18 years ago tonight

I was sitting in a cafe in Paris, no doubt very sophisticatedly (it's a word--I made it up) sipping on a Kronenberg 1664 biere, enjoying all the festivities of Fetes d'Ete while listening to an enormous amount of street musicians playing. Each corner was littered with a different act, all sharing their gifts (or what they supposed were gifts) with the pedestrians of Paris. I remember it like yesterday. It was a Sunday. Joy and I woke up at the deVilleneuve's and decided our plan for the free day. We were going to Musee Rodin as soon as it opened--it was just a short walk down from our apartement and we were ready for some sculpture. We had spent the previous day at Centre Pompidou and were in desperate need of some traditional art. When we arrived at Musee Rodin, (after perusing the fruites and vegetables at the farmer's market just down the way) the back garden was absolutely magical. No other word for it. There was greenery hanging from the tops of the tent, and an enormous centerpiece of gorgeous lilac flowers. A harpsichord concert was happening, in honor of Fete d'Ete and it seemed like a glorious little gift, just for us. We, as typical Americans, didn't know that the first day of summer was ushered in with song throughout the magnificent Paris. I'm glad we didn't know--I think the surprise made it all the more magical.

I didn't know 18 years ago that someday I would be married and living in Lufkin,Texas with two absolutely precious little blondies for children. I didn't even know that Kevin Langston existed. I didn't know that I would work part-time for an art museum, or that I would have ended up with two masters degrees from a state university I had never heard of in Nacogdoches (which I had also never heard of), Texas. I didn't know that I would be able to say I had taught students in grades 5 through freshmen in college about English literature and French, and I certainly didn't imagine that I'd be sitting at a laptop with a Bichon Frise at my side writing about this night 18 years later.

I did know, 18 years ago, that my baby sister was turning 7 years old on that very day and would be going into the 3rd grade. I did know that my parents loved me. I have always known that. I did know that God was working through me, and in me, and that I was coming to a better understanding of Him. I did know that the boyfriend I had at the time was NOT "the one," as I had secretly fallen crazy in love with a boy on my trip and, as a result, realized that my boyfriend back home was not what God had planned for my life. I did know that Joy Creel (now Liefeld) was NOT one of the "Triplets" a popular singing group back then, but she was one of my friends and one of the most grounded people of faith I had ever encountered. Also, she knew a heck of a lot more about art than I still know today.

I didn't know that a thing like the Internet existed, although I was introduced to Minitel by my family in Lyon. I didn't know that people would be watching movies on DVDs, which had yet to be invented. I didn't know that people would have cell phones that went everywhere with them and were miniscule in size, as my "car phone" was in a rather large bag.

I didn't know that almost all of my "best friends" would be Christmas card correspondents almost 20 years later, and I sure didn't know that a thing called Facebook would bring us back together again virtually.

I had no clue at all that 17 years later, I would permanently lose my hearing in one ear. I didn't know that 18 years later, I would not have made a return trip to Paris, one of my favorite cities in the entire world.

I found myself in Paris. It's cliche, it's old, it's been said by many, but it is my truth. Wandering and meandering through all those streets, trying desperately to learn and speak a language that was almost completely foreign, spending hours talking and eating with a girl from Los Angeles and a girl from New York, spending more hours with a boy I was completely smitten with who had a girlfriend waiting back home, walking through countless galleries and being exposed to some of the world's finest art, some of the world's most beautiful cathedrals (just the thought of Sainte Chapelle and Chartres can almost bring tears to my eye), eating grapefruit ice cream in Lyon, having a memorable night at a French family's country estate filled with wine and liquers, learning that salade is the last course of a fine meal instead of a first--it all made sense. My reliance on God was essential, my faith that He had angels guarding and guiding my travels was certain. Paris changed who I was, and oh, how I long to go back and walk those streets again--on the night of Fetes d'ete--to relive some of the magic. . . .