Fellowship

This week, I went from four kids to six! The kids' cousins arrived from Strasbourg last Saturday, and all the kids are on vacation from school, so I've pretty busy. Sunday, though, I went back to the new church. I arrived early this time and was able to chat with some people. I met a girl about my age who is studying - get this - political science - at the university in Nantes. She invited me over to her place on Tuesday night. I wasn't able to get out of the house until almost 9pm, but after getting lost in the dark and rain and accidentally ending up on an autoroute, where I had to pay a toll (grrr), I finally made it there. We just talked for like 5 hours. She said I'm the first spirit-filled American she has met, although she knows many American Christians (she is French). We were both surprised by all the similarities between us. She has a heart for intercession and worship and is part of a 24/7 prayer movement in France. She is also an intellectual. At the end of her studies, she will have the equivalent of a Master's degree in Political Science - which in France includes more law, geopolitics, and economics. We had a great time discussing our testimonies and visions, our families, the church, politics, music, language...

It's great to have a friend who is a sister in Christ. I do have friends here, but it's not fellowship. I also appreciate the fact that she's French, as hanging out and talking with a French person is better for my French than discussing with someone who's French is more or less the same level as my own. How funny that I met a tongue-talking, political science-studying French girl! That would be God.

Last night, Caroline told me that a surgeon friend of hers knows the pastor of my new church. Apparently this friend said that the pastor used be a druggie and is now "a saint." I said, "Great! Now you know I'm not in a cult!" She laughed and replied, "He said it is a cult." I told her I'd watch myself. I think she knows it's not a cult. She calls it an American church. I told her that it's not American at all - there are only French people there, including the pastors! But I guess she considers that type of church to be very American. Okay.

Tomorrow morning, we are leaving at 5am for our week-long ski vacation in the Alps. I'm not really a skier, so we'll see what happens with that. I have a lot of pictures that I've been wanting to post, and I have some other stories to tell, but I just haven't had the time. I'm going to try to get on that right away the week after we get back, because a week after that, my mom, my friend Laura, and her mom Rosemary are coming to visit me! Yay! I'm leaving for two weeks, and we are going to go all around France. I can't wait. When I get back from my vacation, I will have been here for over 4 months. I have a feeling that time is really going to fly after that. Well, that'll have to be all for now. I'll be posting some more pictures as soon as I can.

Bisous!

Tolerance Limited for German Christians

By Dale Hurd
CBN News
February 9, 2007

CWNews.com – COLOGNE, Germany - Today’s Germany likes to think of itself as “tolerant.” All sorts of lifestyles are embraced by their society: homosexuality, trans-genderism, even radical Islam.

But some say that tolerance has a limit, and it apparently stops at the door of one Bible-believing church.

The church, called Christliche Gemeinde Köln or Christian Church of Cologne, says it has had to endure years of government harassment and discrimination, even having its tax-exempt status temporarily revoked.

The church and the homes of several church leaders were raided by tax police last year. And the church now stands accused of tax evasion.

Germany is where Protestant Christianity began. And yet this spirit-filled, Bible-based Church, which would be commonplace in America, is looked upon with suspicion as a dangerous cult, and a sinister influence.

The church is led by American Pastor Dr. Terry Jones.

Jones said, “If you’re a part of this church, you can lose your job, you could have your kids taken away from you.”

American attorney Joel Thornton is helping defend the church.

“If you called and asked someone in the government here in Cologne, ‘What do you think about this church?’ -- they would tell you that this is a ‘sect,’ which in Germany means a dangerous cult, which means you’re in danger of losing your life here in some way,” explained Thornton.

This local newspaper story about the church accuses it of “psycho-terror.” This article says the church “perverts the biblical message,” and uses “psychological tricks” that can lead to health problems.

An undercover news investigation on German national television once compared the church’s charismatic worship service to the film The Exorcist.

This, about a church that is one of the largest private charities in Cologne, donating food, clothing, and furniture to the poor, through its charitable arm, the Lisa Jones Haus.

Pastor Rob Robinson said, “We have 200 to 300 people that line up every morning to get free bread.”

Robinson says that the various Lisa Jones Haus locations donate about five million tons of furniture each year, and serve 50,000 free meals. But the church still accumulates so many donated items that it set up a for-profit taxable company to sell unwanted items on E-Bay.

German tax laws are so stringent that even a church bookstore in Germany must be taxed. So to make sure they obeyed the law, the church set up a taxable for-profit company.

“God has blessed us so much we’ve had to take the money and invest it,” Robinson said.

But Germany is a country where the churches are not supposed to be successful. In fact, the state churches are mostly empty, and get most of their operating money through government handouts.

And when tax officials thought the church was intentionally evading taxes, they launched a massive simultaneous morning raid on the church, the Lisa Jones Haus locations, and even the homes of the church workers.

Robinson said, “I’m standing there at 7:30, I’m on the phone, and I’m getting one telephone call after another from panicked Church workers wondering why German tax agents were looking through their files, under mattresses, even removing carpeting.

Pastor Rob’s wife Erica watched agents ransack her home, seizing the family’s computers and financial records, even going through their underwear drawers.

Erica said, “They were convinced…they were convinced that we were criminals.”

“We’ve given 22 years of our lives for this country,” she said. “We’ve held nothing back. We’ve raised five children to serve God in this country, for this country. We have laid down the best years of our lives for this country, and this is what you get.”

Ronald Reichert is an elder in the church and also a noted German attorney who is representing the church in court.

Reichert said, “There is a culture of suspicion because it is a church, a religious organization that does not fit normal patterns and normal expectations of German society. There’s this feeling there must be something wrong about this…and they’re trying to prove this. They were trying to do so from the very beginning.”

But the case against the church is apparently not going well, because the tax authority of North Rhine Westphalia has already dropped one of the charges of tax evasion. Reichert expects the church to be completely exonerated, after which it intends to sue the tax authority for breaking the law.
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This doesn't surprise me at all. The sentiment described in the article is the same here in France. Spirit-filled churches are considered suspicious and cult-like. You can access this article here.

There ARE Christians in Nantes

Ah, fellowship. I found a church here in Nantes! I really hadn't been looking up until a few weeks ago, I guess due to having just arrived and then being gone over the holidays. Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of churches in Nantes, but I was looking for fellowship, not religion, and that is a little bit harder to find. I had the contact information of a friend of Bruce's who is a pastor in Paris, and I sent an email to him and his wife asking them if they knew of any on-fire churches in or near Nantes. His wife got back with the name of a church in Saint Herblain, the next city over from Nantes. She gave me the name of the church (Foi, Amour, Esperance - Faith, Love, Hope), the address and phone number, the name of the pastor, and the name and phone number of someone she knows in the church. She also told me that the church is at the end of an alley. On Friday, I tried several times to call the church phone number to find out when the services were, but I couldn't get through to anyone. On Saturday night, I knew I had to figure out what time the service was, so I tried calling the contact person she gave me. I got his voicemail. So I tried calling the church again, and I got the pastor. I think I actually called his house, although I'm not sure. Anyway, he told me the service time and then asked if I had the address. I repeated it, and then he told me that the address actually doesn't exist and proceeded to explain where it was. Unfortunately, I missed a good half of what he said. I got that the church is situated between two tram stops and that there are two restuarants nearby. I asked if there was at least a sign with the name of the church outside. He said no, that all the signs had been broken. But he told me that the name of the building is "Ada." Okay. So the next morning I set out for Saint Herblain. I figured out how to at least get to the street where the church is (according to that non-existent address), but the street is long - like University Avenue. I got off the beltway and just started driving around looking for the tram. After a good 15 minutes of driving, I finally found it and followed it - all the way to the end of the line! So I turned around and followed it the other way. When I got to the stop he had mentioned to me, I started to look on both sides of the streets for this Ada place. I really wasn't expecting to spot it. Streets in France are a lot smaller and more crowded than in the U.S., so to read every sign on each side of the street while driving is impossible. But then out of the blue, there it was, in bright red letters - ADA. I turned into and made my way to the end of the alley, but there was nothing. It just looked like an abandoned corner. There were doors, but there was no sign of life. So I turned around and went out. I parked the car, still unsure if I was going to find the church. But having come that far, I didn't want to abandon ship then. So I walked back down the alley and went up to each door, listening. Then I heard some singing! Yay! It is here! I walked in and immediately was overcome by the proximity of other saints. I still couldn't see them, but I could here the phrase "To Him who reigns" being sung, and I could hear clapping. I started crying and didn't stop until the end of worship. It was just forty people in a room, but it was like coming home. They even had an Israeli flag - in France! The pastor actually wasn't there, but his wife gave the sermon. A lot of what she said was stuff that I've been getting out of the Word lately or just things that pertained to my life. After the service, I talked to a couple of people but had to leave right away to meet someone in Nantes. Caroline is convinced that I went to a cult and is worried about me. She asked me how I can know these people are for real. I said I trust the Holy Spirit to guide me. That didn't seem to resonate with her. Oh, well. I'm just glad to have fellowship. We'll see where things go with it, but I'm planning on going back next week. The church is definitely different from Maranatha, in that Maranatha is very out there and visible. Although I don't know a whole lot about this church other than what I saw on Sunday, it seems very subdued. Interestingly enough, it's that very quality that makes Caroline dislike the idea of small, independant churches. Her view is that the church can't be a viable "force" vis-à-vis Islam if it is sectarian. Our ideas about the purpose of the church obviously don't match up, but that doesn't exactly surprise me. ;)

French Public Smoking Ban Begins Today

PARIS, France (AP) -- A ban on smoking in public spaces in France came into effect Thursday, a change that may alter the image of a country defined in part by its smoky cafes and cigarette-puffing intellectuals.

France's 15 million smokers will be banned from lighting up in workplaces, schools, airports, hospitals and other "closed and covered" public places. More than 175,000 agents are to enforce the ban, handing out fines of $88 for smokers and $174 for employers who look the other way.

In a year, the ban will extend to cafes and restaurants -- sure to be the moment of truth for a certain image of France, where writers like Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre are remembered with cigarettes dangling from their mouths.

"A world is collapsing," writer Philippe Delerm wrote in a front-page ode to the cigarette in Le Monde newspaper, referring to the alluring image of the chain-smoking intellectual. "Those were good times. But nobody thought about the collateral damage."

Statistics -- like 66,000 smoker deaths per year in France -- and changing norms are snuffing out the romance along with the cigarette. Italy, Spain, Belgium, Britain and Ireland are all ahead of France in enacting broad smoking bans.

Despite staggered anti-smoking initiatives over more than a decade, French smokers have, so far, held sway as officials turned a blind eye to rule-bending.

Nearly a quarter of French people are smokers. Yet a day before the "no smoking" signs go up, there was no sign of panic in the streets.

A scattered check of pharmacies suggested that, so far, smokers are calm, with no pre-ban rush for smokers' aids like nicotine patches. However, two companies that make ventilated smoking rooms for offices say they are gearing up for a rush in orders.

Manuel Bussac, 25, who works in real estate and smokes 15 cigarettes a day, is angry because the ban leaves him with no choice.

"It's the obligation that bothers me," he said, sitting at a sidewalk cafe with a pack of Marlboros planted squarely on the table.

Bussac said he has done his workplace smoking on his office balcony, allowing him to carry on with business on the telephone. Starting Thursday, he will have to smoke in the street.

At five minutes per cigarette, "I think I'll lose an hour of work," he said.

But will the ban incite him to cut down or stop smoking?

"On the contrary, I'll smoke more now," he said.

Some people clearly need to have the choice made for them, and Bernard Geoffrey, a 29-year-old firefighter from the southwest city of Nimes, is among them.

"If you have to go outside to smoke, you smoke less," Geoffrey said. "I'm going to stop in February, using my willpower. That's all."

For those lacking sufficient inner strength to break the habit, the government will help by reimbursing up to $65 per person per year for stop-smoking aids. It will also allow companies to invest in strictly regulated special smoking rooms inside the workplace.

Gaelle Parlouer, a 28-year-old who describes herself as a heavy smoker, is happy about the ban because it will help her to cut down. But she refuses to quit.

"I will never stop smoking," she said. "We have just one life so we should profit from the little pleasures."

http://edition.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/europe/02/01/france.smoking.ap/index.html
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As a short-term resident of France, I think the smoking ban is a great thing. What the above article alluded to is definitely true - there is a smoking culture that overlays French society. You can feel it pretty much anywhere you go - at least that's been my experience. In comparison to the United States, there are a lot more people smoking on the street (at bus/tram stops, for example), and they don't seem to pay any attention to whether there are other people around. I've seen many parents smoking right next to their babies in closed spaces (and these parents are people I know - respectable, "normal" members of society). And then of course there is the ever-present smoky café. One thing that I find very annoying about France is the fact that I can't just go to a coffee shop and read if I want to. I can't go anywhere and just read if I want to, because all the places that sell food and drink informally are filled with cigarette smoke. It'd be nice if the ban in cafés and restaurants was going into effect earlier, but once the weather gets a little nicer, I'll be able to spend more time reading outside anyway.

I will enter His gates with

With what will you enter His gates? That's a question I should have been asking myself a long time ago. Although I love it here in France and have had some amazing experiences already, it has not been easy. Not that things should be easy (if things were easy all the time, we'd get cocky and self-reliant), but I guess I just didn't expect being here to be hard in this way. From hearing about other people's experiences overseas, it sounds like homesickness and loneliness is usually the issue. I honestly didn't think I was going to have a problem with that, and I actually haven't. But there are other issues. Before I came, I thought that the expectations of both myself and the family were clear (as far as what I would do and how much I would be here). As I've come to find out, our respective expectations were not only not clear, but they don't line up to each other at all. In short, I expected to work my alotted number of hours per week and have the rest of the time to myself, but from the beginning, it really hasn't been clear as to what those hours are, and I've been feeling like I'm here all the time. Efforts to discuss it haven't really gone anywhere. I ended up getting very frustrated and didn't know how to fix the situation (as if it's in my power to "fix" it). I finally did discuss my concerns with the family. I made myself very clear. In turn, they made themselves very clear, and that's when it became evident that our goals for this arrangement just don't match up. After that, it was tense around here. And don't forget the cultural barriers. Throughout this situation, I have been going over and over it in my mind, trying to find a solution. I've been like a hamster running on a wheel, not really sure how to stop. It was not a good place to be, let me tell you.

But that's not the end of the story! There is victory in Jesus. Even though I knew that I could be content in every cirumstance, I still couldn't stop the spinning wheel. But then my parents exhorted me to focus on giving thanksgiving and praise to God. That may seem elementary, but try as I did to stop those thoughts before, I couldn't do it! Even when I would pray, I would just complain to Him about it, and my prayer would degenerate into analysis again. But entering His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise has turned my outlook around completely! By giving thanks and praise to the Lord, I now have something with which to replace the neverending thought cycle. Praise God!

And as Peter says, "Be of sober spirit, be on the alert. Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour." Below is an excerpted email from my mom. I like her description:

By being in thanksgiving and praise, you have switched from being on the defensive to being on the offensive. Let me give you an example, and although it is from football, my favorite thing, I think it will be clear. Yesterday the team I was hoping would go to the Super Bowl, the Indianapolis Colts, won their game even though in the first half they were down by 21-3. Here is why I believe that happened. In the second half, the Colts went to the offensive and kept the opposing team's defense on the field for long periods of time. Thus, the opposing team's defense became exhausted and with just a minute or so to play, the defense could not stop the Colts from making an easy run into the end zone for the winning touchdown. You have had your defense on the field for a long time here and you are exhausted. When you begin to praise and give thanks you are putting the offense on the field and you will score.

I'm learning a lot more than just French here.

My Take on Paris

So my trip to Paris with Molly and Sarah is pretty much old news by now, and you can read about it on either of their blogs, but since I have my own stories and pictures, I thought I'd share them anyway.

My favorite thing about Paris was the Eiffel Tower. I wasn't all that impressed with Paris in general, but the city looks the best at night. Sarah and Mol and I spent a long while that first night just sitting in front of the tower talking. It was so nice. It was strange to spend the whole weekend with two Americans. Before my trip to Paris, I had only met one other American in France (and I've only talked to her twice at school). Although I do use English all the time for emails and phone conversations with my family, 99.9% of my face to face communication is in French. When I first got to the hotel, I said a couple of things to them in French by mistake. It was fun for me to be able to use my French to help us figure things out. Although there are enough English speakers to get by without, it's still much more fun. There were a few people that would hear my accent and try to talk back in English, but I would just respond in French. Hee hee. My French has definitely improved a LOT since I arrived in France, which is good, since that was my reason for coming here.

In my last blog, I wrote about the conversation with the extended family in Strasbourg that ensued over my not drinking wine. I said that the conversation didn't go so well because of my lack of precision in French. My brother Dave countered that it's annointing I need, not precision. Well, I have to say that I wholeheartedly agree, and I can illustrate this with an example from Paris. The three of us bought paninis one evening at a little shop near Notre Dame. Most patrons were buying their meal out on the street and then continuing on their way. Because it was rainy and cold, we decided to sit inside. It was tiny, and the only other people inside seemed like they were related to the owners or something, so we felt kind of uncomfortable. Next to us was a table full of older men and one lady, eating, drinking, and smoking. One of the men apologized for the smoke, and we struck up a conversation. We bantered back and forth a little bit about whether smoking, mayo, or soda is worse for your health. They must have decided that they liked me, because they offered me a drink of their special alcohol (not sure what it was). I said no thanks and that I don't drink. One of the guys said, "Man! You don't smoke, you don't drink...do you have sex? What's your reason for living?" That sounds a little inappropriate, but he was completely serious! I just pointed up and said, "God. Jesus." Then I explained a little bit about why I don't drink. At that point, most of the people at the table tuned out, but then one of the guys looked at me and asked, "And how did you come to this conclusion, that Jesus is your reason for living?" I could sense that he really wanted to know and had ears to hear, and I got to tell him my testimony! It's not as if he dropped to his knees and repented or anything, but I believe that a seed was planted. We then bid him goodbye and went on our way. It's funny to me how I spent a whole week with these people in Strasbourg and felt like I was talking to a brick wall, but God uses me to plant a seed in the heart of some guy in a dingy café in Paris. No, it's not precision I need.

La Seine

The best thing I saw at the Louvre

The view from the top of the Eiffel Tower

View on the Champs-Elysées from the top of l'Arc de Triomphe. L'Arc de Triomphe was commissioned by Napolean in 1806, after France's defeat of the Germans at Austerlitz. He promised his men that they would go home under triumphal arches. The actual arch wasn't completed until the mid-1830's.

Back to Normal

It's been such a long time since I've posted a blog, but it didn't seem so long, since I was busy the entire time! I spent over a week in Alsace for Christmas and New Year's. We returned to Nantes late on New Year's Day. Last week, the kids were still on vacation from school, so I was with them all day Tuesday through Thursday. Then I left early Friday morning to meet Molly and Sarah in Paris! I got back here late Sunday night, and I was busy from 7 am to 9:30 pm yesterday. Oh, là là, I don't like to be that busy. But I better get used to it if I'm going to go to law school. That's going to be like a military schedule.

So I can sum up what I did in Alsace in one word - eat! Seriously, whole days were taken up by cooking, eating, and cleaning up. At first I was extremely overwhelmed by it and wanted to get away, and then I just decided to just give in and do what they were doing, even though I would have appreciated some down time. We stayed with the kids' grandparents in a house (which I think is technically a castle) that was built in the 17th century. The house was big - and it needed to be, as we had 19 people staying there! So we arrived on Christmas Eve after 8 hours of driving (surprisingly, the trip was very calm). We attended the local Protestant church, where they spoke and sang hymns in German, French, and Alsatian (a dialect of Upper German). The church service was traditional, but just being in that room with other believers (even if many of them were only there for traditions' sake) renewed my hunger for true fellowship with other believers here. My goal for this week (one of them) is to start scouting out an on-fire church in Nantes. As I mentioned, throughout the rest of the week, we did a lot of eating and such. I had a rough time with all the wine, since I don't drink alcohol. My family here is fully aware that I don't drink and why - 1) My history with alcohol is complete escapism; 2) I have no family traditions connected with alchohol, so it's not something I want or feel like I ought to do; and 3) Romans 14: I don't want to cause a brother or sister in Christ to stumble - yet somehow, every night, I was chided for not tasting the wine. In fact, this has been going on since I got to France, and for a brief moment when I first arrived, I considered just doing as the Romans do when in Rome (but then I decided definitively not to partake at all). Wine is very important for the French - and they generally don't use it to get drunk - it's an integral part of their cuisine, and they are proud of the high quality of their wine. That's fine with me, but I've made the decision not to drink at all, and I think that should be fine with other people. But apparently it's not, although sometimes I'm not sure how much of the talk is actually serious and how much is just in fun. Not drinking is always a conversation starter. People naturally want to know why, and it's a great way to share your testimony or the Gospel. However, in Alsace, it didn't quite work out that way for me. Everyone assumed that I don't drink because my "religion forbids it." What? What religion? I tried to tell them about the difference between a religion and a relationship and why I study my Bible and pray. But being either staunch Catholics or Protestants, they seemed to have all their own answers already. I tried to find a point of agreement - we can all agree on the Gospel, right? Wrong. Plus, I'm "anti-Darwinist" - not good in a family full of medical professionals. I felt like I had to take the defensive in those conversations, which is stupid. I don't need to defend myself. It's not about me, anyway. I can stand up for the truth, but if people don't hear it, they don't hear it. I think the main problem was that it is difficult to express myself with precision in French. Sure, I can have a conversation. But precision is another level, and I'm not there yet.

Some of the food...

Christmas Day meal - rooster, chestnuts, and red cabbage

Raclette - traditional French/Swiss dish

Dessert (all cheese)


Although we did spend a lot of time eating, I also did get the chance to see downtown Strasbourg and some of the surrounding area. Alsace is a very interesting region, as it has traditionally been fought over by Germany and France (it borders Germany). It was finally taken back by the French for good (thanks to the Americans - and I didn't say that; it was a French person who told me that) in 1945. Because of this history, the area has a German flavor. However, I found out that you should never say that to an Alsatian. They would be offended. To them, it's not "German;" it is just "Alsatian." But it is completely different than Nantes. The names of the towns are all German-sounding, and the houses are all very colorful (unlike Nantes) and have high-peaked roofs (an architectural innovation intended to relieve a structure from the heavy weight of snow accumulations).

Colorful houses with high-peaked roofs

New Year's Eve was fun. Louise and her aunt put on a little concert with their flutes, and the cousins put together a couple of skits. At midnight, we set off fireworks and blew party horns in each other's faces.

Louise and I

Arthur - intently listening to the flute concert

Edouard

Léopold


So I just got back from a great weekend in Paris with Mol and Sarah. I'm going have to post some pictures from that a little later. It's nice to be back into a rhythm. And I drove the kids to school for the first time today! Yay! I was really ready about 2 or 3 weeks ago, but with vacation and such, it was delayed until now. It's so nice to have that settled. Now that I have regular access to the Internet again, I'll hopefully be back on soon with some more pictures and some interesting stories. I have to go for now, as I'm late to class (again). Ciao :)

Merry Christmas!

I know it's not quite yet Christmas, but I'm not sure when I'll have a chance to post again. Tomorrow (or Sunday - it depends on whether we can get everything done in time or not), the family and I are leaving for Strasbourg to spend a week with the grandparents. Strasbourg is in the extreme east of France (next to Germany), whereas Nantes is near the Atlantic coast. I have heard that it is a beautiful area and very cold, with lots of snow, so I think I'll feel right at home for Christmas. Here in Nantes, it's starting to cool down a lot, but it's still nothing compared to Minnesota in the winter. It's more like early November in Minnesota.

Thanks to all of you for your congratulatory words! I appreciate your rejoicing and giving thanks to God with me! Please keep me in prayer, as over the next few months, I'm going to have to make the decision as to where I'm going to go. Obviously, I want to go the U of M. And I want to stay in Minnesota. But there are financial factors playing into this as well, and I'm going to have to consider the opportunity costs of one school vis à vis another.

All right, it's time for me to hit the road. I have to stop by the Mayor's office today - I still haven't gotten my residency permit - and then I have to do some Christmas shopping.

Merry Christmas to all of you, and may God bless your time with your families as you celebrate the birth of our Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ!

I feel like crying

...tears of JOY! I just got an email from my Mom. Yesterday, when she got home from work, there was a message for me on the answering machine from the University of Minnesota Law School's Office of Admissions. They are sending me my letter of acceptance this week! All right, I am crying now. I've been dreaming of going to law school for over four years - ever since my first year at the U. Coming out of high school, I had some bad grades on my transcript from my postsecondary enrollment option program (I took college courses during high school). I know that I could have done better in those courses, but I lacked motivation for life in general, and, by extension, school. Back then, I had no reason to live, no reason to keep going. I was living for myself but didn't like myself very much, so I sought acceptance in other people and tried to fill the aching void in my soul. When I started my studies at the U of M, I was motivated to do well in school again - but I was still doing it for myself. That first semester, I had a meeting with my counselor. I told her that I was starting to consider law school. With a shake of her head, she informed me that law schools are looking for high GPAs. As I said, my grades from my PSEO courses left something to be desired. My counselor told me that I should probably start considering other options. That conversation branded itself on my impressionable mind, and I began to think of law school as a pipe dream. But I never let go of the idea. My second semester at the U, God revealed Himself to me, and I couldn't look back. Over the rest of my time at the U, I was born again, baptized in water and in the Holy Spirit, and I started to have a real relationship with the Lord. He became my reason for living, even if I forgot it and tried to go it alone at times (and still do - I die daily). After graduating with honors and an excellent GPA from the U, I started to realize that getting into law school, even the highly ranked U of M, may not be entirely out of my reach. So I put myself to work at studying for the LSAT. My logic was that if I could get an extremely high score on that test, I would be assured admission anywhere. I was obsessed with that test. When I got my score back, although I did well, I was admittedly disappointed that I had not hit a 170. But that test is water under the bridge now, because I GOT INTO MY FIRST CHOICE SCHOOL!

What a great feeling this is. Now that the initial euphoria has settled down a little, I'm able to look at this objectively and remark that I know that law school is going to be difficult. If I've learned anything so far in my time here in France, it's that experiences like this that are worth having are also HARD. I never dreamed that being an au pair could be this draining - and I know that I really don't have it so tough. But the thing that I need to remember - right now, when things are a little bit rocky here, AND in the future, when law school gets rough - is that I am doing my work for the Lord, not unto men. That includes myself. If I'm working really hard for myself, I will eventually run out of steam. But if I am living wholeheartedly unto the Lord, He will give me the grace to keep going. Likewise, I am not working for other people here - I am working for the Lord.

Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord rather than for men...(Colossians 3:23)

I guess I spoke too soon...

Yeah, so much for driving the kids around on Wednesday. No, no, I didn't crash the car or anything. But Caroline is nervous about my driving because it's not automatic enough yet - meaning that I have to concentrate too much while I'm driving, and having the kids in the car will make it difficult to do that. So now I feel like I'm back to square one. Discouraging.

Communication is obviously a challenge when you are doing it in another language. When it's really important that I effectively explain what I'm trying to get across, I find myself unable to do it with exactness, because I lack the words in French. That's a problem for me. I do not like to be misunderstood, because miscommunications cause tensions and other problems. Around here lately, there seems to have been an unreasonable number of miscommunications about important things. Frustrating.

Thankfully, I know that I can and must rejoice in my trials, because God promised that the testing of my faith will develop perseverance. Now just to remember that and not give in to the discouragement!

On a more encouraging note, I had a great time last night with Louise (11 years old). Initially, I felt like we had a pretty good connection. But it seems to me that the relationship hasn't grown very much over the past month, and sometimes I worry that things will turn out like they have with other au pairs that they've had (that is, the au pair would spend a lot of time on the boys, since they are younger and need more attention, and the relationship between Louise and the au pair would go sour). I've looked for ways to connect with her and have had limited success. Last night, she needed help with her homework. She was frustrated because of all the homework she had to do and didn't think that she would be able to figure it out. She is very intelligent, but, as I've said, is somewhat of a perfectionist. So, like me, she sometimes doesn't even want to start something because of the fear of potentially not being able to understand it. Last night, that's what she was doing. I was nervous about trying to help her, because it can be hard for me to understand the instructions for the homework. The work is relatively simple (sixth grade level - I should hope I would be able to figure it out!), but as the instructions are in French, I have trouble understanding exactly what needs to be done. Last night, I plunged in anyway and was able to figure out what needed to be done and then help her with the questions she didn't understand. I got to explain to her the meanings of some words, the dictionary definitions of which she didn't understand. I let her explain the math to me (which she didn't think she knew how to do). She was surprised to find out that she really understood it. I told her that I think teaching someone else is a great way to learn something. She agreed. It was so much fun! I love teaching people. I don't think I would want to be a teacher in a classroom, because I really like to work one on one with people. Someday, when I have kids of my own, I want to homeschool them. People have so much learning potential, and I think that being able to work at their own pace and also having someone there to guide them and answer their questions allows them to reach their full potential. I can't wait!

I'll keep you all up to date on the driving situation. Hopefully there will be a change soon. As I said, it's causing a lot of problems. If any manual transmission driving expert wants to volunteer to fly over to France to give me personalized lessons in English, we could probably arrange that! Let me know...;)

My First Letter of Acceptance Has Arrived!

Law school, here I come! I received in the mail on Monday my first letter of acceptance for law school. The letter was from William and Mary, which is in Virginia. My first choice is Minnesota, but I applied to about ten schools, a combination of very highly ranked first tier schools, which are more of a long shot (University of Chicago, Northwestern University, University of Virginia), first tier schools that are about at my level, if not a little above (William and Mary, Minnesota, Wisconsin, George Washington), and some schools in Minnesota that are ranked lower and are more of a sure thing (William Mitchell, Hamline, and St. Thomas). I will also be putting in my application at the University of Michigan (a top school). I applied to William and Mary and George Washington (both located in Virginia) because they waived my application fee. I received many fee wavers from lower ranked schools, but I didn't bother applying to the ones that were out of state - why would I want to leave Minnesota to go to a lower ranked school in another state? So I thought I would apply to the first tier schools that offered me fee waivers, just to see whether I would get in and what type of scholarships, if any, they would offer me. Well, William and Mary is offering me over $14,000 per year as a graduate fellowship (would require me to work on research projects 8 hours per week). Sweet, huh? As I said, I really would rather stay in Minnesota, and if I get into the U, I'm almost positive that I'll go there...it all depends on which schools admit me and how much money they're willing to give me to attend their school. So once the acceptance/rejection letters start pouring in, I'm going to have to really be weighing my options. And I'll have to be careful not to agonize, which is a tendency of mine; rather, I will stay in prayer and let God lead me.

Getting that first acceptance letter is so exciting for me. It's hard to describe the feeling, but I put SO much work into the law school application process (mainly the LSAT; also the personal statement and letters of recommendation), and now I'm finally seeing the fruits of my labor. Until I got word that the letter had arrived for me, law school had taken a back burner in my mind - one can only concentrate on so many things at one time, and I have my hands full here. The work is not over yet; I still have one or more applications to complete, financial aid paperwork, scholarship applications, thank you letters to deans of admission, etc. But now there are tangible results to keep me going.

In other news, I ventured into downtown Nantes yesterday with my little black Punto. Can you guess what transpired? It's a word with which I'm becoming quite familiar: disaster! Initially, I had complained about how difficult the roundabouts made learning to drive a stick shift. Now, roundabouts are my friend, because I am not required to stop (at least not in tiny Vertou, where traffic is relatively light). All of the stoplights in downtown Nantes make driving there horrible! There are also many roundabouts situated on hills. The traffic is thick at all times of the day. Ugh. Not good. When I stop at a red light, I have to put the car back into first gear. I can do it, but I'm still a little bit slow at it. Well, when there is no one behind you, it's not really an issue, but when there are 30 cars stacked up and you are being slow, it's a nightmare. I can't even count how many times I've stalled because I was in a hurry, worried about the people in the cars behind me getting mad. As you can imagine, having me STALL in the road makes them a lot madder than just having me take a little longer to put it into gear. So I actually figured that out yesterday and the stalling incidents decreased immensely. But the roundabouts on the hills were horrible. It was true stop and go traffic. I was crawling along at a snail pace, and then I would have to stop. On a hill. So I would have to put her back into first gear and then go for another two feet, only to stop and repeat the whole thing. And when people stop behind you, they stop RIGHT behind you, even on hills. I'm thinking, Do you want me to roll back into you or what? Ugh. Then I got extremely lost. I knew there was a map in the glove compartment, but there is no place to stop. Nowhere at all. So I was forced to keep driving. All the signs said Paris/Angers - definitely not the way home. Then I drove the wrong way down a one-way street. I got some interesting looks from people. Of course, I prayed that God would get me home, and I then immediately figured out where I was. But by the time I got home (I had been on my way to class but completely missed it because of the disaster), I was truly surprised that I and the car were unscathed and that I hadn't been apprehended by the police or that no one had attempted to make a citizen's arrest! So that probably wasn't the brightest idea in the world, although it now makes driving in Vertou look like child's play. And in a way, I feel proud of myself for attempting to stretch my Concrete-Sequentialness. But I think I'll be staying away from downtown Nantes for a while - at least when I'm in the car. Today is my first day to be driving the kids - pray for me if you think of it! There is no school on Wednesdays here (although they do have school for half a day on Saturdays), so I'll be carting them to and from their various activities. Finally, I can actually start doing my job. Hooray! And thanks to all of you who have sent me recipes. I will keep you posted as to how they turn out. I'm going to take a leisurely walk now, and then it's back to the grind.

A très bientôt!

La Cuisine Française

So, cooking...not quite as dangerous and exciting as the driving adventures, but a close second. I mentioned before that I was intimidated at the prospect of cooking the evening meals, given that, well, I'm in France, and the people here are French and eat French meals. Imagine that.

A typical French meal consists of the following: first, an entrée, which can be either hot or cold. I've never understood why the menus in American restaurants list main courses as "entrées." Anyway, a typical entrée for a weeknight meal would be either a soup (cream-based, of course) or a cold vegetable dish - for example, tomatoes with a sauce vinaigrette (olive oil and vinegar - I still haven't really figured out how much to use), beats with walnuts, shredded carrots with vinaigrette, cold canned corn...They eat the entrée on a small plate first, and then they have the main course with a side dish (potatoes, rice, pasta, etc.) on the regular plate. For the main course, it could be anything, but they typically use a lot of heavy cream. I've eaten things in the past three and a half weeks that I never thought I would (I'm not too big on creamy things): a very creamy zucchini casserole, a creamy cauliflower casserole au gratin (yikes), raw oysters...and even - gasp - orange cheese! Can you believe it? But notice that I didn't say "yellow cheese;" I said "orange cheese." They actually don't have yellow cheese here (yellow cheese is a term that I coined to refer to cheddar, including white cheddar, American, and marbled cheeses, all of which I detest and refuse to eat). The orange cheese that I ate is actually Mimolette, and it tastes very much like Parmesan. After the main course, the French have a green salad with cheese and baguette. During the week, we don't normally bother with that, but for fancier meals, that's the way it's done. Apparently they eat the salad (with vinaigrette - surprisingly, no creamy bottled salad dressings) and cheese at the same time to aid the digestion (makes sense, I guess). My first night here, Caroline had set up the dinner in the dining room and made it a bit fancier than a normal weeknight meal. The entrée was on the table, as was the salad. I couldn't figure out why no one was taking any salad. She asked me if I wanted anything else, so I took some salad. I thought that was the whole meal, and then she brought out the main course! So French people eat big meals. After dinner, they take a "dessert" - and by "dessert," they mean yogurt or a piece of fruit. When Americans say they're going to have dessert, they mean ice cream or cake or bars - the French eat a little container of yogurt for their Calcium and then maybe a Clementine. I think it's actually a nice balance. I've noticed the past few weeks that I've started to become more "French" in that aspect. Yesterday for lunch (I was eating by myself), I took my little plate and had my tomato entrée, then ate my main course (and I've noticed that I've begun to acclimate to the cream), then tore off a piece of baguette and spread some stinky French cheese on it. French cheese, by the way, does smell horrible, but it's SO good. It does not taste like it smells.

So my problem with the cooking is trying to come up with ideas for what to make. It's not as if I can just look up American recipes - I suppose I could, but I don't think they'd like it. The challenge is trying to find recipes that are simple and fit with the French way of eating. Since I'm new at this, the housekeeper or Caroline either make the dinner ahead of time or tell me what to do. Last night, however, that didn't happen. Yikes! What a disaster! We were running low on groceries, so I had no idea what to make for the main course. I can usually bluff my way through the entrée ("Uh...here you go, kids - tomatoes again!"), but the main course is a different story. Because I'm trying to watch 4 kids at the same time, the meal can't be complicated. The housekeeper had mentioned before she left that there were some sausages in the fridge. So I threw those in a pot. I had found a good entrée recipe for carrots online, so I was trying to make that, but it was taking a long time (peeling and shredding carrots is hard when they're super tiny). At the same time, I was trying to feed Léopold. Sometimes if I'm working in the kitchen, I'll let him eat on his own and help him just a little. He's actually getting pretty good at it. Last night, though, he was not in good form. He ended up covered in food - like his whole face, part of his sweater, and his pants. And he would only sit in his chair for so long before he started screaming, wanting to get out. It was getting later and later, and Louise had to leave for her orchestra practice. And Edouard was supposed to have taken his bath an hour before. Oh, là. I finally got the meal on the table, and then Louise had to leave and didn't get to eat before she went. So I was going to feed just the boys, but then I remembered that Edouard is allergic to gluten, and I wasn't sure if he could eat the sausages. So I had to make pasta for him. Meanwhile, Léopold is running around covered in food. At that moment, I was thinking what a HORRIBLE au pair I am. But the reality is that stuff like that happens even to the parents - it's just HARD to do everything at once. I did manage to get it under control in pretty short order. But I hope that doesn't happen again. Afterwards, I was looking at my carrot entrée that I had worked so hard on - the kids hadn't eaten very much of it. So I was kind of bummed about that. What a waste of time and energy! If I hadn't been doing that, things probably wouldn't have gotten so out of control. But later, the carrot salad was redeemed, because Caroline came home and was extremely impressed by it. She didn't even think that I had made it. Score! I had hoped to show her that I am taking the initiative to learn how to do some things, and I think I did. It made the craziness of the night all worth it.

So now I need YOUR help: I need your best French-like recipe ideas! Anything simple that you can think of - even ideas for entrées. I really don't want to have to ask Caroline every day, "What should I make tonight?" and I think she would prefer that I just kind of come up with things. If I was more creative, I think I could come up with things on my own. But I'm not, so I need everyone to pool their creative geniuses!

D'acc!

Ah, driving in France. What a great time I've been having. I really don't know what I was so worried about...it hasn't been difficult at all...NOT! Learning to drive a stick shift has been way harder than I ever dreamed it could be. I had this notion that I was going to somehow take a one hour driving course and then be an expert - or at least be able to venture out on my own and practice. Well, it wasn't until after SIX hours of driving courses that I was finally able to go out on my own with confidence (and by confidence, I don't mean that I didn't feel like I was going to crash the whole time; I simply mean that I was able to get the car out of the driveway and out on to the street without it dying). How could it be that hard, you ask? I'm not really sure either, but I think it has something to do with the roads here being insanely tiny, all of the signs being different, the ubiquity of the roundabout (pictured above), and the fact that my driving instructor was speaking French. The instructor was so funny. From the first day, he would randomly insert the phrase, "Up!" or "D'acc!" the whole time we were in the car. I really had no idea what he meant by that at first, and it sounded so hilarious, because of the tone of his voice and the way he talks (he's very upbeat). As it turns out, "D'acc," is short for "d'accord," which means "okay." I'm still not sure why he says, "Up!" all the time, but whatever. I did learn a lot of new vocabulary through this experience. Oh, and after a bit of reflection, I came to the conclusion that point mort (neutral) would actually be translated as dead point, not death point. Ha ha. What a difference a couple of letters can make.

So I wish you all could have seen me in my training - I looked like SUCH an idiot! I seriously thought I was a good driver before, but my opinion of myself has changed. This has been humbling, to say the least. The instructor was always saying, "Allez! Allez!" (Come on! Go!)...and he had to say it all the time and over and over again, because I was never accelerating fast enough. I was nearly always driving too slow, because, I'm sorry, but I don't feel safe rolling along at 70 kph on a tiny street where people are making turns with no stoplights. As I've said, the streets in France (and elsewhere in Europe, I'm told) are SMALL. In general, I feel like I'm going to get hit every time there is another car coming from the other direction. My brother Dave once told me that women's perception makes them think that things are closer than they actually are, so maybe it's that, but I think it's also that I'm not used to the small streets, whereas these speedy Europeans are. Oh, and in reference to the comment I made before about not knowing why it is necessary to signal on the way out of the roundabout: I understand now. In fact, I've been having so much trouble with the driving precisely because other drivers often fail to signal on their way out. When you are at a roundabout, the priority is to the left, so if a car is coming around it, you're never really sure what they are going to do unless they signal. If they don't signal, they may be going straight, in which case you can safely move forward, OR they may be turning in front of you but have forgotten to put their signal on. The goal at a roundabout is to NOT stop, but I haven't felt comfortable just barging through the intersection, because I've been feeling like I'm going to get t-boned. Thus, every time I would get to a roundabout (about every minute), I had no idea what I was doing - slowing down, stopping, going - so I would push the wrong pedals and the car would jerk or die and the instructor would say, "Why are you breaking?" or "Why did you do that?" and then tell me what I should have done, but I was so confused and unsure about what my goal was in the first place (i.e. stop, go, slow down), that his advice didn't really resonate. And it took me awhile to figure out that that was my problem. On Sunday, Christian (the dad) wanted to see my progress, so we went out driving. Oy. I let the car die right before a tunnel with a line of cars behind me, I ran a yellow light (red by the time I got through it), and the car generally jerked as I shifted gears. Needless to say, he was not impressed. When he came back, he made the pronouncement that I was not ready to drive their kids around. My not being able to drive has put a significant strain on the family, as bringing the kids to and from school and their various activities is a big part of my job. Earlier this week, I think everyone was despairing a little bit, thinking I was never going to arrive. Ah, but we were all wrong, because now, after a total of 11 (!) hours of training, I can safely call myself a successful stick-shift driver. I am going to take the car out this weekend to get in some more practice, and then I should be ready to start driving the kids on Monday. And everyone breathes a big sigh of relief.

Because of all of this driving practice, I've been busier than I should be and haven't had much time to myself (which is why I haven't blogged in awhile). I went through a bit of a rough patch over the past week and a half. I had been feeling like I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing, how I was supposed to be doing it, and like I was doing everything wrong. Add to all that the fact that I couldn't drive, and you have a recipe for discouragement. And, obviously, communication isn't always great when you're trying to do it in a new language. But as I said before, being "alone" and in the storm makes you realize that you're not actually alone. I've come to know the Lord in a deeper way as my Refuge, my Strength, my Strong Tower, my Shelter, my Hope, my Source...I've begun to pour my heart out before Him, and the fellowship has been so sweet. He hears my cries, and He has been my help with all of these things that have been going wrong. I know that I can do this - through Him!

I have a lot more to say, but not much time. This weekend I should have some more time, and next week, I hope my schedule will start to stabilize, and I will have a clear picture of when I have time off and when I can get my own things done. Until then, ciao!

My Bedroom

Louise made this sign for my door - "Bienvenue" means "welcome."



Doing laundry...

Léopold

Edouard and his Lego train

Final Law School Application

In true Deb-style, last minute.

Mom and Dad

I love you guys!

At the Airport

Rain and Other Fun Tales

Well, I think I've met my match in rainy Nantes. It rains all the time here! And by "all the time," I of course mean, "all the time." It rains HARD all day, every day. Well, it's not raining right now, I guess, but it has rained every day since I've been here. I love rain, so it's no problem for me. The only problem is that where there is a lot of rain, there has to be a lot of humidity. So my hair is a bit Borneo-ish (see 11/11/06 entry if you aren't sure what that means). I tried to tell my hair that it just needs to "adapt and overcome," but it insists that it's too Concrete-Sequential for that. Seriously, though, I really like this city. The beautiful Loire runs right through it, much like the Mississippi to Minneapolis. I will get some pictures up soon. I was finally able to figure out why there is no computer tower for the iMac. Tee hee. So I figured out how to plug my camera in to the USB port, BUT I wasn't sure what was going to happen if I clicked "okay." The instructions were all in French, and I didn't have time to figure it all out. I didn't want to inadvertantly save all my photos to their wallpaper and then not be able to fix it in time. So I am working on the photo issue; it's just going to take a little bit of time.

So I had my first driving lesson on Friday. Oh, boy, that was a fun time. I felt so stupid, like I was 15 years old and didn't know how to drive. The instructor had all the pedals on his side and everything! In the middle of the lesson, I just started laughing, because I felt so dumb. He pretended not to notice. He only showed me how to put the car into first gear and then switch between 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and "point mort" (I'm not sure how to say that in English, but it roughly means "death point," and it's when the gear shift is in the middle). Anyway, I don't think I'm going to have too much trouble learning. The roads are different here, though. They are a lot smaller, and then there are the infamous roundabouts. Apparently you're supposed to signal on the way out? Okay. But you're already on your way out, and everyone can see what you're doing...so what's the point?

So, my classes. In order to obtain my visa, I had to register for 10 hours of French language classes per week. My classes are in downtown Nantes at a huge school that has more than just French classes. I'm actually going to be taking the DELF exam in June. The DELF is a diploma that signifies your proficency/fluency in French. Having passed that is a great thing to be able to put on your résumé. So I have 3 courses - grammar, DELF preparation, and Civilization. By the end of my first day here (last Monday), I had already made some new friends. I have met girls from Italy, Germany, Lithuania, Mexico, Spain, the Czech Republic, China, Hong Kong, Britain...there are people from everywhere! Some of them (like the British or people who speak English very well) insist on speaking English with me. My French is actually better than most of theirs (there are three levels of proficency - I am at the superior level). For the most part, though, we speak French. The cool thing about making friends in a foreign country is that your common language is a lot less likely to be English and will more likely be the one of the country in which you are. So instead of being able to just fall back on English if necessary, you are forced to make your French work. Last week, some of the girls invited me to go out to a "boîte" on Saturday night (a nightclub). I turned them down, since I had to babysit, but I'm pretty sure our interests will differ in that area, unless they don't want to go out for the reasons most people do. We'll see what happens with that.

I have class again in five minutes, so that will have to be all for now. Ciao!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Hello, United States (and Switzerland, of course). I of course am thinking of you all today, wishing I could be there with you all, but also happy to be here, despite all the unavoidable bumps in the road I've been experiencing. Let me just say...what a shock to go from hearing and speaking English all the time and seeing familiar surroundings each day to being completely immersed in French and walking down French streets! Crazy! And I love it!

After my arrival last Wednesday night, I was exhausted. I finally went to sleep about midnight. And I slept until what time the next day? Noon? 2 pm? No way - not late enough. I slept until 5:30 pm, which would actually be 10:30 am aux Etats-Unis. That evening began a series of days in which I felt as if I didn't know which way was up. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and I could not understand the kids at all (especially Edouard, who is five years old). I felt again like I couldn't even speak French. Plus, Edouard seemed scared of me or something. I couldn't find a connection with him, which really bothered me. When I first saw his picture, I said, "He's going to be my favorite." And to my surprise, he was the one I couldn't reach. That may sound trite, but, having plunged myself into this whole situation, all I want is to do a good job. I want to bless this family and be a joy to them, not a burden! So I took it to the Lord in prayer. The great thing about being here (Sarah can attest to this) is that you don't have the option of just running to another person with your problems. And that causes you to draw near to God. So. I prayed and asked the Lord for some way to connect with Edouard. It seriously seemed impossible to me. That was Friday morning. Friday evening, I was here alone for awhile with Léopold (16 months old) and Edouard. Edourd was just sitting in the family room watching TV, which bugged me, since I'd rather be doing something constructive with them. But if I'm watching Léo at the same time, that can be difficult. I really wanted to go in and talk to him, but since I could barely understand him and he was wary of me, I was intimidated. But God opened up the door for me to walk in there anyway. I asked him if he was okay. He mumbled a response. He actually got up and turned off the TV, which surprised me, since normally when he and his older brother Arthur (8 years old) are in there, they don't want Léo or the dog, Adely, to come in. He started playing with a train made of Legos, and I asked him if he made it himself and then acted impressed. Ding ding! That worked like a charm. Suddenly he came out of his shell and exploded in conversation. This kid has an amazing imagination! We sat on the floor and played with the train for about 45 minutes. He was laughing and talking excitedly. I still missed a lot of what he said but was able to bluff my way through. At one point, I picked up a toy dinosaur and asked him what it was, wondering what the word was in French. He said, laughing hysterically, "C'est un dinosaur!" (pronounced DEEno-zaur). Then he said, "Dinosaur - c'est un gros mot!" (Un gros mot is a bad word). I found out later that dinosaur is not, in fact, a gros mot, but it was super funny! You know what else I think is super funny? The word super in French. It means the same thing, but it is HILARIOUS when the French use it in a sentence, because they're talking all nasally and French-like, and then all of a sudden, "...su-pare..." It's hard to explain in writing, but sometimes French sounds so funny, I just start laughing out of the blue. That draws some strange looks. So all that is to say that God heard and answered me! He cares about every detail of our lives. The Creator of the universe.

Oh, and that reminds me of another cool testimony. Right before I left the States, the Nuttings (Creationist scientists) were at church for 2 consecutive times. Although I find it interesting, I was hoping for one last good Bruce sermon before I left. But there was a reason for it, I know now. On one of my first nights here, there was also a baby-sitter, since I obviously didn't know the ropes yet at all. She is from the Czech Republic and is a former au pair for this family. She studies in Nantes and baby-sits on the side. So she and Caroline and I were sitting there having a conversation, and I think we were talking about religion and separation of church and state or something like that - the differences between the three countries, etc. Caroline knows that I am a Bible-believing Christian (in fact, I think the whole family knows by now, as much as the kids can understand). Caroline is also a Christian (Protestant in the most heavily Catholic region of France, the Loire-Atlantique). In that conversation, she asked me if I believed in creationism. I said of course. She was shocked that I actually believed it and said that she couldn't. Now without having had that refresher course from the Nuttings, I don't think I would have had a response other than, "The Bible says it; I believe it." In fact, that was my response, but I was able to add (and no, I didn't go off about fossils or rock layers in French), "If I can't believe the first thing that the Bible says, I see no reason to believe any of it." Both of them seemed to see my response as reasonable. And who knows what kind of seed that planted, you know? Praise the Lord.

Let's see...what else? Oh, so after the train-playing experience, Edouard and I are getting along better and better. He still doesn't like me at bathtime, but that's getting better, too. I love these kids. Sure, they have their faults just like anyone else, but they all have their unique personalities and special things that they do. Louise is 11 years old and very sweet. I always notice that she is careful to talk a little bit slower and enunciate for me. Also, she is great with Léopold. She is learning English at school this year, so I've been helping her with her homework. That has been a great bonding time. It's like having a little sister. She and I both have only brothers, so I think it's fun for her too. I've also noticed that she's a bit of a perfectionist, with which I definitely identify. She, however, doesn't wait until the last minute to do everything. She is very hardworking. Arthur, who is 8 years old, is very smart. He is one year ahead in school. He is funny and a bit mischievous. Practically every day, he comes up to me with such a look on his face, asking, "Peux-je prendre un bon bon, s'il te plaît?" He gives me the same tone of voice and look as a kid here would when they are asking for a piece of candy and saying, "Pretty please!"

So at the beginning of this week, the kids were always running around doing their thing, and I felt completely useless, since I didn't know what to do. Many of you know this about me, but if you don't, let me enlighten you. I'm not very good at figuring out how to do things on my own. I hate that about myself, and as much as I can, I try to "adapt and overcome," as the Concrete-Random type would, but, try as I do, I don't seem to have much success. I pretty much need you tell me 1) exactly what you want me to do, and 2) exactly how to do it. Well, as you can imagine, a momma with four kids and a full time job as a surgeon doesn't exactly have all day to sit around and shoot the breeze. So it's been a confusing, somewhat frustrating week. I've been feeling like I'm doing everything wrong. I know that I can't expect to be great at this right away (and I didn't think that I had that expectation before), but I kind of think they do. I know I can't read other people's thoughts, but you just get hints about stuff. Like apparently I'm supposed to be cooking the evening meals...uh, okay. But I don't cook French; I cook American (and by, I cook American, I mean, I sort of cook). Ugh. We'll see how that goes. I'll let you all know. If it was anything like yesterday, I don't have very high hopes. I was watching the kids (mainly Léo), and their dad was there, helping them with their homework. The housekeeper had already made the evening meal earlier (pot-au-feu) and left it cooking on the stove. All I had to do was turn the burner back on 30 minutes before we were to eat - simple, right? Uh, no. Turns out that the meat was tied up. It was like a tight net around the meat. I was trying to get that off, and it wasn't working out too well, so I took the meat out and put it on a plate. It still wasn't coming off, even though I was trying to cut it with a knife. So I had to grab it and manually pull it out of there (it was hot!). I was making a huge mess and probably looked like an idiot with my meager and futile attempts. All the while I was thinking, Please don't come in here; please don't come in here. I didn't want the dad to come in and see my incompetence at yet another thing! Argh. Thankfully, I got it all put back together in the knick of time. While I was doing this, I was trying to watch Léo, who gets into EVERYTHING! And most of it's dangerous stuff. Is that normal 16 month old behavior? I guess I probably did the same thing, but yeesh! Being a mom is hard, and I'm not even really a mom! Also, at the same time as I was getting the meal ready (and, keep in mind, I wasn't even actually cooking anything), I was trying to give Edouard a bath (which he doesn't like) and feed Léo dinner (a messy affair). Oh, là là. But I figure if I can survive that, I can survive anything, right? Hmmm, I don't know.

Oh, and one more thing: #10 on my to-do list never got done - learn how to drive a stick shift. Bad, bad. That has caused so many problems. So today I have a lesson with some guy. Great. I get to learn how to drive a stick shift in French from someone I don't know. I better go brush up on my auto terminology.

Well, that'll have to do for now. I offer you my sincerest congratulations if you've actually made it this far in the reading. I still have some more things to say about Nantes and my classes, but that'll have to wait for another day. I'm going to try to upload some pictures now, so you all can see my surroundings. A bientôt!

Yes, I AM here!

Ah, finally. I have time to post a blog. This past week has been crazy, and I really didn't think things would ever be "normal." But they are starting to come together.

So getting over here was a crazy adventure, as you can probably imagine. How can international travel not be crazy?

Last Tuesday, after 3 hours of sleep, I got up to finish packing and law school applications. Yes, I was finishing up my law school applications on Tuesday at 2pm, about 30 minutes before I was to depart for the airport. With respect to packing, my main problem was that each suitcase could hold only 50 pounds, and I was pushing it. After getting everything together, I hugged my brother Dan goodbye. That was the first thing that brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. Then it was off to the house, where my other brother, Dave, proceeded to download music onto my iPod, much to the chagrin of my mom, who wanted to make sure I had enough time to get to the airport. My dad met us at the airport, and I finished my final application there, then gave it to my dad to mail. Could it get any more last minute than that?

My flight was to leave around 7pm, but it was a bit delayed. That worried me a bit, since I was only to have a 50 minute layover in Iceland to begin with. Argh! What if I miss my flight? But somehow, we managed to arrive in Iceland promptly at 7am local time (about 1am CST, I think). My next flight went off without a hitch, and we landed in Paris around noon local time (5am CST). At this point, I was extremely exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep. But I had to find the train. Thankfully, I met a Hawaiian woman (Naomi) on the way off the plane. We helped each other collect our baggage, and a Parisian friend of hers was there at the airport to welcome her, so he directed me toward the shuttle to the train station. Somehow, I still managed to get lost, so I had to go to the information desk. My modus operandi at the airport was to approach an official and ask, "Vous parlez anglais?" It seemed better to make sure that I would understand the instructions. The airport people all spoke English, as I suspected. Then I made my way out to the bus. Up to this point, I had been toting my luggage (2 large suitcases of 50 pounds each and a small one of about 25 pounds!) around on a cart. But once I got outside to the shuttle, I had to take it myself. As the French would say, oh, là là! That was difficult. It was impossible to move it all at once. There is no way humanly possible to move 3 heavy unconncected suitcases at once (unless, perhaps, you're one of those huge guys who pulls semi trucks and stuff, and you can stack them). So I struggled with it for a few minutes, missing the first shuttle and having to wait for the next. I finally just lifted them one by one onto the shuttle. Then I connected them (but because of the weight, that didn't work very well). The shuttle arrived at the train station part of the airport, but I didn't know where to get off, so I got off way too early and ended up having to walk a long way. When I got off, I had no idea where to go, so a kind worker who saw my bewilderment asked me what I was looking for. I was feeling very tired and flustered and didn't trust my French, so I tried my "anglais" trick. No dice. He didn't speak English. To my surprise, I had no problem understanding his directions. He helped me put my luggage on a new cart, and I was on my way. When I got to the train station, I had to go down to the lower level, and carts were not allowed on the elevator. So began the constant unloading and reloading of the cart. Caroline had already reserved me a train ticket, so I paid for it and then sat down to wait. The train was to leave at 3:45pm, so I had to wait for over 2 hours. I didn't have a watch (and, in fact, am still without one), as I relinquished my cell phone at the airport, and that has been my "watch" for the past six years. I sat there for awhile, staring at the schedule. I couldn't figure out why my train number said it was going to Rennes via Massey, when Caroline had told me that I was going to be transferring trains at Le Mans - and then of course my final destination would be Nantes. I sat there trying to figure that out for awhile when it hit me: if you are transferring trains, you won't be going to the same place as the first one! Duh. Anyway, I learned a lot while riding the trains. I learned, for instance, that you get an actual seat number, unlike a bus or tram. So it's necessary to stand in the spot on the platform corresponding to the car number. Unfortunately, they don't seem to line up correctly in actuality, so you may end up having to run several yards to get to the right car. Some chivalrous guys helped me lift my luggage onto the train. Once on the train, there was absolutely NO place to put my luggage in the car itself. Taking Chris' advice, I didn't want to leave it alone, so I sat in the wrong seat so that I could watch my luggage. When the conductor (or whoever that guy is who checks your tickets) came, I timidly explained why I was sitting in the wrong place. He didn't mind at all. Then I settled in for the two hour ride, trying, but failing, to stay awake. Unfortunately, a bunch of weird, fortyish, rowdy men got on the train in pretty short order and proceeded to conversate boisterously for the remainder of the ride. The thing that really bugged me, though; was that I could barely make out what they were saying. At this point, I'm thinking, Man, my French isn't as good as I thought! As it turns out, I must have just been tired, because my comprehension (even of boisterous conversations) has been great (but more on that later)! Eventually, I got off the train at Le Mans. Then I had about 30 or so minutes until my next train. I carted my luggage from the platform down to the station, in search of a bathroom. This is where I learned the next sweet thing. I approached some officials that were standing at the bottom of the ramp and asked, "Est-ce qu'il y a une salle de bain?" She looked at me like I was crazy, looked at the other ladies, and then asked, "Une quoi?" So I repeated myself. She asked me, "Vous cherchez des toilettes? Un WC? Il n'y a pas de salle de bain ici." As it turns out, salle de bain is a term reserved solely for the room in your house where you shower, bathe, etc. And, in fact, in the house where I'm staying, the toilets (WC's) are separate from the sink, bath, and shower. Funny. So they agreed to watch my luggage while I made my way to bathroom, which I had to pay € .40 to use. It was definitely worth it, though. There are no bathrooms on the train, at least not in second class. I made it back up to the platforms in time, and the Nantes-bound train pulled in. From my experience that day, an annoucement would be made five minutes before a train's departure, and then again right before it left. The train pulled up, and I had to run to find my car, since it wasn't lined up properly. As I was still running (and slowly, with all that luggage), I heard, "Le train à Nantes va partir." I was waiting for her to add, "Dans 5 minutes," but she didn't. Uh oh. I jumped onto the nearest car with 2 of my suitcases (thankfully, another gallant guy who happened to be standing in the hall grabbed them for me). Then, as I was loading the other one, the doors almost closed on me! But I made it. I finally arrived in Nantes around 7:30pm. I got off the train not really knowing what to expect or what to do. I had assumed that Caroline would be there to pick me up, but I hadn't verified it with her exactly. I looked all around me and decided that I should try to get to the south side, which was the opposite of where I was standing. I made my way up there, expecting to see someone looking around anxiously for a girl in a purple shirt with purple suitcases. But there was no one there. I wandered around for about 15 minutes and then decided I should make a collect call to my dad, who would be able to check my email for a response from Caroline. Well, that didn't work. I couldn't figure out how to do it! I stood there for awhile longer, trying to decide what to do, when all of a sudden, I heard an announcement in rapid, muffled French. Mixed in I heard, "Mademoiselle Deborah Helm," pronounced the French way, that is, "Day-bo-rah Elm." So I knew someone was looking for me, but I had no idea where to go! So I went up to a police officer who was standing nearby and asked him if he had heard the announcement and where I was supposed to go. Of course I didn't understand his response, but he just kept pointing, so I started off in that direction, but aimlessly, and frequently looking back at him with a confused look on my face. So he relented and brought me over to the information desk, where I found Caroline! Hooray! Apparently she had been looking for me on the other side, since that's actually where I had gotten off the train. The info desk guy was telling her, "You've been here for 20 minutes...you should probably just go home. She probably missed the train from the airport. The next one doesn't get in until 1am...you want to make an annoucement? No, no. She's American? She's not going to hear that." Ha, info desk guy! I did. So there.

Caroline brought me home, and we talked the whole time (some English, some French). I met the kids, who are all SUPER cute - like cuter than their pictures! I think I weirded out Louise, the 11-year old, because, being a true American, I shook her hand. As it turns out, Europeans really DO do that kissing the air on the sides of the cheeks thing, even to people they don't know or are just meeting (although, as I've learned, that depends on the situation).

So that was my voyage here. I have a lot more to say (is that possible, you ask? She's not all talked out by now?), but my class starts in 13 minutes, and I'm not really sure where the room is, so I'm going to go on another fact-finding adventure.

Thanks to all of you who have sent me emails - if I haven't responded yet, I will. I just have had no time, as I will recount to you in my next blog. Oh, and I have some pictures to show you all, but I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to download them yet.

For now, au revoir!

And the countdown begins

I've spent the better portion of this day staring at, talking about, and rearranging my to-do list. I'm leaving in less than 48 hours, and I seem to still have an unreasonable number of items on my list. I did make some progress tonight, though.

My to do list

With no computer of my own in France, I'm going to have to go back to paper to-do lists. Whew! What an adjustment!

The Wild Woman of Borneo

It's not as if I have much to do before Tuesday...my to-do list only has about thirty items on it (many of which are loaded items like "pack"). But last weekend I still had a week and a half before departure date, so I decided to spend an hour and a half straightening my hair. Or, as I like to refer to them, the design team spent an hour and a half on it. The picture above is what I call the "lion" hair - because it looks like a lion's mane, of course. Other things that have been said about my crazy hair include "horse," "the Wild Woman of Borneo" (my brothers when I was little), and that infamous question, "Did you put your finger in a light socket??" (incidentally, that was also my brother). Well, after the design team (which consisted of Kara and Juli) went to work, I was the Wild Woman of Borneo no more...

After

The Design Team

Visa obtained

I got my visa on Monday! The story of my trip to Chicago is really a crazy one. I'm going to post about it later with some pictures. Also, I moved this past weekend. My departure date is fast approaching...12 days! I have a lot to do in the next several days, and before I know it, I'm going to be on the other side of the Atlantic.

Oh, and this has nothing to do with anything (other than it being part of my preparations), but I found a great website (there are lots of them, but this had the best deal on the shampoo I wanted) that sells big (like liter-sized) bottles of salon shampoo at discounted prices. Plus, they offer free shipping on orders of over $25 and 3 free samples with your order. Check it out for all your hair care needs. Of course, if you have normal hair that doesn't freak out over the smallest things, I suggest paying $1 for Suave brand. But if, like me, you have frizz, it's a great money-saver.