Kimi, Julianne, Me, Tamiko
For me, the Yamamotos are the sisters I never had. To them, I'm yet another sister to add to their ranks...4 to start the troop, and then two adoptions some 20 plus years after Jeanne, number 1, was born, and now me...I'm number 7. Well, they haven't had a new one in 15 years. Also, once you're at 6, what's one more? Well, I'm just so glad to squeeze myself in there.
When Annika was sick last week, I got an outpouring of support from everyone and I am so grateful for it all, but I was especially relieved by the loving phone calls filled with valuable advice from my "sisters" Tamiko and Julianne. Juli told me to stay in the center of the circle, or the center of the wheel, and I have been exploring that metaphor lately with our friend Peter. Tami mentioned something about a "divine appointment" which is also an interesting metaphor in the context of having several neurologist appointments at the hospital and upcoming in the future, it's important to remember the spiritual side to this (or any) disorder. Aimee, in an email, mentioned Annika's indominatable spirit and I need to keep that in mind as well as the holy spirit's healing and guiding force.
But I digress....back to that first weekend in Paris:
It was also a great adventure to see and stay with Laurie at the American Church. The room was a beautiful refuge, made even more wonderful to finally reach when we arrived from a scary cab ride around midnight or 1am. I asked the driver to take us to the "American Church" and he sort of started going off like a volcano spewing hateful words about America and twisted violent fantasies about what he wanted to do to George Bush. I tried to be calm, even mentioning that George Bush is gone now, and he explained that he is from Morocco (not sure why that country was particularly implicated) but he said that George Bush will never be gone to the Morrocans until they see him boiling in hot oil, every inch of his body scarred and mangled and on and on. I could practically see the hot rage coming out of this guys eyes as he glanced at me in his rear view mirror, trying, I think, to discern my reaction. I tried to remain calm. I really began to worry when a young couple stopped beside us, opened their window and motioned to speak to him and asked him for directions. He got all agitated and started looking at his map, and yelling "just a second, you are so rude to bug me, but I'll look it up for you". The couple had a startled look in their eyes and then they looked at me with a sympathetic look and then they quickly took off while he continued yelling at them to not ask if they're not going to wait for the answer.
All the while, this guy was also yelling at me that Quai D'Orsay (where we wanted to go) was a long street and how was he supposed to know where to go on it. I repeated several times to just take us to that street where it crossed Pont Alma (a famous landmark) and we'd walk from there. He continued ranting and raving about the size of the street. At this point, I really began to worry that we were in the car with a lunatic. I was considering how to unstrap Annika and get us both out safely without him freaking out and doing something erratic. Meanwhile, he insisted, "what is your ancestry? Who are you? Where do you come from?" I replied, of course, "Canada". And Annika understood just enough of our French conversation to pipe up, "I'm American". I suddenly started a coughing fit. And I don't think he understood her words. Then he said, "what do you got back there...a boy or a girl? And then, "how old is she?" And then "does she do well in school?". I really wanted to be out of his car and we were getting close to the church. Then he started yelling at me that it was really hard to reach that other side of the street from our direction (as if I designed Paris). Perhaps it was just a culture clash and people are used to constantly yelling at each other in Morrocco. But I didn't want to take the chance, so as soon as he stopped again, I opened my door, told him we'd walk the rest of the way, paid the fare, and I grabbed Annika and jumped out of the car. What a relief.
It was scary, but we made it to our safe haven, the American Church in Paris, and once my adreniline calmed down, I slept so well in that quaint room tucked into that gorgeous building. We awoke early to the sounds of the organ and band practicing. It was like the music was celebrating, "you are safe". Then Annie and I went out for a nice breakfast in the wonderful Paris neighborhood where the church is situated. What a sweet morning. Annika was so excited to see the Eiffel tour on our walk back to the church. Then we heard Laurie Wheeler do a beautiful sermon that day...she spoke about her scoliosis and the "remedies" she endured as a child. She spoke about how she learned that she was in her body, but her body was not her. It was a story with alot of sadness (especially I imagine for her parents) and certainly so much suffering for Laurie, but in the end it was totally a story of victory over disease and spritual triumph for Laurie. This video below is actually from two weeks later when we went to the church after Annika's seizure and her subsequent stay in the hospital which made Laurie's sermon even more memorable.
This video is taken as the band is practicing before church while some of us early birds file in. I know, us, early, it's a miracle. Well, this was a 1:30pm service.
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