Getting Lost

Getting Lost

I had one of those moments tonight that you have when you move to a new place, especially a foreign place. A moment of culture shock where nothing feels right and you feel like you can’t do anything about it. In those moments it is hard not to cry, and I’ll admit I did tear up as I was walking around the streets of Geneva tonight. The moments are brought on by seemingly simple, ordinary events. Then somehow, because you are in a foreign place, it doesn’t quite work. The small things that you take for granted are just not there.

Tonight the rector at the Episcopal Church here in Geneva was nice enough to invite me to dinner at a parishioner’s home. I gladly accepted the offer – thinking how nice it would be to meet people from Church and become part of the community. He emailed me the address and directions using public transit. I thought I could find the apartment, no problem. I left my apartment feeling very upbeat; excited as for my very first dinner party in Geneva. Then I got lost. When I got off the tram I spent about 10 minutes just staring at the map, trying to locate the streets I had written on the small sheet of paper in my hand. Trying to figure out where I was, exactly. I headed off. Confident that I could find the address.

A fifteen minute walk. That’s what Google maps said. Fifteen minutes. Uphill. Fine. I can do it. It’ll be up here. Just keep going uphill. Where is the street? Is that it? No. Is that it? No. This street’s not labeled. What street is that? Where is the street sign? Where am I going? Is it this way? How long have I been walking? Why do my feet hurt so much? Is there another map near here? Ok. I can find it. It’s just around the corner. Keep going uphill and it’ll be the next street. No. It’s not that one. It must be the next one. No not that one either. It must be this direction, let’s turn here. I can still make it. I’m probably only half an hour late now. Oh, no. I missed it. It must have been the last street that had no sign. Okay. It must be just up this way. I’ll take a right here. Right there. No. That’s not it? Is that is? No. Is this it? No. Where is this street? Okay. Good. Another map. I missed it? Where am I? Okay. Just a few blocks away. Let’s ask someone. “Excusez moi, vous savez ou est la rue que je cherche?” non. Merci quand meme.” That was useless. Oh look. Another map. It’s just right there. I can’t be more than three blocks away. I’m sure I’ll find it this time…..

My interior dialogue for more than an hour. I wandered the streets of Geneva looking for this a street that I’m not quite sure even exists. I was without a phone and without any way of telling time. I eventually gave up and headed back to my current home. While I was wandering I was also thinking about the metaphors of wandering that are in the Bible. There are many.

God says that we are lost sheep and he finds us. I HATE being lost. Perhaps I need to admit sometimes that I am lost. Then, I can be found. I have trouble, a lot of trouble, accepting God’s Grace. God gives us this Grace freely and we cannot earn it or lose it. As I’m beginning this new job, very unsure of what I’ll be doing or where it will take me, I am going to try and admit that I’m lost; I don’t know where I’m going. I am going to trust God to take me. God loves me no matter what I do. God loves me because of who God is, not because of who I am or what I do. I am trying to remember that as I literally get lost in Geneva.