Internally rolling our eyes

I think I was only obnoxious once this weekend. Our whole family with some extended family and elderly friends met for lunch and the youngest generation sat at the no-longer-kid's table. About two hours before the funeral, an older gentleman came over to us and said, "Well, kids. I want you to know that I've known your grandfather for a looong time and he was a good man." We all internally rolled our eyes because we didn't want to start the official grieving with condolences period and as the oldest representative of our young generation, I said, "Well, sir. We've known him all our lives and we agree." "... Well, I haven't known him all my life, but ... I'm sure you have... well, nice to meet you," He stammered and left us alone. I think it surprised him.

Find the Humor

See if you can figure out where my family's humor comes from in Gramps' obituary that he wrote himself: http://www.meadvilletribune.com/obituaries/local_story_359214934.html

We're off to Meadville, PA tomorrow morning. With three hours at the wheel each, Mom, Katie, Jamie and I should be there by 9pm.

In his own words, "Ernie's dead. 'Nuff said."

On Christmas Eve

Summary: Seventeen years ago, Grandpa Parrish died of an unexpected heart attack the day after Thanksgiving. This year, we were wondering whether Gramps Wood would also die on that day. With Parkinson's, a few strokes and liver failure, he was going down hill quickly and thus, I returned from France on Nov. 19th. After everyone returned to their New England jobs and schools, I stayed behind with Grandma for a month. We visited Gramps in the nursing home every day, bringing him food requests which included scallops, oyster stew, hot and sour soup and orange soda. On December 14th, I returned to my parents' home in NH to celebrate Christmas.

Two days ago, Grandma called to say Gramps was unresponsive but breathing deeply. Again, I was overwhelmed with the understanding of why I have faced so many challenges in the past two years and have cried oceans over the desire to follow God's will while questioning my winding path. With ties as far back as being placed teaching high school special ed in the fall of 2006 with three jobs since then, I couldn't have orchestrated the opportunity to spend a month with my grandparents ten days before Gramps died.

Gramps died this morning at 8:16am. On Christmas Eve.

We'll all be back in Meadville at the end of the week for the funeral. Since I don't have to be back in school until January 24th, we'll see where I settle down for the month.

I praise God for the opportunity not only to see Gramps again, but to spend a month with them. May I remember how God worked in this situation the next time I doubt His goodness and plan for my life.

Preparing for Christmas with my brother

I'm at "home" in NH with my parents for the holidays. Dad and Jamie drove through two Nor'easters in order to pick me up from Grandma's so I may not rush back south anytime too soon.

Have you ever had a younger brother? One who has gone through a silent, brooding teenage phase, headed off to college and then returned a few years later as a well-spoken, happy, hard-working young man? Jamie has knocked my socks off thus far. He's using great vocabulary words, cooking breakfast, sharing coffee and openly sharing stories. This morning, he and I hiked over to the overgrown Christmas tree farm that's on the other side of the church property that we live on. We found a tree that's twice the size as Jamie with his arms up, thus about 15 ft. tall. He cut it down easily then we started dragging it back to the house through 2 1/2 ft. of snow. We got it up a hill, then down the path, leaving it hidden on the trail until we could tie it to the back of a car and drag it through the church parking lot and up our steep driveway. Here's the game plan (don't tell my mom): We're planning to cut the tree in half and set up the bottom half in our living room where we usually set up a tree. Jamie's brilliant idea is to set up the top of the tree on the next floor-- in Mom's room! :-) She's going to have her own Christmas tree! Hopefully we'll drag the tree up to the house tonight, let it dry overnight, then set them up and decorate them tomorrow with five days to spare. Now I just have to get on the Christmas cards and wrapping gifts...

My calves (not baby cows)

I'm afraid my muscles are atrophying.

Especially my calves.

I have done little physical exercise since I came to live with Grandma and my calves are tight.

No good.

Since I'm headed back to school, then hopefully Jville for the summer and I won't have much relaxation time again until August, I don't feel much guilt. But my sore calves...

Stifled Laughter

Grandma and I were watching TLC's Taking Home Baby about the first few days after a female homosexual couple brought home a newborn. Twenty minutes into the half-hour segment, 85-year old Grandma was pretty confused. All of a sudden she said, "Is that the baby's father?" I quietly agreed, "Ah, yeah," but I was surprised she didn't notice the woman's tank top. A few minutes later, "Is that a man?" I pretended not to hear her. "They keep changing people! Look, I just saw the father. That's not him. That's him!" she decided about the same woman shown from different angles. And I tried to hide my laughter with my sweater...

You've got mail!

Can I say, I'm a little proud of myself? I've become addicted to gmail since I came home. It's like watching the mailbox for a package, but I'm hoping for some written love from my TFA and Faith friends in NC or NJ college friends or French friends or Jumonville folks. Perhaps it's my way to keep connected to the people I love who live all over the world (stinkin' me for moving so much!).

Oh, wait, that's not what I'm proud of. Two days ago, I started tallying the number of times I checked my email each day. Wednesday- 13 times (don't judge!). Thursday- 12 times. Today- 10 times. I'm allowed one more check tonight.

If I keep this up, I could be down to three checks a day by Friday. That's about normal, right?

P.S. If you're thinking, why does that girl not email me back then if she's checking it so often- I'm horribly greedy and enjoy receiving better than sending. Sorry!

Hard to Believe

Retiring at 38?!
http://finance.yahoo.com/retirement/article/103954/Can-You-Afford-Extreme-Early-Retiremen

I'm 23 and still trying to figure out what to do with my life... Three years of seminary will put me at 26... Not bad, a quarter century for education...

I'll admit something, I often question my ability to discern God's will for my life. Am I making the best decision? Should I be moving here? Should I pursue this or that? Should I have pursued that? When?

Since I graduated from college in May '06, I've lived in Atlanta, Raleigh, Pittsburgh and France (and I've acquired one heck of a southern accent, let me tell you!). I've taught in a middle school, a high school and an elementary school (in 12 months!). I've worked as a camp counselor for high risk kids between ages 6 and 17 and I've volunteered with French kids between ages 7 and 22 in a church environment. That provides amble opportunity to question my ability to discern God's will for my life. Mom said something that meant a lot to me about my experiences, "If you had been first placed by TFA in the elementary school rather than the high school, you would still be teaching." If God's will was for me to remain teaching, He wouldn't have placed me in an environment that almost broke my spirit with the daily strain of trying to teach occupational skills to 15-19 year olds who preferred to cuss and yell at me rather than to study since they could barely read and write. I have never debated anything in my life as much as I did my decision to leave. How could I leave these angry kids who resort to drugs, sex and violence because they've been neglected by the system? I think about those kids a few times a week and wish I could have had a bigger influence on their lives. More importantly, may God work in their lives. I pray that I have been following God and will do so more diligently. If I hadn't left the high school, I would have never fallen in love with 5 year old Shemar, 9 year old Silekeon, 5 year old Isaiah and the other little ones I taught in the resource room. If I hadn't left the elementary school, I wouldn't have been able to return to HOPE Camp. If I hadn't gone to France as a volunteer, I wouldn't have been able to return to Grandma's house to keep her company while Gramps is dying in the nursing home. I've got to trust that God has my life in His hands and that He'll continue to lead me. I gave my hopes, dreams and future to Him about four years ago and I'm glad I did.

Spreading the seeds...

Watching Gramps sleep this morning and then as Grandma cut his fingernails, I began thinking about the ideal way to die. Really, I shouldn't do this at all since my ideal romance involving a nonexistent high school sweetheart, "Jessi and Jacob" or "Amie and Tim" style is probably out of my reach and we can't control when we die anyway, so maybe these idealizing thoughts are useless... Needless to say, while it is great that Gramps has been able to see six grandkids grow up (no weddings unfortunately) and to prepare his wife financially for his death, I still think it must be a bit awful to find oneself in a nursing home, having to depend upon others for everything from feeding to bathing. I won't get into details and in fact, it must be better to have help rather than none at all, but... Maybe it's the pride/dignity factor... That being said, I can't think of any other way to die that leaves no one else in pain or in need. I'm probably thinking too much about this...

A visit to Pittsburgh was great this weekend. Recollecting HOPE Camp stories from this summer provides this hilarious story which proves that I'm really not down in the dumps about death all the time:

Laying around with the campers on open sleeping bags laid out in the grass (one of Mr. Keith's best ideas ever), I was given the opportunity to describe my faith experience to the 10-year olds. Surrounded by the woods, I compared my faith to the growth of a tree, rooted in childhood experiences and hopefully now dropping seeds of encouragement for others to grow as well. One of the boys questioned surprisedly, "You mean, Miss Heather, you've got kids?!" No, I'm not spreading my seed like that! :-)

Native Culture Shock

I've heard that when you return to your native country, you again can face culture shock. I thought that the lower ceilings I'm used to in the US might be a surprise after France's wide open head spaces in most room including bathrooms. Nope. TV in English is presently intriguing (and perhaps helping me regain a wide English vocabulary) and the second big culture shock occured yesterday in the grocery store. Not because the store is asthetically pleasing or because there are endless choices, both of which differ in France where the larger grocery stores look like warehouses which still only offer three types of butter. It was the candy bars.

Did you know that a HERSHEY'S chocolate bar costs 30 cents at Walmart? That's equivalent to 14 euro cents! How about Reese's peanutbutter cups? 48 cents which equals roughly 22 euro cents. In France's Monoprix, all the chocolate bars cost about between 1.50 and 3 euros. I must have looked like a fool standing before the candy bar stand with my eyes wide in amazement and my jaw dropped... then again, maybe that's not so abnormal for women to stand like that before the chocolate. ;-)

Happy to be Home

This lady is pretty happy to be home.

Gramps is still hanging in here. He's mentally astute and we make each other laugh. He had a good point last night, that pastors and doctors need to reconsider their actions and beliefs concerning death. If we believe that we will go to heaven after we die, then Gramps questions, "Why do they always try to keep everyone alive?"

I was offered a full scholarship for theo school this spring. Whew! I was afraid I lost it because I had deferred the acceptance. Pastor John Spahr had an amazing sermon on Sunday which spoke to me confirming my recent internal conviction that leaders who teach according to Jesus' example will not only encourage radical transformation but be transformed themselves. "I am not here to endear myself to you by speaking words that make you comfortable. We're all going to feel uncomfortable..." Thus at the end of January, I'm off to NJ for the next three years.

Thanksgiving with the family was good and everyone returned safely to their New England homes. I was thrilled to see Tricia, Kenny and Amanda this weekend. Unfortunately, as Tricia, Kenny and I realized, there isn't much to do in this small college town. Luckily, we can always enjoy good conversation over a meal (thank you, France, for teaching me how to host a meal). I'm also happy to regain contact with HOPE staffers, Jville friends and Drewids via the telephone.

Admittedly, I'm enthralled by the television. I'm not sure if it's because I only have access to a tv when I visit Mom or Grandma or whether it's because I can understand what people are saying. Perhaps it's a bit of both. I've been catching myself pausing often with the French, "ahhhh," even though I'm speaking in English. Sometimes I'm still trying to mentally piece my sentences together before allowing them to escape my mouth. I probably also speak slower since I'm used to talking with people who have English as their second language. C'est la vie. That's life.

Praise God

Since last May, Gramps has been hinting that he might die before Thanksgiving when my mom's side of the family usually gathers each year for a reunion. Before going to France, I apologized to him saying, "I'm sorry I won't be able to make it for Thanksgiving." He replied, "I might not be there either..." making me nervous.

And the past six months haven't been a joy ride for the family as we've had about four close calls, thinking that Gramps would die within the day. The last time was last week when I decided to come home to join the family at the funeral and to take care of Grandma for a while.

But praise God, he's made it to Thanksgiving!! This morning, Mom, Uncle John and Uncle Chuck and I went over to visit Gramps. He said he wants to come home today and the nurse said we could sign him out for a few hours. Logistically, we have to figure out how to bundle him up sufficiently for the dropping temperatures and time his visit before the rain turns into the expected 5 inches of snow. Praise God, Gramps is alive for another Thanksgiving (although a year ago, we would have never imagined his health would become this bad)!

Sidenote: Dad's dad, Bill Parrish, died 17 years ago tomorrow, the day after Thanksgiving also on Nov. 23rd like this year. Should Gramps decide to die tomorrow after the holiday, it will become Grandfathers' Day for my immediate family. Our grandfathers are much beloved.

Happy Thanksgiving!

My mom, sister, brother and I arrived safely in Meadville, PA yesterday afternoon. Our first stop was to check in on Gramps. What a blessing to shake his hand, see him smile and hear him talk when I had been afraid he would die while I was in France. I hope he isn't lonely in the nursing home while he knows the rest of us are gathering at the house. Fingers crossed that he can join us sometime today.

I got out just in time from the French perspective too. After six days of strikes, I flew out of Paris right before a total strike on Tuesday. Also, then on Wednesday morning, vandals burned cables under the trains running to and from Paris. What an awful mess Paris is right now. Not like a war zone, but economically, all this is going to hurt.

Also worth noting, had I stayed in Grenoble, tonight I would be giving a 15-minute speech about how I made the decision to come to France with a question and answer session afterwards. Another thanks on my list, not having to do that in French...

Part of His Plan

I'm back in the states as of 3:30pm yesterday!

The keyboard's different again, so hopefully I'll have the patience to type out as much as I want to say...

Gramps is still alive! (full of good news, huh?) He's probably holding out till Thanksgiving when the whole family usually gathers.

Had a fantastic weekend with Felix in Paris. With his sister, Nina, we visited Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Champs de Elysees, Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre. Photos will come eventually.

Funniest moment: I pushed back my short hair with a bunch of hairpins, one of which fell out while we were walking under the Eiffel Tower. Felix was horrified as I turned back to pick it up. After I explained that it was my hairpin, he said, "I thought it was a bolt and that the tower was falling apart!' ;-)

Best moment: getting a friendly hug from Felix with three bisous de Valence when we were saying "see you later" at the train station. Since I'm not accustomed to bisous and French Felix isn't used to hugs, mixing the two cultures this way was a perfect "not goodbye".

And NH's first snow is today. It's sticking to the ground with a small accumulation of 3 inches. A sweet bienvenue home as long as we have safe travels to PA tonight. Hopefully we'll join the rest of the family tomorrow afternoon.

Thank you to all of those who've been supporting me through encouragement and prayers. I don't think this chapter of my life is closed having returned from France. I have a feeling God was purposely leading me there for a short time so that I'd be able to return now to help Grandma. It's part of His plan.

Almost done better

Not sure when I'll have internet access again for a few days. Good news: Mom wrote last night and said Gramps is hanging in there and doing a little bit better. Whew! Also good news, I'm almost done packing eight hours before my train leaves. My parents know how much of a surprise that it since I am consistently one hour late whenever I pack up the car to move somewhere (after vacations, etc.).

I've started imagining people are calling my American name, "Heather" rather than the French "Elessabette". Yay, and Lindsey is here to visit!!!

Coeurs de poulette

Nannan Ying, Félix Delhomme and I had a Chinese dinner together tonight. What a blessing to sit with a Chinese and a French friend and enjoy a meal. I can't get over how far away we've grown up from each other, yet how well we get along. I'm going to miss these guys.

For the menu (thanks to Nannan): soup with beef and mushrooms, ham and green pepper plate, chicken and zucchini plate and (my favorite) a spicy dish of "coeurs de poulette" with hot peppers... chicken hearts. I even helped prepare them by cutting them in half while they were raw. Exciting, interesting adventure, huh? They were pretty good but my brain keeps asking my stomach, "Did you really just eat chicken hearts?" Starting a formal French dinner at 8pm means my belly is still full for bedtime now at midnight.

Haven't heard from a certain friend living in Paris about whether I can visit this weekend, so Félix and I made plans to go together on Friday night. Both of us are praying that the train strikes don't prevent us from getting to Paris. If T doesn't email me soon, I'll stay at the same hotel as Félix. So glad to have two plans involving friends so I won't be completely lost and alone in Paris.

Game plan:
Tomorrow: Food pantry. Say goodbye to Alison and Meg, my favorite English women. Buy the train ticket. Say good-bye to four foyer girls who are going to Prague. Close my bank account. French lesson. Dinner with Nannan and Tching. Student group, of which only Félix knows I'm leaving. Desperate Housewives with Nannan to wind down the day.
Friday: Finish packing and moving the volunteer things to the church. Train to Paris at 7:30pm.
Saturday: Louvre?!
Sunday: Notre Dame for mass?!
Monday: Fly to Boston. Wait six hours for Mom. Drive home to NH.
Tuesday: Meet up with Katie and Jamie and drive to PA (12 hours).

It's kind of hard to pack for a weekend in Paris and an indefinitely long visit to PA including an expected funeral...

Being frank

Be aware, the following may not have much politeness, political correctness or might just well be frank, a gift of Gramps'.

I met two people from the church for lunch. Acknowledging the possibilities of "errors of translation" and admitting that they are sympathetic for me, it was challenging for me to express myself (what is new?). Through barely repressed tears I explained my need to be at home with my family and to stay with my grandma for a while. J said, "Try to see it from our perspective, we don't understand the culture you come from."

"And I don't understand yours!" I actually said in French. ;-)

"Why would you as an "enfant" stay with your grandmother? In my family, I would never expect my children to stay with my parent."

Because your kids are 13, 17 and 18 years old! I thought. I'm 23, finished with college and without a full-time job. Why wouldn't I?!

"Everyone else is busy. We don't want to rush Grandma into any decisions about moving and when she does decide, she'll need someone to help her pack. The nearest relative is eight hours away."

"See, we don't understand that. Our families live closer to each other."

Yes, because if you lived twelve hours apart, you'd be in a different country!

.... "Tell us more about your experiences so we can do a better job next time." Fair enough.

"I think you should have a younger volunteer because having finished school, I don't use my education in this placement. And when an applicant says they don't speak, read or write French well on their application, you should believe them."

Without a doubt, I'm sure there were still miscommunications in the conversation and I've been judged once again unwittingly. That's the feeling I've had here consistantly since I arrived. I'm tired of representing "America".

They don't want me to write in a couple weeks, "I want to come back now." That's not going to happen.

Strange

Completely aware of the inappropriateness of me sightseeing as my gramps dies across the ocean, I'm going to try to lightheartedly describe the ways I've been trying to distract myself.

On Saturday, Nannan and I had a great time at the Musée de Grenoble. We enjoyed the impression exhibit and took turns taking artistic photos of each other in front of various pieces of art. Wish I could post them here, but I can't figure out how to email them from Nannan's Chinese computer. Funniest moment: Walking down a ramp to the ancient art exhibit, we arrive at a large stone sculpture of a torso. Nannan promply replies, "Just rocks!" and flicks it with her finger, "Ouch!". Luckily no alarms went off! As she wandered into the next room, I stood before the torso, shocked that she had just hit a sculpture from 1310 BC (!). When I collected myself, I went over to Nannan and told her what she had just done, "You just hit a sculpture from 1310 years before Christ was born 2007 years ago, which means it's more than 3000 years old!" Her eyes widened. When we walked past the sculpture on our way up the ramp, I heard Nannan saying quietly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." ;-)

Yesterday, I began gathering Christmas presents for my immediate family. I'd share more details, but Mom and Dad will read it...

Then Californian Sharon and I went to the Bastille in Grenoble. A fort on a nearby mountain that I look at every day as I walk through the streets. We hiked up on stone stairs and through tunnels that are from the 13th century to a beautiful view of the city. Took lots of photos that will be posted eventually, probably after I am back in NH in a few weeks.

Then we took the telepherique down the descent.

The first online article that I ever read after searching "Grenoble, France" was of one of these ball crashing and killing people. Was I ever nervous to get onboard. But at 3,30 euros (three euros, thirty cents) and the opportunity for a good story, I mean experience, I did it. Not so bravely, as I ended up scaring 18 year old Sharon and we clung to each other within the first ball waiting to go downward and unsure of the expected speed. But it went well, thank God. We survived and I think the couple from Iowa in the ball behind us got some good photos of two very scared girls inside a circle of glass. :-)

Mom will be glad to know I've started packing already. Not procrastinating for this move. The plan for me is to take a train to Paris this weekend, hopefully stay with Torgeir and visit the Louvre and Notre Dame before flying to Boston via Dublin on Monday. Mom will pick me up Monday night, we'll meet Katie and Jamie on Tuesday and start the 12 hour drive to Meadville, PA to join the rest of the family for the expected funeral. As the only family member not working full-time nor studying, I'm the chosen one to be Grandma's companion for a while. I'm happy with that since we're close. Strange iternary for the next week, non?

Homebound at last.

I'm coming home. It's been a really long weekend of ups and downs, but I learned that Gramps is really not doing well and my family is planning his funeral. God has mercifully granted me laughter and quality time with friends, as well as my first worship service in English since I arrived in Europe almost three months ago, between the tears, confusion and questioning. While we had planned that if anything happened, I could remain in France, now that it's actually happening, I don't want to grieve alone. I'm looking forward to seeing my mom's side of the family gathered in PA next week.

I have a lot of thoughts, some of hilarious moments from this weekend and some about what's going on with Gramps, but I'm too exhausted to write them now. I have a lot to do this week, including trying to get the money back for signing me up as a student. God works in mysterious ways that I am trying to appreciate.

Hiccup

anticlimactic- Something trivial or commonplace that concludes a series of significant events: After a week of dramatic negotiations, all that followed was anticlimax. (American Heritage Dictionary)

I received my temporary carte de sejour today making me no longer an étranger illégal.

No comment at this time.

Wonderful Meg is an English mom whose been living in France for 17 years for her husband's job and is very much looking forward to returning home next year. When I was honest with her on Wednesday about my dissipating reasons for being here, she described, "It's like a hiccup year for you." That's a long time to hiccup.

Heatherland

Super news in Heatherland (sorry, it's not what you were hoping to hear): At a regular check-up for students yesterday, I learned that I weigh 60 kg which means that all the French cheese, chocolate spread, wine and the feasts at the foyer have been balanced out by my refusal to use the tram regularly and the 3-story climb to my bedroom. I weigh the same as I did when I left the US 2.67 months ago!! Now if I just cut back portion sizes, I should come back a new woman. ;-)

Yesterday was also my 2 month mark here in Grenoble. Between leaving the US August 16th, arriving in France Sept. 1st and in Grenoble Sept. 6th, I have a lot of anniversaries to celebrate.

Find the good

Best misinterpretation of the week:

French J was seriously discussing matters to me and said in English, "The problem is with your incentive." My ex-TFA quills pricked up in defense. "It's not a small problem. It's a big problem but hopefully it will be fixed by the end of the week." I pondered how my criticized incentive could be fixed by Friday... He meant "inscription". The visa. And I grinned through the rest of his one-sided conversation in French.

In other news, the weekend was alright. I enjoyed being a participant and the lack of pressure to lead activities in French, but felt just a bit awkward being grouped with 14-18 year olds all of whom are younger than the seniors I taught last year... Also awkward, "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" "Yes, my little sister is 22 and my little brother is 20." ...

Recommendations of the day: If someone wants to take a break-year from school to volunteer, do it before the BA. Realizing how little I'm expected to do (minus learning the language) is disappointing... 2nd recommendation of the day: Do more research before saying yes. 3rd recommendation: Find the good. 4th recommendation: Amie Sexton, update your blog. ;-)

I refuse to hide it!

Off to another weekend retreat (not quite as relaxing and spiritually revitalizing as one in English but it's an experience). When I return on Sunday night, hopefully Nannan and Félix will be back from their long vacations! Hoping to maintain a calm, pleasant demeanor while being surrounded by French speakers for three days straight (it's not the French speakers that are difficult usually, it's the language that I understand only 45% of the time that is tiring). This time, however, I refuse to hide my leisure book written in English!

Who does that?

I'm presently eating homemade treats from Tunisia (the tan country in northern Africa) from my new friend, Mouna ("Moona"). This is why I love living here.

Still here...

Happy "Toussaint" Day!

Today I joined the rest of France wandering through the local cemeteries. Hoping to find dates that proceeded the American revolution, I was disappointed that the earliest I found in two cemeteries was 1860. Surrounded by many wanderers carrying potted plants and water canisters, I was surprised how many bouquets were placed on the graves. First of all, from what I understand a family would usually buy a two width plot of land and dig deep so that many relatives could rest there. In these city cemeteries, height/depth is the solution to limited land, just like the building architecture. Today, families covered the plots with potted plants, sometimes as many as 10 or 12 various plants. It almost seemed like a popularity contest, "Which grave could have the most flowers." But the effect is a beautiful cemetery while family members have the opportunity to remember. It's difficult, though, not to wonder about what type of legend I will leave behind. Simply a name, two dates and an age? Or an enlarged family of beloved believers? I hope I can encourage people to grow closer to God because really we're all just like temporary midsts in the air.

Went to my first club in Grenoble last night. Halloween probably wasn't the best night for me to decide to go out because the decor of the club was very much distasteful. The introverted country girl came out full force in me as soon as I breathed the dry, stale, warm air and we stayed longer than I wanted to, but I did have a little fun meeting another American and at least the people spoke English.

Well, the inevidable topic of conversation has been avoided for a few days. Let's just say that I don't have a flight home yet, and that I might just go from law-abiding citizen to illegal alien to French student by Tuesday... Who knows? (this whole debate has had some fantastic quotes that I will post once I'm in the clear). But in the meantime, I'll be off at another retreat for the weekend. This time, I understand I can be a participant rather than leader which is reassuring. It's good to know what is expected.

A little ridiculousness from last weekend in the beautiful Alps

Talk about a good picnic. Can you see the mountains behind us? As for the people, Delphine (the young pastor I work with) is in the grey sweater sitting on the end, Lindsey (another American friend) is in pink, and Florian (Lindsey and my favorite because of his eye contact) is next to Lindsey.

As for learning how to take off with a paraglider, here are my attempts. I did get off the ground my second time just a bit. Very exciting!!

Paragliding, Salsa, Eye Contact and VISA

Just got back from a students' retreat in St. Hilaire. Photos will be coming because I had the opportunity to "practice" running down a hill with a paragliding parachute billowing above my head. Also enjoyed folk dancing and salsa dancing with the other students in the common room with the chairs pushed back. At one point, I leaned over to Lindsey, another American who is encouraging and so great, and I said, "When we dance, I forget these guys speak French!" :-)

The discussions about commitment leaned towards dreadful for me because I could only understand about 20% of the conversation and I would have much rather prefered to be outside where I could breathe fresh air and enjoy the distraction of the shifting clouds, bugs, trees and fallen leaves. Maybe I also didn't like the topic because every time I heard the French word for commitment, "s'engagement", I had to remind myself that they weren't talking about marriage-prep.

So thankful that Lindsey, Sharon and Sharisse where there because they all prefer English to French and while we tried to be polite usually by trying to speak French, to see their reactions and that they weren't understanding everything either even though they speak better than I do, was encouraging for me. It is difficult to have a group of people speaking a foreign language around you. It is difficult to go out on a limb and try to speak, making yourself an open target for French criticism. It is difficult for one's ego and self-perseption.

However, to the credit of the student's in this church group, most of them were so so great about being friendly in their corrections. I finally started teasing them because if they asked me something I understood, I would pretend I didn't and they'd start to stress out thinking, "I don't want that much cake! I just want half a piece!" before I'd say, "It was a joke!" and we'd all laugh. A great moment: Lindsey and I were cuddling on the couch, speaking English and Renault (who I had already asked, "why do French people insist everyone speak French all the time?!") shouted from across the room, "Français!" Without a blink of the eye, Lindsey shouted back in French, "Shut-up!" It might sound rude (because both sides would be considered rude at home), but I think in France it was a bonding moment.

Lindsey and I really enjoyed hanging out with Florian, a twenty-two year old, who does that eye contact thing that Mr. Keith does. When everyone is sitting around in a circle, both of those guys will catch your eye, not to flirt, but to acknowledge your presence. It kind of reminds me about how God sees us, loves us, encourages us and wants us to spend more time with Him. OK, maybe with Keith, it's more of a, "Heather, you are ridiculous" way, but with Florian it was much appreciated by Lindsey and I. Overall, it was a pretty good weekend.

VISA update: Just got a phone call from the head of my volunteer program saying that he asked my tutor to find me a university inscription, that the program would pay for it, that we need to speed rush the document process because if we don't, I have to leave the country on Thursday. Wow. And they had an American volunteer a couple years ago who had to leave in Dec. because of her VISA problems. Oh, dear. But I've been praying about this a lot for weeks, along with a lot of you all (thank you) and I'm calm about it right now. Whether I stay or go, my only concern is the cost of a flight home at this point.

Too big to fit in his luggage

Because the situation with my VISA is uncertain at the moment, at least to me, the first sad moment will occur tonight-- I have to say good-bye to my only male French friend, Félix, because he's off to visit his girlfriend in NYC for 11 days and if I have to go home, then I won't see him again. :-( We've been joking about his trip since the day we met when I asked if I could be packed in his luggage. Unfortunately, the French have been fattening me up with cheese, chocolate and wine so it doesn't look like I'll fit...

So complicated?...

How desperately difficult it is to communicate in a foreign language... Talk about trying to understand motives in a different culture... Pretty confused about what's going on within the church, how it affects me, and about the situation with my VISA... How in the world did volunteering in a church abroad become so complicated?...

Burning Cars, "C'est normal." (?!)

In which other country can you wake up in a chateau and go to bed later after seeing two cars ablaze outside your foyer?! First the cars: so I'm in the computer lab with the other American girl in the foyer and we hear a rumble. Looking at each other, I suggested it could be a rockslide from one of the three mountain ranges surrounding Grenoble. When we heard a second strange noise, we went to the window and discussed the possibility of Grenoble being bombed by another country. Deciding that no one would want to bomb Grenoble, we returned to our seats to hear a few pops. Sharon made fun of me saying, "I can tell you're not from the city. We hear gunshots all the time in Oakland (CA)." Done with the computer, I walked into the hallway to find five girls at the window and a huge fire outside.

About sixty feet from our foyer, a car was on fire! A French girl tried to explain calmly, "C'est normal!" and I ran upstairs to get Nannan and show her. Watching from a third story bathroom window, another French girl explained that when two people get in a dispute, one will set the other's car on fire. Am I glad my students at Southern Vance HS never heard of this possibility for conflict resolution (or continuation)!! To the defense of the firemen, they were already pumping water onto the car which had set another on fire because of the wind before I realized what was going on. By the way, the firetruck was probably only about 10 or 12 feet long, two perfect squares no wider than a car. Notice the size of the truck in comparison to the men standing in it!

Next, the chateau: The AD reunion for the volunteers in the southeast of France was in Lyon this weekend and my favorite part, besides enjoying the company of the German boys who speak English and also recently experienced similar struggles with the language and cultural differences, was sleeping in a beautiful chateau at Valpré, a Catholic retreat center. There were exactly six doors between the front step and my bed... we're talking open a door to find a square room only large enough to open the next door. Overall, I think Lyon is beautiful and clean and I enjoyed seeing familar faces of other volunteers I had met at the beginning of September.

Of course, the forever inconclusive update about my VISA: the consulate (of what, I don't know) was called this afternoon to see why I had been given a student VISA when I'm not a student. Apparently, no one knows and they haven't decided to change my VISA. Thus, the church council is going to discuss it tonight to see whether I should try to get accepted into a university for my VISA or if there is any other way around this problem. From what I understand, it's not looking great for me to be allowed to stay but I also don't know what would happen if I became an illegal alien/volunteer. I understand Canada is currently blocking people from entering their country based upon old records and I hope that something like this wouldn't be a problem later in life. Truly, I wish I knew what was going to happen so I could rush off to Paris to retrieve Noah Nathaniel and try to visit Anneleen, Mattias and Nikolas before I'm deported.

Noah Nathaniel

Some of the English speaking volunteers in Strasbourg;

Mattias, Anneleen and Nikolas are on the left

He said, "Go."

Here's something that I have been pondering for a while: Why does Jesus so often say, "Go."? From this experience of going to another 1st world country, "go"ing has meant the challenges of depending upon other people for the basic necessities (unlocking my blocked cell phone, translating at the prefecture, explaining the city transportation system, etc.). "Go"ing without the ability to speak French fluently has meant being restricted to the simplest phrases ("Good day!", "How are you?", "I am American"). When I attempted to share more about my experiences and faith with a limited vocabulary (and personal patience), misunderstandings were construed and I was advised to stick with casual conversation (How can I glorify God with only casual conversation?? Perhaps by using more than words...). "Go"ing has meant leaving my loved ones behind in the hopes of developing other close friendships (which just makes the middle months difficult). "Go"ing has meant leaving most of my clothes, books, cds, shoes and Starbucks behind (yes, I can survive without most of these things, including Starbucks, but it's not "normal" for me to have only one pair of jeans). "Go"ing has meant the necessity of quickly adjusting to not having a dryer, coffeepot, car or CD player. And I'm still in a 1st world country!

So why does Jesus encourage us to "Go."? I think it has something to do with acknowledging our dependance on God and our independance from worldly goods. When I don't know where I'm going to sleep tonight or whether I can handle another overwhelming conversation in French, I pray. When I don't know if I'll have enough money for food for the month, I pray. When I'm scared because of the city crowds and the rowdy men in the street who seem to prefer the company of large dogs rather than other people, I pray. When I go to a new place or meet new people, a shyness comes through that gives me just a little anxiety and I pray. Since all these things happen often, I've been praying a lot.

And I've been learning that it is possible to only have one pair of jeans, to air dry my clothes (not so fluffy though), to survive without Starbucks, to maintain my composure when people are yadda-yadda-yadding at me, to depend upon God in a foreign country. Surely, it's not the same feeling as being able to fully relax in beautiful Gilford, NH, depending upon my parents and not questioning my security. But with my present situation alone in France, there are so many people who would consider this to be a pleasant change from their truly dangerous, inconsistent lives.

Thus, I don't think these situations that force us to recognize our dependance upon God are bad. They're not always comfortable or enjoyable, but at least we can depend upon Him. Thankfully we can depend upon Him.

Proof that I'm Alive

To celebrate the "I've survived 2 months in Europe" moment

(which was exactly 17 minutes ago

without regard to the time difference),

here are finally some photos of Grenoble. :-)

HP livin' in the city.

(sorry, Mom;

I had to try scaring you with the first one.

Love you!)

I recognize a word!

I'm terribly afraid that people have died in this river at some point.

It's the only water source I refuse to get near.

Not my best photo, but the view is great.

Welcome to Grenoble surrounded by three chains of mountain ranges in the French Alps.

Celebrating Chinese Mid-Autumn Day

Chinese food and French wine is the perfect meal.
Meeting international students is good too.

I think this guy is Austrian.

Dinner at the ladies' foyer.

Note the designated shelf and refrigerator space.

I think this was my pre-Chinese feast face. :-)

Hopefully more will come eventually.

VISA pending...

VISA Update: This morning during my appointment to hand in my documents to extend my VISA, the officials noticed the blatant error (DC gave me a student's VISA but I'm not a student and I don't have an acceptance letter from a university). Yet, they collected my documents, wrote VISITOR in red on the application and told me to come back Friday afternoon to find out if it is okay... "C'est bizarre... Oui." Apparently Americans are not the ones French want to keep out of their country, so they may be willing to botch the system a little.

My plan: If I get the VISA to stay till July, I'll start planning a trip to Ireland. If I don't get the VISA and I have to leave by Nov. 2nd, I'll start planning a trip to Ireland, then maybe see if Ryanair flies cheaply to Zambia, then head home. All on the last traveler's check I have left. Big dreamer maybe...

Third Wheel

First, check out Jacob's last post: http://jakeandjessi.blogspot.com/2007/10/now-i-livenot-i-but-christ-who-lives-in.html Jake and Jessi are old friends who got married and moved to Zambia as missionaries as soon as they graduated. Honestly, if I could be a third wheel, I would! I really appreciate his reminder to live to the fullest in Christ.

This past week I started getting compliments about my improved French. Five of them to be exact. ;-) Truly, I'm looking forward to being able to communicate with less intense focus. Literally right now, when I speak, I'm mentally envisioning the grammar charts (visual learner) and sentence formats...

Tomorrow morning I'll find out if I can extend my VISA and stay for the expected 9 more months. At this moment (believe it or not), I want to stay. The feeling of constant discovery when learning this language through immersion is a little exciting. Perhaps tomorrow night, if I am able to stay, I may regain the gloomy "I'm going to be here for a long time..." feeling, but then I'll reread Jacob's blog entry and refocus.

Optimism: In Grenoble, I like
- opportunity to stay in contact with family and friends through email and very rare phone calls
- my bed (usually on my optimism list)
- girl friends from China, Poland, Estonia (!), Canada, Spain, Belguim and California at the foyer
- watching Bollywood films and having Sharon, my Canadian-Indian friend, explain the inside jokes
- my new bicycle and the cool breeze on my face
- the English-French Christian radio station
- the opportunity to truly appreciate books in a language I can read
- Mr. Derek's Bonhoeffer gift
- the beautiful Alps
- Félix, my only male French friend, who gave me peanut butter (talk about a good friend)
- the couple of families that have been quite helpful and kind (it's amazing how dependant a person is when he doesn't speak the language!)
- the shower down the hall that actually holds the shower head preventing the awkward, "where do I put this thing?" moments

:-) Early to bed so I'll be out of the foyer at 7:30am to take the tram all over town to hand in my documents for the VISA...

"Deux baguettes, s'il vous plaît"

Well I didn't have to feign diarreah because the man leading the discussion about science and life graciously translated parts of the conversation. Now I can save that excuse for the next time...

This weekend I have eaten A LOT. Not really on purpose, but the French usually eat 3 course meals and at the foyer, we all taste each other's food which turns into a feast in itself. Add on top an invitation for dinner that wasn't understood in French so I arrived as plates were placed on the table, ... Oh, I've eaten a lot...

I am happily studying Bonhoeffer's Living Together (thank you, Mr. Derek!).

Goal for today: To teach 30 French youngsters how to play Chat, Chat, Chien (duck, duck, goose translated to cat, cat, dog) and to sing Dieu est trés bon (God is so good). After an hour and a half worship service in French and five hours with the kids, hopefully I'll be able to call Gramps and Grandma where Mom, Uncle John, Uncle Chuck and Aunt Melissa have gathered for the weekend.

I'm desperately trying to maintain self-patience and a good self-image as I attempt to do simple English things in French... Time to get ready for church and buy une baguette before worship (yesterday I bought 2 baguettes because I wasn't sure if 1 baguette was un or une... yet another attempt at self-preservation a.k.a. not humiliating myself by throwing up the flashers that indicate the presence of yet another abnoxious, disrespectful, we'll-pretend-we-hate-you-because-we'll-never-ever-admit-that-we-like-America American).

I hope you all are having a good weekend. If you ever need a positive thought and you are in your homeland, you could be thankful that people speak your language. :-)

Feigning Diarreah

Have I ever mentioned Allison? Allison's this great old English woman who's taken me under her wing to secretly feed me English books and newspapers. One of my favorite things about her is that when French people at the food pantry tell her for the umpteenth time to stop talking to me in English, I'm sure her response in French is along the lines of "Stop your fussing and fuffin' around. I'm explaining important things to her and she won't understand anything if no one tells her in English..." Each person nods slightly and walks away as she continues her story to me in English. She is the only person I've met so far willing to stand up to the French resistance against anyone speaking English to Heather Elizabeth. (The French can't say Heather, so only a select few are allowed if they use an American accent. Everyone else calls me, "Aleesabette".)

Otherwise, things are fine. I need to buy a train ticket to Lyon for next weekend and prepare for the student's group tonight. I'm in charge of opening the doors, starting the meal (aka, say a prayer), lead two songs and play a game before a man is coming to lead a discussion about science and life (for which if there is anyway I can feign diarreah and hide in the bathroom reading an English novel, I will), then finally I'm supposed finish with a prayer. Do you think that's rude to excuse myself for the discussion? It'll be an hour and a half long in a foreign language... I think not... :-)

Oh, and one of my two French friends bought me peanut butter yesterday. And he let me call home. It was like Christmas! And for dinner tonight, I'll bring peanut butter and jelly/honey/nutella sandwiches... that's gotta be American!

Ireland

So being a volunteer abroad (specifically in France) is harder than I thought... To make a long story short, let's just say that introducing yourself as an American who studied psychology is apparently 2 strikes against you from the French perspective... Who knew?

I stayed with the Finiel family again this weekend in St. Hillaire (fresh air, beautiful view both into the valley and above with the rising giant cliffs). Joël tried to sort out the apparent miscommunications based upon language and culture differences (not mentioning prejudices) that had been arising without my knowledge. He and his wife also helped me out practicing my French in order to teach songs and games to children and students. They are so kind and helpful.

Also, visiting the Finiels means a busy weekend with outdoor hobbies. I have two great experiences to share:

- Joël and his neighbor and I all got into harnesses and helmets. I figured this was going to be interesting since no one was wearing climbing shoes. One rope, I was tied into the middle and we climbed/hiked along the cliff edge of a huge Alps mountain. It wasn't too difficult, more of a mental challenge for those scared of heights, but truly we were so high that I was thrilled! I really wish I had a photograph of climbing that high. I hope I can do it again!

- To come back to Grenoble, I biked the 25 km descent on a windy, two lane road through two tunnels. Parts were so steep that I stopped to walk a bit, but with many personal prayers for safety, I had a great time. It also helped me adjust slowly to the city grim and only took two hours as was expected.

Returning the international foyer and describing to the girls what happened over the weekend concerning the misunderstandings, I learned that even some of the other girls who speak French better than I do struggle with the unfriendly attitudes here. While I just assumed that I was "condemned" because I was American and I don't speak French well, they have also felt the same way. Interesting...

By the way, I've been advised to tell people I studied education, to smile all the time and to only discuss simple conversation topics (how many brothers and sisters do you have? Children? etc.). Apparently France will make me a chronic liar and conversational bore... (sorry that comment's for Gramps-- Mom you can tell him.) All this kind of makes me want to wait for a travel companion before I do this again for another long time period... I find out if my VISA will work next Tuesday... If it does, Mom, Tricia and Sarah can all buy their plane tickets to visit and I'll start planning a trip to Ireland... :-)

The Language Barrier

A couple days ago, a man asked me what I liked about Grenoble. I responded, "The Alps... The Alps...." and honestly couldn't think of another thing I enjoyed about this city. Today is officially the one month anniversary of my arrival in Grenoble and I think the reason I haven't fallen in love with this city is because the language barrier prevents me from participating in many of my usual activities like theatre. Even helping with the church youth groups, I'm still a bystander because I don't yet have enough words to speak freely.

Even asking simple questions like "What should I bring for the weekend retreat?" are pre-thought, attempted with "What is it that I can bring tomorrow?" not understood, pre-thought again, reattempted, "What is it that I need for the weekend?" to which finally the response is "I don't know. Ask Delphine." Do you see where my frustration comes in?

I'm also learning not to ask stupid questions. When I try to ask a question that I pretty much already know the answer to, if I'm not understood, I'll say, "It's not important." To which kind Frenchmen (women or girls) will say, "Non, non. What is it?" I know they are trying to be helpful, but I really didn't care enough about the question to spend the time and mental energy trying to ask again, knowing that then I'll have to listen to their responses in French which I may or may not understand. Yesterday, I tried to tell sweet Coralie that it was in fact a stupid question and not important, but in my last attempt not to cry in front of this kind teenager, the word "stupido" seemed harsh.

One last rant about speaking French (or attempting): You know how Americans think accents, especially those from other countries, are generally cool and we can sort out what you are trying to say with a slight envy at your exotic accent (think English, Irish, Indian, etc.). Not only are the French obsessed with their preceived necessity (I am completely insulting them at this point, only slightly sorry) of everyone speaking French, it is also crucial that everyone use a perfect accent. More than once, I've had Frenchmen correct a single word, making me repeat it over and over for five minutes while they listen for the perfect vowel sound. As a visual learner and definitely not an auditory learner, I sit there laughing internally because there is no way I will remember this because I can't even hear the difference between how I am saying the word now compared to five minutes ago. Like a monkey, I imitate their facial expressions, gestures and voice tone, but my brain and mouth just don't wrap around the letter sounds...

There's a 24 hour overnight with the church youth groups beginning this afternoon. I'm afraid to bring the English novel I'm reading because every Frenchman and his mother think I should be reading French books and will criticize me if they see it (I wish I were exagerrating). It doesn't matter that the main character is a Russian boy who goes to Paris as a great dancer. Hoping that being in the mountains with fresh air will help restore my spirit. (By the way, I saw a double rainbow over the city yesterday which was cool except that the clouds behind it were a scary, hazy red shade... I wonder how much pollution affects one's sense of well-being).

Not trying to be negative, but I think this post is a pretty good representation of why I'm struggling with the language barrier and with adjusting to Grenoble. At least I have 2 Chinese, 1 Spanish, 1 Canadian, 1 Belgium & 1 German girl friends and Félix and Sylvie, my 2 French friends here... Yes, I have made one male friend in a month. That's pathetic but due to living in an international girls' foyer. C'est la vie. That's life.

Still kicking

I survived yesterday and actually had a great evening with the students' group debating ten themes (God's role in our decisions, the necessity for evangelism, why is there misery in the world, etc.) before reading scripture about each topic. I had found verses for each theme that really were challenging, not necessarily answering the questions, but what Jesus said about each. Of course, I was nervous about what the students and the other leader would think especially because it would be difficult for me to explain in French why I chose each verse, but I think it went well.

Also, they accepted my French toast as an authentic American dish, but chose to eat it either by itself or with carrots or with SPAM-like eggs. Not a single person used the jelly I brought (substituted for syrup). I was shocked and laughed internally watching them add carrots to the toast. They also think we should change the name to "American toast". Voilà.

Tonight, I have an unofficial French lesson with Félix to which I'm bringing Heather's homemade salsa (minus a few ingredients with a tight budget) with brochetta instead of nachos which cost about 4 dollars for a little bag. Excited because the planned topic of conversation of our faith will be more interesting than reading children's books aloud. And after that, I have a youth group meeting with the 16-18 year olds for which I've grilled hot dogs and onions to combine with noodles and ketchup for an extremely authentic American dish that I think my babysitter used to make when I was little. Or maybe my brother Jamie and I invented it... along with cappuchino before Starbucks stole my idea...

Hopefully a nap and a snack will carry me until dinner without tears because when I described what happened to Félix last night, he said nervously, "Please don't do that with me." I'm really going to try not to get upset. That may be the biggest reason I'm bringing food to his place...

And the floods rushed in...

The waterworks arrived today, as was predicted. After too little sleep and a 30 walk to the food pantry while mentally calculating my limited food and travel budget with the pressure of cooking for tonight's soiree, I was unable to control my emotions when two short old ladies cornered me insisting, "Parle français! Dis quelque chose!" I had been trying to be polite, asking a German woman where she was from but she didn't understand my attempt, so I said, "Ce n'est important." I think they misunderstood me, that they thought I said speaking French was unimportant. I want to find the humor in the situation, but imagine any one's reaction to being forced to speak immediately, let alone in a foreign language... it'd probably be frustration, perhaps with anger or tears like me. And this wasn't just the single tear. I excused myself from the cornering with a few "Un moment," and began crying with full lung capacity sobs (not wailing though, I don't do that). Maybe I'm a shy person who doesn't speak often in my native tongue anyway... (yeah, yeah, yeah; I know I can't really claim that excuse, but I have shy moments!).

I have nothing against learning French. Of course, I want the freedom of communicating with more people here and being able to express myself. But I don't do well with being overwhelmed... Surprising comment from the girl who double-majored, performed in three plays in a month and used to thrive on busyness in the past. Maybe it's the stress spectrum that Mom and Dad often mentioned to me last year. Maybe leaving Jville for perhaps the last time, selling my car and disconnecting my cell phone (no more easy access to friends and family) to move to France, having various things not work the way I expected, the culture shock setting in as I adapt to city life, etc... perhaps these are causes of my reaction. Perhaps I just am not doing well with being overwhelmed at the moment.

I can feel my body begin to relax finally as I listen to Jason Upton and plan to take a nap before starting the cooking fiasco again with the student's group tonight. Life is truly far from terrible and will be even less so after I get a nap.

On a positive note...

I'm thankful for the beautiful mountains that are visible from most streets;
for the opportunity to spend a year abroad in a foreign country with a different language
(can you believe I said that? I did and do actually appreciate these challenges, I think...);
for the responsibility to only work less that 20 hours a week (will never happen again!);
for the time to research and pray about what to do next year;
for the English-French Christian radio station;
for the opportunity to call Dad and Mom occassionally;
for health;
for faith;
for God.

Sense and Sensibility

Concerning the last post, I seethed for about an hour, then found Sharon, an Indian-Canadian friend. Together we concluded that the statement that my salad wasn't American enough was actually based in unintentional ignorance and stereotypes.

(I'd like to point out the the man who said that has actually helped me a lot and welcomed me into the family, so I try not to hold it against him... however, the fact that he wasn't at the meal, and thus that he got the information from another suspected source irritates me since I had forgotten that in a country where I am new and don't speak the language, that people might talk about me behind my back...)

These people won't be satisfied until I've brought them something that they think is American (hamburgers, hot dogs, peanut butter, grease and sugar) which will simply perpetuate their stereotype that all Americans are fat because we eat these things. See how my salad disappointed their mindset (how can Americans be fat if they eat salads like we eat?). Thus I can either be a people-pleaser, bringing food that they think is American, or I can bring food that I usually eat (that they eat too), disappointing them but hopefully demonstrating that indeed the USA is a melting-pot with food from all different cultures which can in fact be healthy. I can stress out or I can laugh at their disappointment with broken stereotypes... I think I'll bring fruit salad and a smile next Thursday... And eventually I'll have the French words to explain myself.

Blessing: We had a personal dinner party for 10 (apparently French rock out on dinner parties from a young age) last night and I cordinated a massive homemade Mac&Cheese with grilled hot dogs pieces, onions and peas which all worked. It's like God rubbing my back saying, "Relax, darling. Don't give up."

P.S. Thanks, Amie, for the french fry idea. I think at least two Frenchmen have pointedly asked me why Americans give credit to the French for those... it's rough representing our huge nation in France when I have little interest in food or politics, but does anyone care about the recent Broadway negotiations here? Nope.

Desperate for Ideas

Apparently I disappointed the French when I brought a salad last weekend to the students' fellowship. Apparently my strenuous attempt to make caesar salad w/o 5 euro dressing, but with meat and cheese was a disappointment. They want something American...

#1 Almost everything that is American originated from another country.
#2 Peanut butter (an American staple costs way too much)
#3 No one told me that representing my country by cooking was a requirement of this position.

If I'm not fretting about my French, then I'm meal-planning for the next fellowship gathering.

COOKING IS NOT MY DEAL!

Sure experimenting last year with Tricia was cool and I got pretty good at fried chicken, stir-fry and salsa, but cooking for 15 stresses me out. Oh, brother, this was an unexpected struggle.

If anyone has any ideas, please please suggest them and attach a recipe if possible.

P.S. I only have 1 pot and 1 skillet...

Optimism

At least God hasn't written to say that He's found someone better to love... I hope that someday, some man has patience and really won't let me go (not in a creepy bad way, but like the way Erik loves Lisa).

Other good news: Woke up to Abba Father, the theme song for HOPE camp, on the radio this morning.

Today's a Big Day!

Weddings #2 and #3 of the year out of seven that I'm missing because I'm across a big pond.

FELICITATIONS to Erinne & Brian and Kendra & Chris!

Erinne and I worked together this summer and hit it off like long lost sisters with the same heart for neglected kids. Although the male HOPE staff might have been a little afraid of Brian because he's like a five time black belt, Brian and I hit it off well too.

Kendra and I met last year in The Miracle Worker. She played Annie Sullivan and I was Kate Keller. When the boy playing my step-son dropped out, Kendra recruited Christ to fill in. So what if the step-son is a couple years older than his step-mom? At least he had a southern accent. One of the best moments of the rehearsal process, besides Chris secretly telling me about his plans to propose, was when I attempted the accent in rehearsal, unfortunately only successfully (?) on the last line of a serious scene:
CHRIS: Kate, at least will you be my friend?
ME: Aahh ahhhmmmm.
After a few rehearsals, we were finally able to stop cracking up on stage after that line, but even in performances, Chris' eyes would twinkle and I'd try desperately not to break character.

I miss you all and wish that I could support you in person. Praying for you...

In the Kitchen w/ HP

A story that my dad will enjoy the most:

Tonight was the students' gathering at the church for which we're each supposed to bring food to share for fellowship. For the past six days, I've been debating about what to bring that adequately represents my native melting pot country and is feasible without a baking tin and other various utensils. Finally I decided upon Caesar salad. Finding that the dressing cost almost 5 euros in a nearby Irish shop, I skipped on dressing and decided to replace it with more fresh tomatos, provolone cheese, cucumbers, blue cheese, onions, ham, salami and sardines. I found the last ingredients an hour before the get together, walked home and began cutting everything up. Happy with the look of the salad thus far, I cracked open the sardine container to find a few huge fish that were about 15xs as big as I expected, weren't salty and including scales and backbones (!). Admittedly, I made quite a stir in the kitchen exclaiming about the unexpected size and components of these fish but I did my best to dissect them and threw them into the salad. Arriving at church, I tried to explain to my mentor in broken French that the sardines were bigger than I expected and she smiled politely at me... the salad was good. A little fishy, but good. No one complained or even acted surprised...
---- two hours later----
Explaining what happened later to Olga, an English-Spanish girl, she said, "You put sardines in salad? In England, we use anchovies." Oh.

In other news, the Chinese feast last night was amazing. As soon as I was stuffed and thought we were done eating, someone else would come out of the kitchen and pass around another platter of more hot chicken, mutton, beef or vegetables. Topped with French wine, it was definitely quite a meal! Only regret, that I forgot my chopsticks at home.

Yet, in order to go to the feast, dinner with Félix was postponed. Bummer... Tonight, he invited everyone else to our dinner... Bigger bummer...

Highlight of the day (besides my fishy salad not making people sick): I was lent a CD/radio player and found a English/French Christian radio station. Listening to "I breathe You in; I breathe You out" I thought, "This sounds familar. Either it's extremely scary obsessive or it's about God..." Glad the second was true.

God is good

Last night at midnight, I called Dad who just got off of work at 6pm EST. We both recognized a change in attitude. I think God really worked on me yesterday in a restoring way.
Memorizing a recommended Scripture verse;
Looking over the city at dusk Monday night with Nannan and Ytung;
Being able to laugh at the situation when I was reading a French children's book aloud with someone to practice my pronounciation (while thinking why do I think I can conquer this language?);
Learning that as soon as my French is better, I'll be expected to lead the university students' group biweekly;
Being reminded by Dad to ask God to teach me the words to say (which is the promise I'm walking with for this French adventure),
All these things reminded me that God is great and that He is with me. Honestly, how could I believe that God is crazy in love with His beautiful HOPE kids and is with them through their trials, and not believe that He does the same towards me.

Another thought (pardon for the rambling, but then I'll share a quick funny story that my Baptist friends may want to ignore ;-)

I found an article online yesterday about the psychological and emotional toll that is taken by AIDS orphans. About the questions of insecurity that they face in expectation of their parents' deaths, of the great necessity for young teenagers to be responsible for numerous younger siblings, of the likelihood that these children will continue the cycle by contracting AIDS. HOW CAN I POSSIBLY COMPLAIN ABOUT A SELF-INFLICTED LANGUAGE BARRIER WHEN THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THESE SITUATIONS? The pondering and seeking God's will for my role in all that continues.

Funny story: I wish I could have taken a photo of myself last night sitting in a church meeting with three others, four glasses and (whoops, Baptist friends whom I love dearly may want to stop reading now) a big bottle of champagne. One of the men had just gotten married last Saturday and was probaly trying to get rid of it, so they cracked it open with crackers and peanuts. Talk about a good church meeting. ;-)