Ever since I moved to the small town Argenteuil in the country side, I have had less opportunity to stroll in the city of Paris. So, last weekend, I especially took time to revisit Paris.

Amidst the numerous tourists along the Seine River, my thoughts couldn't help going to that day, when my hard work and struggle finally paid off and my dream of studying abroad came true. However, my sense of pride and joy was somewhat dimmed by a sense of loss as I bid 'good-bye' to my parents, wife and child.

July in Paris -- the weather was not really hot. Riding from General DeGaulle Airport toward the City, I noticed the highways filled with fast driving cars and the foreign-looking buildings lining both sides of the road.

What is my future that is ahead of me?

Three days after, I went on to join a short training session in French held in a small town 'Vichy' in central France.

Vichy was the site of a temporary German government during the second World War, and was famous for its natural hot springs. What was left in my memory about Vichy was the crooked stream surrounding the town with green lawns carpeting the banks where fishermen lay leisurely angling. Besides this, there was this town's hospital where I stayed in its clean, white ward.

Two weeks before the end of the language class, I had to stay in that hospital for ten days after an operation of acute appendicitis. There was a French young man staying in the same room with me who seemed to be continually having visitors. I was very envious of him, which added to my own loneliness.

After coming out of the hospital, I immediately returned to Paris, ready to begin my graduate study. But I got a letter from the Sixth University of Paris informing me that due to my lack of communication with them, they'd given my project to someone else. Hearing the news, I was really upset and anxious; so I contacted CIES, and was told to go to the district of Grenoble to look up a professor. Since it was rather soon after my hospitalization, I was feeling rather faint while carrying my big suitcase with all my books and other possessions to take the train to Grenoble. Unfortunately since I was too late, they did not allow me to register. Then CIES decided that I should return to Paris to resolve the registration problem myself.

On the train returning to Paris, though the scenery of the French countryside was really beautiful, my heart still felt as if I had fallen into a desert: three months had gone by, where was I to settle down? . . .

A cool breeze woke me up from my recollection; I discovered that most of the tourists had already gone. Yes, here is the street of that hospital . . . how familiar this looks! This was the hospital I stayed in when I had a car accident. On the other end lay the Italian Field. And it was here, ten years ago, after returning from Grenoble that I would sit on the stone steps, eating my lunch of a stick of bread, wondering where I would settle down.

I was thinking, after all the hardship and disappointments, I felt so exhausted that I could hardly feel any joy of success.

On the way home, while looking up at the white clouds on the blue sky far away, I was suddenly reminded of a song which began with "Don't ask me from whence I come, my hometown is far, far away..." Life seems to come and go like the clouds in the sky: where does it come from, where is it going?

Since experiencing life's many trials, and realizing the vanity of life and the minuteness of man, I have finally come to the knowledge of the Almighty Creator God. For once, I have found the answer.

It has been 20 years since I first heard the Gospel via the radio when I was in mainland China. At the time, I really thought it was some foreign 'Arabian Night' fairy tales. Nevertheless, that was the first time God called to me.

Eleven years ago, I had come to Paris to study in a western, scientifically-more-advanced country. It reminded me of how God had called the Israelites out of Egypt to travel through the desert.

Eight years ago, I finished my studies, and was getting ready to return to work in China when I was held back by a car accident. When I regained my consciousness, seeing the blood on the road, I asked myself, "Am I still alive?"

That was how God dealt with my pride, changed my foolish heart, so that I would come to Him to confess and repent of my sins.

After this, I began working in Paris; I was reunited with my family, and finally joined a church and became one of God's people.

Sitting now on the train, feeling a little tired, I closed my eyes, as the training trekked on. I knew it was taking me home.

Like the water flowing in a river, never stopping until it returns to the ocean, I have found rest even in a foreign land because of my knowledge of God.

*****