Missionary Kid Monday: Leaving

{To see how this series started, click here. To see why we decided to move to France, click here.}

I was only seven when my family moved to France.

I had no idea what kind of faith it took for my parents to leave behind everything and everyone they knew to move to a foreign country for the sake of the gospel.

I had no idea how drastically my life would change because of my parents' decision.

I was just excited because my mom told me that they had this chocolate peanut butter stuff over there that I was really going to LOVE.

Plus, I was going to go on a PLANE. I felt very popular during first grade recess.

The day before we left, we all stayed overnight at my grandma's house. My siblings and I slept on the floor in the office. Our flight left really early in the morning, and I have a distinct memory of my mother standing in the doorway to wake us up, the dim light in the hallway behind her making her look like just a dark shadow.

The plane ride itself was a blur. My parents must have been a special kind of crazy to drag all three of us kids (and all of our luggage) on a super long flight. Our first "term" was going to be for four years. After that, we would come back to CA for one year, then return to France for another term. And so on and so on. I'm impressed with my folks for being so brave!!

When we landed in Paris, a nice missionary couple picked us up from the airport and drove us to their apartment in the suburbs of the city.

We stopped at a little grocery store on the way to get some supplies. My first encounter with French culture? Having to deposit a coin into the shopping cart in order to use it! (If you've been to Aldi, you know what I'm talking about!). At the time, it cost 1 Franc - about 25 cents-

via

This was the first of many culture shocks - these first few years redefined what I came to believe as "normal."

{Stay tuned for more next Monday when I'll be sharing about our year in language school!}