Lessons of the Soul
You learn a lot about yourself when you travel for extended periods of time. I would have to do some serious sitting, thinking, and listing to recount to you all the things, great and small, that France alone has shown me about myself. One thing I’ve been mulling over recently is that there are a lot of things in my life in America that I love, and a few that touch my soul. These are the things whose absence, or decrease, I have felt the most keenly here in France. It’s funny how it’s often not until I am in their presence here, though, that I realize how much these things are a part of who I am. This weekend I was reminded of the goodness and even sweetness of God as I discovered, or rediscovered two of those things. To set the stage, it rained and was generally miserable here all Saturday afternoon. Most of my friends in Aix were gone for the day, so it was just me and the rain (not good conditions for exploring), making life Saturday afternoon a bit sad.
Dancing is one of those things in my life that, without a doubt, both touches and expresses my soul. I have been reminded of the huge drop of dancing time in my life on almost a daily basis in France, as I don’t have to be dancing to be reminded of how much it has become a part of me. I am taking a beginner international ballroom class on salsa, cha cha cha, and rock (jive) with another IAU student, Desirae, which definitely helps, but it still isn’t quite the same. Our instructor told us there would be a soiree this Saturday and one of our friends in the class, Samuel, offered to drive us. Samuel only really speaks French though, and between the two of us Desirae speaks much better French. Desirae was also not there last week, when Samuel and I coordinated him picking us up, meaning that we were crossing our fingers nothing got lost in translation.
Unfortunately the time did get slightly lost, but we were early, not late so it was all good. Desirae and I had NO idea what to expect when we climbed in the car. We were certain that the car ride was going to be mega-awkward because Samuel spoke minimal English and we spoke, well, less than perfect French. However, our fears were soon assuaged as Samuel barraged us with questions, which we could in fact understand, about our majors, home states, and other such things. After stopping for directions, we arrived at a small castle-turned-museum, which upped the cool factor of the evening 100 percent. Sadly, I didn’t take a picture.
We were the first ones there and so got first pick of the refreshments. There were apple, raspberry, and chocolate tarts, not to mention champagne. Later, chocolate fondue was brought out, along with fruit and what appeared to be cream puffs. On further tasting, we discovered that there was in fact ice cream inside the puffs, and which blew both of our American minds. Ice cream puffs!
As the other guests arrived, it quickly became evident that we were the youngest in the room. No matter. Since most of the other people came with partners, Desirae and I took turns dancing with Samuel. When I wasn’t dancing, I was people-studying. French people don’t smile a lot, which is another soul-touching thing for me. There are not a lot of things that depress me more than walking around without seeing a single smile all afternoon. It also blows my mind how people can not smile, even when they dance since whether or not I want to, 9 times out of 10 I tend to grin like an idiot when I dance…but I digress. I spent the evening dancing rock, salsa, and cha cha cha, trying to teach Samuel waltz and tango, attempting French line dances, and free dancing with a crazy fun group of upper-middle-aged French people, Samuel, and Desirae. The entire evening wasn’t just ballroom dance. There were a couple of songs everyone (including the older French people) just free-styled. At one point, Desirae and I started doing the Macarena and Samuel and our dance teacher quickly joined. We got about 5 or so other French people to join us, and we kept it going for the remainder of the song. Another time us three young people had our dance instructor come over to dance with us. I started doing some disco moves and he got all excited. I moved on to the burnie, which, after I showed my instructor, he half-sies tried to do. He promptly made a pretend pained face and held his back to say he was too old for that move, which I found absolutely hilarious.
The night was amazing and we danced ourselves ragged. I miss nights like that here. I am so thankful for the unexpected, crazy fun evening. There is almost nothing else that makes me feel more alive than dancing, and though I was exhausted when I got back, everything inside me was singing, and well, dancing. God knew I needed that this weekend, even though I didn’t.
Another one of those soul-touching things for me is life. By life, I mean green, growing things like grass. I mean being around activity and interaction. I mean just about everything positive life entails, and that was something I didn’t realize was such an important part of me until Sunday, when I was in its presence in a way I haven’t been since I’ve been in France. Maybe this touched me so much because it reminded me of home, or maybe I just miss grass, I don’t know, but I do know that I walked away feeling over flowingly full and peaceful, and thanking God for the unexpected and unasked for gift.
I’d heard there was an excellent park for running a little ways out from Aix. It was stunning outside Sunday so I decided to see if I could find it on a run. I did not find it the way the directions said I should, but I finally wound up there, after exploring Aix’s cemetery (which I didn’t know existed). As I entered the park, I berated myself for not finding it sooner. I felt like I’d stepped into another world where nature existed, French families played, and there was grass. You should know, before I continue, that there is NO grass in old Aix. Everything is stone. I followed the stream in the park until I came to a big grassy field full of people of all ages sunning themselves, chatting, laughing, and playing. I don’t think I have seen so many smiles since I’ve come to France. Everyone was smiling in this park. I couldn’t believe it. Mind blown.
I finished my run and followed the stream back. I sat for a few minutes and listened to the bubbling of the water and all I could think about was that the park was so alive. I went back to the meadow full of people and watched families and friends interact, just like they do in the U.S. I stared at the grass for a while too. There was just so much of it. The whole place just felt so alive. I miss that. Now, I don’t mean to say that France sucks and French people are boring and cold and mean or some nonsense like that. It is simply not true. I just mean to say that I miss lying on the grass in the sun, and that I miss smiles, and that I was infected with just how alive the park felt. It didn’t feel like I was in France anymore. It felt like home.
So what did I learn about myself? Nature and green growing things touch my soul. Smiles touch my soul. Being somewhere that feels alive touches my soul. Dancing touches my soul. Most of all, God knows what touches my soul. After all, he created it. Jesus says in Matthew 6 that “your Father knows what you need before you ask him,” and I have seen that to be true over and over. I am overwhelmed by the goodness and the grace of God constantly here in France, especially in the moments when I feel like I deserve it the least. When I feel utterly inadequate God reminds me he is good and he is enough for those moments.
Walking Picture 