Lost and Found in France, by Sarah Sansbury

“If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me - your right hand will hold me fast”

(Psalm 139: 9-10)

Growing up in a quiet English village, my experience of writing was secret scribbles in my diary, making up random songs to amuse my family, a poem about rainbows that failed to make the grade for the school magazine, a competition runner-up badge for my limerick about the Blue Peter dog. I wore that badge with pride.

One summer day in 1976, I switched on the radio and heard Welsh artist Bonnie Tyler’s latest song, “Lost in France”. As I sang along, I had no inkling that the fields of France lay in my future too.

Nevertheless, twenty-two years later, following my husband’s job transfer, we packed our bags and moved from the middle of England to the north of France. Our passage across the English Channel may have been smooth, but the beginning of our life here was not exactly plain sailing. “Lost in France” was an accurate description of us in those first days. Although I already spoke the language well, my literary French degree proved somewhat inadequate preparation for buying headlice treatments at the pharmacy, navigating dental appointments, or opening bank accounts. Not much scope for creativity either, as we dived headlong into the red-tape jungle of French administration. My only writing at that time involved the completion of paperwork in quadruplicate.

As our family grew and we made new friends, France gradually came to feel like home. Between school runs and housework, I began to write some poetry again to help me process life and its challenges (including three consecutive miscarriages one painful year). One spring day, I summoned up the courage to email a poem to a friend. Their unexpectedly positive reaction rekindled a small fire of hidden hope in me. To (mis)quote Bonnie Tyler, “Ooh là là là, I’m writing…” - excitingly, truly, at long last.

In England, items inadvertently left behind in public places are normally taken to the nearest Lost Property Office. In France, however, mislaid items are deposited at the “Bureau des objets trouvés”, “Found Objects Office”, to await their rightful owner. This linguistic difference has enriched my understanding that, in God’s eyes, we are never lost property, only found objects of His love. Psalm 139 has taken root in my heart, a reassurance that His strong right hand will always hold me fast, even on the far side of the sea. I believe and trust that He will guide us all, wherever we are. He will speak to us as we continue to follow our strong calling to write for Him. He will bless the work of our hands and rejoice over us with singing.

Sarah Sansbury writes English poetry in her home in northern France. Some of the things she loves, in no particular order, are languages, green tea, cats, the sea, and Highland cattle. So far she has not published any of her work, although she was delighted to receive third prize in the 2021 Evesham Festival of Words Limerick competition (no badge for that win unfortunately, but a very nice book token). Please visit her Facebook page, "Flowers of the Field", for a selection of her work. Since July 2021 she has been leading "TRELLIS", a monthly online ACW Poetry genre group. All are welcome.