We moved back to Florida five months ago. I have to look back at my photo reels to remember that it wasn’t just an amazing dream that I didn’t want to wake up from. God was so good to us during our one year stint in Toulouse, France.

This was the second time I called Toulouse home. The first time was from 2003-2008, when I was single and ministering with Cru. Fast forward 20 years (yes, 20 years!) and I got to go back with our whole family. Our three oldest kids were born in Paris but our two youngest don’t call France their birth country. They didn’t share any of our family memories that we made during our six years, as a family, in Paris. And, because we left France in 2017 in a fragile state, some things felt undone. Now don’t get me wrong, we didn’t set out on a “redemption tour” or “family adventure” under the guise of ministry. Rather, we felt graciously invited by God to move our family for a year to fill a gap that the ministry in Toulouse had. We said “yes” and it was redemptive and it was adventuresome at times (at least it felt so for me and Dave). When our year was up, we moved back to Orlando. (The door was open for us to stay longer, but as we prayed and asked God if we could stay for a second year the Lord said, “nope, just one year.”)

Our return to the U.S. was strange… We arrived in Orlando late July (hmm… that sounds familiar… like 2017 familiar). I got Covid a few days after we landed and I ended up with a bad case. I had symptoms for about four days and then had energy to help dear friends pack up and wave them off as they moved north. Then, I found myself in bed for three weeks with deep fatigue. Dave unpacked 85% of the house and I feebly watched All Creatures Great and Small, with a side of the Olympics, while sipping on electrolyte drinks. September came, I started homeschooling the kids and grappled through all the new and change. While in France, our church dissolved, our girls’ ballet studio closed, the ministry team we had been apart of in Orlando for 5 years closed and several of our dear friends moved away. We started a new homeschool co-op, a new ballet studio, visited countless churches and looked for new roles with Cru.

The last month has been re-evaluating all the new and where we’ve settled. And now, it’s December: Christmas recitals, company Christmas parties and end-of-the semester celebrations. I have a lot of compassion for people who are starting anew… especially in a city they already (thought) they knew. I have a friend who speaks about a similar season of losses for their family while living in Orlando. She refers to the season that followed as “Orlando 2.0.” We are living the first chapters of our “Orlando 2.0” and I’m thankful for God’s steadfastness in this journey. There are been tearful times at church as I watched the worship slide background cycle through a beautiful mountain scene that reminded me of the mountains we fondly drove through in Europe. Or, when I felt disoriented by the social norms of a new group (do people just not look others in the eyes anymore to say hello??). I cried as I missed my dear friend Tiff and family in Toulouse. They were our Friday night friends… you know the friends you kind of have standing plans with on the weekend if you’re free? What a gift. Seriously, what a gift.

Is it any wonder we decorated early for Christmas? I told Dave I wanted to put the tree up a good 10 day before Thanksgiving. We’ve never done that. “I think I just want to lean into our traditions… things that are known to me.” My heart felt more anchored as we pulled out the Christmas ornaments and told their stories… of great-great grandmas, places we’ve visited, first Christmases, who gave the ornaments or made them and why. (The year of the pompoms: Lexie was 4 and loved playing with fuzzy little pompoms, so I made several ornaments to gift others out of pompoms.) I did help remind me that I, that we, have existed outside this time of transition. We belong to a bigger story.

And here I sit, December 8, 2024, on a teal plastic Adironkdack chair in our Floridian front yard. It’s a chilly 71 degrees. The neighbors’ outdoor Christmas decorations are singing Jingle all the Way. The kids are running around the backyard with neighbor kids playing… something. We’ve had a full weekend with ballet recitals, piano recitals, a cake decorating contest at co-op and a makers’ market for kids at a town next door. We are living our next chapter here in Orlando. I have to remind myself that God is just as faithful and good calling us back to Orlando, as He was when He called us to Toulouse. I love living in France; it’s where I’ve spent over 15 years of my life. Three of our kids were born there. I thrive stumbling upon such beauty and encountering reminders of how long God has been telling His story. And for one bonus year, I got to be back there with all six of my favorite people in the world. Thank you, Daddy. Thank you.

This was our Christmas photo from last year. It was taken in a vintage Airstream camper, turned photo booth. We stumbled upon it at a village Christmas festival an hour outside of Toulouse.