Loves of Late

My months in France came to a bittersweet end this week. It was a life-changing experience filled with amazing people and memories I won't soon forget but after a two day commute including four flights and very interesting nights in airports (I was left with a stranger's child at one point...) I was so glad to be home.

I've recently read a post by Sprinkle of Glitter (seriously, she is a delight.) full of inspiring 'Loves of Late', encouraging others to say what they're loving at the moment. Since I'm state-side once again I thought a similar post was a great idea!


My dear sweet friends and family.
I was greeted at the St. Louis airport with texts from one of my closest, "Are you still on the plane?", "We're past security!", "Do you have a lot of stuff?", "Eek! Missssssssouri!", a huge hug and helping hand with my luggage. I then came home to my mom and brother waiting for pictures and a retelling of recent adventures.
They're the best.

Fall.

You can't even imagine my excitement as I trekked around my home and got to admire the changing leaves, the crisp clean air all with a pumpkin spiced latte in hand. Now to enjoy bon-fires, haunted houses, and Halloween parties. Quite the welcome!!

The familiar.

My adrenaline rush comes from being in a completely different place, where I don't know a soul and am forced to figure things out on my own. It's exciting and scary and so so rewarding to look back on! I've been asked if it gets lonely venturing out on my own and my answer to that will never change. Absolutely not. I've always been a pretty quiet person, it takes me awhile to get close or to trust someone, but since I've placed myself in foreign territory it's forced me to get out there and talk. People are generally good and aren't near as scary as I thought. And since this discovery I've met some of the greatest people from all over the globe! I love hearing about their lives, their different ways of thinking, experiencing their culture. These are cherished memories and I don't regret a single thing.

BUT, it is nice to know where the nearest Starbucks is...

Babies.
Since I've been gone two of my friends have been incredibly blessed with gorgeous baby girls and my sister-in-law is almost due with my first nephew! Ahh!

Oh Springfield, Missouri. I never thought I would include you in a 'Loves of Late' and yet there you are.

For a little while, at least...

Paris

Paris. The capital of love. Ville de lumiere. One of the most beautiful cities in the world. 

                                     And I had 96 hours to discover it all.

 Fresh off the train, I trecked to the nearest Starbucks and did a bit of shopping. Then gradually made my way to Sacré Coeur. As soon as you enter Montmartre there are people waiting to snag you in a deal and get you to pay some outrageous price for generic Paris memorabilia. I loved it. 

 After ditching my backpack, I found my way to Montparnasse Tower and was blessed with a gorgeous view of the city!

You can't send a dancer to Paris and not expect a dance picture. Impossible.

By mid-afternoon on day two I had given all of my money to the stores on the Champs-élysées. Come on, people. That street housed the LARGEST SEPHORA IN THE WORLD. What was I supposed to do? Not spend money??

 Day 3 was made for walking. I had met up with a few people from the hostel and we walked. all. day. long. We zig zagged our way from Pompidou to the Eiffel Tower- thats about 10 miles. I definitely didn't have to worry about my calorie count for that day.

 Ah! A monument that needs no introduction! After our 12 hour hike, it was so nice to sit in front of the Eiffel Tower and just sit. We watched the other tourists for a awhile and gazed at our finish line.

 Wrapping up my Parisian pas de deux was the view from the top of the Effiel Tower. There is really nothing I can say except "wow".

                                                     96 hours well spent. 

The Slaves

The most significant part of my days in Paris approached me at the Louvre while standing in front of  Michelangelo's Rebellious Slave and Dying Slave.
I was close enough to touch the same piece of stone that this extraordinary man labored over, the same piece of stone that he made plans for and felt. I stood in front of his craft, his passion, his life. What was he thinking as he cut each unwanted piece away? Was he satisfied with his end result? Did he ever imagine that hundreds of years later people would still be traveling the world just to stand face to face with his creations? Am I too far away or not close enough? Where did he want his viewers and how did he want these men to be percieved?

I wanted to hold their faces in my hands, I wanted to touch the marble that took hours upon hours to polish and perfect. I craved to trace every detail after discovering the precision needed to create the realistic lines and the attention to usually unnoticed details in the human form. I'm pretty sure I spent a solid ten minutes just staring at their feet(You guys probably wouldn't want to come to museums with me...) It's incredible to think that he chisled away those small lines and shaped a stone to look like an actual moving being. And the muscles too, think about how long he had to study and know the marble so that he knew exactly how it would break to create movement in a shoulder blade or calf muscle.

I was blessed in that everyone else in the room seemed to be distracted with the other pieces and left me in a comfortable position to stand in amazement without feeling like a bother. I know that slot of time was reserved just for me to stand in wonder and to realize that He wants us to be enslaved in that wonder every minute of every day with His creations, His people, His works of art. I need to be amazed at the little details of life that I tend to under appreciate and recognize the care and labor He put into our surroundings and circumstances. I hope He highlights the fine lines in my life and pray to be more aware and conscious of the little things that come together and put life into His perfect motion.

I wish I could say I had another mind blowing experience with the Mona Lisa but that was not the case. Maybe it was the atmosphere(there were literally hundreds of people shoving their way to catch a glimpse. Think of it as a touristic moshpit.) or because it was so distant and covered with glass. Maybe if I could see the brush strokes and the rises and falls of the paint I would have the same bewilderment as I did with the slaves. Although I didn't get the urge to weep with adoration in front of the most secretive woman in history, it was a pretty epic end to my Parisian tour.

Can't wait to show you the rest!