The Spirit Doesn't Sleep In

The Spirit doesn't sleep in: So I mustn't either.

Something about me being A stranger in a foreign land automatically makes me the Missionaries best friend. The sisters, bless their souls, have been trying to get me to go to discussions with them. I want to go, in fact, now that I think about it, I think it was me who suggested the idea in the first place. But, every time they call I am working or way to far away to make it in time. After a week of not hearing from them, I figured they've given up on me. But yesterday I got a call. They invited me to come along to give a Book of Mormon to a new "ami" (friend), at 11am. I was available since it was Wednesday, but 11am? Does the world exist before noon? I will confess that I almost said no so I could use that time to sleep in before I had to go to work at 13:00 but something told me not to. I'm sure looking back now, I know what that feeling was that I felt.

So 10am came and I was up. Okay just kidding, 10:45 came and I was up. After a little walking, four bus stops, ten metro stops and a little more walking later, I arrived at the institute building.

     *Can I talk a moment to add a side note here? In order for me to get to church I have to walk half a mile, hop a bus to the subway station, wait for the next train, sit for 15 minutes and then walk a little more to the building. Total travelling time equals out to be between 30 and 40 minutes depending on how well the buses and metro is timed. I have never realized how lucky I was to grow up in a town where churches are as common as cows. Growing up, I could wake up 15 minutes before and still make it before Sacrament starts. Here, If I'm late, I'm really late. I really took that for granted and now that I'm here I can see that I have had it good. It makes me think of all the faithful saints who choose to spend so much more time travelling than I because of what they believe. I know that the Lord blesses them for that because, if they are anything like me, it's not easy.

So there I was, not the last one to arrive thank goodness but, yes, a little bit late. The Sisters greeted me with a hug and a kiss and shortly after the "ami" arrived. (That's what investigators are called here, I like it so much better because we literally call them 'friends'. It just feels so much more welcoming). In the door comes Michael Jordan. No, not really but he looked like him, so for this blog, we are going to call this ami, Michael. Michael was a man that the sisters met on the Metro on the way to church on Sunday. They invited him along to church with them and he came! Out of interest maybe, or maybe he just had nothing better to do, I don't know. But he stayed the whole time and even asked what this "Book of Mormon" was all about. The sisters set up a time to meet with him again to give him one. This is where I come in.

I don't know why I was there, really. Maybe it was more for me than it was for him. I am not fluent in French, and until a few weeks ago, I didn't know a single religious word in French, not even "Christ" (which is "Christ" by the way, its the same just pronounced differently). I wasn't sure what I had to contribute to this conversation.

And I was right. I just sat there and listened. The sisters asked about his religious background and what he believed. They asked why he thought there were so many churches on this Earth instead of just one. They shared what they were doing in France and that they were there to teach His word. They explained how we pray to 'Notre Pere Celeste" (Our Heavenly Father), and that it's not anything that we recite or memorize, but a conversation.

Then they asked Michael what he was looking for in life. Now, his accent was heavy and he slurred a lot of his words, I'm not sure even the sisters understood everything he said. But, from what  could gather he was looking for somewhere safe. Being from Algeria, he came here for refuge and work. But for some reason or another, he ended up in jail for a time. He talked a lot about prison. I don't know what, but he said the word "prison" a lot. Now that he is out, he has no direction he feels.

Full of the Spirit, Sister Carter, (who hails from Eagle, Idaho by the way), shared with him that he has already demonstrated a large amount of Faith in our Father. He was very familiar already with the bible, and just the fact that he was willing to meet again with the missionaries today was a great leap of faith on his part. She explained that our Heavenly Father has always been with him and is proud of him. Then she said something profound. Maybe not for you, but I could tell it meant something to this man because his eyes welled up with tears. She said that the Lord will help him restart his life after prison. That with his help, Michael can start over and learn his path in life.

What a thing to say. Just watching him made me a little emotional too. I don't know how the sisters can have experiences like this and not cry their eyes out every time. He was touched, I could tell that her words had struck a cord.

Then she handed him the Book of Mormon and shared with him the last chapter in Moroni that encourages all who read to pray to know if the book is true. She showed him the introduction and the testimony of the three witnesses and invited him to read it on his own time. He seamed eager, and I know that he will.

Then, Sister Carter turned to me. Uh-oh, she wanted me to speak?! In French? But, at that moment, I wasn't scared. Normally I get shakey and my voice trembles when I'm nervous, but that didn't happen because I wasn't nervous. The Spirit was with me and I knew just what to say, and how to say it.

This is what I said:

On faites, cet semaine, j'ai lu Le Livre De Mormon pour le sixeme fois. Je trouve que chaque foi je lis, je trouve quelquechose de nouveau. Je trouve un nouveau verset que je pense que je n'ai jamais lu avant, ou une nouvelle histoire ou un événement que je ne me souviens pas. Mais chaque fois que je lis, je ressens la même, qui ne change jamais. Je me sens la paix et la compréhension.

Then he asked if I had a passage that I liked the best. Wow, that blanked my mind out real quick. My actual favorite scripture is in the Doctrine and Covenants and doesn't pertain at all to what we were talking about and as much as I loved Seminary, I didn't really put much time into memorizing all the Scripture Mastery. (Yes, Brother Smith, I am kicking myself now). Thinking quickly, I pulled out my phone and opened my handy dandy....scripture app! "C'est pratique" I said as I was trying to figure out what to do. Let's go to Moroni, he always has something good to say. Luckily I had underlined a scripture in my previous reading. It was short and sweet so I choose it. Moroni 10: 18. The sweet sister looked it up in her French version and then slyly gave me a thumbs up indicating that I had chosen a good one. 

     "And I would exhort you, my beloved brethren, that ye remember that every good gift cometh of         Christ"

Good one, no?

Something special happened today. I don't know quite what this man felt but I know things were changing inside him. I don't know if this will go anywhere, but he did agree to meet again.

But no, the miracle that happened today was in me. I have three years of French under my belt, which has helped a lot. But, until three weeks ago, I didn't even know how to say "Christ" in french. And yet, I understood every single word that the sisters spoke. Every. Word. I followed along easily never having to stop to translate it in my head. It was effortless, really. Me! And whats so wonderful about it is that now I, who heard all of this pass in a completely different language, can translate it and pass it along to all those who would otherwise never have known. I'm like the Urim and Thummium!

But see, that just goes to show how amazing the Lords church is. It's the same throughout all the Earth no matter what language it is in. And how great is His Spirit that allowed me to be able to understand everything that was spoken as well. I know it was the Spirit because right after I left, I stopped at a market and the cashier said something to me and I didn't understand a single thing he said. I just stared and he laughed.

Several things took place today that made me so humble to be a part of this Church. I got to be a missionary today and my heart is so full because of that. I admire the Missionaries so much who dedicated 18-24 months of their lives to experience things like this everyday. I admire them so much.

I realize that this was a very Mormon related post, and all my audience may not quite understand what I wrote about. "C'est pas grave" as the French would say. If you do not share my same faith, and have still managed to read the whole thing, thank you. I encourage you to visit our website to learn more, or even talk to some real Missionaries in a chat room if you have questions. They always have answers! Please go to the link to learn more about what I believe:

LDS.ORG to listen/watch/read talks given by some of the leaders of our church and also to access a digital copy of Book of Mormon. Among other things to do of course, it is a very vast website full of an immesurable amount of knowledge.

or

MORMON.ORG to watch videos and read snipits about other people just like me. Firefighters, Military Members, Former Drug addicts, Entreprenuers, Airline Pilots, Olympic Swimmers, Stay At Home Moms, Fashion Designers, they are all there waiting to share their story, and what they believe, with the world. It's really worth the time.

Or, comment in this box, I would be happy to talk with you too.

I hope that you have a wonderful day. Mine has truly been enriched already and its still early!

A Bientot!

La Fete Des Lumieres

Ah, France.

Sometimes I'll be walking down the street and it'll hit me. I. Live. Here. In France. I've been here three months, and it never gets old. How do typical French people ever get used to the architecture and the buildings and the culture? I suppose they don't know any different, but I do, and I'll tell you what: They have it good.

Tonight I went to La Fete Des Lumieres, or in english, The Festival of Lights. It's a festival strictly "Lyonnais" (Unique to Lyon), I think, that celebrates the Virgin Mary. The whole town in covered in lights. And not only lights, but huge video shows, laser beams, and fireworks. It's a three day event and I finally got to go tonight. I could describe it to you, but I think it would be better to show you through pictures. For some reason, videos aren't working on here, so go to my Facebook to view those. Trust me, they're worth watching. It truly is amazing.

On y va!

 
 

Dit "Bonjour" A Mon Petit Ami

I finally did it!

It's been almost two weeks after the tragic loss of my fish, Harrison. The day after he died, I went out and bought another fish that looked exactly like him. But, I feel as if I did so prematurely. I wasn't ready for a new fish and because of that, this new guy sat nameless and emotionally neglected for a week. But today something changed, and I felt like I was finally ready to let go of Harrison. His death was sudden and unexpected, and in my grief I don't think I ever gave him a proper goodbye.

So long, Harrison. I feel personally responsible for your untimely death and for that I will never be able to say sorry enough. But you made me happy for the time that you were mine. I hope one day you and I will meet again. Just keep swimming, buddy.

Now I can move on. This may sound all a little melodramatic to you, but I have a very deep love for fish. Sometimes I tell them more than I tell actual human beings. Since I am in no place to have a dog or a cat of my own, fish are the next best thing to "mans best friend." I find that I get very attached. But, I digress...

Everyone, meet Jacobin. Yes, it took me a week to come up with this name but I find I am quite satisfied with my choice. I named him after my favorite place in Lyon, Place des Jacobins.

As some of you may recall, I call it "My Piece of Heaven." Place des Jacobins is everything I ever wanted when dreaming about living in France. It has the grand square surround on all sides by streets and rues. It has the Parisian style buildings surrounding it with the rectangular windows and designer rod iron balconies. There are benches for people to sit, enjoy the blue sky and watch the people as they go by. On one corner is a cafe, and on the other is Dior and Gucci. In the middle of the place is a HUGE fountain donned with the typical naked statues of mermaids clutching fish so tight to their chest that the fish are literally puking streams of water. (Art? Or a horny sculpture with a fish fettish? The world may never know). It's about a mile from my school, but I'd walk their every day just to feel the way I do.

So, Jacobins fits. He and I are going to get along just fine I think :)

 

Breaking Frogs (No Frogs Were Harmed in This Blog)

Last weekend I was invited by the lovely people from my institute to go ice skating! What's special about french ice skating vs. american ice skating is....absolutely nothing. It's exactly the same thing. You pay, put on skates and then skate around a rink a hundred times. Still, ice skating is one of my favorite pastimes, so I couldn't say no. It was also a chance to work more on my french which is what I enjoyed the most.

I rendez-vous-(ed) with one of my friends and we walked down the rue to the ice rink. He introduced me to his roommate and I tried talking to him...he couldn't understand me at all :/ Kind of embarrassing. I knew I had some words right, I guess the way I was ordering or conjugating them wasn't right.

The line was LONG to get into the rink, it stretched outside the building even. We waited over an hour just to pay. I didn't mind though because that was where most of my talking was. We met up with a girl who is German but her English is almost downright flawless. The first time she spoke to me in English, I could have sworn she was from Wisconsin or something. She was very helpful when I needed help. Because when left to my own devices, I find that I make mistakes that are rather...funny? I was telling them the story of one of the last times I went ice skating. I fell and chipped my knee cap, since I didn't know how to say "chipped" in French, I edited it to "broke my knee." I hardly know these people, what are they going to care? Anyway, I got to the part where I was going to tell them I broke my knee, when I accidentally said "I broke my frog." Boy, where they confused! Rock started mimicking me playfully holding his leg "I broke my frog, where did he go?!" Yeah, yeah, you are so funny....

The rink closed at 6pm for some reason so we only got an hour to skate but that was enough. Everybody already knew except for one person but he made it out alive. There were so many people on the rink that skating fast like I like to do was difficult but it thinned out after a while. I am proud to say that I did not fall, and have not fallen since that time almost five years ago when I "broke my frog" thank you very much. (Yes, I did just knock on wood).

So it was a fun weekend. The rink was so far away from my apartment, it took me an hour and a half to get there and back but it was worth it. I was sore the next day though which just reminds me how out of shape I am...

Abi.

Keep Away From My Food

I added some easy French listening for you all to enjoy while you read. I love this stuff!

So I realized something today. Now, for those of you who know me, then you will understand when I say that I love food. Not all foods, but the foods I do like, I LOVE! I am also a pretty easy going laid back person. A good way to tell if I like you is if I offer you food. That's a big deal, really it is. "Here, do you want some?" is pretty much the equivalent of "I like you enough to share spit with you."

But, since I've been in France, I've found somethings that would normally have been a commodity in America, is almost a delicacy to me here. Therefore, they have become things that I do not like to share, no matter how much I like you. Let me explain:

1. Bread. It is true that the French eat a lot of bread. Every meal, there is bread. But it's not an all you can eat buffet of bread here. You don't get to eat as much as you want. You get a small piece to mop up your plate and another one for your cheese. So you have to ration it out. If you eat it before the cheese comes out, oh well. So when some one is stupid and eats all their bread, they ask to share yours with them. No. no no no no no. I love bread, it's MY bread! I share anyways, but inside I'm feeling like a mother lion protecting her cubs. RAWR, back off!

2. My dessert. After every dinner here, there is dessert. It's usually applesauce, yogurt or some kind of fruit (which I detest I will have you know). On a rare occasion, there is "real" dessert. Something in the way of chocolate I mean. Sometimes, Mariette buys Mousse just for me. But, the mousse only comes in packets of four, and there is five of us. Once Gilles put out the very last mousse just for me, and even told the family it was just for me. But once he left the room, guess who grabbed it from right in front of me: Lucile. And then she demands why I'm not eating any dessert! Because she took the only thing that doesn't make me gag when I eat it! Of course I let her have it, what kind of Au Pair would that make me if I didn't, but that just meant no dessert for me, which was sad indeed. I never liked sharing chocolate in the first place so letting go was pretty hard.

3. Ketchup. It exists here, but it's not eaten very often. Back home, I eat ketchup with everything. Being a former vegetarian, I use it to mask the taste of meat when I eat. Two days ago Mariette, les enfants and I went to KFC and bought a big bucket of chicken (ugh). and do you know how many packets of ketchup they gave us? Four...FOUR! That's not even enough for one piece of chicken! I hate meat enough, how am I going to make it through this box and still have enough for my fries?? At first I tried to keep the ketchup to myself but to no avail. Everyone wanted some, and everyone wanted a lot. I was crying inside as I watched my precious ketchup dissappear before my eyes.

So yeah, just some thoughts for ya....

Abi.

Opera, Fish, Thanksgiving and Tarts

GRR...I had this halfway finished and my internet crashed! I'm so frustrated I almost don't want to retype all of this. Oh well, here it goes.

It's been a little bit and I've been letting my events pile up. So I'll go through them in order of the title.

Opera:

I had the chance to go to an opera last weekend. Mariette, les enfants et Moi bundled up and trekked two busses and three metro trains all the way up to Fourviere, the Catholic Basilica that sits up on the hill overlooking Lyon. It's magnificent! The US has nothing like it, it's really unlike anything I've ever seen. The opera was a snooze fest in all honesty. The acoustics were good inside the cathedral, and I even recognized some of the classical compositions (like the one that goes duh duh duh duh-uh dun dun duh dun dun).But it was warm and dark in there and I couldn't help but to take a nap. I hope no one saw me!

                                 



When I was about 8 or 9, my uncle gave me a Beta fish for my birthday. Ever since then I've pretty much always had a fish in my room. My apartment here is kind of lonely and I miss my fish back home (I miss you Perry!). I decided that I was going to buy a beta during my time here. I mentioned this to the family and last Saturday they took me to buy a fish! I wasn't expecting them to pay for it, but they did, and that was very nice. Meet my fish :)

 I took a long time picking him out and I choose him because he didn't shy away from my finger when I pressed it up against the glass. Instead he puffed himself up and challenged me. I liked that. We took him home and spent the rest of the evening thinking of names for him. We even took out the french baby name book and went through every single name. I wanted a french name, but nothing fit. So, I decided to sit on it. Finally, five days later (yesterday) as I was thinking about it before bed suddenly it came to me! Harrison! I don't know where it came from but it fit. That day (still yesterday) I decided that his bowl looked too empty. I took the bus back to the pet store and bought him some rocks and a plant. When I got back to my place I scooped him out and put him in a little tea cup so I could clean his bowl and add the rocks. The cleaner requires three hours to sit in the water to sit so I so I placed the cup next to the bowl and then settled down for a little nap. I woke up two hours later to find the tea cup empty. I found Harrison dried out on the floor. I KILLED MY FISH! You have to understand, this is very hard for me to write about. I feel very responsible. :/ I knew that the cup was too small but I didn't listen to myself when I thought about putting him into something bigger. It was only three hours after all. Needless to say, I was distraught and there was much sobbing. RIP Harrison, I am so very sorry.

Thanksgiving.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. How did I spend it? Taking a test at school, cleaning up my murdered/suicidal fish off the floor and babysitting. At the store I bought some mashed potatoes to eat because that's my favorite part of Thanksgiving, but they were the sorriest excuse for mashed potatoes I've ever eaten. The French don't celebrate Thanksgiving so really it was kind of a sucky day...moving on.

Tarts
I found a recipe for a chocolate tart in a children's cooking book. It looked yummy so I asked Mariette to help me make it. We made the crust from scratch and it was so much fun! I got to knead it with my hands. I am so going to make it again, as soon as I learn how to convert the measurments!! I don't think Mariette followed the recipe at all though, looking back now we used different ingredients and it looked nothing like the picture. Still, it was yummy and I made it all by myself! We had a lot of extra crust dough leftover so I showed them what my mom usually does with the crust. I rolled it out, spread some oil on it and then sprinkled some cinnamon sugar over top and baked it. They were a real hit. Even more so than my tart I think. Thanks mom! While she was helping me make that, she was also making our dinner, which was also a tart. I am considering writing a book much like Dr. Seuss' "Green Eggs and Ham" except it would be called "Purple Eggs and Leeks." Seriously, that's what it was. When she made the eggs, Mariette had this brilliant idea to put food coloring in them...food coloring?? Jonas choose the color and it turned out to be a purple/grey/blueish color. Pretty nasty really. Once she sauted the leeks (yeah, we eat leeks) she mixed the two, poured it onto the tart and baked it. It actually was pretty good, it just looked really strange! These were our finished products:

 











As a side note, I finally cleaned my room and vacuumed it too! Just thought I would share the proof, I am rather proud of it too. And I went grocery shopping...

 
 

Goodnight tous le monde!

Abigail

I Am Miss America!

I am Miss America!

...Or at least that's what they call me anyway.

The second week I was here, Gilles and Mariette took me to kind of an outdoor market of sorts among friends. About 15 farmer friends gather and buy each others vegetables and bread and cheese. Since my family mostly eats only fresh/organic foods, they frequent this almost weekly. It also doubles as an open bar. Like everywhere in France, there is so much alcohol. Anyway, the second week I was here, they introduced me to the people at this little gathering. I was shy, stuck close to Mariette or les enfants and barely spoke a word, and definitely did not speak unless spoken to.

This week marks my 6th week in France. As I revisited this gathering, I found my experience was quite different. Jean-Luc, the "Chef" of this market, remembered me right as I walked in with Mariette, but he didn't remember my name.

"Miss America! Viens ici!"

 I smiled, greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks and asked how he was doing. After pleasantries he guided me over to the snack table, and started dishing me out a bowl of, ironically enough, French Onion Soup. I happily announced to the crowd what we call it. In french its just onion soup haha.

From then on, I was Miss America, and I let them call me that because I thought it was funny. As a side note, I've noticed that the French love the name Abigail. All the time I am getting complimented on it and they way they pronounce it with their accent makes it sound really beautiful. Thanks, Mom, you did good.

I felt very french tonight. I carried on conversations with multiple of people lasting several minutes. A few even mentioned how well I spoke french. I am continually amazed at the beauty of language. French isn't my mother tongue, and yet I can communicate with people who have spoken it their whole life. I can talk with les enfants and play imaginary games with them. I don't know, I can't quite put it into words yet, but I'll keep working on it. One day I'll be able to accurately describe how cool I think language is.

It has been snowing as of late! I wake up in the morning and the sky is gray and there is snow piled on top of the cars. Not much, but it's there. Usually it rains in the afternoon and washes it all away. Hurrah for no car, it's time to break out the boots, gloves, hat, earmuffs and snow jacket because I have to walk everywhere! Brr

We've been staying indoors the past couple of days. One day we tried our hand at origami. It turned out pretty well. We made elephants and little Picachu's. Pokemon is still popular here, I'm pretty sure that faded out in the US a long time ago. I still remember my 500+ cards though...Memories. Today we played Hot and Cold. One person hides and object while the other searches for it and if they get close you shout "HOT" and if they are not close to the hidden object you shout "COLD". It was a good way for les enfants to learn some more vocabulary. I have to work on Jonas though, he is stubborn and thinks English is "nul" (useless). 

  Well that's all for now.  :)  Love, Miss America.