L'aventure de L'amour

It's been awhile since I've written but it's not for lack of material to communicate. It's more like an overload of material that feels lacking in focus. Ever feel like someone with all of the pieces to the puzzle but somehow you've misplaced the box with the picture on it? Yeah, like that.

The trip to Paris was amazing. Specifically, the vow renewal. Two very beautiful things happened that had the supernatural smile of God on them. It was around 31 degrees when we stood in front of Notre Dame to read what we had written. We stood, faced each other, were ready to go, and the bells started ringing. Very loud, very beautiful, very cool. But it wasn't at the top or bottom of the hour. By the clock, there was no reason they should have rung. But they did, and it was wonderful. The second thing was, when Traci started to read what she had written it suddenly got warmer. Warm enough to notice and warm enough to be comfortable. But when we were finished and we walked away from that spot, it was cold again. Like it had gotten warm in a radius of about 10 feet. I carried her over the threshold of Notre Dame where we then sat and listened to the silence of the cathedral. The kids walked to the top but we stayed inside and talked. Later we had a carousel ride in the rain, a walk on the banks of the Siene, went to the top of the Arc of Triumph, danced beneath the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower, and had an all around magical experience. So good, so God.

Rome was spectacular, and the food in both countries was good enough to cry over. I'm not sure how I'll cope with American cuisine after this trip. I know some have an affinity toward Rome, but Paris felt like home to me, to us. In Rome, I felt like a tourist, which isn't bad. We only had two days to spend there so the first night (which was very cold) we spend getting lost in the alleys and backstreets, turning the corner to be greeted with a colossal cathedral or fountain, each one more spectacular than the last. Wandering into these places where a handful of people were scattered around praying in the dimly lit caverns of art and worship was surreal and awesome. I would live in Paris and visit Italy often I think. We saw the usual Roman postcard montage, the Coliseum, the Vatican, St Peters, Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and ruins upon ruins. It was Eat, Pray, Love as it ought to be.

Now we're in Albania. It's the wild west here. A living example of what happens when a country attempts to embrace both Communism and Islam at the same time. But God is stirring this nation. Much more to write about that, but I'm out of time.

Travel on

It's been awhile since I've written but it's not for lack of material to communicate. It's more like an overload of material that feels lacking in focus. Ever feel like someone with all of the pieces to the puzzle but somehow you've misplaced the box with the picture on it? Yeah, like that.

The trip to Paris was amazing. Specifically, the vow renewal. Two very beautiful things happened that had the supernatural smile of God on them. It was around 31 degrees when we stood in front of Notre Dame to read what we had written. We stood, faced each other, were ready to go, and the bells started ringing. Very loud, very beautiful, very cool. But it wasn't at the top or bottom of the hour. By the clock, there was no reason they should have rung. But they did, and it was wonderful. The second thing was, when Traci started to read what she had written it suddenly got warmer. Warm enough to notice and warm enough to be comfortable. But when we were finished and we walked away from that spot, it was cold again. Like it had gotten warm in a radius of about 10 feet. I carried her over the threshold of Notre Dame where we then sat and listened to the silence of the cathedral. The kids walked to the top but we stayed inside and talked. Later we had a carousel ride in the rain, a walk on the banks of the Siene, went to the top of the Arc of Triumph, danced beneath the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower, and had an all around magical experience. So good, so God.

Rome was spectacular, and the food in both countries was good enough to cry over. I'm not sure how I'll cope with American cuisine after this trip. I know some have an affinity toward Rome, but Paris felt like home to me, to us. In Rome, I felt like a tourist, which isn't bad. We only had two days to spend there so the first night (which was very cold) we spend getting lost in the alleys and backstreets, turning the corner to be greeted with a colossal cathedral or fountain, each one more spectacular than the last. Wandering into these places where a handful of people were scattered around praying in the dimly lit caverns of art and worship was surreal and awesome. I would live in Paris and visit Italy often I think. We saw the usual Roman postcard montage, the Coliseum, the Vatican, St Peters, Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and ruins upon ruins. It was Eat, Pray, Love as it ought to be.

Now we're in Albania. It's the wild west here. A living example of what happens when a country attempts to embrace both Communism and Islam at the same time. But God is stirriing this nation. Much more to write about that, but I'm out of time.

So We Finally Get To Paris

Twenty years ago, I proposed to my childhood sweetheart, Traci. We were 18 and 19 when we got married. I remember the euphoria of being so blissfully in love that the rest of the world and the people in it seemed like extras in our movie. We wanted to go to Paris for our honeymoon, but only got as far as New Braunfels, TX. It didn't matter, because we would be going on our five year anniversary, then our ten, then our.... and it never happened. Until now.

The past three years have been the most challenging of our lives. As I write this, my son walks in the room fumbling around for something he left here. My daughter comes in and leaps onto the foot of the bed with a tenderly authoritative, "Hey ol chum." And Traci walks in from the bathroom and smiles at me. That smile, for me, represents life. It injects creative energy into my slumbering heart. Her head tilts and her eyes grin. I have always loved her, but today it's different. Her love has walked, carried, and occasionally dragged me through the darkest moments of my life. She has seen my darkness, and she loves me still. And I'm compelled to know, to understand, to wonder, if I haven't touched the tangible grace of God in her goodness. Don't get me wrong. She can be tough and beautiful as mahogany, with a fire that is ninja fierce inside of her. But she absolutely fights for love. And she has lived, spoken, held, breathed, sang, written, and carried the kindness and heart of God. In watching her care for children, cry over the hurting, and give to those in need, I love God more. If I spend the rest of my life loving her back, I will still die a debtor to her.

So it's with that 18 year old's euphoric bliss that I am taking her to Paris, France in less than 36 hrs. We (the whole family) will be together, at the top of the Eifel Tower, getting lost in the alleys, eating pastries in a bistro, having coffee by a fountain, and renewing our vows on the steps of Notre Dame. That's the tradition. The kings would say their vows on the steps and cross the threshold to solidify their covenant. There have been more than a few times in my life where I felt like a pauper. She refuses to let me be anything other than a king. It's all she sees, and when I see what she sees, the favor on my life increases. Tonight, my family is together, my wife is beside me, and our awareness of the presence of Love is greater than it's been in twenty years of marriage. After 20 years of humming "So We Never Got To Paris", I guess this weekend I'm going to get to stop.