How Vision and Faith Orchestrated Events for a “Leap of Faith“

I enrolled in a French class. I examined my financial situation and determined that, if I leased my house for enough to cover the costs on it, I could manage for a year or so without working. I could just relax in France and see what answers would bubble up in that old eight-ball. I consulted Jim and Brandon. Brandon, who was just graduating middle school, salivated at the idea of living in France for a year. Jim was a at career crossroads himself, and declared his willingness to follow my lead. Now to my ex. After a few discussions, Bob generously put aside his desire to be with his son in order to give Brandon a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Nearly miraculous solutions materialized to solve the lingering problems. I leased my treasured house to people I knew and trusted. They just showed up at the door with a real estate agent, not previously knowing it was my house. Bob acquiesced to take possession of our elderly dog and the other dog broke out of the yard during a thunderstorm and made friends with strangers who wanted to keep her. Using the nacent Internet, we finally found a suitable temporary apartment in Paris. As each hurdle fell away I felt reassured, and I faintly recognized the work of some other hand in this process.

Soon only my fear stood in the way. Fear of the unknown. Fears of unemployment, of not having a 99-year plan, of not knowing where this adventure would lead me. Fears about whether it would be a mistake, whether I was being crazy and irresponsible, whether I could manage without an income in a foreign world. I had done all the analysis and preparation I could. I went to the edge of the light I could see.

I came to understand the profundity of the cliche “Leap of Faith.” I stood at the edge of a cliff, trying to decide whether to step off, whether to trust that a net would appear (as I once heard faith defined). I projected far into the future, and realized that whatever happened, at age 90 I was unlikely to look back and say, “I wish I hadn’t gone to France for a year.” By contrast, I already had regrets for opportunities I had failed to pursue in my younger years.

I closed my eyes and jumped.

For more on this story, read Arrival in Paris.