My sister April and I used to beg Dad to pull out the old projector screen so that we could watch 8mm movies of Laurel and Hardy or Charlie Chaplin. The best shows had sound, but what made the movies so funny was the poor quality of the film… the characters would move an arm in three different directions within a second and with a very jerky motion. One second a character would be standing up, and then he would be on the floor… but the filming couldn’t show how he got there. Each trip or smack looked like a fast-forward motion even though the filmmaker didn’t do it on purpose. (I guess you could also blame the old projector that we were using.) I wish we could've filmed ourselves yesterday with those old cameras... Drew and I could’ve been stand-ins for the three stooges with John leading us through Paris.

We were catching up to the clock all day. If John were as dramatic as I am, he would’ve swerved through the sidewalks and passed Parisians shouting, “I’m late! I’m late!” I was laughing all day long; mostly I laughed at myself, but John and Drew had their moments.

We started off our day with a French church service. I don’t mind not knowing what people are saying because observing people is usually less taxing and more informative. Hearing prayers of men and women in a different language reminds me how small I am, how big God must be, and how big I often think I am. I became emotional right after prayers began, which is not unusual, and left the service refreshed by the meeting. God is good to keep me humble.

Shortly after we had begun to walk westward, towards John’s old apartment building, it began to rain (this will happen several times today). I tried to take mental pictures of the area, to appreciate it just like I would want people to appreciate Five Points, Ohio, but the wind and rain was very distracting, as you can imagine. We caught the train just in time to make it back to the hotel right before the sun came out. Lucky for us.

The afternoon took on a laid back feel as we strolled through the park that leads to the Louvre. We had lunch at the food court where we ate Lebanese food (I never can distinguish differences between “American” chicken and rice and that of other countries… but John did the ordering for both Drew and I. I am beyond thankful that he is willing to speak for us… especially when it comes to food.)

We returned to the Park Hyatt for the last time, packed our luggage and quickly headed to an English-speaking church service… the adventure begins. Drew and I looked at each other every ten minutes and just laughed at ourselves. John was consistently 15 feet in front of us, jabbing between walkers (even between couples) with his duffel bag and carry-on. Our luggage proved to be a bit more difficult to jab through anyway or anyone. Drew’s ghetto bag kept tipping over and I couldn’t get my balance on the train—as one smiling woman found out after a jolt on the train. Drew saw this literal tete-a-tete and could laugh with me as we raced awkwardly towards the shadow of John ducking under a passageway.

We arrived just in time to our destination, and it was a worthwhile experience… even worth carrying our rolling bags through a park of comfortable locals who only come to the park to watch people like us. Listening to a worship service I could understand allowed me a bit of sentimentality, and watching John converse with old friends was beautiful to see. The adventures continued directly after the service when John told us that he would catch up to us. Drew and I had just gotten down the stairs outside of the church, adjusted our bags, and had decided which direction to go when he caught up to us… for some reason we just can’t move as quickly as the ‘cwazy’ rabbit.

Clearly, the park was being closed as soon as we got to the gate—we would have to walk the circumference of the park to find the train. John tenderly asked us if we were doing okay, and mumbled a quick apology for the craziness of it all. My only response was, “At least it’s not raining.” And, of course, while racing around the park with our luggage bouncing off the cracks in the sidewalk, it started to rain. It continued to rain. We began to laugh. The rain turned to a downpour. We continued to laugh. I loved it.

I loved walking in the rain—following John—and ending up at the apartment just in time. That evening, we had our own Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, only Drew was the Mad Hatter and the White Rabbit had gone to bed. Tea until ten… a new tradition.