The Lord's timing is perfect-down to the last second

June 2010 was quite the month for me in France. It is the month in  which my daughter gave birth to my first grandchild-Ella. It was not the same as actually being there with her but I made the most of the free calls from France to NZ and shared in her hours of labour as she breathed through the contractions until  Ella's father could be there with her. Although there are incredible miracles that surround this experience I am not going to add them here because they are her experiences as well as my own. I do want to share more of my journey in France as I approached the date the Bishop set aside to decide whether I was staying or not.

I was just a little nervous as D-day in June 2010 approached (Lol that sounds like a soldier in WWII could have written that in 1944). It was like seeing through a glass darkly. I would like to have had more idea of my future and a clearer picture for my journey. With the approach of the deadline I was excited however that one way or the other the Lord would now need to show His hand.

And He did-just not in the way I expected! A phone call brought me to an interview with the Stake President. He explained that his father was very ill, most likely dying and that his mother was in need of assistance. He proposed a situation of mutual advantage where I would move into their apartment, provide moral and physical support where needed and I would be able to remain in France and continue my quest to find work. I was absolutely devastated even though it was an excellent idea. As I prayed about it that night the answer came as a definite "yes" and I balked at it. Not because it was an illogical idea but because there was this element of pride in it. Like as in, "You mean I have sold everything, left my children behind and my country and you want me to do THIS?? I had built my hopes on the idea that the Lord would provide me with a definitive answer as to why I was sent here but this was not it! I wanted meaning and I wanted something to be meaningful. But I had come this far on obedience-this was not the time to rebel.

The next few weeks were incredibly difficult as I moved to the other side of Paris, away from my wonderful ward, my friends,  and most especially my one remaining child with me who stayed on in Cergy to be close to the university. Why did the Lord keep taking away any comfort blanket that I had? The couple were so wonderful to me but I was struggling. Claude was in the hospital when I arrived and my first weeks were spent driving Liliane backwards and forwards to the hospital to spend time with him each day and then to help her with day to day tasks. As his condition deteriorated I knew I needed to stay as close to Liliane as possible to provide support as she came to the slow realisation that her husband was not going to make it and 24hr/7 was taken up in her care.


I keep having these tests of my faith about being here in France and this was really the largest one-I looked ahead of me and saw no way out. I didn't have the opportunity to look for work under these circumstances and there was no other possible option that I could see to improve the situation. It was in this frame of reference that I was struck hard with an impression to seek for a priesthood blessing from a particular American missionary Elder in Paris, the husband of a missionary couple. I am so, so, so grateful that I followed that inspiration.

Much of Elder Stover's blessing is very personal to me and I won't share it all on this public forum. I can say that it became clear that the Lord was asking me to give service at this point in time, that this was not the time to seek the success of the world. What I didn't expect to hear however was when he said that I would be re-united with the spirits of my family members in the spirit world. I was also told that I was in the right place, that coming to France was the will of the Lord and that He would go before me and would be at my left hand and at my right hand. I was reminded that I was not to forget it. My first reaction to this was, "Am I going to die?" No-one in my family was ill at that time. A peaceful, wonderful spirit enveloped me however and I was suddenly not worried.

The very next day I was travelling in the train in Paris on the way home and I was reading in the Book of Mormon, a chapter in Alma 40 which was talking about the spirit world after death. This was purely by chance because this was where I was up to while undertaking a challenge to read the Book in the 90 days of summer! At that moment I received a call on my cellphone. It was my mother to tell me that my father had suddenly died while the two of them were on their holiday in Holland. Although it knocked the wind out of me and I had to get off the train at the next stop so that I could breathe better, the words of Elder Stover's blessing just sang in my head, over and over. WOW, I thought-the Lord's timing is perfect, down to the very minute!!

It was wonderful to be with family during those days of saying our goodbyes to Dad. However, Elder Stover's blessing became an important reinforcement for me again as the night before the actual funeral service my brothers and sisters spoke to me to urge me to go back to NZ, that my children were suffering and that no-one in my family supported me being in France. Once again the blessing came strongly to me and an incredible peaceful feeling overwhelmed me-"I will go before you and be at your left hand and at your right hand." I truly felt it that night. I understood all too well that using logic they were right and there was no answer that could have or would have satisfied them. I was not on my own that night-I walked back to the hotel just surrounded by the spirit. I am sure it will remain one of the most defining moments in my life.

That same day I also received word that Claude had died. I bid a tearful farewell to my Dad, said my goodbyes to my family and headed back to Paris for yet another funeral.

Although Dad dying was a shock and difficult to accept, the experience was a pivotal one in my journey here in Paris. It was during that trip to Holland that I became aware just how completely I gave my life to the Lord to do with it whatever He wanted. There was no holding back now. It was an incredible, freeing feeling oddly enough. Exhilarating in the understanding that my life could now go in any possible direction-wherever the Lord was going to take me.

Take a ticket

It is 6am on  rainy day in the Ile de France with time to kill before the 9am opening of the Sous-Prefecture of Palaiseau (A prefecture is a regional administration unit of France.) It’s time already to renew my titre de séjour which will enable me to stay another year in this country. When I arrived in front of the gate I was greeted by the smiling faces of a group of African men, my fellow immigrants. As I take my “ticket”, a simple scrap of paper with a number hand written on it, I note that I am already number 22 in the queue.

I am offered an equally simple exercise book in which I write my name alongside my number. Outside the Prefecture my fellow immigrants are organised, orderly. « La personne qui est la première dans la file d’attente est venue à quelle heure, messieurs ? » I asked. (What time did the first person in the queue arrive ?) They point to a hooded, young man. “Minuit!” he said (Midnight).

After the usual pleasantries and a chorus of shared horror stories of the French Administration system I take my little ticket and head off to a quiet spot. I am hoping like crazy that this process is going to go more smoothly than last year (or the year before) because winter is fast approaching and I don’t fancy waiting in the snow.

So much of my life in France has been swallowed up by the French administration processes in a seemingly never ending cycle.

Yesterday, I made a trip into Paris to visit the organisation responsible for my state health insurance. I need to back track a little here so that this will make sense. The French embassy in New Zealand gave me a visa “in principle” but this is required to be validated by the local authority once you arrive. To obtain the full visa I was required to register my business immediately.  I then had the pleasure of starting to pay the French social charges (cotisations) regardless of whether or not I have earned any money.

I presented myself at the l’Urssaf offices in September 2008 to register the business to be told by a rather stern receptionist that I couldn’t do this without a social security number. Politely I asked where I did this and I was directed to the building across the road. Bear with me now, OK! In this building, the receptionist informed me that I was in the wrong place and drew me a map to my next building, some distance away. As I arrived at this new building I noticed a large crowd spilling onto the path outside. “Oh oh” I thought. Once again, I took the obligatory ticket and read in consternation, “Il y a 88 personnes devant vous” (there are 88 people ahead of you.) In my head I kept repeating to myself for the 4 hours I waited for my turn, “Please, please let this be the right place!” Once again, I nervously asked the receptionist about my social security number.”Ce n’est pas ici Madame” (It is not here, Madame). Aargh!! Smiling between gritted teeth I asked where to next for which the reply was a shoulder shrug and “Sais pas!” (I don’t know). Dead end!

By this time my politeness was definitely wearing thin and I realised my precarious situation: no social security number, no business; no business, no visa; no visa and end of journey. No Way!!!

I made my way back to the l’Urssaf at the beginning of the cycle and while maintaining composure I used my best authoritarian voice in my faltering French to say to the stern receptionist, “You WILL register my business NOW, WITHOUT my social security number.”  LOL, she looked startled, didn’t say a word and registered me. I felt a litte exultant to be able to leave with the precious piece of paper in my hand evidencing my business.

After 22 months in France I was finally granted my own social security number after having paid quarterly cotisations (LOL the bills for the cotisations always came on time to the right address ;)), after they had lost 5 copies of my birth certificate and after numerous trips to their offices. I still have not received the final product-the carte vitale-after 2 years.

Why am I writing all this? It is a long-winded way of saying I have learned a whole new lesson in this journey. During my first 29 yrs in the church whenever the Lord wanted me to move cities the doors were speedily opened to enable me to do this, often in miraculous ways. This request from the Lord to come to France seemed so immense that I just expected the doors to be wide open. But that has just not been the case. At every turn I have been confronted with barriers and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. At times this has made me, and certainly some of those close to me, question my decision to come here.

I have constantly been on my knees in prayer, my question always the same, “Am I am in the right place, at the right time doing the right things?” and although I don’t get  it right every day the big picture is clear-I am where I am supposed to be.

I will eventually share some of my experiences which have confirmed this but I wanted to share just one here (LOL if you are still reading). About 9 months after I arrived, my Bishop here had an interview with me. Throughout our time he suggested that perhaps I had been mistaken in coming and perhaps I should go home to New Zealand.  At the end of our time he suggested giving me a priesthood blessing in which he said things that he could not possibly have known, things said to me before many times over the years by different means. I knew then that he may have been the mouthpiece but that the Lord was speaking. He went on to say that I had been sent to this part of the world for a reason but that He was NOT going to give me the reason just yet. He promised to take care of me financially and that I was not to worry about that aspect.

Although it is not necessarily getting any easier I believe that this journey is my proving ground. How much was I willing to give? How much faith do I really have? How much trust do I have in the Lord’s plan for me even when logic and I go our separate ways?

 I can only tell you that I am still sitting outside the Sous-Prefecture at Palaiseau this morning, waiting for the doors to open.