See, I'm flying to France this Saturday, and I am really, really, super stoked about it. I've wanted to go to Paris for years. The landmarks, the food, the art, the people... good grief, I am overwhelmed! My bank account wants to shoot me in the face for this little jaunt abroad, but that doesn't really matter to me. I keep thinking that you have to take these chances when you're still young enough to have the freedom to do so at a moment's notice.
Or several months'. Puh-tay-to, poh-tah-to.
Anyways, today I have really been mulling over how soon this all is, and getting even more jittery and thrilled. But little weird thoughts have continued to pop into my head, like bubbles. Once they float on up there they disappear with hardly a trace.
I've never been to a country that does not speak English before. (At least, unless provoked, and I hear that's something to avoid as much as possible.) I hope people are nice to me. I know I'm an American and that there are stereotypes about the way I'm going to be treated by French people, but if I bat my eyelashes I should be okay, right?
Oh, and I hadn't thought about airline safety and whatnot. I know that the odds are very slim, but that's what I thought before during the bomb threat at USF when I was completely unaware that a SWAT team was actually targeting our bus, haha. I do hope that everything will go smoothly at the airport and such. Will we get everywhere in a timely and safe manner?
Gosh, there's going to be so much to eat and try all over the place. I don't want to overindulge and gain 10 pounds of butter, garlic, and pastries into my already skinny jeans. We're walking all over the place, but how am I going to be able to keep up with eating right?
Listen to me! This is the most ridiculous thing I've heard in my life. My roommate actually backpacked across Europe this summer and lived to tell the tale, and she stayed in hostels and took trains everywhere, and boiled potatoes outside in plastic bags for food. If anyone had grounds to be worried about jack, it should be someone like her.
Not a frou-frou like me, staying in a hotel by the Eiffel Tower, for crying out loud.
It's weird, but I feel like this is training for the future for me. Every time one of these really stupid fears or concerns runs across my mind, I can almost audibly hear the Lord going: "You have to give every anxiety to me. Every one. Even ones that you dismiss as ridiculous right off the bat. Those belong to me. They will belong to me even when they are perfectly legitimate, likely fears. Those are mine, too. Cast them on me."
All of this encouragement going towards a hopeful missionary to Asia next summer seems rather apt. I can't even imagine the freaking out that could potentially occur next May.
From a week in a Western European country to six on the chopstick-wielding side of the globe, I am in His hands, and my fears are no longer mine to bear.
Au revoir! :)
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