shattering loss much like those that shape many of Walt Disney's famous princesses. When she was less than a month old, Elissa lost her daddy. Like my baby girl, the Disney princesses are no strangers to heartache. Cinderella, Belle, Jasmine, and Mulan grow up without a mother. Aurora and Rapunzel spend their childhoods separated from their parents. Tiana's father dies, leaving her to carry out their dreams alone. Elsa and Anna's parents are lost at sea. And the list goes on. Nearly every princess has suffered a traumatic loss early in childhood that shapes them and makes them a heroine. 

I took Elissa on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Disney World for her fourth birthday, and she was in princess heaven. She spent hours waiting in lines to meet the princesses and get pictures and autographs. In her four-year-old grasp of reality, she was meeting the actual princesses! She chose to forego rides, treats, and toys in favor of filling her autograph book. We were both enchanted! Watching her, spellbound and starry-eyed in the presence of royalty, my heart swelled with gratefulness that she has such wholesome role models to look up to. As she gets older and learns more of these princess's stories, she will identify with them in the pain of their losses. She will be inspired by Aurora's grace, Belle's beauty, Rapunzel's courage, Ariel's bravery, and Cinderella's kindness. She will see that, rather than pitying themselves and their circumstances, these young women chose to rise above the pain of loss and touch the world around them with extraordinary kindness and grace. And so I unashamedly dress my daughter in beautiful dresses, reenact princess stories with her for hours, and read the same beloved tales until we can both recite every word. I want her to know without a doubt that she IS a princess, a daughter of the one true King, and be inspired to live out her own compelling drama on earth with the life she's been given.