I miss home. But perhaps if I was home, I would miss Paris. No, I think what I actually miss is my Union home. I remember exactly where I was and I how sad I felt when I left Lincoln for the last time. My mom, her husband John, and I were all driving back from visiting my brother after graduation. Their little hybrid was packed to the brim and we were making the long journey across the US back to Idaho. We were on the freeway. I saw the capitol building, the outskirts of town, and Lincoln's almost-too-flat-to-be-real landscape. And now, almost exactly a year later, that moment comes back to mind. Because I miss that place. I put down roots in Lincoln. I made family there. I went from frighteningly religious to anti-god to I-think-maybe-my-beliefs-and-values-coincide-with-God-after-all at Union. I found my best friend at Union. I was happy at Union.
Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to be living in Paris. I'm happy that I get to work with two amazing little girls and their parents. I'm happy I have the privilege and opportunity to learn both German and French. And yet, at the end of the day, my heart is missing something. The thing that I see most glaringly right now, though, is that if I was at home in Idaho, or here in Paris, I believe my heart would still be missing something. We as human beings desperately need connection. Even Jesus had his group of twelve disciples to fill his need for human connection. I've done a lot of things alone in my life. And the most depressed I've been in my life was when I was the most disconnected from close friends and family. There is something to be said about being with close friends, with people who understand you and you them, and being with people you trust. I think it helps bring me back to center. Back to contentedness. Back to peace.
Keep me in your prayers as I try to create and be open to meaningful connections with people here in Paris, no matter how short the exchange.