Hold your horses!

Why the big fat rush?

Where God intends to lead you

is not where you think.

Pourquoi si pressé ? (12 May 2020)
Paint stain for Pourquoi si pressé ? (South Oxford Street, Brooklyn)

“Je veux que ma vie amoureuse soit en français,” you tell Félix on your way out of the café1. It’s the middle of August, but you had your coffee inside. The rain has been falling all morning.

The weather, the noon hour, Félix’s parking meter that’s about to run out: the circumstances don’t allow for an explanation, so you say only that it’s sexier, and then goodbye.

Love is indeed sexier in French. The Tunisian pilot2, the one you were madly in love with but didn’t know you were madly in love with until it was too late, showed you that. And the Tunisian pilot, like the gelato you had that day many years ago under the blue Milanese sky, is not something you come back from so easily. The Tunisian pilot, like the gelato, had showed you how intensely good things can taste; the Tunisian pilot, like the gelato, had left you wanting more.

There are many things you don’t know as you hurry home to your apartment on rue d’Aiguillon to pack up the rest of your things for your flight home to Brooklyn in the morning. You won’t see Félix or any of your other friends or the inside of your apartment or any of your favorite places here in Québec City for two more years, for example. But this, too: God heard what you said just now to Félix.

Over the next few months, you’ll invest a lot of time and money and energy into completing the paperwork for permanent residency in Canada. But you’ll turn 45 in the process, and your desirability score will drop. Your name will never be drawn from the lottery. You’ll never receive the letter inviting you to apply for residency. You and your ovaries are too old, it’s over for you. While Jerry’s life since he divorced your ass has been nothing but amazing, yours is a pile of crap.3 You’ll cry. God will hear this, too.

You want a love life in French? God will grant you this. Not because it’s sexier, as you say, though I’m sure he concurs, but rather because it is the language of your heart, the language of the child who lives in there still. What does God love more than a child? Nothing. Children listen. Children obey. Not out of duty; by choice. Be that child. Hold your horses. Let God be the author of the story, and the story will be everything you want, and then some. It won’t be where you think; it won’t be with whom you imagine. And that’s just as well; your capacity to reason and your power of imagination do not hold a candle to those of God’s.4

  1. Félix is the guy who sees dicks where other people see snakes and turds. See blog #12: A green turd walks into a locker room (23 April 2023). ↩︎
  2. Otherwise known as Eddy Eagle. See blog #46: Happy birthday, Fanny Fox (17 December 2023). ↩︎
  3. You’re so angry about this. Jealous, too. See blog #33: Pun intended (17 September 2023). ↩︎
  4. Inquiring minds want to know: Where does God send you? Who waits for you there? See blog posts #32: Wait for it (10 September 2023), #36: Wash it all clean (8 October 2023), #37: Good and right (15 October 2023), #39: Nothing more (29 October 2023), #42: Choose wisely (19 November 2023), #43: Love’s delight (26 November 2023), #44: This time around (3 December 2023), and #45: Room for two (10 December 2023). ↩︎

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