Glimpsing the Spider Web that Connects

by Pringle Franklin

“I have been praying for you to come to Paris,” Mona whispered, tears filling her eyes. Dutch is her mother tongue, but Mona is fluent in several languages, including English. That’s lucky because I can’t carry on a conversation in any other language.

My spine tingled. How could Mona have been praying for me? She didn’t even know me.

I was meeting Mona for the first time when she made this surprising confession. She was taking a risk in her openness — she didn’t know much about me. We’d connected in a third-hand way after Mona mentioned at a school meeting that she used to be in a prayer group. My husband Sam was there (I was at the dentist). Sam told me afterwards because I was missing my prayer group back in Charleston.

“What kind of prayer group is it?” I queried.

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “She didn’t say.”

“I mean, is it for Christian prayer?”

Sam met Mona at the International School of Paris (ISP), where people from every tribe on the planet fill the buildings. A prayer group could mean just about anything in any language!

“You’ll just have to ask her,” Sam said, sitting down to his laptop. He had done his part, and now he was moving on to The Wall Street Journal on-line edition. Clearly there was nothing more I could get out of him.

I waited a day or two and then decided to email Mona. Yes, she was Christian. What’s more, we discovered we would both be attending Bible study on the following Tuesday at the American Church of Paris.

Being the newcomer is so awkward!  In the snack time before the lesson, most people were chatting with their friends. One of the ladies came up and introduced herself. She was trying to be friendly, but when I told her my name was Pringle, her eyes widened in shock. She asked me three times in a disapproving voice whether that was really my name. Perhaps she had misunderstood me?

I was so embarrassed that I felt like fleeing the room. Once we all sat down in a circle of chairs, the leader asked me to introduce myself to the group. When I did, I said a bit defensively, “My name is Pringle, like the potato chip, and yes, that REALLY is my name.” People chuckled, and I blushed.

“I am never coming back here again,” I thought. “Just get me through this.”

Charlotte’s Web, Courtesy of Malena Fryar and Copyright 2013 by Malena Fryar.

But then Mona caught my eye from across the room and nodded. She was a petite woman of Indonesian/Chinese heritage with a warm smile. After the class, we stayed to get acquainted. After meeting her gentle and perceptive soul, I felt soothed. And as she shared her story, I caught a glimpse of the invisible spider web that connects all of our lives.

During her almost nine years here, Mona has always managed to find someone to pray in English with her — sometimes as part of a mother’s school group, other times as a single prayer partner. It’s tough to be consistent because in Paris, the ex-pat community is very mobile; people come for a few years and then receive another far-flung global assignment. You make a great friend and before you know it, she is packing boxes and heading to India.

Yet throughout all the au revoirs, God filled in the gaps for Mona. She especially enjoys praying with other mothers about their families and their children’s worlds, including their schools. Whenever Mona needed a new prayer partner, she would discover someone with a similar desire. And that is actually astounding in this multi-cultural, highly secular city.

PARIS IS THE WORLD’S PLAYGROUND

Let’s be honest, there are so many exciting things to do in Paris — world-class art museums with paintings from Rembrandt and Picasso, formal French public gardens with fountains and park chairs, festive cooking classes where someone is always pouring delicious glasses of wine…..the opportunities to eat, drink, and be merry are endless.

This is especially true for Mona, who has a keen mind and a gift for organizing fun group activities. For example, Mona organizes English-language tours on the history and architecture of Paris. She does this as a volunteer, not as a business. Mona hires professional guides and invites the International School parents to spend two hours on a Thursday morning tromping through the covered shopping galleries of the city or discovering the medieval architecture of L’ile de la Citie and L’ile de St. Louis.

The day that Sam heard Mona mention her interest in prayer, she was actually speaking at the International School about her tours. Mona used the past tense that day, saying she used to be in a prayer group, because all of her prayer partners had moved. During the summer, Mona was praying that she would find another mother who wanted to commit to a regular prayer time, but nothing seemed to happen.

“I prayed and prayed, and I almost gave up,” Mona explained. She began to wonder if perhaps God wasn’t answering her pleas for a reason. Could silence mean disapproval? Maybe she should just forget about the whole thing.

But her husband encouraged her to keep going. Mona had been blessed with prayer partners over the years, and she should not quit asking now. “So I decided to keep praying,” she told me. “And now, you are here.”

I had to chuckle inwardly.  If I had known about Mona, it would have made my decision to move so much easier. Before we got here, I was actually afraid that no one in Paris would talk to me in English about God and the Bible. My faith is a big part of my life, and I was heavily invested in the community at my church. While Sam was trying to sell me on the idea of the move abroad, I was standing back like a hesitant buyer inspecting the merchandise.

Most people move overseas for their work. Otherwise, often it just doesn’t make sense. There are numerous reasons why such a move is both expensive and difficult: taxes, foreign bank accounts, immigration paperwork, housing, French landlords, the shipment of household goods, and the mountains of paperwork on school applications.

“It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do,” my friend Eva Ravenel, who had spent a year in Paris with her daughter, told me. “But it is worth it.”

Eva’s eyes were shining as she said me this. I was sure it was true. And still, I wavered. Why should I devote myself to a harrowing move when I was perfectly happy in Charleston?

SO MANY REASONS TO STAY

* My children attended a wonderful school

* My mother lived down the street, and we saw her almost every day. How do you give up something like that? Of course she wasn’t encouraging the idea!

* We have a devoted group of friends whom we hated to leave — even for a year.

* Charleston is one of the most livable and beautiful cities in the world

Beyond that, in August 2013, I launched this blog. I was fired up about interviewing people and writing their faith stories for Living on Jesus Street – in English! (My French is not up to the task.) Besides the blog, I was writing a book about marriage, interviewing Christian couples who have weathered severe storms. How could I disrupt this work by going overseas? My book and my blog would probably wither away and die a slow death on a foreign field.

SQUELCHING YOUR HUSBAND’S DREAM

My epiphany came in early November. I shared my dilemma with Juanita Orvin, a wise woman who has mentored me over the years. As usual, Juanita shocked me.

“You don’t want to be the one to say no to your husband’s dream,” she said. “Say yes to your husband, and ask God to shut the door if it is not his will.”

Juanita was right. All of the struggle and indecision fled. Of course I did not want to squelch my husband’s dream! What an awful weight to carry around for the rest of my days. That conversation turned me around 180 degrees; I went from dragging my feet to getting a running start and leaping into the long jump.

Things began to fall into place. As luck would have it, a church friend from Charleston was living in Paris, and she had become a relocation expert for ex-pats moving to France. We hired Elizabeth Dixon of Handsome Properties — that was my first financial commitment — and she got to work helping us select schools. Before long, things were rolling downhill and picking up speed. After several busy months, the school applications were finally completed and submitted. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Around December, out of the blue, we ran into a serious family health issue, and Sam and my mother both suggested that we scrap the idea of moving. We had dreamed the dream, but it was no longer possible.

What to do? I prayed for continued guidance.

AND THIS SHALL BE A SIGN UNTO YOU….

A few days before Christmas, we had a holiday party, and one of our friends who is an amateur painter brought over a gift. At this point, we had kept the potential move to Paris a secret because it was still a long-shot. When we unwrapped the gift from our friend Austin Ball, I was stunned at the small oil painting of Le Pont Neuf, one of the most famous bridges in Paris. We have a large painting of Notre Dame in our home and, after Austin painted the bridge, he just felt like we should have it.

As I stared at the lovely painting of Le Pont Neuf, my brain was silently thinking: this is a sign. Over the next few weeks, as I prayed about whether or not to give up on the move, I kept staring at Austin’s little painting. It seemed like too much to be a coincidence.

“We’re going to Paris,” I said aloud to the painting. I just felt it in my bones, as they say.

GOT YOU COVERED

The day I met Mona, I had only been in Paris one month; I felt unrooted and spiritually lonely. Yet God had not wasted time bringing us together; I sensed He was at work among us, and my eyes begin to brim with tears. I was humbled and grateful. Mona’s story of her prayers and our eventual introduction reminded me, once again, that while we humans want answers immediately, God’s timing is perfect.

I actually saw this principle at work visibly last week when Mona and I met for our third prayer session. Fall break was looming, it was a hectic week, but we planned to squeeze in an hour on Thursday afternoon. We would meet outside my neighborhood metro/train station at 4:30 p.m.

Mona was riding the train in from the suburbs, and I walked over to the Bir Hakeim RER station.  When I got there, a gaggle of gendarmes was standing on the sidewalk. The train station is underground, and the doors leading to the subterranean station were shut. A metal roll-down door was locked, making it impossible for anyone to get off the train. Frantically, I sent Mona a text message, but she did not reply.

What should I do? It was approaching 4:30 p.m., our meeting time. I had never seen the station locked until now. I ventured over and asked the policemen why the station was closed.

In French, one gendarme explained that someone had jumped in front of a train. Apparently suicides of this type are a common problem here. A large section of the line had been closed since morning. I told the officers that I was waiting for a friend on the train. They looked sympathetic but merely shrugged. They had no idea when the station would reopen.

ROLLING AWAY THE STONE

Just as I was stepping away, a new gendarme joined the group and said something to his colleagues. One of them quickly turned to me and said, “The station is opening — now!”

I glanced down the concrete stairs toward the station doorway. As I watched, the metal door rolled up automatically, and within two seconds, passengers began pouring forth. There among them was Mona. She spotted me immediately and soon stood smiling sweetly by my side. She didn’t even know that the station doors had been barred until a few seconds ago. For me, it was like watching a problem dissolve in front of your eyes.

Did that really happen? I thought. I mean, really? My friend Sarah Hemingway Horner had recently sent me an email about God rolling away heavy stones in our lives. That image filled my thoughts as the barricaded door had suddenly yawned open.

Once again I had the sense that God was at work. It’s not easy setting aside precious time in Paris for prayer, but this reinforced the feeling that there were reasons in the spiritual realm why Mona and I should meet to pray. Apparently, I had traveled a long way for this opportunity.