faith – Page 2 – Darkk Horse Travel

When Being An Au Pair Goes South

Published on September 27, 2014September 27, 2014 by Emilee4 Comments

In life there are heroes and villains. Personally, I’m the type of person who likes to believe most people are the former. But, sometimes, you end up tricked into a situation where the ‘heroes’ turn out to be anything but.

Note: Before reading this (mom!) note that I am fine, I am safe and I am completely happy, now.

When I arrived in France I could tell from the start that something wasn’t quite right with the family. It wasn’t immediately apparent, but after seeing the way the parents interacted with the kids, I knew something was off. As the weeks went on the yelling escalated and eventually the physical aspects of abuse started to show themselves.

Part of me knew that I wouldn’t be able to work in a family where there was physical and verbal abuse prevalent, but another half of me almost didn’t want to believe that it was happening. There was a lot of tension in the house, and the littlest things would set the parents off on tyrannical rampages.

When I finally decided enough was enough, I sent my letter of resignation to the father. His email responses were aggressive and ended with the words I had come to dread after weeks of “talks” : We’ll talk about this tonight. That night I was yelled at for close to three hours, and while the mom tried to defend me she was violently told to shut up as the father roared for me to get out of his house (it was 11:30pm) and to give him my keys. It was the night of September 19th – my birthday.

Crying and shaking, I went downstairs to pack my bags. The mom followed when I was about halfway done to tell me he “hadn’t meant it” and that “I had to understand” what had started his behavior. She convinced me to stay one more night, since I had planned on leaving for a weekend in Paris the next morning, anyway. I’ve never been so scared in my life, and I knew as soon as I came back I would leave immediately.

When I told the family I had found a replacement family the following Tuesday the dad “informed me” that if I left the house before HE TOLD ME I could, he would call the next au pair family I wanted to move to and would tell them I had abused their children (which is, of course, not even remotely true) so I wouldn’t get hired. I was so scared I would have panic attacks throughout each day, but I knew I had to leave.

So, I waited until the kids were safely at school on Thursday and both of the parents were at work, and then I packed my bags and called a taxi. I sent another emailed letter of resignation, as well as leaving a written one (and the keys), to the family. This is the abridged version of the story, of course, but I’m trying to keep it brief while not omitting any details.

The reason I’m writing this is because I want any other au pairs or nannies who find themselves in this situation to know that it is not ok for a host family to ever yell at you, demean you or threaten you. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done to have the courage to pack my bags and leave. I was so incredibly scared for my safety, but that fact alone was an indicator that it was necessary.
My mind told me it was my fault for getting myself in the situation, and the parents told me I had “a responsibility to the children” to stay. But those are both classic indicators of abuse (whether verbal, emotional, physical etc.), and if you find yourself thinking either of these things while you’re employed with a family there is one option – leave.

If you’re reading this and you don’t know how to leave, or you don’t feel like there’s anywhere else to go, start telling people outside of the family about your situation (message me, even!). Pull your resources. I didn’t think my French was good enough to call a taxi, so I went to the visitors center in my town to have them call and schedule the taxi for me. I didn’t have a ride to my next host house, so I used a carshare website (blablacar.fr) to ask for a ride. I had friends through Couchsurfing that offered me a couch in their houses, and places to keep my luggage if I needed to travel light.

I AM SO THANKFUL FOR YOU ALL. You know who you are if you’ve been supporting and encouraging me throughout the past weeks. You are invaluable and it is because of you that I’m now in a safe place.

Oh, and there is a happy ending to this story!!
I am now living with an awesome family in Paris and I already feel like part of the family. The mom is a professional artist (painter!), and we’ve already been able to visit her gallery, in downtown Paris, and talk about art and the life of an artist. There are four boys and they are all awesome (ages…get ready for it… 21, 18, 8 and 5). It’s kind of fun being the only girl in the house (other than the mom) although there are, of course, some things that remind me of the fact (toilet seat: put it down).

My room is lovely, there are three beautiful cats (2 gingers!) and there is always jazz music playing 24/7 in the house (which is also beautiful and covered in the mom’s giant graffiti style art).
Oh, AND I’M LIVING IN PARIS. As in, I can see the Eiffel Tower from my street and I’ve learned that I absolutely love living in the city. It really is where I get my strength and inspiration from, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Monday I start French lessons (finally!), which the other family had also refused to let me attend, and I’ll be starting painting lessons (IN PARIS – Eeeeek!) soon also. This weekend I’m also going to try and visit Hillsong Paris – I seriously CANNOT wait!

Life is so much better, fuller and more alive than it has been for the month I was in France, and I’ve only been here a couple of days. I’m just so in love with Paris, excited to be working with an awesome family and I CANNOT wait to spend my year here.

Perfect Weakness

Published on September 4, 2014 by Emilee1 Comment

If I asked you who you were, what would you say?

Maybe that sounds weird, but it’s a question that I’ve been running through my mind a lot, lately and today, I stopped to actually think about it. You see, moving to a different country is a pretty intimidating thing. But the moving itself isn’t the hard part.

It’s having no identity once you get there.

Most people don’t really sit around wondering what their identity is. Most of the time it’s inherent. You’re a daughter because you have a mother. You’re a girlfriend because you have a boyfriend. You’re an artist because you make art. You’re an English speaker because you speak English.

But, what happens when you move away from all that?

You’re a daughter, but your mother is 8,000 miles away. You’re an artist, but you have limited supplies, resources and different mediums available. You know English, but you’re not allowed to speak it.

So the question comes up again: Who are you?

I’m the kind of person who believes that regular identity crisis are necessary and a healthy part of my life, but most of the time it’s because I find myself not knowing who I am, or what I want to do at that moment.

This experience is different.

I wouldn’t call this a crisis. I’ve spent the last year figuring out who I am and what direction I want to go in, so those aren’t issues right now. But, like in any witness protection or spy movie, by moving I have suddenly become a person without any identity to those around me.

No one knows who I am. I can walk down the street with 0% possibility of running into someone I know, or grew up with. I go to the store and they eye me warily, wondering where I came from – since they know everyone who lives in this small town.

I don’t have any favorite spots, yet. I don’t have a community, church or friends, yet. I’m a body in this city, but not yet a person.

When I was thinking about this, this morning, it really bothered me. I, like most people, like to be known. I love acknowledgement, and “words of affirmation” is my love language. – not having anyone to talk with in my native (and therefore emotionally comfortable) language makes feeling “whole” pretty difficult.

So, with my identity shifting, and my surroundings foreign, I was wondering today – what makes me…me? Who am I?

“When my identity fails – You will remain. So I will tether myself to you.”

The nearest (non-catholic) church is more than an hour away from where I live, so I’ve been streaming some sermons while going to the Catholic one down the street. It’s an unconvential way of “doing church”, but I’ve never been very good at claiming the conventional, anyway.

Today I was listening to a sermon about anchoring your soul – or having something that grounds you. The pastor was talking about how, to some people, this anchor might be material, and to others it might be another person (such a spouse)…but, the problem is, those things aren’t going to be able to help you when you’re “four inches from sinking.” The first because, being soulless, it can’t relate to your problem, and the latter because they are as broken as we are.

This week I have felt like the top of my boat is four inches from the waves (aka me losing my mind); with too much weight gathered within its structure, my boat is about four inches from being filled and slipping beneath the water: four inches from disaster. Sometimes I feel like I’m just staring at the side of the boat hoping and praying that no bigger waves come and pull me under.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am confident in my decision to move to France, and I have complete peace about where I am right now. But it’s not easy jumping into a family of strangers, working every day and trying desperately to understand 100% of a foreign language when you have about 80% comprehension (80 sounds like a lot, but try reading a book with 80% of each sentence).

Sometimes I find myself praying out loud because I’m so frustrated with circumstances. Like dogs getting diarrhea and pooping EVERYWHERE, kids throwing punches and middle fingers at their siblings and simultaneous fatigue from a mixture of constantly being around people (introvert alert) and jet lag.

I am not perfect, and situations are not perfect.

But, it’s at times like this, when I realize it’s absolutely essential that my hope is anchored on something stronger than my discouragement.

“This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary.” (Hebrews 6:19)

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes think about just packing my bags and going back home. I miss Seattle like nobody’s business. But I also know that there’s a plan and a reason for me being where I am. And, perhaps more importantly, there’s a promise that my anchor is holding steadfast, even when I can’t see it.

My identity, although feeling unknown, is buried deep within the hope of a savior who promises not that things will be easy, but that he will be present. Right now things are tough, that’s just a reality. But even as an outlier to my present circumstances, I have confidence in knowing that – regardless of the way I feel about things – below the raging water’s surface is an anchor that promises never to let go.

Fear Not, For I Am With You

Published on August 30, 2014August 30, 2014 by Emilee1 Comment

10306778_10203039492921654_8288730606284838706_n — The tattoo I have on my left arm I got done months ago. It says “I will face my fear. Only I will remain” in French.

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

― Frank Herbert, Dune

Before I moved to France, the number one thing people said to me was, “Wow, you’re so brave.” I’ve always thought this was funny, because I would never use that word to describe myself. I was scared as shit to move to France. And even now that I’m living here, I’m terrified of so many things. I’m scared of going to the post office, of buying bread and not knowing how to respond in perfect French when the lady asks me how I’m doing. I’m scared of getting lost when I go on walks, not making any friends, or being in a situation where no one can understand my need for help because they don’t speak English.

These are real fears. But they are also all futuristic and somewhat ridiculous (even though I’m convinced the lady at the bakery is out to get me). Each one of them has the potential of stopping me from thriving while I live in France. They are barriers to happiness. But they are also motivators to making this experience something I’ll remember for the rest of my life. See, each time one of these fears surfaces, I remember what I have overcome to get here.

A year ago I was afraid to breathe. I was unsure who I was, what I was supposed to do with my life, and why it didn’t seem like anything was worth living for, anymore. My heart was broken, two members of my family had been diagnosed with breast cancer within months of each other, and I was floundering in my job and relationships.

There’s a reason they say fear is “crippling.” It doesn’t kill you. It leaves you to fight yourself, daily, in some kind of one sided torture. You feel trapped, isolated and like there’s no one else in the world that could possibly understand. But what’s worse, is that you try to talk yourself out of it. You try again and again to fix it, ignore it, numb it until something – anything takes away the pain of admitting that you need help.

But, we weren’t made to fix ourselves. The broken hearts, the self depreciation, the voices in our heads that tell us it’s impossible to get past this, “There is no future, so why even look forward?”

Instead of moving forward, fear holds us back. It can do more damage to us than any other person ever will. Fear of being alone, of being unwanted or of being unable to achieve the standards we’ve set for ourselves. It paralyzes us, sets us on paths to destroy ourselves through whatever means we use to get rid of it.

I know this, because a year ago this was me. I did everything to try to subdue, freeze, isolate, cover up, conceal and dilute the fear that I felt. Fear that stretched back to childhood. Fears of inadequacy, fear of being unloved – or unworthy of being loved. Fears of never achieving anything. Of the people who had told my mom that for whatever reason (race, gender, socioeconomic standing) I would never amount to anything, being right.

“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.
Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you.
I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

Last year I took a two week long backpacking trip around the UK.

Two weeks is no great pilgrimage. There wasn’t a great cathedral that I would find waiting for me at the end of my journey, and there weren’t any saints to welcome me. But before I left, I decided to take these two weeks to do something crazy – to live in the moment.

You see, fear is of the future, not the present. Danger is in the present, and is very real, but fear? Fear is a manmade, demon of a reality, that will probably never even happen. When we stop worshiping the future, we drain fear of its power.

See, as a Christian, I serve a God of the present, who tells me not to worry about the future, because he’s got it covered (Matt 6:34). Which is awesome, because that gives me so much more creativity, ambition and energy to sow into the present – seeds which will grow and produce a more beautiful future, in the end.

I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve been thinking about fear a lot, and remembering what it took for me to overcome my own demons. I tried and I tried and I tried to fix myself, but it wasn’t until I let go and let God start working that I saw any kind of healing happen. Only after I realized it was ok to be broken, could I begin the process of being mended.

Overcoming fear is as simple and as terrifyingly difficult as acknowledging that it exists. Until you do that, there really is no way of overcoming it. We all have our own unique terrors, each one changing as we grow and evolve as people. But today I’m reminded that where there is brokenness, there are also opportunities for a healing so intensely refreshing, and in some ways, simultaneously painful, that it can do nothing but refine us into a version of ourselves that would otherwise be inaccessible.

So here’s to taking life one moment at a time, and allowing ourselves to grow and transform into the people we are meant to be. It doesn’t happen over night, it’s a daily chore. But it’s in those little moments, when we decide to conquer the now, that we find the strength, over time, to claim the victory we have won.

Screen Shot 2014-08-30 at 3.05.44 PM — The Voyage Of The Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis

The Holy Trinity

Published on August 24, 2014August 31, 2014 by Emilee3 Comments

10616586_10203883529702046_9064390188779260381_n — Church.

Like any given Sunday in the life of moi, this morning I went to church. Being a Christian, and it being Sunday, that fact is a fairly unexciting statistic. But, what made today different, was that “going to church” meant going into a gigantic medieval style stone structure filled marble carved statues (we’re talking 8-10 feet high, including a skeleton reaper which is #hellapunk) in a small French town. Oh, and that it was Catholic. Which I am not.

Now you may think there would be some cultural differences for an American Protestant girl who ducked her way into a party where no one speaks her exact verbal or spiritual language, and you would be right. But overall I felt incredibly refreshed by the experience. The reason I was there in the first place was because it’s the only church within 30 miles of where I live. Not gonna lie – the lack of options is kind of a bummer.

The church service was as traditional and conservative as you could probably find anywhere, complete with a pipe organ and higher than usual pitched singing. It reminded me of church coronations/marriage scenes from Elizabeth or Ever After. But, overall I loved the service. It was pieced together with biblical scriptures and interval hymns (In French, of course, which was amazing) and I loved that it constantly engaged those who were there to worship.

Afterward, I stopped by the flower shop across the street and bought a little purple flower bush to bring some life to my room. It worked. I’m so much happier seeing my little plant ward every time I walk in the door. It really is just the best for someone, like me, who is obsessed with the natural world.

The final excitement for the day happened when I logged in to my favorite websites, Hulu and Netflix, to relax for the evening. Then, to my utter astonishment, from BOTH websites, I was told that they did not work within the country I was operating. As in – there was NO Netflix, Hulu or Pandora in THIS WHOLE COUNTRY. Try to grasp my horror. It was quite severe and really couldn’t have been worse. I’m not ashamed to say it, I adore all of these websites, and being able to relax and watch a movie is essential to bringing together my feeling of home.

I’m starting to realize more than ever that, sometimes it’s the littlest things that make home feels like home. Like Netflix. Or a random little shrub in your room.

I am sorry to sound like a spoiled American brat, but when I first found out I would have no access to Netflix, Hulu or Pandora I was pretty seriously considering booking it out of France…ok, so I wasn’t, but I was pretty upset. I don’t have many of my movies with me here in France, so it’s really important to have these resources. Would I die without them, no. Would I be a lot less happy about life? Yes. LUCKILY, I have amazing friends who let me in on the secret of Chromzising websites and making them work with Hola. I couldn’t be more happy.

Today has been a full and relaxing day, overall. I actually had the guts to tell my host family I didn’t want to go with them, the kids and their grandparents to the park, a decision which needed to be made since it’s my day off and they keep trying to “include me” on these days – which is nice…but I’ll be with the kids this week 7am-7pm every day (school doesn’t start until next week) so I think I’ll have quite enough kid time for the week without going out on my day off. Instead I stayed home and wrote letters to any and everyone I could think of. I ran out of postcards, but I plan on getting more on my next trip outside this petit-chateau.

Also, if you’ve asked me to send you a letter/postcard please please be patient. I’m mailing out the first bunch today, but there are still some people I’ve missed that will have to go out the next time I have the courage to go into the post office and ask for stamps.

Oh, yeah…I have a sauna in my bathroom. As in, the bathroom is only for me and there's a sauna in it. Awesome. — Oh, yeah…I have a sauna in my bathroom. As in, the bathroom is only for me and there’s a sauna in it. Awesome.

You Never Let Go

Published on July 31, 2014July 31, 2014 by Emilee2 Comments

I’ve been waiting four weeks for paperwork from a French government agency so that I can apply for my visa. After sleepless nights, phone calls, faxes and emails, they finally called me this morning. The woman, her thick French accent filling the phone, told me I had no need of the paperwork I had been waiting for (and had been told to apply for). “Sorry for the delay in getting back to you. We’ve just been so busy.” Four weeks.
Welcome to the bureaucracy.

I’m finally boarding a plane for my visa appointment with the French embassy in San Francisco. It’s been a long road, filled with stress, stress, stress and more stress. I can honestly say that this “adventure” has been more stressful than four years of college… combined. I don’t even know how people do this and live to tell the tale, but I’m still fighting everyday to make it to the end.

The only question now is, when will it be the end? The hope right now is that the embassy will process my application in record time and then I’ll be able to leave on August 18th. The reality is, though, that they might not get it done in time, and that means I’ll have to buy another plane ticket. Something which I have NO budget for. Let the prayers commence.

Miracles don’t generally seem to happen, but when I was sitting in my room yesterday, looking at my stack of paperwork, I realized something – this ALREADY IS A MIRACLE.

If you had told me a year ago I would be applying to move to France, would be accepted into a French university and would be quitting my job, I never would have believed it. Last year, at this time, I was trying not to think about suicide, unhealthy relationships and starving myself. I was on multiple meds, had no plans or direction for my life and was spinning out of control. I remember sitting on my bed, curled up in a ball and thinking that I just wanted to die. Then I thought about that thought for a minute – no I didn’t! And that’s when a little voice said, “You’re going to have to choose. You can’t keep floating between life and death.”
I chose to live.

It’s been a pretty bumpy road getting here, but I think that’s what’s making me realize just how much I want this. Last night I really felt like God was pointing me in the direction of 2 Peter 3:9 where it says, ” The Lord is not slow in keeping His promises, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you.” We’re all given passions and dreams for a reason. On each of our hearts God writes a script that is unique to who we are, and who we’re called to become. Maybe these things seem arbitrary and random, but those are what guide us to find our destiny/calling/purpose. The funny thing is how often it’s US who are causing the roadblocks to getting there.

I think one of the most dangerous things we can do is to ignore what we’re passionate about. But, the reality is, sometimes we just forget. We get so caught up in the societal expectations to ___________ (fill in the blank) that we lose sight of our own path. And, for a really long time, that was me. Afraid to live my life, and trying desperately to follow someone else’s dream to get married, work in an office, get pregnant, volunteer in the kids room at church and only shop at Nordstrom and Anthropologie. Note: There is nothing wrong with these dreams. But they are not mine (although, some might be in the future). Coming to terms with this realization was half the battle. But you know what they say: Acknowledging you have a problem is the first step to recovery. It wasn’t until I was in a place of complete (and essential) surrender, that God reminded me of the dreams HE had planted deep in my heart.

When I was going through some old boxes at my parents’ house a couple of weeks ago, I realized that throughout my life I’ve always wanted to move to France. I have coloring pages from when I’m 9 of the Eiffel tower and every school related binder I ever had has some kind of France theme to it. It was a dream of my heart – my heart’s desire. But, in the chaos of life, I had forgotten, and I almost gave up.

I’m so thankful that life is full of second chances. And that right now I am on a plane to go apply for a visa to FRANCE. That, in itself, is a miracle. And I think it’s important that I declare that. Everything might not be working out according to the plan in my mind, but it is going to work out, because this wasn’t my plan to begin with.

This dream comes from somewhere so much deeper than my mind or my heart. In truth, I think it comes down to following a path that’s been waiting for me for quite a while, now. To find it, I simply had to stop looking so hard for a path that was someone else’s “right one.”

Hope Unswervingly

Published on July 21, 2014July 21, 2014 by Emilee1 Comment

It’s against my nature to hope for things. I was raised to analyze facts, statistics and data, calculate a potential result, analyze that result and then still never fully put faith in the final solution.

It seems illogical to get your “hopes up” for something that may not come about. Statistically speaking there aren’t any certainties, so why hope for things?

But, last night I was reading 1 Corinthians 13 and, while I’m normally enraptured by the verses everyone remembers, “love is patient, love is kind…” this time my attention was grabbed by the very end of the verse:

“Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly.”

Trust God? Ok, I can do that. Love people? Ok, working on that. Hope unswervingly? WHAT.

I literally muttered, under my breath, “Why?”

Why does God command that we hope (and not only just hope, but hope UNSWERVINGLY)?

Hoping is dangerous. It puts you in a place of trusting the uncertainty of life. When you hope, it generally means there’s something out of your control. We hope for success, for things to go in the direction of our favor. We hope things work out, or that we’ll figure out a solution to an overwhelming problem.

The only issue is, these things will fade. They’ll break our heart. They’ll hurt us and make us never want to hope in anything, again.

This week has been kind of a hard one for me. A lot of personal things have come up that I thought had been dealt with in the past, but resurfaced, resulting in a lot of confusion and chaos.

But, while I’m praying and crying and trying to figure out things, I’ve continually been pointed to the idea of hoping in impossible things. For the first couple of days I thought, “No, I need something that will actually HELP me through this.”

But it kept coming, again and again: Hope.

I’ve never really realized how many bible verses there are about hope, but to save you the trouble of looking – there are a lot.

And after reading a few of them today, I noticed something. God doesn’t tell us to hope in or about things. He tells us to hope in Him, to find rest in Him, to know Him.

While I’m running around wondering how I’m expected to trust people, trust situations; hope in impossible endings, or extend impossible forgiveness, God says, “Put your hope in me.”

Like a lot of people, the Psalms are some of my favorite pieces of poetry.

In Psalm 42 we read “The prayer of someone who is in exile.”

This is one of my favorite chapters, because it’s raw and it’s human. In it the author talks about the emotional rollercoaster of leaning on God, and then remembering the past. They talk about heartbreak, they talk about “waves of sorrow” and questioning whether God has forgotten about them. In a nutshell, this has been my week.

But then, at the very end comes:

“I will put my hope in God,

And once again I will praise him,

My savior and my God.”

Life has a way of kicking us in the face. And I mean broken nose, blood and cracked bones, kicking. It happens to everyone at some point. Part of life is then getting up and still walking forward. But sometimes, if you’re really lucky, you’re also faced with having to forgive the beating. (Matthew 6:14-15)

As Christians, it’s not suggested – it’s required.

But, it’s not easy. And that’s what I’ve been wrestling with this week. And I do mean WRESTLING. I don’t like being put in vulnerable positions (who does?) I want to be in control of my life, and know what’s going on and when it’s going to happen.

But I don’t always. And even then God tells me to trust him. To hope in the promises that he has given me. To remember the little whispers he told me a year ago, while I was curled up gasping for breath from crying so hard.

It’s hard to hope.

It’s hard to remember.

It’s hard to keep walking, in faith, toward the things God has called us to.

Sometimes it’s with no directions. Sometimes we barely have a path we’re following.

But still he tells us to hope.

I can’t see what the outcome of situations will be. Sometimes I think I’ve got everything handled and in a good place, and then I get slammed with a curve ball like this week. I get knocked down. I get bruised and my heart feels like it’s going to tear in half. But I have to get up, again and again, and keep walking.

Hoping for things is not in my nature. Life is too uncertain. And risking with the potential for failure is against my better judgment.

But God doesn’t call us to hope in the uncertainty of our world. He calls us to hope in the certainty of knowing that when our brokenness, our messed up perceptions of what is happening, hits us hard, threatening to break our resolve, we hold tight to the promise that he will never fail us.

He is a never changing, immovable God who challenges us because He knows, ultimately, that we are so much stronger than we perceive.

So today I’m choosing to hope – not in the uncertain, the broken or the flawed. But in a Father who promises his presence when it’s time to find beauty in those things, and rise again.

Life Is Like A Mop

Published on July 20, 2014July 20, 2014 by EmileeLeave a comment

Hello beautiful people!

It’s been a while since I’ve written and there are a few reasons why.

1. I’ve been running around like a mad person trying to get things ready for moving (pretty unsuccessfully) and in between jumping up and down in excitement, and weeping for hours, I’ve haven’t had a lot of time to write.

2. I’ve been hosting Couchsurfers! My roommates have been gone for the last couple of weeks so I decided to take in some lovely Couchsurfers so they had a place to stay. We’ve had some pretty awesome adventures, and I’m so happy that I got to meet some other amazing people who love traveling as much as I do.

3. I’ve been arts-ing a lot. I’m trying to do this #100daysofhappy, inspired by one of my friends (it’s bumpy, but I’m determined to stick with it) and so I’ve been creating some watercolor beauties to share on my Instagram.

4. I’ve been/will be taking classes. I was taking an online “Lettering” class, which was fantastic. I use the website, Skillshare.com which has online tutorials, “classmates” and instructor videos for only $10/month (which is amazing). I loved taking the class so much and I can’t wait to practice more with all of my favorite quotes etc.

Whew! A lot has been going on. I’m still trying to get one last piece of paperwork processed before my visa application appointment on August 1st. CampusFrance is a French agency that all incoming students have to go through before getting a visa to France. I don’t really even know what they do, but I had to send in my paperwork weeks ago, and they still haven’t got back to me. I’m going to be harassing them this coming week to get my confirmation email, so I can be all set for my visa appointment.

This whole process has, honestly, been the most stressful process of my life (more than four years of college put together). I can’t even believe that I’ve made it this far, and worked this hard. But every time I hit a road block (which is happening A LOT) I just really have to view it as life asking me, “How bad do you want this?”

The resounding answer, of course, is A LOT.

Videos like this one have been keeping me on my toes:

At this point, I think it might just be my Irish stubbornness that’s keeping me going, but I feel like once I get to France I’ll be able to let out a huge sigh of relief.

Oh, and did I mention that I’ll be living in France in LESS THAN A MONTH! Let the hyperventilating commence. I can’t even believe how fast the past months have gone. I feel like every time I look at the calendar two weeks have passed and all I’ve done to “get ready” is stared at the things I probably will need to get rid of at some point, in my room.

But “c’est la vie“. I have no idea how this is all going to come together in the end, but I know that it will and that I’m getting ready to embark on a pretty amazing adventure. Updates should be coming pretty regularly now that life has slowed down a bit. The things remaining are:

1. Flying down to San Francisco AGAIN for my visa appointment (August 1st)

2. Getting approved from Campus France before being able to go to my appointment

3. Getting rid of pretty much everything I own (except my very favorites).

4. FORCING myself to keep practicing French even though I’m not “in the mood”

5. Not having a panic attack every day.

Shout out to all of my beautiful friends who have been keeping me sane over the past months, only one more to go!

People you should be following, because they’re doing awesome things:

10501643_313559992155165_1578426517127195225_n — Two French travelers adventuring around the US

Ciao!

San Francisco: Fin

Published on July 8, 2014July 8, 2014 by EmileeLeave a comment

Somehow, no matter when, where or how I fly, I end up sitting next to the screaming child. This time I got extra lucky, though, because I have one in front AND behind me. Glory.
Well, all trips can’t be perfect, I guess. And this one has been a pretty extraordinary one, overall.

CONFESSION: Pre this trip I think I had forgotten how to have fun.

It’s hard to admit , but I was pretty uptight coming to San Francisco. I think I was so intent on getting everything set with my move to France that I’d put blinders on to anything other than that.

I’ve talked before about the mirror test while traveling. When you take a minute to walk past a mirror and notice your face. Well, yesterday I walked past a mirror and realized something crazy – I looked rested…and happy. Sounds crazy, but it’s been a while since either of those words have applied to me.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – I only really only feel truly happy when I’m traveling.

Since the first and second day were so great, it seemed like asking too much to have a third perfect day, but then yesterday happened.

NOTE: A lot of this trip’s successes is because of an extraordinary Couchsurfing host, so a huge thank you to her!

Yesterday started off with the decision not to pay for transportation. So my host and I started to look up car sharing services and signed up for a few with some free minute promotions. All in all we saw pretty much the whole city for under $10.00 ( for both of us) which you’ll know is insane if you’ve ever tried to travel, with another person, around the whole city in a day.

On Saturday I saw that there was a Walt Disney museum in San Francisco, which I had never even heard of before – a fact that shocked me, since I’m such a huge Disney nerd. So, first thing we did was head over to the museum…which is literally I’m the middle of nowhere. I would never guess the museum was there, the building looks more or less like a mess hall at Barracks..

I was most excited for a special exhibit at the museum for Mary Claire, who was an artist and illustrator for Disney movies such as Peter Pan, Three Amigos, Cinderella and my all time favorite Disney movie, Alice In Wonderland.

The exhibit was amazing! I got to see original story boards and illustrations for some of my favorite movies, while learning about an amazing woman who not only worked full time and traveled the world as an artist, but also raised kids and was married – which I can’t even imagine. My favorite part of the exhibit, though, was being able to see inside her sketchbooks – they were a mess. Its pretty rare to be able to see inside another artist’s sketchbook, especially those who are professionals. It was so great to see that messiness is normal, beautiful and productive. It was so refreshing!

After the museum we made the long trek over to the Palace of Fine arts, which basically looks like something out of ancient Greece, but was actually built in 1915 as part of the Panama Pacific Exposition. Its so incredibly beautiful and a MUST SEE for anyone visiting San Francisco.

After the Palace, we tried to get some shots of the Golden Gate bridge, but the weather was no cooperating so the bridge was covered 90% with heavy fog (we’re talking, cannot see ANYTHING). Still took some pictures, but it was kind of a bummer not to be an!e to see all of its glory. We walked across the bridge, whip whirling wind and mist in our faces, and then decided to walk back the way we came, before we froze to death…or our legs fell off.

All in all, I could not have dreamt of a better trip. Everything didn’t go as planned, and I will have to go back down to San Fran in a few weeks to still apply for my Visa, but all in all I could have asked for more. In only three days I feel revitalized, refreshed and with a renewed sense of purpose. I really needed some down time to recuperate, and the funny thing is, I didn’t even know I needed it.

After regrouping, I’m going to be going in again August 1st to apply, and then begging and praying that they process my visa before my plane ticket on August 18th! Fingers crossed! Prayers much needed and appreciated.

My Au Pair Story

Published on June 10, 2014June 10, 2014 by EmileeLeave a comment

I realized today that I haven’t ever formally shared my story about how I became/am becoming an au pair in France. It’s pretty brilliant, so hold on to your seat. As all good stories do mine starts with:

“Once upon a time …”

I got laid off from my job. Ha. They gave me one week notice, which is insane and possibly illegal (at least morally). Needless to say, I hit panic mode. I applied for any and every job I could even remotely be qualified for. Then, when nothing happened, I started applying for jobs I was only meagerly qualified for.

This is when I stumbled on adds for taking care of kids. “I can do that,” I thought, “how hard can it be?” I was raised in a family of 5, with a hard working teacher for a mother, and the responsibility of partially raising my younger siblings, so becoming a second “mother” to random kids seemed like a natural enough transition. While applying, I decided I only wanted to work with larger families (3+ kids) so I didn’t get bored. And when I found one that said 5 kids, I knew it was perfect. I don’t know why, but in my mind I convinced myself that the more kids, the busier I would be, which would make working so much easier.

So I emailed off my resume. And got a response! I went in for an interview that week and it went great. They said they would email me back that week. So I waited. And waited. And waited. I think it was somewhere around a month later that I heard back that I got the job. It was nerve wrecking to say the least – mainly because, after months of no work, I had eaten through my savings and didn’t have the next months rent.

When I first started working as a nanny I thought I would work there for 1 year tops, since that was what my contract was for. As the months went by, though, I realized I may need to stick around for a bit longer. See, the family only consisted of 3 kids when I started, all biological children to the parents. Within 6 months there were two more who had been adopted from Africa.

For those who know about adoption, you know it’s a huge transition. There are a lot of aspects that have to come together to make it work, and one of them is the stability of the people around the kids. So I gave myself the time limit of 2 years. After that I would have to move on. It wasn’t that I hated my job, but I’ve seen people get comfortable in “good” jobs that are going nowhere and only realize 5 years later that they’ve wasted their time.

This year, at about 1.5 years I started wondering what I was going to do next. I love my job, and I was determined not to leave it unless something amazing came up. There was no way I was ever going back into the world of zombies, windowless cubicles or retail.

One day, while I was making dinner, my roommate asked me about whether or not I was still thinking about becoming an au pair. I had completely forgotten that I ever wanted to do that (although I have since I was a kid), or that I had told her about it being on my bucket list. But I thought, “What the hell? I have nothing else going on in my life right now. Why not see what happens?”

I hopped on Google and typed in “Becoming an au pair” and clicked on the first link that came up – a site called AuPairWorld. When I first started filling out the profile, I did it as kind of joke. I didn’t think I would get any responses, and I had no hopes about finding a family. But, within 24 hours, I had three families asking for more information and whether I would Skype with them. I couldn’t believe it!

I set up some interviews with families and found some amazing people, but it wasn’t until a few days later that a family in a little town south of Paris sent me a message. They seemed like the sweetest family on earth, and as soon as I had Skyped with them I was sure that they were the family for me. Although the glamour of living directly in Paris seemed like it would be a great experience, I remembered how overwhelming London was for me, and I knew that the countryside was a better fit.

Becoming an au pair in France is a lot harder than it sounds. There are mountains of paperwork, hurdles to jump over and red tape to tangle yourself in. But, through it all, I’ve been so lucky to have an amazing French family to work with. I feel so empowered knowing that I’m taking a directional step in my life; one that is going to produce boat loads of stories to tell my kids someday.

If you’ve ever considered becoming an au pair, I would highly suggest the website I went through. It’s completely free to make a profile, and provides a platform for you to meet families, and for you to talk to them beforehand in a safe space. If nothing else, it’s an awesome opportunity to see what your options are!

It’s crazy to think that six months ago I had no idea where my life was headed, and now I’m on my way to Europe. Sometimes crazy things, like getting laid off, land you in places you never thought you’d be. But the beauty of life, is that those places sometimes lead to better opportunities than you could have imagined.

373857_2675893809976_759427527_n — Seattle, WA

We Will Renew Our Strength

Published on June 7, 2014June 7, 2014 by EmileeLeave a comment

This morning I woke up to sunshine and an eerie silence. It’s been hanging over my neighborhood since Thursday, and the only thing to slice into it are the helicopters that continually fly over the building where Thursday’s shooting took place. Even if I wanted to forget, the constant propelling sounds, day and night, wouldn’t let me.

You never think it will be your school, your community or your friends. But then it happens. And when you hear the reports for the first time you think someone must have made a mistake – they must have. Things like that don’t happen here.

On Thursday afternoon there was a shooting at my Alma Mater, Seattle Pacific University. When my boss asked me at 4pm if I had heard the news, I started to correct her mid-sentence, “You must mean Seattle University, or Seattle Central, or North Seattle…” Anywhere that wasn’t Seattle Pacific. Not there. Things like that don’t happen there. But it did.

SPU is more than a school to me. It’s my family.

I’ve been on campus since I was four years old. I went to preschool across the street at First Free Methodist church. I used to color underneath the library study tables while my mom studied. I’ve been to almost every SPU play since I was 9 years old. And even though I graduated four years ago, I live across the street.

After four years, I still can’t walk across campus without being greeted by someone I know. Faculty, staff, students – someone always notices.

SPU has always been a safe place for me, and when I heard about the shootings, I couldn’t believe it. I went about my workday, waiting for the news to correct their mistake.

ATTENTION: The named location of the shooting has been misidentified, and is now being corrected to ________________.

But it never came.

Instead, there were reports of hospitalizations, friends mourning, and eventually the pronouncement of a death.

My heart was breaking. But I still couldn’t bring myself to cry.

As I played “Sorry” with the 7 year old I nanny, I tried to balance fake smiling and joking with him, while desperately checking the Seattle Police Twitter and trying to scrape together details of what happened. My brain was scrambled, people were shot – did I know them?

Then came the “I’m ok” messages on Facebook. And while they should have seemed reaffirming, they haunted me. With each message I realized who I could have lost. Who it could have been. How many people I knew on campus. It could have been any of us.

When I got back from work, hours after the shooting, I saw police cars, yellow tape and hoards of people gathering in the center of campus and streaming toward the Methodist church across the street. They were holding each other, praying with each other and the overall silence on campus was almost overbearing.

We weren’t wearing black, but every soul on that campus was mourning. You could feel it. And as I walked through campus, and once again saw faces I recognized, our eyes met in the silence. We all knew – we would never be the same. Campus would never be the same. Our family would never be the same.

Watching news footage that night made it all the more real. I saw my friends interviewed by the police – standing in front of the building moments after. I saw one of my friends bent over a bleeding student, comforting them as they waited for the ambulance. I saw the university President try to hold back tears as he answered questions from the press. Was this really happening?

The morning after.

I was getting ready for work at my usual ungodly hour of 6am when I got the text from my mom, “It was Aaron Ybarra.”

All I sent back was, “Shit.”

I knew him. I grew up with him. I remember him hanging out in friend circles, cracking jokes and sharing classes with me. He was part of my homeschool family. One that is very much like SPU.

And knowing that broke my heart even more.

How could this happen? Not one, but two separate families, shaken to the core by one persons actions. My grief was overbearing.

It would be easy to over analyze, to be consumed by pain and anger and confusion. But, while those are my instinctual reactions, I feel my heart needing more. My mind knows that the wages of sin are death, but my soul remembers that the gift of grace is eternal life (Romans 6:23).

What I’ve seen happening the last couple of days is moving beyond words. People coming together – churches overflowing to capacity with students, faculty, staff and an overwhelming number of alumni.

We didn’t forget. We didn’t graduate and walk away, because that’s not how family works. You never outgrow or graduate beyond the community and people who love you.

And while circumstances like this week could have easily broken us down, I’ve seen people coming together like never before.

In our grief, I pray for the ability to extend grace. To mourn with and for those affected. To seek guidance and somehow process something that has no easy answer. Through it all, I thank God for his grace and for his healing. We are going to need it.

I’m also so thankful for the people who have stepped up; for those who have organized, sacrificed, put others before themselves and responded. For the response teams – police, fire and medical. For the hospital teams who, through their hard work, have enabled students to return to their families. For the church, who has stepped up and been hope to the grieving. For the students who have organized funds for supporting families and commemoration at this year’s graduation ceremony.

We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken. (2 Corinthians 4:8)

And amidst these heavy shadows I see light. We are shaken, but not moved. And at moments like this I look around proudly and think, this – this is my family.