Michael and Emilie invited me to come skiing during my second week here in Toulouse. After making sure that they knew that I had only been skiing once and only in the Turtle Mountains (which are really actually hills) of North Dakota, I agreed to go.

The Pyrenees Mountains (see above) were absolutely spectacular, as was the weather. However, I don't think the same can be said about my skiing.

As we went higher and higher into the mountains on the chair lift, my questions also increased. Mostly I wanted to know what not to do (so I wouldn't die coming down). 

Michael spent the first hour or so trying to teach me how to turn. I learned that by skiing horizontal lines back and forth, I wouldn't go careening down the mountain. 

It wouldn't have been so difficult except that my sheer terror led me to fall and fall again (and learning to get up on skis was a lesson all in itself). I kept praying that God would teach me to ski (and keep me from all forms of death and murder). 

Eventually I gained enough proficiency to follow Emilie down the mountain trails. I did have my share of falls and one good wipeout, but there was always someone to help me up if I was having trouble. What worried me the most was trying to avoid other skiers, but thankfully I avoided crashing into others. 

Near the end of the day was when my biggest trial came. Emilie and I had been sticking to one blue trail (green is the easiest followed by blue, red and black). For our last run, we were going to all three go down a different blue trail. 

At first the trail was fairly easy, but then it got harder. I ended up picking up too much speed and falling. After I got up, Michael was calling my name and telling me I had to get where he was -- which was uphill from me. If I kept going down the path I was on, I would have had to take a taxi back. 

So I ended up sidestepping my way back up the hill. I'm not sure how long it took, but it felt like an eternity. And I was moving pretty slowly, all the while afraid that I would end up tumbling down the wrong path. It took all the strength I had to get up the mountain and turn back onto the right path. 

The adventure didn't end there. This last trail was narrow, so instead of using the back-and-forth technique I had learned, I was to snowplow down (as to not go to fast). This technique is pretty tiring and, to complicate matters, the clouds covered the sun, making it hard to distinguish the topography of the snow.

Then Michael realized that the grade of the trails was getting steeper and steeper, so he told me to take off my skis and walk down. I half-slid/half-walked down, and Michael took my skis. Neither one of us was moving all that well, so we waited for help.

Fortunately a member of the ski patrol came within minutes. He called for a ski taxi (basically a snowmobile) to come rescue me. I rode that to the descending chair lift, and then the ski staff helped me get my skis and poles with me for the ride down.

Michael and Emilie got to have one more nice (and I'm sure much more relaxing) run while I made my way to the aid station. At the end of the day, my skiing had much improved, and above all, I was thankful to be alive. It was definitely a character-building day!

After my first couple days in Toulouse, I got one last taste of winter weather. Granted, it didn't even come close to the storms we had in the Midwest this year, but it did remind me a little bit of home. I appreciated that the snow stuck to the ground -- at least for a day.

I have been well taken care of and busy these first few days. My teammates helped me get a metro card, open a bank account, register for language school and buy groceries, among other things. 

We had a pre-church gathering (called RAPP here...it's an acronym), and I enjoyed playing clarinet, djembe and egg shaker, studying the Bible in French and eating a delicious meal with new friends. 

I prayed for the first time in French during my first week (at a team prayer meeting...not in public :)) and went to my first French church service. After church, I received a "Christmas" gift from a new friend -- two French comics-style picture books and a vocabulary book. Joyeux Noël!

My flights to France had a bit more excitement than I expected (if you don't want to read through this story in pictures...in the end I did make it here to Toulouse). 

This first photo is from the Fargo airport. My parents had to take me via an alternate route because the main road was closed due to a blizzard. Several flights were cancelled, but mine was just an hour delayed giving me just enough time to make my next plane in Chicago.

On the flight from Chicago to London, I had a whole row to myself. The young man in the row in front of me made a comment about it being too good to be true. The stewardess told us that the flights never have that much room on them.

In the end, it ended up being too good to be true. We had a mechanical problem and spent an hour in the plane waiting for new parts to be installed in the plane. 

I was enjoying a nice, sprawled-across-five-seats nap when the captain announced that we had another mechanical problem over Nova Scotia and that we would be diverting to New York's JFK airport. The flight was cancelled, and at 4:20 a.m. EST, we were de-boarding the plane, retrieving our luggage and standing in this very long line to get rebooked. 

I ended up at almost the complete end of the line. The line was moving a couple feet an hour, so I made friends with the people in front and in back of me. The man from Jordan in front of me would point to his luggage, smile and say, "five minutes." I would smile and watch his luggage until he came back.

A family traveling to Ghana was behind me, and I watched their bags as well and put their little girl Bless on my luggage cart to give them a break.

After a long four-and-a-half hours in line, I finally got rebooked. I only broke down once when all of the rebooking agents went on break when there were only two of us left in line. I had no way of communicating with the team here, and by the time I got new flights, it was almost the time that I was supposed to be arriving in Toulouse.

I ended up borrowing the rebooking agent's cell phone to call my mom to email my team leader my new itinerary.

I had barely enough time to catch my second flight to London. For four hours of flying east, it only chopped an hour off the flight time, so I had another almost seven-hour flight. This photo encompasses how I felt after the day's drama. 

I ended up talking to the man next to me for most of the flight, which was helpful for staying awake. He knew I was a missionary, so we had a lot of interesting conversation about reasons to believe in God, religion and Jesus. He was a Catholic who believed strongly in the existence of God but thought that Jesus was the best way but not the only way. I was not thankful for all of the flight delays, but I was thankful for the opportunities I had to discuss truth with him.

I ended up having to get a hotel in London. One of the wait staff at the hotel restaurant found out I was a missionary and asked me lots of questions about the Bible and Jesus -- Was Jesus the Messiah? Why don't I eat pork? Why don't I follow the law? How many books were in my Bible?

He was reading the Torah, Koran and Bible. He told me that he followed the Bible but that his family background was different. I'm not sure where he stands spiritually but was again thankful for the opportunity to share my faith (even in my jet-lagged state).

My Ghanian friends (above and to the left) ended up on the same flight and at the same hotel as me, they overheard my conversation with the wait staff and were so excited that I was a Christian and a missionary. We ate dinner together, and after all we had been through, it felt like we were family. They were going to invite me to Ghana if I wasn't already going to France. I gave them my prayer card, and Cynthia (pictured above) said she would keep in touch. God was definitely taking care of me on my journey.

A day later I made it to France and was in meetings and running around town for almost all day (a great way to fight jet-lag). Here is one of the views out of the windows of our apartment. 

Thanks for praying me to France (and reading this long blog post)! I'll continue to post updates as I adjust to life here.

I was commissioned at my church (Salem) on Feb. 10 and 17 before my departure to France on Feb. 18. If you missed the service, here is a video recording of my commissioning. It was so meaningful for me to be able to be commissioned at all three services and at both campuses. As I am getting started in ministry here, it is so wonderful to know that I have many people praying back home.

I made an acronym that spells "FRANCE" for the ways that can be praying for me. 

Focus on Christ
Rejoice always
Abide in Him
Notice opportunities
Cast burdens
Expect the harvest

You can download my prayer acronym (complete with Bible verses) at the bottom of this page. 

Thank you for everyone who was praying for my visa! I received it LAST Friday, just days after I applied at the Consulate (it usually takes two weeks or more to process). Praise God!

I was elated to get it in the mail so quickly and not have to worry about changing my flights. Since then the anticipation of going to France has been building.

My church Salem is commissioning me during the worship services tomorrow (Feb. 10) and next Sunday (Feb. 17). Details are listed at the bottom of this post.

After the 10:30 a.m. service on Feb. 18, there will be a gratitude gathering of crepes in the fellowship hall. I hope you can join in sending me at one of these three events.