Rainey Days

My life is like a roller coaster right now. It keeps getting faster and faster. I'm sorry that I haven't posted lately; I will stick with my usual plan and include some photos to distract you from noticing how long its been, haha! Friday night after work, I went out with some ladies from the gym where I work out. I've done this once before, and it is always an interesting experience. None of these women are Christians, which means that I suffer their smoking, drinking, and rough talking. I enjoy the chance to do social things with them, because I hope that I can build some sort of rapport with them. I see it as a ministry, even if I do come home reeking of cigarettes. I imagine Jesus would, too. I'm viewed as something of an oddity, since my conversation is always about church and my involvement in the church activities. They did ask a lot of questions this time, which was good. I was glad to be able to pique their interest in some of the upcoming events at church. Sat...

Most of you are aware that I am trying to get back into the habit of swimming. I bought my ten-visit pass last week and am quickly realizing that a 10 visit pass doesn't last long. The thing that drives me crazy about this ten visit pass is the price: $25. That's $2.50 a visit. I can't swim more than 45 minutes before collapsing from exhaustion, so its roughly $2.50 an hour to participate in a sport that I enjoy and benefit from. (Just to give you a comparison: in Albertville I paid $100 for an entire year--and it was a nicer pool!) It got me thinking about the cost of sports. This pool in Merignac requires a bathing cap, so I bought one for about 8 dollars. Then of course I need my earplugs, goggles, flipflops, bathing suit, towel, and those are just the basics. When I bought my bathing cap and goggles, I was captivated by a whole wall display, charting the pros and cons of every pair in the spectrum. I went with the plain-old, since the bathing suit already cost ...

For all the girls who wonder where all the single men are, I can now report three places where men can be found in abundance. The public pool: I have now joined two public pools in two very different geographic areas, but the one thing that they have in common is men. I've found that just about any gym or sport club will have men and public pools are no exception. In fact, the other day I saw a guy trying his best to hit on two young women while doing laps. This is an example of real diligence! The biggest disadvantage: just because he's alone at the pool doesn't mean he's really single and available. Most of the guys I've seen at the pool seem to be the type to hit on women everywhere they go. The laundromat: On Mondays, you have your pick! In fact, on many a Monday, I've been the only female in the the place. These guys, one assumes, aren't attached girlfriends or wives, otherwise they wouldn't be doing their own laundry. So they are reasonab...

In the wake of the tragic shooting at Virginia Tech, several of my friends here have talked to me about the violence they see in American society. One of the strongest questions they bring up concerns our level of gun control. Apparently, on the French news coverage of the VA Tech rampage, they reported that in Virginia a 12 year old can purchase a revolver. I can’t say I’m very familiar with the gun laws of Virginia (or Maryland for that matter); however, I did some research and the legal age for VA is 21 to purchase handguns (although there is no waiting period). The French have several main problems with our gun control policies (or lack thereof). One, they don’t understand how each state can have such varying laws when we are one unified country (this same argument comes up with capital punishment, as well). It seems very “willy-nilly” to them that each state can set its own policies for such a major issue like gun ownership, especially where there is no border patrol from st...

I feel good (neh neh neh neh neh neh neh). I knew that I would now. I feeeeeeeeel good. I knew that I would now. So good So good I got you (bom bom bom bom) I feel good today (as is evidenced by my James Brown impersonation that you will just have to imagine). Guess what I did today? I will give you three hints: *I smell like chlorine *My eyes are burning *I forgot my earplugs, so I'll probably suffer for it. Yes, that's right. I went swimming at the local pool. I used to swim in Albertville, at the world's most beautiful municipal pool. It was surrounded by the Alps and the whole building was glass, so you felt like you were swimming in the midst of God's glorious creation. Since I moved to Merignac, I had sort of given up swimming for various reasons. For one thing, it took me forever to find a pool, which as it turns out is about six blocks away! Technically it's a "nautical stadium" so I could never find anything in the yellow pages when I se...

Here are some photos of the retreat two weeks ago. This is the gang waiting for meals, but in the background, you can see how close we are to the ski slopes. The entrance for the chairlifts is just out of the picture to the right: I'm answering a question during the Q & A time: I'm teaching one of the sessions:

I was raised in a Christian family, educated in a Christian school, and nourished in a Christian church, so at times, I tend to read the Bible with a certain smugness, as if I already know the whole plotline. I have often read Matthew 11:2-3, "When John heard in prison what Christ was doing, he sent his disciples to ask him, 'Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else'?" In my mind, I sort of think, "Duh. How dumb were these guys? John should have known that Jesus was the "one to come" since he proclaimed him the Lamb of God. And his disciples should have been able to see the miracles that Jesus was performing." But of course, I have the benefit of already knowing the entire gospel story; I'm not living it "blind" as John's disciples were. I'm living in the 21st century, and as smug as I am about John's short-sighted disciples, I ask the exact same question. Perhaps not about the validity of J...

Sunday, 6:30 am – the shower doors are quiet this morning, thankfully. I creep around getting ready so that my roommates can keep sleeping. It occurs to me that its Easter Sunday, and I’m struck by past memories of Easters at home (picture in the front of the fireplace), Easter in my home church (all the great hymns), Easters in Jerusalem (shivering through the sunrise service at the Garden Tomb) and I think about how truly blessed I’ve been to have such rich experiences. This year will be another memory, because for the first time in my life, instead of an Easter dress, I’m wearing cargo pants and a tee-shirt I usually work out in. 8:00 am – In addition to coffee bowls, we eat bread for breakfast. Our choices are wheat bread slices, which would be very healthy, or brioche slices, which is sweet bread sort of like the dough in danishes. It’s yummy. While we’re eating, the pastor’s 28 year old daughter asks me about the AG missionary system, specifically regarding our financial ...

(I thought of you all a lot this weekend while I was away, so I thought you might enjoy this “running commentary” of my weekend). Friday, 5:00 pm – Since I took the train to Lyon, I’m riding to this retreat with my missionary colleagues, Grady and Janet Smalling, their Pekingese and four African guys who talk non-stop. We leave Lyon and after about 30 minutes on the highway, we exit onto mountain roads that twist and turn as we climb higher into the Alps. 8:00 pm – We end in a ski town, in the middle of nowhere, about 5 miles from the Swiss border. The drive was long, mostly because bags were packed all around our bodies in the minivan, but the boys enjoyed it because it was the first time they’d seen mountains. We wedge ourselves out of the car to move our gear into our assigned rooms at the youth hostel the church rented. We join everyone else in the lunchroom for our brown bag dinners. Right then I find out that there is a church service that night (surprise!), and I stagger ov...

There can be no dispute that the French are the world's masters when it comes to wine and cheese. One could even argue that their general cuisine is among the best in the world. As I once told a friend here, "It's impossible to order a bad meal in France!" However, as often as I praise French food, I often forget to mention the desserts. Eggs, sugar, milk--sure, anyone can whip up something with the standard ingredients; the French turn it into an art form. This is the country that gave the world crème brûlée after all. French chefs can do things with cream that should be illegal. Today I had lunch out with the Bordeaux Women's Club. Part of the pleasure at these luncheons is the fancy desserts. Typically, I tell myself before I get there to "just say no" but when the waiters start carrying out trays of delectable desserts, I always give in. A few months ago, the pre-approved menu said the the dessert would be a "small pot of chocolate, an...

Poisson D'Avril! This is the French version of "April Fools!" that children say to each other. Literally, it means "April fish" and there is no real coherent reason why fish have anything to do with it. But all over France on April 1, you will see children slapping paper cut-out fish on the backs of their unsuspecting friends. Adults aren't so juvenile, although occasionally false TV and radio reports occur on April 1, as a "joke" on the gullible people who forget the date. Since I spent the day at church, I suppose it wasn't the best environment for playing practical jokes, but I still saw a few paper fish taped to people's backs. It reminds me of "kick me" notes that bullies put on poor saps named McFly.