On Paris

I have needed to write something about this for a few days now ... not anything meaningful, as I couldn't do better than Max Lucado anyway. However, I still need to write ... I still don't know how to start, but I'll begin anyway.

My wife and I love Paris. I understand what Gertrude Stein meant when she said "America is my country, and Paris is my home town." Paris, Seattle, and Venice are my three favorite cities in the world (with the Lahaina and Williamsburg next). I love walking on St. Louis, walking along the Seine, and walking around Notre Dame from all angles. I love dining at Au Bourguignon du Marais for dinner, and at any busy outdoor café for lunch, and paying extra to sit to have a good croissants and strong espresso for breakfast. I love waiters with just enough attitude to put me in my place as an American, just enough kindness to help me with my pronunciations when I try French, and just enough humor to laugh at me when I fail. I love spending hours at the Louvre, and hours at d'Orsay, and a day at Versace. I even love taking the Metro.

So this week, my heart is broken at the idea that the people of Paris are hurting. They will be forever changed - less trusting, less open, less carefree at night, less joyful around strangers, and less free to enjoy their city. Some changes will be short term, but as those us of who live in post-911 America know, some will remain forever. Every flight restriction, every metal detector, every security warning, every armed guard on a train, every discussion about "chatter" ... will remind them afresh, and will dim their smiles.

I know the world is becoming darker ... but did it need to hit the City of Light?

I grieve for strangers who don't know me. I pray for Paris. I hate that which is evil, I cling to what is good, and I try to remember that both of these exist in the spiritual realm and thus manifest in the earthly realm. And once again ... I will never forget.

Come, Lord Jesus!

Amen, and amen.