So the end of another Sunday has dawned. It was only a 23 hour day. Today I realized a lot of things about myself and where I am at here in ministry. The church at Claye continues a dramatic movement as a community. I don't think I said but a few words all morning long. I was fatigued and emotionally run down. The already crowded meeting room was encumbered by a wooden cross and a couple hammers laying in the isle...totally out of fire code.... There was a theme that presented itself as Thierry and Jonathan lead the service: "This cross that bugs/disturbes us." It was physically in the way and it is also a weighty subject in our Christian faith. During the service we circled our chairs around it as a young woman and new believer shared her testimony. We followed her into communion and the physical nailing of nails into the cross. It was a powerful time. Not only that, but during communion, one woman approached the witness and they cried as they reconciled a long standing and serious conflict. I don't know that I have ever seen anything like that in my entire Christian life: public resolution during communion at the foot of a disturbing cross.
After the service, I spoke briefly with the leader of the women's Bible study that I am attending Tuesday mornings. I took a brave step to "try and explain" the feelings I have at this stage in the journey that God is bringing me on. It is a dry time for the fellowship aspect of the Christian life. I can't fully enter into the prayer times or the community sharing times. I can listen and understand a fair share but I can't contribute as easily. What I miss most is RUG with Jeanette: meeting 2 times a week to do some Reckless Unhindered Godchasing. I know that these days are valuable and one day I will move through them into deeper fellowship with the Christian family here; but I am stuck for the moment feeling the frustration of incapability.
What I really need at this time is comprehension of my stage and acknowlegment that it's the way things are....no need of answers, that it will be over soon, or to keep working hard at the language cuz one day I'll learn how to pray, or even much consolation. I just want my feelings to be acknowledged. Nothing more. They say I'm just tired and need to rest or take some time for myself. Maybe... but for the moment, this is the tough stuff.
On the other hand, a splendid "gift" was delivered tonight to the OIKOS apt: a full sized piano. Oscar has lent it to me and what a joy it is to even have it just sitting here. I was 18 the last time I had such access to a piano. This is an incredible answer to prayer and a God-thing.... Him just knowing what I needed and passing it along through the grapevine.
It's weird, but for some reason I'm highly sensitive to even the things that happen at home and with my family. You would think it wouldn't be such a big deal to have family moving from Seattle to Minneapolis when I have just moved all the way to Paris. Well, it still is. Especially when mom recounts how Anna cried as she was peeled from "Grandpa's" sholders to board the airplane, yet the "stoic" Spiger-clan shed no visible tears. Not so here.
I'm praying for the "fin de la guerre". But I have a feeling that this is only the tip of the iceberg: "....when you hear of wars and rumors of wars...."
3/30/2003
3/28/2003
The clouds have finally arrived as they predicted would happen several days go... but they're late. I don't know if it will rain though... the temp is mild. Today is the last day of Moyen 1 with Alexandre. Next week I start up in Moyen 2 with someone new. I think I'll ask today if I can just switch afternoons for mornings the week of the campaigns. That will be best cuz the mornings are very full as I hear.
Do I look Canadian? I sometimes wish I was.
Do I look Canadian? I sometimes wish I was.
3/27/2003
War. I know I can trust God and for some reason, but for some reason I think I forgot to pray to the God who controls all, places and displaces authority. For now, one soldier blogs and leaves this link available for those of you who would like to hear one Iraki's perspective. Read more of my thoughts at my other blog.
3/26/2003
For near fear that people would want to see my apartment this evening, I busted my bootie to get it in order and cleaned up. Of course no one wanted to see it but it's now clean...or cleaner and in less disarray than before. We still have to move the boxes of dishes downstairs into the basement but everything feels so much nicer. I had a 100 or more sets of dishes at the beginning when I arrived and so I began a near impossible task of selecting those which would serve best in my cupboard and to get the rest out of here. Ah, relief!
I spent the evening listening. The church at Claye has small groups that meet weekly and they're looking for a way to get them together in a larger sum to pray and share (as far as I can understand). I am very excited to watch the group of believers move along and really I'm just getting to know them and the system in which they move and the order of their community. We say sometimes that ministry is messy. Most people don't like miss (like me in my apt) but living can be messy, and sin is the root of this mess and we, although redeemed live in a messy, non-renewed earth. Mess remindes me that I'm in process and whenever I make a step to clean it up, I am pushed to the conclusion that it will one day be perfected by the Father. Of this, I'm sure- no matter what war, no matter what sin...
And now a word on why I'm learning French, brought to you through the e-grapevine (Thanks Reilly Gibby):
Here is the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth, after all those conflicting medical studies.
1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
3. The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
4. The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you!
I spent the evening listening. The church at Claye has small groups that meet weekly and they're looking for a way to get them together in a larger sum to pray and share (as far as I can understand). I am very excited to watch the group of believers move along and really I'm just getting to know them and the system in which they move and the order of their community. We say sometimes that ministry is messy. Most people don't like miss (like me in my apt) but living can be messy, and sin is the root of this mess and we, although redeemed live in a messy, non-renewed earth. Mess remindes me that I'm in process and whenever I make a step to clean it up, I am pushed to the conclusion that it will one day be perfected by the Father. Of this, I'm sure- no matter what war, no matter what sin...
And now a word on why I'm learning French, brought to you through the e-grapevine (Thanks Reilly Gibby):
Here is the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth, after all those conflicting medical studies.
1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
3. The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
4. The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you!
3/25/2003
Ok, so I've just been blasted through with info from this sight. I would encourage you all to look at it cuz it gives a super clear explanation of my heart and desire and direction in ministry. Not only that, but it fairly decently describes what I'm doing right now!! Every once in a while I like to go fishing around from link to link in the chain of people and this time I fell into the emerging church movement.
J'ai réussi mon examen! I did better than I thought I would and passed with flying colors only to move up a notch starting next week on Tuesday. We get a "pont" this weekend through Monday! This is a 3 days weekend and I am very much looking forward to it since vacation is scarce at the institute where I have chosen to study for the time being.
J'ai réussi mon examen! I did better than I thought I would and passed with flying colors only to move up a notch starting next week on Tuesday. We get a "pont" this weekend through Monday! This is a 3 days weekend and I am very much looking forward to it since vacation is scarce at the institute where I have chosen to study for the time being.
3/24/2003
They tell me 3rd time's a charm. I believe it. Here in France, it seems persistence is a virtue when it comes to the system. J and I made the 3rd run to the Prefecture today and used photocopies of my visa application docs and were allowed a hearing with the nice ladies behind the first desk who refused us twice before. It actually went as smoothly as possible and unhitched me from having to open a french bank account. This is a praise!
I arrived in town to take my exam covering this last month of school. It was only 2 pages and wasn't as comprehensive as I suspected. I took a little extra time to expound upon my essay at the end for extra points just in case i totally blew a previous section and came away feeling pretty good overall. My hope is to move up from Moyen I to Moyen II and change to morning classes from these afternoon ones that I've been taking. In order to change they tell me I have to compose a letter to the director explaining the necessity of changing. I'll give it my best stab and then ask for a proof-read from a native.
The RER had some sort of issue today as I went to run the stairs or what I call my "Etoile workout" (consisting of 3 sets of stairs twice a day). They recommended taking the Metro which I did. You more or less get sucked or shoved into the Metro at this time of the day. We were crammed in like sardines and people actually were cracking jokes and complaining to complete strangers. One lady yelled at some people who were trying to squeeze in at the last moment before the buzzer sounded, "Come on people...!" At one stop several young tourist boys from Italy wanted to try to get in, but the French gentleman at the door shook his head and clicked his tongue at them and they turned away: there was absolutely no space. I contemplated the anxiety a claustrophobic person would experience should they have joined me on my ride home...
I noted the Italians because one prof told me that the sun arrives with the Italians at Easter Break. They're early and so is the sun... I'm not complaining though!
I arrived in town to take my exam covering this last month of school. It was only 2 pages and wasn't as comprehensive as I suspected. I took a little extra time to expound upon my essay at the end for extra points just in case i totally blew a previous section and came away feeling pretty good overall. My hope is to move up from Moyen I to Moyen II and change to morning classes from these afternoon ones that I've been taking. In order to change they tell me I have to compose a letter to the director explaining the necessity of changing. I'll give it my best stab and then ask for a proof-read from a native.
The RER had some sort of issue today as I went to run the stairs or what I call my "Etoile workout" (consisting of 3 sets of stairs twice a day). They recommended taking the Metro which I did. You more or less get sucked or shoved into the Metro at this time of the day. We were crammed in like sardines and people actually were cracking jokes and complaining to complete strangers. One lady yelled at some people who were trying to squeeze in at the last moment before the buzzer sounded, "Come on people...!" At one stop several young tourist boys from Italy wanted to try to get in, but the French gentleman at the door shook his head and clicked his tongue at them and they turned away: there was absolutely no space. I contemplated the anxiety a claustrophobic person would experience should they have joined me on my ride home...
I noted the Italians because one prof told me that the sun arrives with the Italians at Easter Break. They're early and so is the sun... I'm not complaining though!
3/23/2003
How wet is your motzerella when you buy it? Mine, well, it comes in a NON-vaccum-packed bag, which, upon cutting open pours out a very watery/milky fluid. Fortunately I was warned and I had a "zipbox" ready. I put the ball of pure white cheese in the box with some of its "milk". Now and again I fish it out of the fridge and slice a round off for a salad, pizza, etc... It wouldn't stand a chance in the shredder if it wanted to. Its texture is more like congealed pudding with a little extra support around the edges. It smears, slimes, and squishes and tears and allows itself to be cut by a knife, but will never be shredded.
The weather here is absolutely incredible. The sun is actually warm and I wonder if it really is mid-March. I have this feeling of wanting to go out and catch some rays.
The language learning process is a tough one. Most of the time is a mental challenge everytime I go out, speak or am caught off guard. Every once in a while though, a ray of hope springs through the brain-strain: like for some reason, the phrase you just concocted sounded different but more natural and was accented correctly. That happened this morning as we went off in the car. I said something quite insignificant, I am sure, and it had a refreshingly smooth and flowing feel to it. One small ray for this "Picasso"...
I was asked to play a few songs at church today. Thierry and his wife played along with guitar and flute. It was extremely nice to play again, though unrehearsed and a return to unfamiliar songs for me. No longer are the chords written out in A, B, C etc... but they are suddenly transformed on a strange formula, which any good American would recognize if they looked hard enough and reflected on "The Sound of Music". That is to say, 'Do, Ré, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Si, Do...." All the same it was nice to finally prop myself up to a keyboard, aided by my WorshipTogether books, to play "Dieu a une armée".
I am trying to review the grammar we were to have learned this past month. Tomorrow is the test that will determine whether I move up or not. I really want to move up and I only need a score of "dix sur vingt" (ten out of twenty) to pass. This may seem crazy to an American that a score of 50% is passing but here in France, testing is tougher and normal people usually get about 13-14/20 on tests and it is considered average. My test will ask me to work in the area of pronouns and the subjunctive tense as well as the conditional. As my prof says, "The french hate to repeat themselves" so they have created an elaborate collection of pronouns ranging from masculine, feminine, plural and neutral pronouns to replace every possible concept on the planet. Not only do we need to know the collection but the order you are to use them in in any given sentence.
bonne chance...they all are telling me.
The language learning process is a tough one. Most of the time is a mental challenge everytime I go out, speak or am caught off guard. Every once in a while though, a ray of hope springs through the brain-strain: like for some reason, the phrase you just concocted sounded different but more natural and was accented correctly. That happened this morning as we went off in the car. I said something quite insignificant, I am sure, and it had a refreshingly smooth and flowing feel to it. One small ray for this "Picasso"...
I was asked to play a few songs at church today. Thierry and his wife played along with guitar and flute. It was extremely nice to play again, though unrehearsed and a return to unfamiliar songs for me. No longer are the chords written out in A, B, C etc... but they are suddenly transformed on a strange formula, which any good American would recognize if they looked hard enough and reflected on "The Sound of Music". That is to say, 'Do, Ré, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Si, Do...." All the same it was nice to finally prop myself up to a keyboard, aided by my WorshipTogether books, to play "Dieu a une armée".
I am trying to review the grammar we were to have learned this past month. Tomorrow is the test that will determine whether I move up or not. I really want to move up and I only need a score of "dix sur vingt" (ten out of twenty) to pass. This may seem crazy to an American that a score of 50% is passing but here in France, testing is tougher and normal people usually get about 13-14/20 on tests and it is considered average. My test will ask me to work in the area of pronouns and the subjunctive tense as well as the conditional. As my prof says, "The french hate to repeat themselves" so they have created an elaborate collection of pronouns ranging from masculine, feminine, plural and neutral pronouns to replace every possible concept on the planet. Not only do we need to know the collection but the order you are to use them in in any given sentence.
bonne chance...they all are telling me.
3/21/2003
"Here Leezard, Leezard, Leezard.." That's what my friend Shan calls me affectionatly. I like it, cuz I can see her calling me with that little pet voice...
The day the war started I rode into Paris like usual. One thing I find quite curious is all the street musicans, those who jump on the train for a few stops to play a melody or two and ask for complementary change and then descend at the next available stop. It was a quiet train until 'they' got on. 'They' just happened to be the Tracy Chapman special. A player of a 5 string bass and a guitarist who sang through a northern origin accent. I think they weren't from France at all. They were actually quite good and I felt a little nostalgic of the days living with Diane Hurst on Hawthorne, Blossom snoring while I tried to study late into the night and then a twinge of pain at "talking about a 'revolution'." A reality noone can escape... In some ways I think the world of terror had it coming after pulling off 9/11 and in other ways I'm distraught at the political, economic, and social repercutions such an endeavor has on a world community. I pray it will be over soon with as little loss of innocent life as possible.
Tonight I attended a young adults group from the church at Noisy-Champs. It was a great time of sharing and praying and hearing testimony. Truely a family of young people are fellowshipping and I was allowed in. There is a new believer among them. She was many years in coming to a saving faith but the Lord has captured her and you can see it in her face and hear it in her story. I pray now for her and the spiritual attacks that continue to plague her. It is a familiar story that I am hearing here in France: the spiritual oppression is more evident than we'd like to imagine.
The guys came and fixed my shower today!! I got a nice glasslike box to encapsulate me as I "douche" each morning. They also left me a brand new faucet in the sink. So cool! I can't wait to give it a try tomorrow after I scrub it down really good. [Having worked in the cleaning business brings a new meaning to "clean shower"]. Its finally the weekend and I'm ready to clean and study for my exam on Monday as well as go to church again at Claye. This week I may have the opportunity to play the piano for a few songs. This is one of the greatest "misses" that I have here in France... a real piano that I can play at my leisure and a band as tight as that of Sunday Nights at CB. I miss those guys... Keep clapping on the "soul" beat, guys...I get to teach the french how to do it now...
The day the war started I rode into Paris like usual. One thing I find quite curious is all the street musicans, those who jump on the train for a few stops to play a melody or two and ask for complementary change and then descend at the next available stop. It was a quiet train until 'they' got on. 'They' just happened to be the Tracy Chapman special. A player of a 5 string bass and a guitarist who sang through a northern origin accent. I think they weren't from France at all. They were actually quite good and I felt a little nostalgic of the days living with Diane Hurst on Hawthorne, Blossom snoring while I tried to study late into the night and then a twinge of pain at "talking about a 'revolution'." A reality noone can escape... In some ways I think the world of terror had it coming after pulling off 9/11 and in other ways I'm distraught at the political, economic, and social repercutions such an endeavor has on a world community. I pray it will be over soon with as little loss of innocent life as possible.
Tonight I attended a young adults group from the church at Noisy-Champs. It was a great time of sharing and praying and hearing testimony. Truely a family of young people are fellowshipping and I was allowed in. There is a new believer among them. She was many years in coming to a saving faith but the Lord has captured her and you can see it in her face and hear it in her story. I pray now for her and the spiritual attacks that continue to plague her. It is a familiar story that I am hearing here in France: the spiritual oppression is more evident than we'd like to imagine.
The guys came and fixed my shower today!! I got a nice glasslike box to encapsulate me as I "douche" each morning. They also left me a brand new faucet in the sink. So cool! I can't wait to give it a try tomorrow after I scrub it down really good. [Having worked in the cleaning business brings a new meaning to "clean shower"]. Its finally the weekend and I'm ready to clean and study for my exam on Monday as well as go to church again at Claye. This week I may have the opportunity to play the piano for a few songs. This is one of the greatest "misses" that I have here in France... a real piano that I can play at my leisure and a band as tight as that of Sunday Nights at CB. I miss those guys... Keep clapping on the "soul" beat, guys...I get to teach the french how to do it now...
3/19/2003
U2 always makes me feel better. I slept in this morning. Its already 10am and I haven't even taken my shower yet. I ate one of my favorite breakfasts today: Special K with Apricot Yogurt on top. I can't stand drinking the milk here. I need to continue my studying. Last night I worked on cruising through a borrowed grammaire book and it is very clear with hints along the way as well as many examples. I'll see if I can review the conditional tense before I go into class today. That way I'll already know what he "supposed" to be talking about. I still have a ton of catch up to do though: Subjunctive, durations of time, the list could go on forever.... For now, ROCK ON U2!
A funny quip that I've been living with since I arrived has been that my bathroom is for the most part unfunctional. The faucet broke off the sink a few days before I arrived and the shower leaks pretty bad and had caused the break up of floor tiles. Thus, I have not used it except to store extra towels and the funny pink toilet paper they sell over here. There has been a plus to not having a bathroom up here in my apt: I've been allowed to use the beautiful new one downstairs in the basement! I get to do an invigorating run down my outdoor steps in 4 degree C weather and unlock 2 bolts but enjoy a nice new bathroom! Well the "week" of hope has arrived! The men are supposed to come and fix my leaky shower and present me with a wonderful blessing! Not only will my square meter'age' increase from the smaller one downstairs but it will have these nice sliding and sealing doors to prevent any furture leaking... The only part of this quarkochronic society is that we don't really know WHEN they'll actually show up. :)
A funny quip that I've been living with since I arrived has been that my bathroom is for the most part unfunctional. The faucet broke off the sink a few days before I arrived and the shower leaks pretty bad and had caused the break up of floor tiles. Thus, I have not used it except to store extra towels and the funny pink toilet paper they sell over here. There has been a plus to not having a bathroom up here in my apt: I've been allowed to use the beautiful new one downstairs in the basement! I get to do an invigorating run down my outdoor steps in 4 degree C weather and unlock 2 bolts but enjoy a nice new bathroom! Well the "week" of hope has arrived! The men are supposed to come and fix my leaky shower and present me with a wonderful blessing! Not only will my square meter'age' increase from the smaller one downstairs but it will have these nice sliding and sealing doors to prevent any furture leaking... The only part of this quarkochronic society is that we don't really know WHEN they'll actually show up. :)
3/18/2003
You know those days where it seems so long that it was like two days. Well, that's how I feel about today. I'm glad its almost over. The first "day" was great. I actually scraped myself out of bed to attend a ladies Bible study for several women from Claye. I really enjoyed it although it was quite fatiguing. I followed more or less all that was said and I even ventured, shaking in my boots, to pray again in French. I realized that I had set a standard for myself Saturday by trying to pray in French. Now I can't go back. I will forever have to keep trying. Today I kept it simple though and suceeded at communicating to God in French even though it wasn't so profound.
The second "day" tore me up. I've been frustrated by a grammer prof who persistently refuses to listen to us and answer our questions. Today, I got fed up and was ready to walk out. I wanted to cry but didn't until the second class in conversation. I really cried when I got home and unloaded in my Picasso french to Karen. I'm going to see what options I have for switching classes. If I choose to stay, I will bust a move on my own to understand the grammer of my own study so I can pass the exam at the end of the month and be promoted to a higher level grammer class. We discovered I don't get any vacation either until the end of May. I think there are 3 days that are national holidays. Those will help a little. Until then, its study study study. I'm getting tired and my eyes are dry. Its time to put this day to bed and pray for a better one tomorrow.
The second "day" tore me up. I've been frustrated by a grammer prof who persistently refuses to listen to us and answer our questions. Today, I got fed up and was ready to walk out. I wanted to cry but didn't until the second class in conversation. I really cried when I got home and unloaded in my Picasso french to Karen. I'm going to see what options I have for switching classes. If I choose to stay, I will bust a move on my own to understand the grammer of my own study so I can pass the exam at the end of the month and be promoted to a higher level grammer class. We discovered I don't get any vacation either until the end of May. I think there are 3 days that are national holidays. Those will help a little. Until then, its study study study. I'm getting tired and my eyes are dry. Its time to put this day to bed and pray for a better one tomorrow.
3/17/2003
Do I like chocolate rice pudding? Well it sure tastes good when, by freak incident, it takes you 2 hours to get home because of an "accident grave" at la station de Nation, which means that someone decided they didn't like their life and jumped in front of the RER on which I normally ride home. A tragedy of this caliber causes much pain in my heart as I think of the life that ended. It also causes a huge "bouchon" in the RER traffic (bouchon= literally the cork in a bottle of wine) and as I listened to the suggestion of the "annonces" at Etoile, I took the Metro au lieu de la RER from Etoile to Nation which only landed me standing in a 5-6 person deep line up all along the quai. The trains were slow in coming and when I finally joined the "sardines" who balanced themselves silently by mere immobility, they demanded we all decend at another station to wait for a train that took 20 minutes to arrive and was so full that you would have had to crowd surf to get in. So I waited and jumped the next which happened to branch in the wrong direction than I needed. Fortunately by God's grace, I felt like jumping out of the train at my last chance and got the next correct train. When I got off the RER at 7:30, the full moon was painted against a sunset nuanced nightblue sky.
I was extremely tired today but managed to make it through my classes. Jean Baptiste brings me the Saturday NYTimes suppliment to Le Monde. He says I am the student that would most appreciate it. JB is a really encouraging prof. He always asks us now if we are understanding our grammar and uses words like "Bravo!" and "C'est juste" to keep us going in conversation.
I've been pursuing, with the aid of Jonathan, my carte de sejour. What a fiasco! The Consulat did not return my original documents with my Visa so I am stuck here with a visa that will expire if I don't get the carte de sejour soon. We already visited the Prefecture one time last Friday, and so our trip this morning was the second stop on our wild goose chase and rendered me a headache to go on top of my fatigue. I am searching for my papers now with a vengence. I found the email address of a representative in Portland and have emailed her. My next step will be call her, but with the track record from last fall (nearly 10 calls before contact), I doubt I'll actually get to talk to her on the phone.
An interesting histoire has unfolded from the trip to the Pays Basque. The team of us (Griffins, Schlange's and Probasco) met a young french basque guy who surfs. It was one of those crazy encouters where we got so busy that it looked impossible to meet with him in the short amount of time we were destined to be in French Basque territory. I had a couple conversations with him on my cell phone and the evening we arrived at our host home near Bayonne I talked to him once again to try to apologize for us not being able to meet with him. He wouldn't stand for it but squeezed a time and place out of me to meet us the following day. We showed up and met a cool kid- with a feather in his hat- who promptly drove us to his favorite surf spots and introduced us to his surfing buddies. We stood in the coastal rain and watched his buddies brave the breakers which were 3 times the size of the day previous. I got thoroughly soaked but enjoyed each moment until we said goodbye at the train station (I returned to Paris). Jean Yves must have been ready to hear the Gospel when we encountered him cuz I just got word today from the French host and house church host in the area that Jean Yves accepted the LORD the weekend after our departure in full, truthful conversion! Who would have guessed?!! Praise the LORD for calling a young man and prayerfully his pregnant girlfriend will follow soon! JY is now surfing Tahaiti but already dreams of returning to reach his Basque family for the LORD! I'm starting pray for my place... Experiences like this, brushing so close to me, get me all too excited to live for Christ here in France!
Bref, one life lost to dispair, one life gained for the sake of Christ! A somber hallelujah....
I was extremely tired today but managed to make it through my classes. Jean Baptiste brings me the Saturday NYTimes suppliment to Le Monde. He says I am the student that would most appreciate it. JB is a really encouraging prof. He always asks us now if we are understanding our grammar and uses words like "Bravo!" and "C'est juste" to keep us going in conversation.
I've been pursuing, with the aid of Jonathan, my carte de sejour. What a fiasco! The Consulat did not return my original documents with my Visa so I am stuck here with a visa that will expire if I don't get the carte de sejour soon. We already visited the Prefecture one time last Friday, and so our trip this morning was the second stop on our wild goose chase and rendered me a headache to go on top of my fatigue. I am searching for my papers now with a vengence. I found the email address of a representative in Portland and have emailed her. My next step will be call her, but with the track record from last fall (nearly 10 calls before contact), I doubt I'll actually get to talk to her on the phone.
An interesting histoire has unfolded from the trip to the Pays Basque. The team of us (Griffins, Schlange's and Probasco) met a young french basque guy who surfs. It was one of those crazy encouters where we got so busy that it looked impossible to meet with him in the short amount of time we were destined to be in French Basque territory. I had a couple conversations with him on my cell phone and the evening we arrived at our host home near Bayonne I talked to him once again to try to apologize for us not being able to meet with him. He wouldn't stand for it but squeezed a time and place out of me to meet us the following day. We showed up and met a cool kid- with a feather in his hat- who promptly drove us to his favorite surf spots and introduced us to his surfing buddies. We stood in the coastal rain and watched his buddies brave the breakers which were 3 times the size of the day previous. I got thoroughly soaked but enjoyed each moment until we said goodbye at the train station (I returned to Paris). Jean Yves must have been ready to hear the Gospel when we encountered him cuz I just got word today from the French host and house church host in the area that Jean Yves accepted the LORD the weekend after our departure in full, truthful conversion! Who would have guessed?!! Praise the LORD for calling a young man and prayerfully his pregnant girlfriend will follow soon! JY is now surfing Tahaiti but already dreams of returning to reach his Basque family for the LORD! I'm starting pray for my place... Experiences like this, brushing so close to me, get me all too excited to live for Christ here in France!
Bref, one life lost to dispair, one life gained for the sake of Christ! A somber hallelujah....
3/16/2003
All these few weeks that I have been here, J keeps talking about the "tallskinnykiwi" and how he keeps tabs on this emergent thinker. One weekend before I left the States, my friend Alissa told me about some guy's blog and that I should check it out. She scribbled the link on a small piece of paper that happened to make it to France in all my little things and I discovered that it was the very same "tallskinnykiwi"...
I'm going through a strange period of time where I am assimilating the fact that I live here now. I've always struggled with where I'm really from. Sometimes I say from Graham, sometimes its "near Seattle" and more often now its "Portland". I persist in the thinking that I am an "alien" just passing through this earth but other times I talk about home as being the states. But every day now I walk over the same cobblestones, up and down the same stairs, board the RER in the same car so that I'll be descending near my exit tunnel, walk past the same chocolatier on the corner of "my left turn" and Avenue Friedland. For some reason, I hear Janel's voice echoing somewhere in the dust of 4 years ago, "I can't believe I live here!" For me, it has a new ring than it did back in the Alps. this time its for a longer period of time. I have some ministry and skill goals and dreams for future ministry here. Somewhere between the clutch and the shifting I'll get to that point of knowing where what is...
J has arrived at a conclusion that fits him well. France is his home, he pursues french citizenship, it is where his life is. For me, I'm somewhere between calling the States my home and France my home. I am where I am for now. But there is an uncertainty as to my "permanent" existance here. Maybe that is why I can't make the jump. I guess I'll just be an alien for another few years.
I'm going through a strange period of time where I am assimilating the fact that I live here now. I've always struggled with where I'm really from. Sometimes I say from Graham, sometimes its "near Seattle" and more often now its "Portland". I persist in the thinking that I am an "alien" just passing through this earth but other times I talk about home as being the states. But every day now I walk over the same cobblestones, up and down the same stairs, board the RER in the same car so that I'll be descending near my exit tunnel, walk past the same chocolatier on the corner of "my left turn" and Avenue Friedland. For some reason, I hear Janel's voice echoing somewhere in the dust of 4 years ago, "I can't believe I live here!" For me, it has a new ring than it did back in the Alps. this time its for a longer period of time. I have some ministry and skill goals and dreams for future ministry here. Somewhere between the clutch and the shifting I'll get to that point of knowing where what is...
J has arrived at a conclusion that fits him well. France is his home, he pursues french citizenship, it is where his life is. For me, I'm somewhere between calling the States my home and France my home. I am where I am for now. But there is an uncertainty as to my "permanent" existance here. Maybe that is why I can't make the jump. I guess I'll just be an alien for another few years.
I reconnected with a few people today as I visited the church at Noisy-Champs with Sophie. It was a nice service. I missed meeting the pastor though since he was sick. Another time.
I suceeded in trying my hand at cooking some Lebanese food from memory of watching Jadwa's mom 5 weeks ago. I had to do a variation on the theme and I could have used more onion but I only had a small one. I was kinda excited to cook like that and now I have enough to feed me for the rest of the week. I tried Jonthan's recipe for salad dressing too. I guess that is usually seasoned to taste and one can't go too wrong.
I spent some time looking through history's pages on the persecuation of Protestants in France. Check out this page for a stunning read: Massacre
I suceeded in trying my hand at cooking some Lebanese food from memory of watching Jadwa's mom 5 weeks ago. I had to do a variation on the theme and I could have used more onion but I only had a small one. I was kinda excited to cook like that and now I have enough to feed me for the rest of the week. I tried Jonthan's recipe for salad dressing too. I guess that is usually seasoned to taste and one can't go too wrong.
I spent some time looking through history's pages on the persecuation of Protestants in France. Check out this page for a stunning read: Massacre
3/15/2003
So this morning I "assisted" a meeting of 5 people with one dream: to launch a cafe ministry from their church. I was collect at 9am and driven to the meeting to meet all these people, some for the first time, others to renew the connection. The church at Pontault has a beautiful multi-purpose room wherein they hope to begin a cafe credible to the general populus. Serving up coffee and other beverages, even a menu, music, art, social action events, lanugage classes- a group to attract unbelievers to a casual occasion to be familiarized with Christian culture. An incredible dream!
I managed to comprehend pretty well what was going on during the meeting, I was even included to the point of offering my questions, comments and opinions, dreams and experience in this sort of ministry. It was thoroughly enjoyable...except when I couldn't think of the vocab to properly describe what I wanted to say or nuance. The rough moment came for me at the end as we prayed together. Pray is a huge obstacle to me in that I feel crazy trying to communicate to God in a language other than the one I'm used to communicating with Him. And not only that, but that there are at least 3 native speakers of this language around me "agreeing" with me in my communication to our Savior. It came to me and I paused. I wanted to cry out in ways that they had and was tempted to do so- in English. Instead, I swallowed my pride and plunged into a grammatical trainwreck, a Picasso picture of my heart in French. I don't think I've ever attempted to climb such a mountain without at least some preparation, reflection and language skills.
When I learned french the first time we started praying simply with the "thank you God for..." over our group meals. I would begin to perspire like a madman everytime it came my turn to pray two phrases over those meals. With time, we studied the subjunctive and began to formulate more complex prayers to our God and I arrived at praying with more ease at the end of 10 months. This time though, I have been in France only a month and feel so totally unprepared to begin praying at the level I had been capable of 4 years ago.
I came home feeling quite good about the meeting and totally embarrassed at my meesily attempt to cry out to God over this project. I feel little, humble, but in another way strengthened for having tried. I know God knows what is in my heart and these people probably know too and could read between the deranged sentence structures what I really meant. This is really what counts and I am in process. It hurts, yes, to be so incapable but I only now see in a mirror dimly, but one day I will see clearly, I only communicate in garble but will one day speak clear truth upon seeing it. For now, let 'Picasso' pray as she might.
I managed to comprehend pretty well what was going on during the meeting, I was even included to the point of offering my questions, comments and opinions, dreams and experience in this sort of ministry. It was thoroughly enjoyable...except when I couldn't think of the vocab to properly describe what I wanted to say or nuance. The rough moment came for me at the end as we prayed together. Pray is a huge obstacle to me in that I feel crazy trying to communicate to God in a language other than the one I'm used to communicating with Him. And not only that, but that there are at least 3 native speakers of this language around me "agreeing" with me in my communication to our Savior. It came to me and I paused. I wanted to cry out in ways that they had and was tempted to do so- in English. Instead, I swallowed my pride and plunged into a grammatical trainwreck, a Picasso picture of my heart in French. I don't think I've ever attempted to climb such a mountain without at least some preparation, reflection and language skills.
When I learned french the first time we started praying simply with the "thank you God for..." over our group meals. I would begin to perspire like a madman everytime it came my turn to pray two phrases over those meals. With time, we studied the subjunctive and began to formulate more complex prayers to our God and I arrived at praying with more ease at the end of 10 months. This time though, I have been in France only a month and feel so totally unprepared to begin praying at the level I had been capable of 4 years ago.
I came home feeling quite good about the meeting and totally embarrassed at my meesily attempt to cry out to God over this project. I feel little, humble, but in another way strengthened for having tried. I know God knows what is in my heart and these people probably know too and could read between the deranged sentence structures what I really meant. This is really what counts and I am in process. It hurts, yes, to be so incapable but I only now see in a mirror dimly, but one day I will see clearly, I only communicate in garble but will one day speak clear truth upon seeing it. For now, let 'Picasso' pray as she might.
3/14/2003
Cupboard runner solved!
Just after I broadcast the cupboard runner to the world over my blog, he ran. I jumped up from the liztoppy to see if I could locate his origin. I ran into my room where it sounded like it was near...no. Again... in the VC this time. I stood still between the VC and the salle de bain. Turning slowly I peered into the dark room, not flipping the light on cuz the fan comes on with it. No cupboard thumping. I tried stepping to see if the shaking of the floor would reveal the culprit. Silence for a second later and then it went. I went into the salle de bain squatting down on the tile floor for a better view. I though, maybe one of the shelves was cockeyed and rocking back n forth on its supports but all was secure there... Then I saw it: a trap door under the counter. It was jiggling around in its location. I adjusted it so that it would quit....and it hasn't thumped since!
I now am hearing the same thumping somewhere downstairs now...maybe there is a similar trap door somewhere under me.
I normally don't do my shopping on the Champs d'Elysees but this time Nanae and I were cruising around after class. We ended up in Zara again. This is a crazy designer shop that normal folks might be able to afford and it is always a disaster inside with clothes strewn everywhere, long lines to the cabines d'essayage, but some super cool deals on sheek looking styles. Nanae is a cute Japanese gal who loves to dress sheek. I had been eyeing a dress in there for weeks now. I tried it on once and couldn't bring myself to buy it for lack of occasions to wear it. I tried it again and decided to leave it finally. It was only 25Euros which is incredible, but it was a little too flashy for the general public. It would suit a romantic evening some summer night and I don't have any of those lined up, so the little black linen dress stayed at Zara. I did buy some black slacks. The gal who checks you into the fitting rooms really "fits" you. I poked my head out and asked if she could help me with the long length of the pantelons and she grabbed her pins and put a hem in one leg, wrote me a receipt and sent me to the counter to pay for and leave my pants. I'll return on Wednesday next to pick up my new taylored black slacks. Quel Service!
Nanae and I chose a pizzeria on the Champs to eat dinner in. We took our time, french style and talked about all kinds of things. She told me that she wants to open a center to help women and children in Japan. Women are often taken advantage of and suicide is very high among youth in Japan. Nanae has a degree in Law. My relationship with Jesus came up. She broke into it as we talked about our families. She said she could see that my family was very happy. She thought that was amazing and cool and unique. I thought carefully about how to answer that and just said I thought it was Jesus who made the difference. We talked a bit about that and she then told me that she had attended JHi and HIschool in a Protestant school in Japan. Her father is a "believer" and baptized. She thought it was Methodist. We talked about missions and Catholicism, Christianity. She thought I was a tough girl coming to France to work as a missionary here. She began to put together the pieces of who I am and what I am doing here. As we left she said I had inspired her to read the Bible more when she gets home to Japan. I offered to bring my English Bible and let her borrow it for a bit and told her we could talk about whatever questions she had. She tracked very closely with me during the whole evening. It was a good time. I'm praying that the Lord will draw her in by His truth which she recognizes as timelessly perfect. I'm praying for every opportunity the Lord gives me.
Just after I broadcast the cupboard runner to the world over my blog, he ran. I jumped up from the liztoppy to see if I could locate his origin. I ran into my room where it sounded like it was near...no. Again... in the VC this time. I stood still between the VC and the salle de bain. Turning slowly I peered into the dark room, not flipping the light on cuz the fan comes on with it. No cupboard thumping. I tried stepping to see if the shaking of the floor would reveal the culprit. Silence for a second later and then it went. I went into the salle de bain squatting down on the tile floor for a better view. I though, maybe one of the shelves was cockeyed and rocking back n forth on its supports but all was secure there... Then I saw it: a trap door under the counter. It was jiggling around in its location. I adjusted it so that it would quit....and it hasn't thumped since!
I now am hearing the same thumping somewhere downstairs now...maybe there is a similar trap door somewhere under me.
I normally don't do my shopping on the Champs d'Elysees but this time Nanae and I were cruising around after class. We ended up in Zara again. This is a crazy designer shop that normal folks might be able to afford and it is always a disaster inside with clothes strewn everywhere, long lines to the cabines d'essayage, but some super cool deals on sheek looking styles. Nanae is a cute Japanese gal who loves to dress sheek. I had been eyeing a dress in there for weeks now. I tried it on once and couldn't bring myself to buy it for lack of occasions to wear it. I tried it again and decided to leave it finally. It was only 25Euros which is incredible, but it was a little too flashy for the general public. It would suit a romantic evening some summer night and I don't have any of those lined up, so the little black linen dress stayed at Zara. I did buy some black slacks. The gal who checks you into the fitting rooms really "fits" you. I poked my head out and asked if she could help me with the long length of the pantelons and she grabbed her pins and put a hem in one leg, wrote me a receipt and sent me to the counter to pay for and leave my pants. I'll return on Wednesday next to pick up my new taylored black slacks. Quel Service!
Nanae and I chose a pizzeria on the Champs to eat dinner in. We took our time, french style and talked about all kinds of things. She told me that she wants to open a center to help women and children in Japan. Women are often taken advantage of and suicide is very high among youth in Japan. Nanae has a degree in Law. My relationship with Jesus came up. She broke into it as we talked about our families. She said she could see that my family was very happy. She thought that was amazing and cool and unique. I thought carefully about how to answer that and just said I thought it was Jesus who made the difference. We talked a bit about that and she then told me that she had attended JHi and HIschool in a Protestant school in Japan. Her father is a "believer" and baptized. She thought it was Methodist. We talked about missions and Catholicism, Christianity. She thought I was a tough girl coming to France to work as a missionary here. She began to put together the pieces of who I am and what I am doing here. As we left she said I had inspired her to read the Bible more when she gets home to Japan. I offered to bring my English Bible and let her borrow it for a bit and told her we could talk about whatever questions she had. She tracked very closely with me during the whole evening. It was a good time. I'm praying that the Lord will draw her in by His truth which she recognizes as timelessly perfect. I'm praying for every opportunity the Lord gives me.
3/13/2003
The case of the Cupboard Runner
There is no explanation as of this time for the thumping sounds in the VC, salle de bain, and kitchen which can be heard at nearly any hour of the day or night. The runner persists on slamming cupboard doors as it cruises along. It is especially noticable at night as I lay in the silence of my dark room. I've tried several times to figure out where the thump comes from and where it goes so I can stop it. I've tried to identify the origin of sound when in the VC, and have even entered my unfinished salle de bain to locate the thumper. I haven't caught the culprit and there may very well be no culprit at all, but instead a wind or a shifting of weight somewhere from the depths of the earth.
They say after time you'll not even see all the mass of humans that ride the RER after time. I, to the contrary, am a people watcher. I always have been. Today, as I did my best to not spy on people (I actually make an effort not to watch them), I noted a familiar face as we came to a stop. The door opened and Evrard stepped into my car, greeted me and we talked for one stop or two. How rare it is that I would see him the very next day after sharing the OIKOS dinner with him the wednesday night before.
We ate rachlette for our first OIKOS family dinner. We invited Evrard too. It was a great evening although I was so tired and had homework which didn't get done til the hour before I left for school today. I did most of the listening through the meal and everyone else did the talking. Evrard is a bit harder for me to understand but I see this as a good thing cuz it pushes my comprehension. We were also working in more familiar french, spoken among friends, family and including contractions of phrases and slang.
Today I pondered the difference between learning to read and write a language and learning to speak and understand a language. These are two completely seperate things. Proficency in written is a science. Fluency in current vocal french is an art. I began to contemplate what my french courses would look like if I were to CPD them for Dr. Patty. I would want to teach both with a goal of growing in all 4 areas as well as cultural understanding. I'm working at sorting out the chemistry of grammar while I battle to strengthen my tongue into obedience at distinguishing "u", "ou", "eo", "e" and a medley of other sounds that should all flow together. So I'm working on memorizing these tongue twisters of the french language: Un chasseur sachant chasser chasse sans son chien. (A knowledgeable hunter hunts without his dog.) or Les chaussettes de l'archiduchesse sont seches archi-seches. These two twisters tie the tongue over "sh" and "ss", often within the same word.
There is no explanation as of this time for the thumping sounds in the VC, salle de bain, and kitchen which can be heard at nearly any hour of the day or night. The runner persists on slamming cupboard doors as it cruises along. It is especially noticable at night as I lay in the silence of my dark room. I've tried several times to figure out where the thump comes from and where it goes so I can stop it. I've tried to identify the origin of sound when in the VC, and have even entered my unfinished salle de bain to locate the thumper. I haven't caught the culprit and there may very well be no culprit at all, but instead a wind or a shifting of weight somewhere from the depths of the earth.
They say after time you'll not even see all the mass of humans that ride the RER after time. I, to the contrary, am a people watcher. I always have been. Today, as I did my best to not spy on people (I actually make an effort not to watch them), I noted a familiar face as we came to a stop. The door opened and Evrard stepped into my car, greeted me and we talked for one stop or two. How rare it is that I would see him the very next day after sharing the OIKOS dinner with him the wednesday night before.
We ate rachlette for our first OIKOS family dinner. We invited Evrard too. It was a great evening although I was so tired and had homework which didn't get done til the hour before I left for school today. I did most of the listening through the meal and everyone else did the talking. Evrard is a bit harder for me to understand but I see this as a good thing cuz it pushes my comprehension. We were also working in more familiar french, spoken among friends, family and including contractions of phrases and slang.
Today I pondered the difference between learning to read and write a language and learning to speak and understand a language. These are two completely seperate things. Proficency in written is a science. Fluency in current vocal french is an art. I began to contemplate what my french courses would look like if I were to CPD them for Dr. Patty. I would want to teach both with a goal of growing in all 4 areas as well as cultural understanding. I'm working at sorting out the chemistry of grammar while I battle to strengthen my tongue into obedience at distinguishing "u", "ou", "eo", "e" and a medley of other sounds that should all flow together. So I'm working on memorizing these tongue twisters of the french language: Un chasseur sachant chasser chasse sans son chien. (A knowledgeable hunter hunts without his dog.) or Les chaussettes de l'archiduchesse sont seches archi-seches. These two twisters tie the tongue over "sh" and "ss", often within the same word.
3/11/2003
Today. This day. I was tired in class. I needed lots of correcting. "seche, not sec." Oh, la...
My lips are dry and peeling and cracking and I think I have a cold sore but I don't know how it is called in French so as to even be able to demand the right product at the pharmacy. I'll have to ask tomorrow of someone who knows.
I have to do the shopping. The fridge is on the empty side, but I'm the type who will let it run down and just eat what I can scrounge up from the cupboards. I wanted to do the shopping tonight when I reentered, but, like I said, I was tired... and even with Rocky- I would only have had a few minutes before Tang Frere closed at 7:30.
I learned that when one speaks of the afternoon hours, one must say 17hours and 30 minutes, representing 5:30, but in familial senses one can say, yah, 5hours and a half. One can never say its 17hours and a half or quarter, or whatever... if you use train time, it must be legit from the teens to the minutes. soit dix-sept heures, trente; soit cinq heures et demi. Why these things amuse me, I don't know. But my grammar prof repremanded me for being "contente" to be learning the subjunctif. Apparently there are much more pleasant things in life to be "contente" over than learning subjunctif...
My lips are dry and peeling and cracking and I think I have a cold sore but I don't know how it is called in French so as to even be able to demand the right product at the pharmacy. I'll have to ask tomorrow of someone who knows.
I have to do the shopping. The fridge is on the empty side, but I'm the type who will let it run down and just eat what I can scrounge up from the cupboards. I wanted to do the shopping tonight when I reentered, but, like I said, I was tired... and even with Rocky- I would only have had a few minutes before Tang Frere closed at 7:30.
I learned that when one speaks of the afternoon hours, one must say 17hours and 30 minutes, representing 5:30, but in familial senses one can say, yah, 5hours and a half. One can never say its 17hours and a half or quarter, or whatever... if you use train time, it must be legit from the teens to the minutes. soit dix-sept heures, trente; soit cinq heures et demi. Why these things amuse me, I don't know. But my grammar prof repremanded me for being "contente" to be learning the subjunctif. Apparently there are much more pleasant things in life to be "contente" over than learning subjunctif...
3/10/2003
So far today has been a day "plein de choses." In fact, it was so full that it wisked by rather quickly. It has left me with many questions to ask, much clarification to demand, and more subjunctive to memorize. I'm just going to think "cyberloud" for a few minutes....
Aside from my sore legs and feet from the long walk yesterday, I feel much better and my cough continues to render that ugly flem we all know must come up and get clear of my lungs. I joined a group of area missionaries representing several countries this morning to hear the minutes from last year's meeting and vote to approve things like a budget I had no part in constructing way back in November and doesn't affect my anyway. The field meeting. The field was meeting me to for the first time. I felt like some kind of rare bug under the microscope. In some ways, I am a rare bug. I'm the first of the OIKOS team to show up at their meeting; this means I am representing something totally new to them.
Most of the meeting was spent tossing around several acronyms that I am still trying to sort out. Just what do they all stand for, who is represented by them, what is their function, which layer of this onion am I in? L'alliance, L'association, MEBF, CC, and on they go. I did feel quite a security in the rocking boat though, in that I have a lifevest called OIKOS and Jonathan FINLEY who preside over my being here. Of all that passed verbally around the room in those 2 hours, I understood nothing except that I won't understand and don't necessarily need to at this point.
Like all teams, this one has its bumps along the road and even more since there is so much transition happening in the mission world these days. I saw a lot of dynamics at work, personalities came out, question without clear answers evolved and were left in ambiguity. As I listened to everyone- one french accent here, an irish there, the banter of classic californians, canadians eh...- I started to hear passions and desires in these people's hearts. They want to see believers, churches, more organization, clarification. I also saw my heart and passions fly. Convictions on purpose and methodolgy began to arise in my own heart. I saw where I think differently, alike, where my gifting seems to be leading me.
What does it mean to be a Christian? to be a little Christ? I will love God with all my heart cuz He first loved me and sent His only son to shed His blood in my place and win me a heritage in his family. I will live as a child of the King and revel in His amazing love for me.
What is missions about? Taking this very personal, yet powerful and universal message to the world.
What is the assembling for or what so many refer to as "church"? The communing of the believers together, remembering the wonderful love of Christ and showing it to one another. If I remember right, at the end of Acts 2 the believers were gathering daily, learning from the apostles teaching, sharing what they had (everything in common), praying and people were being added daily to their number (thus growth like a bad weed).
More and more, I am convince that my role as a "missionary" is to live like a 'bad weed', like the kind that if you barely touch they shower their seed everywhere, or the kind that can't be pulled up (I always hated that kind!), or the ones that just seem to live faithfully in the potato patch, flowering so much more often than the pototoes themselves. I want to find the believers that exist around me (the "local" ones) and hang out as much as possible, praying with, sharing and giving among, learning together more about our Savior and worshipping Him in whatever way we can conceive and watch those around us get sucked into the family.
(A parentheses on the french culture: Sometimes evangelicalism is viewed as a sect. In some ways the original church gathering was viewed the same way. They were called the Way and they met privately in homes kept to themselves because of persecution for security reasons. I guess that would sound a little spooky to a skeptic.)
From here I think a little more strategically, "missionary-like", in that I would want to see this worshipping community work like a virus, contagious and passing from community to community leaving its local gang behind revelling in their new found "immunity." (I guess I use this illustration cuz I'm in the process of physically catching all the french bugs and developing an immunity to them.) The words 'church-planting' to me sound a little too forced. It scares me a little to think that I'm supposed to go out and make something grow. Even the idea of running around in a community asking people to come and partake in the local church gathering seems to forced. If Christ is either attractive or repulsive, people will be attracted or repulsed by the truth which is what I desire to live as a child of God. And, yes, I make it my business to take the message to others around me, but I can't make any converts. When something good is happening, others say its good, and those who hear want to partake. That's the smell that should be trailing us believers.
I'm still working all this out in my head and heart. Time will tell me more about myself and strategy and giftings and team. For now, I'll keep chewing on all this. I want to be the most useful tool to the Lord. He's made me a certain way and I need to be of the correct orientation to be most useful to Him. I'm searching for that orientation which includes my heart attitude, first; then, position, physically and metaphysically, correct use of my giftings. Abide in Him and then the fruit will be produced, not of my own effort but of my willingness to draw on his life.
Aside from my sore legs and feet from the long walk yesterday, I feel much better and my cough continues to render that ugly flem we all know must come up and get clear of my lungs. I joined a group of area missionaries representing several countries this morning to hear the minutes from last year's meeting and vote to approve things like a budget I had no part in constructing way back in November and doesn't affect my anyway. The field meeting. The field was meeting me to for the first time. I felt like some kind of rare bug under the microscope. In some ways, I am a rare bug. I'm the first of the OIKOS team to show up at their meeting; this means I am representing something totally new to them.
Most of the meeting was spent tossing around several acronyms that I am still trying to sort out. Just what do they all stand for, who is represented by them, what is their function, which layer of this onion am I in? L'alliance, L'association, MEBF, CC, and on they go. I did feel quite a security in the rocking boat though, in that I have a lifevest called OIKOS and Jonathan FINLEY who preside over my being here. Of all that passed verbally around the room in those 2 hours, I understood nothing except that I won't understand and don't necessarily need to at this point.
Like all teams, this one has its bumps along the road and even more since there is so much transition happening in the mission world these days. I saw a lot of dynamics at work, personalities came out, question without clear answers evolved and were left in ambiguity. As I listened to everyone- one french accent here, an irish there, the banter of classic californians, canadians eh...- I started to hear passions and desires in these people's hearts. They want to see believers, churches, more organization, clarification. I also saw my heart and passions fly. Convictions on purpose and methodolgy began to arise in my own heart. I saw where I think differently, alike, where my gifting seems to be leading me.
What does it mean to be a Christian? to be a little Christ? I will love God with all my heart cuz He first loved me and sent His only son to shed His blood in my place and win me a heritage in his family. I will live as a child of the King and revel in His amazing love for me.
What is missions about? Taking this very personal, yet powerful and universal message to the world.
What is the assembling for or what so many refer to as "church"? The communing of the believers together, remembering the wonderful love of Christ and showing it to one another. If I remember right, at the end of Acts 2 the believers were gathering daily, learning from the apostles teaching, sharing what they had (everything in common), praying and people were being added daily to their number (thus growth like a bad weed).
More and more, I am convince that my role as a "missionary" is to live like a 'bad weed', like the kind that if you barely touch they shower their seed everywhere, or the kind that can't be pulled up (I always hated that kind!), or the ones that just seem to live faithfully in the potato patch, flowering so much more often than the pototoes themselves. I want to find the believers that exist around me (the "local" ones) and hang out as much as possible, praying with, sharing and giving among, learning together more about our Savior and worshipping Him in whatever way we can conceive and watch those around us get sucked into the family.
(A parentheses on the french culture: Sometimes evangelicalism is viewed as a sect. In some ways the original church gathering was viewed the same way. They were called the Way and they met privately in homes kept to themselves because of persecution for security reasons. I guess that would sound a little spooky to a skeptic.)
From here I think a little more strategically, "missionary-like", in that I would want to see this worshipping community work like a virus, contagious and passing from community to community leaving its local gang behind revelling in their new found "immunity." (I guess I use this illustration cuz I'm in the process of physically catching all the french bugs and developing an immunity to them.) The words 'church-planting' to me sound a little too forced. It scares me a little to think that I'm supposed to go out and make something grow. Even the idea of running around in a community asking people to come and partake in the local church gathering seems to forced. If Christ is either attractive or repulsive, people will be attracted or repulsed by the truth which is what I desire to live as a child of God. And, yes, I make it my business to take the message to others around me, but I can't make any converts. When something good is happening, others say its good, and those who hear want to partake. That's the smell that should be trailing us believers.
I'm still working all this out in my head and heart. Time will tell me more about myself and strategy and giftings and team. For now, I'll keep chewing on all this. I want to be the most useful tool to the Lord. He's made me a certain way and I need to be of the correct orientation to be most useful to Him. I'm searching for that orientation which includes my heart attitude, first; then, position, physically and metaphysically, correct use of my giftings. Abide in Him and then the fruit will be produced, not of my own effort but of my willingness to draw on his life.
3/09/2003
While my family and most American's remain in the US, I live in an anti-war, anti-American culture. Today I descended the metro and stood beside a presse stand, flaunting an oversized frontpage of a magazine, asking, "Pourquoi veut-il aller jusqu'au bout?" The picture was a decorated President Bush. Not only was he wearing his fatigues, and leaning out over his pulpit, with his determined look, but some random french had added their own personal impression of Bush to the plexiglass, complete with indentity tagging, rendering the American President a little reminiscent of Bin Ladin. The magazine also stated a few reasons to go along with its question: religion, Petrol, terrorism. Then it blantantly labelled it all the "new world order."
Last night at the church event, I met a great little gal who asked me how I felt about all this war. I always treat my american heritage and the war subject with care. I did a little BSing in french to say that I really didn't have a clue and avouved that there were so many side issues involved that I couldn't come up with a clear opinion. I think she realized that she has backed me into a corner and apologized for having made it difficult for me. Must walk carefully...
Of course I think Saddam must be removed from power cuz he's a bummer for more people than a hero, but the question is how deep does his power go and who all has his poison infected-- whatever the case it must be ALL removed, like a cancer you can't just take the tumor. You have to take it and do chemo. Then the question remains, who is to do the surgery and when. And that's not the half of it. There is economy involved, terror cells, Israel and Palestine, the injustice to his own people and neighbors, his deception. I saw a week ago how he drained the lush area between the Tigris and Euphrates because those people were rebelling. Now it is a wasteland. I remember learning about the fertile crescent in 4th grade- and this man has dismantled it.
Yeah, take him out- but how?
I just came from taking a long walk through Paris with my friend Severine and her 5 friends. We walked about 10km. It took us all afternoon. We started on the easterly side of the city, south of the Seine and walked west. We walked up into the Luxembourg Gardens and by the Pantheon. I learned that the Senat meets in the gigantic building at the end of Jard Lux. It is guarded pretty heavily these days. A Senat member is appointed for a duree of 9 years whereas a member of the Assembly National is elected by the people to about 4 years. They work much like the House and Senate in the US. The little chapel that I love, just to the left of the Pantheon, called Saint Etienne de la Mort is where famous people like Emile Zola and Alexandre Dumas are buried. We came upon Les Invalides, a golden domed structure. We crossed the Champs and walked under the Tour Eiffel and started a hunt for de la glace. We were so tired and needed some icecream. Unfortunately we settled on some plain old expensive american Ben and Jerry's. It was great weather today. We kept walking all the way to the Bois de Boulogne. There is a little boat rental place and people were out canoeing about in the late afternoon sun. I shot a couple shots. It was amazingly beautiful. The trees where all exoticly french. I'd call that place a wonder to see in the sunset on a romantic evening in the spring.
We RER'd it home. I got the last baguette at Tang Frere's on the way home. :-) ouais...elle a dit, "c'est la derniere!"
Last night at the church event, I met a great little gal who asked me how I felt about all this war. I always treat my american heritage and the war subject with care. I did a little BSing in french to say that I really didn't have a clue and avouved that there were so many side issues involved that I couldn't come up with a clear opinion. I think she realized that she has backed me into a corner and apologized for having made it difficult for me. Must walk carefully...
Of course I think Saddam must be removed from power cuz he's a bummer for more people than a hero, but the question is how deep does his power go and who all has his poison infected-- whatever the case it must be ALL removed, like a cancer you can't just take the tumor. You have to take it and do chemo. Then the question remains, who is to do the surgery and when. And that's not the half of it. There is economy involved, terror cells, Israel and Palestine, the injustice to his own people and neighbors, his deception. I saw a week ago how he drained the lush area between the Tigris and Euphrates because those people were rebelling. Now it is a wasteland. I remember learning about the fertile crescent in 4th grade- and this man has dismantled it.
Yeah, take him out- but how?
I just came from taking a long walk through Paris with my friend Severine and her 5 friends. We walked about 10km. It took us all afternoon. We started on the easterly side of the city, south of the Seine and walked west. We walked up into the Luxembourg Gardens and by the Pantheon. I learned that the Senat meets in the gigantic building at the end of Jard Lux. It is guarded pretty heavily these days. A Senat member is appointed for a duree of 9 years whereas a member of the Assembly National is elected by the people to about 4 years. They work much like the House and Senate in the US. The little chapel that I love, just to the left of the Pantheon, called Saint Etienne de la Mort is where famous people like Emile Zola and Alexandre Dumas are buried. We came upon Les Invalides, a golden domed structure. We crossed the Champs and walked under the Tour Eiffel and started a hunt for de la glace. We were so tired and needed some icecream. Unfortunately we settled on some plain old expensive american Ben and Jerry's. It was great weather today. We kept walking all the way to the Bois de Boulogne. There is a little boat rental place and people were out canoeing about in the late afternoon sun. I shot a couple shots. It was amazingly beautiful. The trees where all exoticly french. I'd call that place a wonder to see in the sunset on a romantic evening in the spring.
We RER'd it home. I got the last baguette at Tang Frere's on the way home. :-) ouais...elle a dit, "c'est la derniere!"
Since we had "church" last night, I slept in this morning. I'm headed out at 11am for a promenade in Paris with a friend who I meet in Portland, Severeine. My nasal passage has cleared and I'm feeling a bunch better. The cough still hangs on though.
I'm sitting here in the brightly lit living/dining/kitchen room and I see a pigeon that has flown up to the window and perched here. I guess he must just really like Matt Redman's music. He struts back and forth by the window closest to the computer. His beak keeps hitting the window and whatever nostril he has puffs small circles on the pane. I was even able to reach right up to him on my side of the glass.
Church was held at Claye's mother church building in Lagny. J said he knew about half the people. We served up tortilla's and a really fun time. I met quite a few people who are and "aren't quite" Christians. They played crazy games, one into which I was called to help the ladies cook an omlette. Apparently the lady's out did the men's. The best was watching J and K beat 4 other couples at feeding a yogurt (k to J) blindfolded. The winning technique: Karen actually held her finger against J's chin to keep track of his mouth and then, from up close, shovelled it in. Well, she also has a young one too....
Lagny has a very nice grand piano and I played it for only a little bit. I'm aching to find a piano that I can go to and play at n'importe time. A couple times now Nanae and I haved walked to the FNAC after class and we pass a piano store. They stand there in the window all shiny and so tempting. I wish I had enough to pay for one and have it delivered to my little home. Better yet, just to be able to enter and play one without feeling like an intruder. Or, to be able to get one and put it in a building that is easily accessible and useful for the worship of the saints here in the Marne la Vallee. I know that's what Thierry would want... He's already assigned me some work in the worship domain.
Yesterday, I reminisced as I loaded MP3 after MP3 into my liztoppy. I started to organize it and name what needed names. Thanks to Adrien way back in SEPT I have probably about 7Gb's of music that I can play directly from my computer and never have to touch a CD.
I'm sitting here in the brightly lit living/dining/kitchen room and I see a pigeon that has flown up to the window and perched here. I guess he must just really like Matt Redman's music. He struts back and forth by the window closest to the computer. His beak keeps hitting the window and whatever nostril he has puffs small circles on the pane. I was even able to reach right up to him on my side of the glass.
Church was held at Claye's mother church building in Lagny. J said he knew about half the people. We served up tortilla's and a really fun time. I met quite a few people who are and "aren't quite" Christians. They played crazy games, one into which I was called to help the ladies cook an omlette. Apparently the lady's out did the men's. The best was watching J and K beat 4 other couples at feeding a yogurt (k to J) blindfolded. The winning technique: Karen actually held her finger against J's chin to keep track of his mouth and then, from up close, shovelled it in. Well, she also has a young one too....
Lagny has a very nice grand piano and I played it for only a little bit. I'm aching to find a piano that I can go to and play at n'importe time. A couple times now Nanae and I haved walked to the FNAC after class and we pass a piano store. They stand there in the window all shiny and so tempting. I wish I had enough to pay for one and have it delivered to my little home. Better yet, just to be able to enter and play one without feeling like an intruder. Or, to be able to get one and put it in a building that is easily accessible and useful for the worship of the saints here in the Marne la Vallee. I know that's what Thierry would want... He's already assigned me some work in the worship domain.
Yesterday, I reminisced as I loaded MP3 after MP3 into my liztoppy. I started to organize it and name what needed names. Thanks to Adrien way back in SEPT I have probably about 7Gb's of music that I can play directly from my computer and never have to touch a CD.
3/07/2003
This evening as I walked from the RER to my house I passed a woman of african decent who carried a large box on her head. No hands... I've always wondered how they do that. She walked extremely smooth and had the most impecible posture. She was quite tall, too. I guess things like this make my mind spin. I'm not in Africa, but it has come to me.
Its Friday. I made it. I coughed most of the way through it. I sneezed quite a bit too. My nose is running like a faucet. My throat is tried. My brain is tried. My body is weary. Last weekend I was sick too. I hope I get over the worst of it tonight so I can enjoy the weekend. Saturday night is our church's outreach evening: Mexican food in celebration of a late Valentine's Day prepared by the French. Apparently it will attract 50% unbelievers and we'll total over 100 people.
I wonder what would happen if suddenly English grammar adopted a new conjugation of all verbs in a subjuntive nature? What would we sound like? "I want that you go to post office." "It must that you swim 10 laps." "I wish that you marry you with a Christian." Of course "go", "swim" and "you marry" would have some strange spelling and pronunciation like "gose" and "swime" and "you marriye"... Just trying to wrap my mind around something totally obsurd.
Its Friday. I made it. I coughed most of the way through it. I sneezed quite a bit too. My nose is running like a faucet. My throat is tried. My brain is tried. My body is weary. Last weekend I was sick too. I hope I get over the worst of it tonight so I can enjoy the weekend. Saturday night is our church's outreach evening: Mexican food in celebration of a late Valentine's Day prepared by the French. Apparently it will attract 50% unbelievers and we'll total over 100 people.
I wonder what would happen if suddenly English grammar adopted a new conjugation of all verbs in a subjuntive nature? What would we sound like? "I want that you go to post office." "It must that you swim 10 laps." "I wish that you marry you with a Christian." Of course "go", "swim" and "you marry" would have some strange spelling and pronunciation like "gose" and "swime" and "you marriye"... Just trying to wrap my mind around something totally obsurd.
3/06/2003
I can't believe it but I just finished the first 4 chapters of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis, in french... Sure, I didn't understand everything to a "T" the way I did when mom sat next to me all those years ago so faithfully plodding through each chapter, but hey, I was reading and enjoying it! Yah...go ahead and laugh cuz for sure you can see me "all curled up on my uncomfortable brown couch wrapped in a butterfly blanket moving my lips to foreign angles provoked by such a beautiful language..." Et bien, c'est super, non?! I think I'll try to make a habit of reading more in French- let's see if I can conquer this language. Au lit!
Or maybe it will conquer me?... Like the White Witch does Edmund.... SUCKED IN!
Or maybe it will conquer me?... Like the White Witch does Edmund.... SUCKED IN!
3/05/2003
So I survived 2 days of school so far. It takes me one hour to get porte to porte and my profs are not too interesting or strange. My classmates are a variety of people from everywhere. Yesterday I discovered that even answers to profs questions have to be carefully thought through. A whole new meaning to the concept of being "salt" springs to life. I want my words to be pure and clean and my thoughts to be conveyed in good, knowledgeable French. But one must be careful. My profs are french educated masters of language and teach for that matter. One speaks Japanese fluently and the other has a handle on Cantonese- said to be one of thee most difficult languages out there. Nani and I were assigned to debate the computer- did it liberate us or not? So we dove in and we talked through the pros and then the cons and we hit on the aspect of pirating and just brushed the idea of pornography. The prof caught it and said, "Now, thats moral, not whether or not the machine herself causes liberation." He admitted though that the internet itself could suck one in and not allow actual freedom. Even my debate skills which are seemingly few, come up against a brick wall with the French. They are so well thought out. Heck, even 5th graders are studying Camus. I hardly know who that is...
So my little daily routine is beginning to form: wake up at 8:30ish (alarm #1 is at 8), turn on the liztoppy and start some music, eat some breakfast, email, shower, get ready, review studies, blog, leave at 12:25ish for school, ride RER and walk to school, grammar with Alexandre from 1:30-3:30ish, conversation with Jean-Baptiste from 3:35ish-5:30ish (the french are quarkochronic so we're never really on time), chat with classmates as we walk to metro, get on and return home. Maybe shop if need be. Eat dinner, email, hang-time with God, bed. Thats kinda what the week looks like. Now the weekend? couldn't tell ya.
Yesterday I bought Rocky. I don't have a car here so Rocky is almost a must. I tried to live for a bit without him but when I saw a young arab boy 'faire les courses' with one similar to Rocky, I realized how much simpler that race through Tang Frere would be. I could even take Rocky to Continent (where I bought him) or to Auchan which is another couple stops down the RER and bring water home, milk in those crazy boxes, soupe too! I found that carrying heavy things in plastic bags will really kill my hands and so I dropped the cash on a deeply tan, handsome, but older styling fellow, who constantly sports black and blue (in plaid of course cuz the French love that plaid). He has two wheels and follows smoothly. Rocky is my caddy and I love him already.
So my little daily routine is beginning to form: wake up at 8:30ish (alarm #1 is at 8), turn on the liztoppy and start some music, eat some breakfast, email, shower, get ready, review studies, blog, leave at 12:25ish for school, ride RER and walk to school, grammar with Alexandre from 1:30-3:30ish, conversation with Jean-Baptiste from 3:35ish-5:30ish (the french are quarkochronic so we're never really on time), chat with classmates as we walk to metro, get on and return home. Maybe shop if need be. Eat dinner, email, hang-time with God, bed. Thats kinda what the week looks like. Now the weekend? couldn't tell ya.
Yesterday I bought Rocky. I don't have a car here so Rocky is almost a must. I tried to live for a bit without him but when I saw a young arab boy 'faire les courses' with one similar to Rocky, I realized how much simpler that race through Tang Frere would be. I could even take Rocky to Continent (where I bought him) or to Auchan which is another couple stops down the RER and bring water home, milk in those crazy boxes, soupe too! I found that carrying heavy things in plastic bags will really kill my hands and so I dropped the cash on a deeply tan, handsome, but older styling fellow, who constantly sports black and blue (in plaid of course cuz the French love that plaid). He has two wheels and follows smoothly. Rocky is my caddy and I love him already.
3/04/2003
Its begun! School. I'm back in it. I think I really like language school though. For some reason I get a terriffic kick out of listening to profs go on about grammer. I discovered that I am the only American among my two classes. There are two Japanese gals and two Polish, a spanish gal who is absolutely gorgeous with her dark eyebrows, a scot, and a few others that I didn't get to identify.
Grammer prof is Alexandre. He immediately put me under the microscope as an american and then poked a little at my being Protestant. He asked, So, since you went to Bible College (cuz he squeezed that much from me) you're Protestant? Oui. And you still are? Oui. Funny, I didn't even wince. Everyone looked at me carefully. I normally turn red when a moment like that passes but I didn't as far as I could feel. I've begun praying for this new opportunity for God to strengthen me and use me to show His glory as the one and only true God, even if they're not all French in the room. He said "all nations," so there I am in a room with a wide variety of people.
The second 2 hours of my 4 hour school day is spent in the same classroom with Jean-Baptiste. He is a terribly skinny tall frenchman who can double cross his legs like I used to do until I got so scared of varicos vains forming around my knees. He is our conversation prof. He is a bit more difficult to understand than Alex but in reality, everyone is at this point. He schedule is very loose and flexible. We designed a dialogue for a comic strip about a man entering a hotel lobby and a woman steeling his briefcase. My guess is that he was Clouseau from the Pink Panther, dressed like him and everything, who dumbly left his brief case at the counter instead of taking it with him into the telephone cabin.
It takes me one hour to get from my door in Lognes to the Institute door in downtown Paris. After about 45min on the RER I pop my head up at the Arc de Triomphe and weave my way NE up Ave Hoche, take a right on "handsome Jean" street, then a left on "bertie" street. Its really quite simple, you know. The Champs d'Elysees is only 2 main streets over but if you can find the Arc, then you'll be in good stead.
Yesterday after class, Nani (Japanese gal) and I headed from class to the FNAC to buy our books. She is a law student from Japan who lived in Hawaii for a few years too. She is in Paris for another month with her french boyfriend. Pray that I'll have more opportunity to tell her the Good News. She asked about my being a Christian as we walked to the FNAC.
My body is starting to act normal again, finally! Although I seem to have a strange cough taking its place. Health.... ahh!
Grammer prof is Alexandre. He immediately put me under the microscope as an american and then poked a little at my being Protestant. He asked, So, since you went to Bible College (cuz he squeezed that much from me) you're Protestant? Oui. And you still are? Oui. Funny, I didn't even wince. Everyone looked at me carefully. I normally turn red when a moment like that passes but I didn't as far as I could feel. I've begun praying for this new opportunity for God to strengthen me and use me to show His glory as the one and only true God, even if they're not all French in the room. He said "all nations," so there I am in a room with a wide variety of people.
The second 2 hours of my 4 hour school day is spent in the same classroom with Jean-Baptiste. He is a terribly skinny tall frenchman who can double cross his legs like I used to do until I got so scared of varicos vains forming around my knees. He is our conversation prof. He is a bit more difficult to understand than Alex but in reality, everyone is at this point. He schedule is very loose and flexible. We designed a dialogue for a comic strip about a man entering a hotel lobby and a woman steeling his briefcase. My guess is that he was Clouseau from the Pink Panther, dressed like him and everything, who dumbly left his brief case at the counter instead of taking it with him into the telephone cabin.
It takes me one hour to get from my door in Lognes to the Institute door in downtown Paris. After about 45min on the RER I pop my head up at the Arc de Triomphe and weave my way NE up Ave Hoche, take a right on "handsome Jean" street, then a left on "bertie" street. Its really quite simple, you know. The Champs d'Elysees is only 2 main streets over but if you can find the Arc, then you'll be in good stead.
Yesterday after class, Nani (Japanese gal) and I headed from class to the FNAC to buy our books. She is a law student from Japan who lived in Hawaii for a few years too. She is in Paris for another month with her french boyfriend. Pray that I'll have more opportunity to tell her the Good News. She asked about my being a Christian as we walked to the FNAC.
My body is starting to act normal again, finally! Although I seem to have a strange cough taking its place. Health.... ahh!
3/02/2003
Alot of things come in boxes in France: milk, juice, soup... I just opened my first box of soupe here in France since 4 years. It is a mixture of southern veggies and spices and a dash of olive oil. I spent today home from church even though I was up and showered in plenty of time to attend. I felt horrible: mal au ventre. My stomach has been killing me for the past couple days and I didn't want to battle it during a church service and Karen recommended I rest before school starts and all the stress with the "new" begins tomorrow.
So today I watched the TV and slept on the futon downstairs in the Finley apt. I wanted to be at church but needed the rest and it was still work watching TV. I ate dry Special K and layed there until Karen returned in the early afternoon.
All that to say that this soupe in a box sure tastes good and I can't wait to share it with my friends who think soup comes in a can labelled Campbell's with little morsels of stuff floating around in it.
So today I watched the TV and slept on the futon downstairs in the Finley apt. I wanted to be at church but needed the rest and it was still work watching TV. I ate dry Special K and layed there until Karen returned in the early afternoon.
All that to say that this soupe in a box sure tastes good and I can't wait to share it with my friends who think soup comes in a can labelled Campbell's with little morsels of stuff floating around in it.
3/01/2003
Train face: the face everyone wears on the metro and trains here in France. It is comprised of closed lips and dull eyes which sneak from window to window, reflection to reflection, blank stare to no where. Everyone wears it and if you don't you stick out. The only time its ok to wipe it off is if your cell rings or if you are in company of a friend or group of friends. Only then can your eyes light up or your lips crack even a smile. Even the people who religiously read books and magazines where train face. They crowd the RELAY vendor in the big stations to buy Vogue, Marie Claire, and other popular magazines, not to mention all the papers available.
Today I sucessfully bought my first "carte orange" for 5 zones and good for one month. I asked for it in the heart of the city since I was there saying goodbye to my friends. I put it on the carte banciare and grabbed my metro then RER. I was sopping wet from the rain in Paris. The rain comes down in large crocodile sized raindrops that thoroughly soak upon landing. My jeans were wet midway up my calf and my shoes were soaked by the time I arrived chez moi. I put on tea, lit a candle and cut out a little picture to apply to my carte orange and made it valid with my nom, prenom and address and signature. I even found a tiny metro map that I cut out and put in the plastic sleeve of my carte orange. I'm ready for Monday!
Life will begin to deroule on monday with the commencement of my classes. I'll begin speaking more and more franglais which will evolve into purer french. Already I found myself mixing french words into the sentences I was tossing at my american friends (sorry guys).
I'm praying to the Great Healer to fix my stomach from its little problems. Can't explain it....
Today I sucessfully bought my first "carte orange" for 5 zones and good for one month. I asked for it in the heart of the city since I was there saying goodbye to my friends. I put it on the carte banciare and grabbed my metro then RER. I was sopping wet from the rain in Paris. The rain comes down in large crocodile sized raindrops that thoroughly soak upon landing. My jeans were wet midway up my calf and my shoes were soaked by the time I arrived chez moi. I put on tea, lit a candle and cut out a little picture to apply to my carte orange and made it valid with my nom, prenom and address and signature. I even found a tiny metro map that I cut out and put in the plastic sleeve of my carte orange. I'm ready for Monday!
Life will begin to deroule on monday with the commencement of my classes. I'll begin speaking more and more franglais which will evolve into purer french. Already I found myself mixing french words into the sentences I was tossing at my american friends (sorry guys).
I'm praying to the Great Healer to fix my stomach from its little problems. Can't explain it....
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