{the good shepherd}

I don't do creative things.

In fact, one things I've resolved to do this year is to start making more things with my hands. To make food or crafts or forts, whatever as long as they're trying something knew and learning how to not depend on a recipe or step-by-step instructions for it. 

The longer I live overseas, the more I've come to learn that as spontaneous and adventure-loving as I am, I like having a plan. I always use a recipe when I cook, I always follow step-by-step instructions and I like efficiency. 

These are all things I've learned I have to sacrifice living overseas. Yes. Even in France. Things are not efficient here in any strict definition of the word. Sometimes you get cut in line by everybody at the metro ticket desk. Sometimes the bus doesn't show up or the bank is randomly closed with no explanation. Seriously, I'm surprised this country is still running. There is no clear-cut process or any idea of "efficiency" here. I'd expect that if I was living in Sub-saharan Africa. Not in France. Not in the country of the Tour-de-France and the Cannes Film Festival. 

So my need for instruction, for a plan, that's part of my identity. I could tell you the hundreds of little pieces of life that have formed me to be this way. I could tell you about forgetting to add an egg to a batch of brownies I made as a little girl and crying afterwards because they were ruined (my mother still hugged me and said they were delicious), about planning my own birthday party in 5th grade (and meticulously decorating my backyard and karaoke machine) and how I am a terrible wanderer when walking (I walk fast, always). There are loads of details and things that have made me come to realize that I like a plan. I like a recipe and clear direction and with those in mind I can experiment and have an adventure and build forts. 

I like a plan so much that I focus on the plan. My life and identity are built around the process and the plan and not the destination or yet, on the one who guides me through the plan. 

Listening to a talk that a friend of mine gave on John 10, she described how Jesus is our Good Shepherd. Instead of walking behind the flock of sheep, shepherds in this part of the world would walk ahead of the flock so that the sheep would follow behind. Each sheep knew his shepherd, and the shepherd would know his sheep. He would walk out in front to prepare the path for the flock following him. 

This is how Jesus is with us. 

He will never push you into a place where he has not gone before you and prepared a way through for you. He will not call you to a foreign land or to a new job and leave you deserted.

The fact that He has called me to do something does not make it easy, but it does make it significant. He loves us more than to give us an easy life. He wants us to have a full and abundant life. 

Moving overseas was not the end of obedience, it was the beginning for me. Accepting this job, moving overseas and buying a metro card was not the grand, final, super spiritual act of my life, but a step of obedience towards my leader. 

As believers, Jesus shows us that He is the Good Shepherd in how he stewards us and teaches us in our time with Him. It is as we learn who Jesus is, who our shepherd is, that we respond. We recognize the call of our leader and are compelled to respond. 

This is a beautiful image to think about. Christ knows us deeply and intimately. Nothing in his flock is hidden from him. He knows them and loves them the same. He knows that we are silly sheep and that we will wander away at times, but He loves from the front of time. He loved first and loves us still. 

We are Known. Understood and Delighted in by our Shepherd. It is after we grasp this identity that we have direction and are fulfilled in what we do. He has handed me an identity and in return He asks me to step forward.

Everyday.

In a land that is vastly inefficient.

And in a ministry that seems impossible most days.

This is the only plan we need. This is the direction that has been given to us for our good and for His glory.

So in a commemoration of this lesson and the hours of soul-searching this provoked, I made something with my hands.

{panic-mode Meredith}

.

Monday morning I woke up and began my day as usual. I drank a cup of coffee, sliced a pear and  did a little bit of reading before I logged into Skype to talk to Jon. Usually we talk in the evenings but after a long and busy week and a busier weekend, he had asked if we could talk for a little bit on Monday morning. So I logged in and busied myself with getting ready for the day until 10am came and went. I sent him a text message a little bit later asking if he slept in and then tried to call him. Pretty amused that he had slept in I got up to start making lunch around 11:15. I was really excited to cook up some quinoa and some veggies to take with me to a lunchtime meeting that day. 

Getting the pan heated up, suddenly the front door rang. I answered the call and it was an American voice asking for Brittany, my room-mate.

I immediately thought that it was the voice of a guy on our team but when I asked who it was, the mystery voice said simply that he had a delivery for Brittany.

 mpulsively  I volunteered our floor number as I pressed the buzzer to unlock the front door for him. I then began to panic.

What had I just done? I rang a total stranger into my building and moreso I gave him access to the elevator AND told him my floor number.

My heart started to pound as I imagined numerous scenarios that could have unfolded... most of them ended up with me dead or dangling off the high balcony.

 In complete panic, I grabbed a pair of scissors to keep in my hand which I threw down at the last minute as I opened up my door to await for my killer. 

(yes... panic-situation Meredith is handling this really well at this point)

So, I'm standing there with my door open, heart pounding and beginning to sweat as the elevator arrives on our floor.

 I nervously utter  "help me, Lord,"as the elevator door slowly started to open and I began to back away from my open door in fear. The door swung open and a hand holding a familiar brown laptop bag emerged followed by the very un-serial-killer face and smile of Jon Thompson.

The only thing I remember is slowly backing away from the door in shock and him coming to the threshold of the door, smiling, and saying hello. He says my first words were, "WHAT are you doing here??" but I'll say that that is a perfectly acceptable question seeing as how Jon lives in the UK. not in France where I live.

Eventually I calmed down, my heart still pounding from the terrifying sounds of the elevator bringing stranger to my door step and then from the realization of the surprise in front of me.

He had come to surprise me and spend two days here walking around and cooking dinner for an early Valentines Day. It was such an incredible surprise, and he kept laughing about it his entire time here and poking fun at me for being so scared. Don't worry though, he did lecture me about how unsafely panic-Meredith responded to crisis situation but he was glad it worked out that he could wait to surprise me on my doorstep.

Homeslice even brought sunshine and milder weather to grumpy gray Paris!

{meredith in paris in january}

After spending the New Year with a sweet group of friends, it was exceedingly difficult to return to daily life here. January and February in Paris are notoriously bleak. and very cold. So it was hard to try and look ahead past what was widely accepted among our team as the worst months of the year. Still, I tried to push through and be positive.

I feel like January can't really be articulated in what I did or new vocabulary I learned or in looking at what I wrote down in my planner. In reflecting, all of the meat, all of this "update" has happened in my heart, so please bare with me as I try and flush it out for you.

This month, I've started teaching my own class at our Women's Literacy class. I have 10 sweet, hilarious and ridiculous women who I get to spend time with 3 times a week. I'm enjoying the smaller setting and the ability to influence the pace of the class depending on how well the women are understanding our material. I love sharing the stories at the end of class and feeling the women start to connect with who Jesus is and what His life means. Mostly, I love that I'm getting to know each of the women more personally. Knowing what their lives are like and having them know me more. I'm praying that this will afford greater access into their homes to know them outside of classes!

So I started off January with classes, excited about a new routine and pushing through the bleakness of the weather. 

Then, in mid-January, things started to get a little crazy. On January 14, my older sister had her second baby, precious Will. I got to FaceTime with my family in the hospital after the fact and got to see little Will all swaddled up and new to the outer-world. I cried a lot and he yawned a lot. Don't blame him though, it's a tough business being born!

Bibi (my mom) beaming. Will (my nephew) yawning. Meredith (myself) crying.

January 17, I received the news that my grandfather passed away back in the States. My family is small, as I've only one living set of grandparents, and it was important that we were able to grieve at this time together. Thankfully, I was able to take a few days at fly back home for the funeral and for some sweet time with my family. My sister and her now slightly larger family are in the States until March, so I was able to see them and to do a lot of baby holding, diaper changing, and niece-swinging while mom-hugging, National Championship game-watching, and chips and salsa-dipping. As unexpectedly as it was planned and as difficult as the reason for my home-coming was, it was a sweet sweet time.

This is Lucy, my 4-year-old niece who can count to 10 in Arabic unprompted. She's awesome and also jumped up and down on my bed waving this flag chanting the pledge-allegiance on my first night back.

Me, jet-lagged. Will, adorable and cuddly and baby-smelling.

These are my parents. They are almost always wearing red t-shirts.

January has yielded way to February and with it has come the responsibility and joy of classes and French exchanges and other daily tasks. A slight rise on the thermometer (highs of 45, to be exact) has been a silly tease of springtime to come.

Ultimately, in January I was pulled and twisted by the Lord into obedience. There were points when I didn't want to step forward, where the only thing forcing my feet one in front of the other was knowing that my will, my plans and my comfort are subject to the sovereignty and Lordship of my God. In the confusion and frustration of my grandfather's illness in early January I would have never imagined that his death would be in perfect timing- in perfect accord with the birth of a new baby and the reminder of life. As he stepped into eternity with the Lord, being given a new, more fully realized, and capable body, my nephew came into the world in brand new form. It doesn't wipe away the sadness and the frustration that I've felt at points with The Father, but it has removed any bitterness. His timing is so. far. superior. to ours. What hope we have, sweet friends, as children of the Most High!

My grandmother and Will, her first great-grandson.

This is my favorite picture.

"O God, I have tasted Thy goodness and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more."-AWTozer

Our God is a good God. Always.

OK OK OK, I know you want to see more baby pictures.

RTR Y'all.