81 miles walked and I am beat. I came this time not really for the food or the fashion or the art. I came to be here; to be on the streets, in the sun along the Seine, to hop on and off busy sidewalks in the Marais and be a part of the extraordinary magic of everyday life. I came to be here.

Grief does a funny thing to you — it takes everything off the shelves of your insides — the things that make you hum and roar, push and plan and feel down deep — and moves it all around. It’s like someone rearranged your kitchen overnight and you go about for days, weeks, months opening and closing the wrong drawers, finding the cups where the plates used to be, the spoons where the bowls should be. There are even a few things you never seem to come across again, wondering to yourself if they simply got thrown out altogether.

I think I came (at least in part) to see if this part of me was still there, folded up in a draw I hadn’t gotten to yet. It’s hard to draw a shape around what Paris exactly means to me — it’s a city that is beautiful, striking in every light, it’s the red heart emoji come to life, it’s where I learned to figure things out on my own, it’s where Jesus because the closest of friends to me, it’s one of the first, huge things I did on my own, it’s carved its way into me, making itself a part of me now. And I guess, when grief covered everything up, all of that was moved out of sight too. I’m grateful beyond grateful that with lots of time, prayer and a few days in this city, the right drawer seems to have been opened and things seem to be back in place — maybe for the first time. Never the same, but as close to me as possible.

So where do I go from here? Now that Paris has put some things back into place, I have the fearful thought of What if things just go back to how they were? What if I don’t push forward into the next? Keep working hard to be me? The me who writes, who writes the dang dream of a book, who keeps opening up instead of closing off, who looks with delight at the world and the people I meet every day, who sees her job as a way to be my own patron, I want to keep going, now that I’ve found my way back, I’d like to press on into the future. I don’t want to go back to the dark, to the listlessness of numbing and quiet on the inside. So, what next steps do I need to take?

Taking up discipline in different areas: writing daily, mental walls of certain hours for instagram and more silent hours instead of podcasts, tv and music filling my mind, making myself step out more than stay in.

My heart feels full and healthy, pulsing in a full and rhythmic way and I want to keep going.

Is part of it bringing Paris back to me? Fresh flowers, going out for coffees, talking to the people I meet, excited to see where the day takes me. Alert to the world around me. Enjoying beautiful things. Being creative with how I dress and decorate and create beautiful things — spaces, days, moments, stories. Lord, would you please lead me further into the light of this repair and its forward motion?

How do I keep pushing forward, progressing instead of resting on my haunches? What needs to change? Lord, would you show me? Tell me. Help me see. Maybe it starts with really being here. Are there any ways that I haven’t committed to living here in this season?

Lord, I just don’t want to drift back. I guess, with how many times I’ve said that, I’m afraid that it’s going to happen. Tomorrow when I go back into the office and go back to the editing and proofing and writing of announcements and emails and such, I’m afraid I’ll go back to the 8:30 to 6 working and living for the weekend. How do I put a stop to that?

I just looked up and saw the print I have of Acts 17 – For in him we live and move and have our being. God, in you we live and move and have our being. In you, these things are possible. You’ve made my heart feel alive over and over again, and God, I believe in your power, this new life is sustainable, and possible. You didn’t bring me this far to leave me here. You haven’t put a message in my to let it like still. God, please give me the courage to pick it up and run, to pursue the life you’re giving me. Let this be a season of writing, of digging deep and pulling it all up. I know you’ll be with me. In you I live and breathe and have my being. In you these things shall be done. They’re already good as done.

Lord, you have made me and this life I’m living. You’ve given me a heart that’s beating and lungs that are breathing. You’ve made me sensitive to the beauty around me and you’re rousing it all up together to create something. Lord, let it be a life that’s well lived, that is full of you and your truth, let it be one that champions others and includes dear companions, let it be full of both silence and a symphony of sound, let it be as small or big as you want – but please, let it be all you’ve set out for me – let me run every path with your Spirit leading and Jesus at my side. Let me fulfill every good work you’ve created me for. Let it be wholly and completely to the full.