{the state of being}

At the beginning of December all of the ladies on my team were able to travel for  a weekend away from the big city. There were 6 of us: 3 journeymen girls and 3 ladies who are married. We piled up in one of the family's mini-vans and drove 3 hours north of Paris to a small village called Les Loges. Driving out of the city was beautiful because it had snowed the night before and though next to no snow sticks on the streets of the city, the countryside was covered with a beautiful white dusting! We arrived and settled into our bed and breakfast for the weekend. We had prepared and packed all of our food for the weekend and since we were the only people staying in the house, we had it all to ourselves! 

On Saturday we headed to Fecamp, a 30 minute drive through the countryside where we went to a large marché and admired our first view of La Manche (French for English Channel) We then drove along the coast to the city of Êtretat, our ultimate destination for the weekend. Êtretat is a small village on the coast which is characterized by several large arches spanning from the top of the cliffs to the grey-blue water of the channel. Monet painted several works on the beach looking out at these arches and after reaching the beach it was obvious why.

Monet's Porte d'Aval

Meredith's Porte d'Aval + crate

It was cold and windy but we were bundled up and resolved to walk to the top of one of the first arches that we saw. At the top we found a breathtaking view of the English Channel in the distance, of waves crashing below us on the shoreline and the combed back grass that had been beaten down by years of blustering wind. It was a scene out of my imagination. The older ladies decided to head back down to the beach while Brittany, Ruth Ann and I decided to walk farther over to the next hill. Once we got there we sat down and dangled our legs over the edge of the cliff, almost taunting mother nature to blow us over. I'll probably regret that decision at some point, but in the moment it was a rush to feel the wind blowing around my feet knowing there were only grass and rocks to hold onto, no guard rails or insurance liabilities. As we sat there admiring the inhibition we felt, the grey clouds parted and sun burst through onto the water. La Manche immediate transformed from stormy grey to a brilliant green-blue and we sat there together admiring the Creator of it all. At the particularly grey and cloudy point where I was at that time emotionally, it was a vivid remind of the faithfulness of my God to renew my weak passions and to sustain me forever. After 5 minutes of light dancing across the waters and the cliffs, the clouds moved again to cover the sun, but nothing was ever quite as dark as it was before. 

After such a religious experience, we climbed back down the hills to the beach, RA decided to stick her feet in the cold waters and we traipsed about the town until we decided that it was time to travel on. We stopped at a goat farm and bought gourmet chocolates made from goat's milk, drove up another hill for a view of the entire village of Êtretat and then meandered on home. We spent the evening eating soup next to a large stone fireplace, playing question games and reading 1 Corinthians together. 

Êtretat, the name of the village, is a really interesting name to me. The best I can deduce from my amateur experience with French (disguised as an undergraduate degree) would be that it comes from two different French words. "Être" is the verb "to be" while "etat" means "state or condition." The meaning that I've assigned based on these facts is that the village name means, "the state of being." 

I really like the symbolism of the village name, "the state of being." This weekend retreat couldn't have come at a better point. The end of November brought a flood of emotion from my first Thanksgiving away from home, the onset of a hard and heavy case of culture shock, and a season of distance from the Lord (always me running, no doubt) Being able to escape to the north, to let down the guard of tough skin that one must develop to cope with living in a huge city, to sit next to a fire and laugh and cry and reflect with these women, it was bliss. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that this weekend was instrumental in helping revive my spirits to continue working during December and to prepare me for Christmas away from home. 

me, blissfully next to La Manche

{noteworthy pictures}

note old couple sitting on bench and hoodlum youth in background. 

this lady and her coat.

every Sunday afternoon hundreds of people meet up and rollar blade through the streets of Paris. I will be doing this when it gets warmer outside. 

I found this old letter block at an antique market. Kabyles are Berbers from North Africa = my peoplee!

this dog. he's huge. he doesn't deserve to live in a small apartment he deserves to live on a farm with a big porch he can lay on all day.

where I eat my nutella sometimes. balcony overlooking La Defense (tall buildings in distance)

yes these are beads for your Christmas tree translated as "heading towards the future"

No, I have no idea what that has to do with Christmas or Santa riding a rocket ship. 

{Novemburr}

How quickly time is passing! I can hardly believe that in a few short days I will have been in Paris two months. I've been stuck in this strange tension of wanting to feel established and know how everything operates yet I also excuse myself for not knowing things that I should and I at times chose timidity over boldness- using the excuse that I'm new here and don't need to know everything yet. I think it's this tension that has worn on me the most.

I  complained to Jon after I had been here two weeks that I was ready for establishment, ready for community and local friends and women to pour into. I expressed a deep envy for his life and ministry and the connection he has in the city where he lives. I had been here two weeks! 14 days. I scarcely allowed myself time to recover from jet lag let alone build deep and lasting friendships and a solid connection to my new home. How silly I must have sounded (yet how patient and encouraging he was). I'm thankful that God gives us enough tasks to handle at the right time because what my short-sightedness saw then is little comparison to what life has become now.

 These two months have been filled with the establishment of new routines, speaking lots and lots of French, multiple bank appointments and the budding of new friendships. I'm now working with two NA ladies teaching them English and praying for more and more opportunities to be present in their lives. I meet each week with a local French women who blesses me through her kindness, gentleness and servant heart to practice conversation and pronunciation. Three times a week I am at our ladies literacy classes and I have been transitioning into teaching. And each week I meet with the other women on my team for prayer, scripture and much needed english-speaking girl time. In all of this I'm starting to read several books to help me understand and better approach ministry among Muslims, attempting to buy a cell phone plan and spending quality belly laughs with Ruth Ann and Brittany. This is my life now. It will be my life for a while! And I am thankful that God has promised to sustain and lead me through it all (and the many many more tasks that will fall into it).

This is me with John Calvin. You could make an argument that he is apart of my daily life now, but we won't go there. This was taken in Orleans, France several weeks ago while I was visiting a friend. I still have not figured out why it was there or if John Calvin had any ties to Orleans, France. This picture makes me chuckle every time I see it. Why is his mouth open? What was he holding in his right hand? Was he really that tall?