Ok. I think I just told Blogger to speak French; so let's give it a whirl. I want to show you something cool about my God.

Ceux qui sont en bonne santé n'ont pas besoin de médecin, ce sont les malades qui en ont besoin. Ce ne sont pas des justes, mais des pécheurs qui je suis venu appeler à changer de vie. -Jésus

In other words, Jesus came and walked the earth for the sick, hurting, in pain, depressed, injured people. He came calling out to them, healing them, forgiving their sin and recovering them from shame: a changed life.

Canneberge
It took us about 15 minutes of my conversation class to figure out what a cranberry was. I couldn't remember the word in French and we didn't have a dictionary to help us out until the end of the discussion. It all started when I pulled out my notorious "ziplock bag" of Craisins that my wonderful mom brought to me a few weeks back. I was munching on them, (kinda like Audrey Hepburn does in the movie Charade when she tells 'Mr. Bartholemew' that he's "doing a fine job scaring" her) when my prof JB askes what they were. I stuttered and told him that I could explain but that they were a little red, round berry, dried, and a little bitter. I explained that they floated in water, that we like to drink their juice and all kinds of stuff. I finally told him to taste one. So he did. He then agreed with me that he had never had anything like it and didn't know what they were. Several others in the class tried them and couldn't figure it out either. JB went to get a dictionary and I flipped through it to find the word I was looking for, "une canneberge". JB was pretty stoked on them. He said, "Actually, the flavor is found after the berry is gone." I think he liked them.