Learning: Why?

Hi.

How are you? Doing well? I hope you are.
Perhaps understandably, my last post was a little difficult to write and publish. Part of my stubbornness manifests itself in the form of wanting to seem like I've got it all together. I just want people to see that I can handle the things given to me, and do the tasks assigned to me with finesse.

So this post is even harder. The past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about dating and relationships, and having conversations with a lot of people about those things. After having broken up with my boyfriend of five years in July, I casually dated a new guy. And then that kind of stopped, for various reasons: our personal goals and convictions are different, distance, and some other things I probably don't know about. And while I can reason that this is best, and it is what I actually want, I can't help but feel really deflated.

I've been thinking about that emotion, and telling people "Yeah, we're not gonna date, and that's probably best, but for some reason I'm really bummed." Most everyone just says, "Aw, that's tough. Sorry, " and gives that pity look -- you know the one.

So what? Why am I -- someone who is strong, smart, happy, and blessed -- feeling so helpless?
I think it comes down to how I relate to men.

I look to the men in my life to affirm, love, appreciate, lead, discipline, encourage and support me. Look at those things: they aren't bad, right? All positive elements of a good relationship. Except that the only place that I look for that is in men. Usually one.

Why?
I have a superb group of female friends and leaders, a supportive church family and mother, but for whatever reason, their attempts to fill those roles for me just seem to fall flat. Why?

Much to my dismay, I don't have the answer to that question. But I'm thinking about it, and praying about it. If you have any ideas, I'd be happy to hear them. It's gettin' real! Until next time, friends.

Home Again, Pt.1

Or, How I almost didn't make it home from France.

Okay, so that's a little melodramatic, but I was in fact stuck in France for an extra day.

After having a really wonderful last day visiting with Christelle, my host's grandmother and then a great final dinner cooked by Yann, I made it to the train station early to get to my flight on time.

I understood that I needed to be at the airport an hour early, so I choose a train that would get me to the Charles De Gaulle airport about one hour and ten minutes early.

The train was entertaining, I sat behind some cute kids. Unfortunately, the train was also about 20 minutes late.

I finally made it to my check in area in CDG, and when I asked the girl which line I should go into, she asked which flight I was on. Mind you, my flight was scheduled to leave at 11:10 and it was about 10:30 (though I wasn't aware of the time).

Me: Charlotte.
Her: Oh. You are too late.
Me: What?
[She turns and waves a man over towards me, telling him I was there for the Charlotte flight]
Him: Do you know what time it is?
Me: No... but -
Him: Come with me.
[We walk a few feet back where he motions to a departure screen, the time is at the top.]
Him: It is 10:38, and the boarding is closed at one hour before departure. Do you understand? You have missed the flight, you can talk to information.

Me: ... Thank you?

To be continued...