“Paris, First Class, International”

It’s one of those movie quotes that repeats itself often in my mind since getting this job.
Personally, I don’t love working first class, but in the movie “View From The Top”, working first class en route to Paris means you have really, truly ARRIVED.

Yesterday I returned from my first Paris trip in years, and where did I work? You guessed it.
And while it’s definitely not as glam as in “the good ol’ days”–and while I still don’t love working with the hoity toities in First–I don’t think I will ever get over PARIS.
I don’t know what it is about that city. Some people say it’s dirty, but having been in many, MANY European cities, I don’t see much of a difference, Maybe because it’s Paris, there’s an unspoken expectation that it should be pristine, but regardless, I still see nothing but beauty.

It was a Sunday morning when we arrived, and my coworker suggested we go to the outdoor market as soon as we got in. Despite our obvious exhaustion, we changed out of our uniforms and hoofed it the few blocks to the market, arriving just as it opened. The crisp morning air woke us up straight away, and the peacefulness of the morning combined with the invigorating sights, sounds and aromas of a quaint, outdoor fresh market were enough to make us positively chipper. I wish we had just stayed up and out rather than returning to our hotel with our market wares and napping for a few hours. But we did, agreeing to meet up again around 1:30 to go out again.

Both of us have been to Paris enough times to know we wanted to be leisure with our activities, but I let it slip that I had never been up the Eiffel Tower–a quintessential Parisian tourist experience–so that’s what we ended up doing.
Unfortunately, every other tourist in Paris had pretty much the same idea (don’t they know it’s not tourist season? Why are they in France in February??), so most of the time we were waiting in line. Nevertheless, it was an awesome experience. The weather was refreshing, the people watching was a delight, and the views were positively spectacular.

How could anyone say this city was dirty?


The shadow of the Eiffel Tower pointing toward, in the distance, Sacre Coeur


The Seine, with the French countryside in the distance


The lawn of the Eiffel Tower (which looks much prettier in the spring)


Looking up from the 2nd level


Not the best panoramic ever but what can you do?


The Seine


Le Tour Eiffel


Baby #4

My sister had another baby today. A boy, Imri. This now makes 3 boys and one girl. My brother-in-law called me this morning with the news, and while we’re all SUPER stoked to welcome this new little guy into the world, I can’t help but feel that I’m not the only one who’s slightly disappointed it wasn’t another girl. And that feels SO very wrong, to feel disappointed by something as awesome as a new life entering into existence.

But you see, the boys in my sisters family have a shaky track record. Aiden, the oldest, has Hypotonia and verbal apraxia, while Xander, the second oldest, is autistic. So naturally the addition of another male feels something like a great leap into the unknown. Will he have any developmental issues, or will he be ok like his sister, Lizzie? What will the family dynamic be like when they all get a little older? There’s so much we don’t know and WON’T know for quite some time, but I have a feeling this will be, if anything, a stretching experience for us all. I know God is in control here, but sometimes that’s not as comforting a thought as it should be…

One thing I truly am a little heartbroken about is that my sister won’t be able to reuse all the cute little girl clothes she’s kept around. What a pity. But I’m sure Lizzie will have no problem with being the reigning princess of the house 😉


Lizzie, Aiden and Xander, last year


I had a mini revelation yesterday–one that, on one hand, seems very obvious, and on the other hand seems so mindblowing and…well, revelatory.
I had been praying in recent weeks (months, years…) for more of a servant’s heart. In my line of work especially, it’s easy to get frustrated with people and to resist doing even extremely trivial tasks simply because it “isn’t my job”. 
This carries over into my home life too. I sometimes find bitterness creeping into my heart when I do yet another task that no one else ever seems to tackle but me.
I WANT to not mind, I WANT to be joyful in serving my roommates, coworkers, and the passengers on my planes…but it’s just so HARD to give and give and give some more, gaining nothing in return.
But that’s what servant-hood is.

So yesterday, the day of my revelation, I was vacuuming. One of my roommates recently moved out and the last item they were going to take was their vacuum. So I was doing one last run through with the vacuum before we no longer had one. I vacuumed the stairs, my room, the hall…and then I came to my other roommate’s room and office. I knew I didn’t HAVE to vacuum her stuff. Heck, I had plenty of excuses ready-made in my mind for why not to: she might find it intrusive (super weak. I knew she wouldn’t mind), she was going to be home later that night and could do it herself (but our other roommate might need to take the vacuum before then), and lastly, I just didn’t WANT to.

But then a small little voice in my head whispered one word: “SERVE”

Sometimes I like to act like that little voice isn’t really God, but this time I knew it was.
So I listened and obeyed. I did the vacuuming, and as I was finishing up, the revelation came:

This whole time, I’ve made excuses for my lack of servant-like behavior, saying to myself “I’m praying for more of a servant’s heart but it’s obviously not happened yet, hence why my attitude is so crummy”. But maybe a servant’s heart comes FROM serving, and is developed–and therefore, given–rather than something to be waited for. I was waiting to have a servant’s heart so serving would become a joyous thing rather than a begrudging thing. But maybe, like the fruits of the Spirit, it’s something that God develops in you AS you serve, causing you to eventually, through serving, find more and more joy in the act.


Tonight I’m in Denver. At a hardcore show for a band I really enjoy. Some people may not know it (or believe it), but I was quite the little rocker in my youth (I can say things like “in my youth” since I am now solidly out of my 20’s).
Looking around this venue, it’s funny how much the hardcore scene hasn’t changed–like, AT ALL. There’s still a mosh pit, boys still wear girl jeans, everyone jumps, everyone screams, everyone still wears black tshirts and hoodies. In a way, it’s refreshing. Nostalgic.

But I’m not gonna lie, I kinda have a headache. I guess thats the price of some good rock n roll. But I’m not gonna let that stop me!


Wolves At The Gate