I Think I Could . . . Maybe

Posted on May 17, 2007
Filed Under Uncategorized, Life, Fear, Trusting God |

I could live here: Paris. I could. I know, I know . . . easy to say during a vacation when all you are obliged to do is to try out different restaurants, browse cute area shops, and lazily discover a deeper appreciation for art in the numerous museums conveniently located on nearly every corner . . . but still. I could live here.

I could grow accustomed to the narrow, cobblestone streets and the extra small cars that line them. I could get used to the sing-song way in which the French speak. Bon Joooooooouuuuuuuur. It’s nothing short of melodic. Heck, I could even start smoking. I could just see me now, a cigarette in one hand, my inhaler in the other. I could live here, in Paris, among the Parisians . . . maybe.

We’ve talked about it, my husband and I. You know, they told me anytime I wanted to relocate just to let them know. Maybe after Cole graduates. I could really do this Latin Quarter thing. Yes, I could, we could, maybe. The truth is that while all of that sounds nice, and is fun to dream about, I know that in reality I would be absolutely paralyzed with homesickness. I’d miss my boys more than I could imagine. I’d ache for my family – already spread to far away within the states. I’d long for the friends I’ve been so honored to make. I even think that I’d miss SUVs, in spite of their political incorrectness.

I can’t tell if the hesitation that comes up at the thought of us moving, anywhere, is fear, complacency, contentment or a little bit of all of that. The mature thing for me to do is to come to a real and final resignation that the whole of my life, including where I call home, is in God’s hands and open to His leading – wherever that may or may not be. I say that I’ve given my life to Him, completely, for His use, His glory, His pleasure, but I find myself constantly taking it back, on loan if you will. I make rogue decisions without consulting that voice within. I do things that the small voice – in a not so small volume – shouts telling me not to do. I sing songs in church that have words like “all to Jesus I surrender, all to Him I freely give . . .” Really? On a good day, maybe.

I haven’t gotten that whole surrender thing down just yet. But I’m working on it. In the meantime, I’ll imagine that I’m flexible in the Hands of my Maker. I’ll dream of my “yes, Lord” when I hear His prompting within me to go – just like Abraham. I’ll visualize myself obedient and without that rebellious opinion thing that can cause such a problem sometimes. Like I said, I’m working on it.

Marc and I living in Paris . . . hmmmmm. It could happen. Maybe. But right now being a tourist suits me just fine.

Peace and Blessings,

Nicole Walters